Le Petit Chat

NB: Harry's age changes in each 'part'. To avoid confusion, keep this in mind as you read!

.

Le Petit Chat

Part II

.

In all the years that Severus had lived, Diagon Alley had never changed.

Walking along the crowded pathways near the beginning of the next school term had never been his favourite pastime even as a child. The shops still held their enticing products, meant for the few students who had accompanied their parents, but Severus had lived alone for a long time so he only yearned to return to his home.

Besides, the temperature was exceptionally warm for so early in the summer. It seemed that all his plans to beat the school rush was for nothing. Although truth being told, he had worked at Hogwarts long enough now to realize that the students were so many that on shopping together or alone they made quite a crowd unto themselves.

In any event, he was soon rethinking the black hooded cloak that he was wearing.

He made a quick trip to the only store in the Alley that sold art supplies. He needed wizarding paint, but had been procrastinating in getting any until there was an actual backlog on orders. Luckily, being rude was his trademark and he never got anything less than multitudes of compliments once the painting got delivered. People tended to overlook undesirable traits in artists of his calibre. If all else failed, he usually directed them to his gallery whether they were wizards or muggles and hoped that they were smart enough to only look on pieces meant for them.

Potions supplies were next. These he never procrastinated on getting because he simply loved being in the store to take in all the obnoxious smells of the different ingredients. It was a private pleasure of his to walk along the aisles seeing what he could gather. Unfortunately, quite a lot of potions ingredients needed to be fresh and so there were never any of the interesting stuff to ogle. Not that Severus Snape would be caught ogling of course.

"Come on 'arry. Jus' one."

The boom of the half-giant's voice gave quite a few people a start, which was saying a lot since Diagon Alley was not the most quiet place in Britain. It was perhaps the whine in the words that caught Severus' attention more. Although, he couldn't say he didn't have his fair share of hearing the Care of Magical Creatures Professor try to cajole someone or something into action.

He made his way towards the giant since it was the next thing on his list. He had to stop short however and just as everyone else, stepped quickly to the side as something came careening down the street.

Two cartwheels, triple backhand flips, another cartwheel and an ending in a handstand.

The crowd burst into applause but as impressed as Severus was he refused to encourage the little cretin further. Upside down before him, green eyes blinked slowly, perhaps because his glasses were conveniently missing and his short sightedness left the world in a blur of shadows.

Hagrid came blundering down the path as the two stared at each other.

"Bonjour Professeur." The words came out a little stilted, but much better than any of the other French words that Hagrid had ever tried saying to him. "Sorry 'bout this. See, 'arry was just showin' me a few tricks 'r two he learned."

The boy had righted himself and was busy trying to pluck his glasses from his companion's huge fingers. As soon as Hagrid noticed he gave a good natured "oh" before handing Harry the round framed contraption.

"Harry, joo teh present the...uh...Professeur de Potions." Hagrid actually looked quite pleased with how much he had mangled the language. "Professor, this is Harry Potter. Yeh kno', that there Harry Potter. He's been learnin' French a bit."

Severus turned his attention to the boy before him.

Harry Potter at thirteen looked smaller than he had thought. It wasn't that the boy was a midget, but Severus knew that at his age he should probably be a couple inches taller than he actually stood. The Seventh Year students that he taught were all just an inch or two shorter than the tall Potions master, but Harry Potter with three years to go was only about chin level. For his sake Severus hoped a growth spurt was in order.

Otherwise, he looked skinny. Testament to the fact that in almost nine years, his relatives had probably treated him no better than at five. Assuming of course that once they realized that he was the Harry Potter, they hadn't up the ante and presented him with the world. Perhaps the boy was anorexic. From the stunts that he had just entertained everyone with, Severus could only imagine the sort of training the boy probably thought he had to stick to.

And then he spoke.

"Bonjour, Professeur. Je suis heureux d'être ici avec vous."His words were soft but loud enough for Severus to determine the awkward mix that came with a new voice change. His accent was perfect, making Severus suspect that the boy spoke more than just a little French.

"Bonjour Harry," Severus responded immediately. A tiny part him wondered if Harry had any idea that once long ago they had been introduced. "Je suis Professeur Severus Snape."

Hagrid found the need to interrupt then. "He teaches Upper year Potions Harry, so he's to be your teacher come September. But you never mind that for now. This is who you'll be stayin' with for the rest of the summer!"

"Really?" Harry gave Hagrid a look of intrigue. The news was obviously not what he had expected.

"If you object, we can always find you somewhere else to stay. I was however, of the impression that there was nowhere else and as your friends are away for the summer you cannot hope to spend the time with them," Severus decided to say in the coldest manner possible. His British accent cut the words down to bare essentials.

Severus had received a letter from Dumbledore two days prior, which explained that Potter would not be able to stay in the care of his relatives for the remainder of that summer. The reason as to why seemed to not have been important enough to say, and all the other wizard had wanted to know was if Potter could spend the time with his new Potions Professor.

Severus had thought about the request long and hard since his solitude was so important. He had seen Potter around Hogwarts enough to know his friends, and had worked behind the scenes with everyone on staff - that the boy had, all wrapped around his little finger - at trying to keep him from mischief. They had never officially met as student and teacher because Severus taught only the best of the upper year students and as for the lower years, Ravenclaw and Slytherin were the only ones he could tolerate. Everyone else went to the other professor of Potions.

He had reluctantly accepted the task of caring for Potter for the five weeks prior to the start of the new term, only to be standing before the child and realize that the offer might not have been acceptable.

Harry blushed light pink spots before turning to the professor.

"Je suis désolé Professeur Snape," he apologized. "C'est permis."

Hagrid looked between the two with a look of slight confusion before he cleared his throat to speak hesitantly in hopes that he had assumed correctly.

"So...uh...it's settle' then? You'll be stayin' with Profess'r Snape an' it's fine with you?"

"Yes, it's fine." Harry nodded, slipping into English again.

Hagrid beamed happily in having the issue settled without the fuss he had thought was to come. He promptly handed over the shrunken case that held all Harry's worldly possessions and the cage with Harry's Hedwig inside. The professor received them in silence.

"Well I'm off." Hagrid grabbed Harry and squeezed so hard that the boy looked like he would break. "I'll be seein' you at the staff meetin Professor."

"Unless you have other things that you wish to do, we should perhaps be off as well." Severus spoke in English once Hagrid had left their company. He wondered if he was correct in assuming that the boy had filled his foreign language quota for the day. He figured that the world would not end if he was pleasant just this once.

Harry didn't respond. Instead he stood staring for a period longer than politely possible before smiling slowly. The artist in Severus immediately had to argue that Harry had always been aesthetically pleasing.

"You look the same," Harry said in the melody of French. "Older of course, but you look just the way I remembered. Well except for the hooded cloak. I've heard lots of speculations that you're a vampire but that's not the way I remember you so it's nice to be right about this."

Severus sighed in relief as he too spoke in French. If he could help it, that would be all they would be speaking for the summer, but since the boy was to be his guest he made mental note to abide by whatever language the boy could manage.

"You remember me?" he asked. "How could