Translator's note: I am terribly sorry for such a big pause between the chapters. Due to my health and the fact that I am graduating this year, I was very short on time but I'd like to think that it's gonna be better from now on and new chapters will be coming on a regular basis. Thanks for your understanding!

When the door silently clicked in the doorframe, he just stood still for a while, unable to believe what just happened. Was he really in another wizard's home, given the opportunity to freely use his bathroom? It felt like some kind of a strange gift from heaven itself. Just a moment ago he was very unsure if he should follow the soft voice offering him help but now he definitely knew. The idea of warmth in the coming winter has been simply too tempting to refuse. Still, he had no idea how to repay the kind man because he couldn't bring himself to just take without giving back - his pride wouldn't let him. He was certain the cold street would kill him at last but even though he had reconciled with his own death, events of the last few days made him realise that he wasn't ready to die, not yet. It hit him the most when a bunch of men ambushed him and took the few belongings he had and made sure with his fists to let him know just how powerless he was.

Even though he had experienced worse moments in his life - hits of a closed fist were still nothing compared to the Cruciatus curse - at that moment, he felt worried for his own life. He fought back as much as he could but he was too weak to struggle against the two men that held him, shoving stinking cloth into his mouth so that he couldn't scream for help. The final hit to his abdomen sent him to the ground where he painfully felt on his elbow. Still, he thanked all the saints that he was still alive. And now it seemed that there was yet another man to hear his words of gratitude.

While he was wondering, the potion started to work and he could strip the dirty clothes off without shivering. With great pleasure, he shoved them with his shoes in the plastic bag, took off his eyepatch, put it inside, too and tied the bag with such satisfaction as if he was closing a whole hurtful chapter of his life. And he truly hoped that yes, that was the case, that he wasn't given a glimpse of false hope that would disappear like steam over a boiling pot in a couple of hours.

As if in a dream he reached for the shower and stepped in. Then he went by given instructions, easily finding the taps, standing aside and then waiting for the water to reach a comfortable temperature before stepping under its stream. He let out a blissful moan while his body slowly rid of dirt and bitter past also. He still couldn't believe that his life would suddenly take this large turn for the better but somehow dared to let the little flame of hope that he could one day get to his own home, burn. If he managed to do that, he wouldn't have to owe him anything but he had no idea how to get there. He only hoped the wizard wouldn't recognise him - but if he took him to Spinner's End, he could as well reveal his identity anyway. What he needed to do was find a way to get there just by himself. Maybe if he gets at least a bit better, then he might be able to apparate there.

His hair needed to be washed four times for him to be fully satisfied, just as his beard that he loathed so much. He carefully scrubbed every inch of his skin, enjoying the warm water washing away all the shampoo and soap. He felt as if a part of his worries and struggles he had to go through in the past years were being washed away, too.

After what felt like ages he finally felt good, although his stomach didn't quite agree. Never would he have believed how something as ordinary as a shower or brushing teeth.

Burying his nose in a soft towel, he took a deep breath of its amazing scent, thinking about the first time he felt it under the luxurious perfume. It felt like it happened ages ago when really it was just a few days. Just once more he let his nose enjoy that perfection before he dried himself and felt for his new clothes which he then with a few difficulties put on. He felt the sleeves of his shirt and his pants being a bit too short but he didn't care. An easy spell could fix it but even if it wouldn't, that would be okay, too. His clothes were finally clean and warm and that was a huge step from what he wore just minutes before.

Before he tied his band over his eyes he tried, like many times before, if anything had changed with his sight. He couldn't stop himself from hoping - probably affected by the immense luck that found him today - that he would maybe notice a dark shadow suggesting that he could one day see at least outlines. Yet nothing happened, he still couldn't see anything. He scolded himself for being so sentimental and turned around and - with the plastic bag in one hand - found a door handle with the other.

Harry heard footsteps and smiled a little before walking from the kitchen to his bathroom, making his own loud enough to let the man know he was coming. "Come," he said quietly and put a hand on the man's elbow, taking the garbage from him with the other. "I'll walk you to the kitchen. I hope you're hungry."

"A bit, yes," agreed the man with a deep voice and Harry grinned, amused.

"You'll like the soup. I think I cook pretty good," he complimented himself. "Watch out on the doorstep so you don't trip," he warned him between the doors where he stopped with him. "The kitchen is connected to the living room. When you turn to the right, you'll get to the living room and on the left, there is a kitchen unit and a dining table. I think we could eat together and have a talk before I walk you through the house, what do you say?"

"That sounds very nice," he agreed quietly, obviously abashed.

"Great. Would you like a cup of tea?" he asked when he helped him sit down at one of the chairs and watched him explore his surroundings with his hands.

"Yes, please."

His fingers rubbed smooth wooden table and chair on which he sat and he still felt as if in a whole different world. He couldn't believe that only an hour ago he was on a street with no idea when he was going to eat again and now he was here. In a warm house with a fireplace quietly burning behind his back, the crackling of wood sending shivers down his spine. It all seemed like a miracle in which he had stopped believing a very long time ago. With his own scepticism - multiplied over the years he spent on the street - he only believed in something to go terribly wrong. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he winced when a bowl with soup and a spoon suddenly landed in front of him.

"I'm sorry," Harry said. "I have never been with a blind man so... close. I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's okay," he assured him, "I didn't pay attention, my mistake."

"I'll try to not scare you very often," he said, glad to see a slight smile on the man's face.

"I appreciate that," he replied and inconspicuously smelled the delicious soup before tasting it.

Harry sat down on the opposite side of the table and ate himself but couldn't help it and looked over the man across. He seemed better already, clean and in fresh clothes as if the shower brought back also a bit of elegance to him. His precise movements with which he despite his handicap brought the spoon to his lips made him feel something familiar that made him stare almost shamelessly. Black hair falling almost to his shoulder blades, beard covering almost all of his face. He couldn't see his eyes covered under the band, just hooky nose and smooth pale forehead.

Then he glanced to his hands, his short sleeves and for some reason imagined white cuffs and a black robe. At the same moment, he felt lucky the man couldn't see him and it cost him great effort not to drop his spoon. Suddenly he was breathless, his throat tightened when he looked at him more closely and imagined him without his beard. He thought he was dead. He shook his head, trying to get over the fact that the man in front of him was most likely Severus Snape. And then he fought the need to puke when he imagined his reaction when he realises that he is in Harry Potter's house.

But was it really possible? He saw him die. He, Hermione and Ron saw the blood flood out of his neck. At that moment, his eyes fell to the man's neck that was visible thanks to one unhooked button and there he saw thin twisty scars. Deliberately he put his spoon into his plate and drank from his cup of tea, trying to calm his racing heart and then he desperately put his face in his hands. Maybe he was wrong. He had to know.

"Can I ask you how... Were you born blind or have you lost your sight?" Harry asked and congratulated himself for keeping his voice steady.

"I lost it a few years ago," he replied after swallowing his soup and frowned.

He expected that. "Can you tell me how it happened?"

Severus hesitated before replying, sitting straight like a candle. "I happened to suffer from a poison of a very rare animal," he said without adding that it was Nagini's poison, Voldemort's snake, that blinded him. "Why are you asking?"

"I work at Saint Mungo. We have a department dealing with bites or other assaults of magical creatures. Maybe I could consult it with one of my colleagues," he offered hopefully.

"I fear that it's happened already a very long time ago to help me," he mumbled with a clear trace of resignation that stabbed Harry uncomfortably in his chest.

Resigned probably-Snape was something so unthinkable for him to destroy everything he ever knew about his whole world. "We'll see," he replied. "You need other medicine anyway. Which reminds me, I'll send a few diagnostic spells on you to figure out what you're really suffering from."

He shrugged. "If you say so."

"What had you been doing before... the accident?" he continued with his questioning and felt his stomach tighten with anticipation.

"I had been making potions for a pharmacy," he replied, "but I've never lived up to Severus Snape's qualities."

He then lifted his head, waiting for a reaction and if he had his sight, he would be piercing a hole through him with his eyes. But he couldn't, so he just waited what the other man had to say. He hoped he wouldn't recognise him. He had no intention to reveal his true identity - he was too proud to admit how low he fell, especially to this strange young man.

"I've heard about him," Harry spoke and thought over this situation. He understood the Snape didn't want him to recognise him and that was what gave him away. He could imagine how a man like him suffered enough by what happened to him and if Harry let him know he knew who he was, he would surely feel humiliated. "I think a mediwizard I studied with mentioned him before," he replied with a half-truth because they really mentioned him at a mediwizardry course, "but I have never met him." He saw his response was the right one when the man in front of him relaxed.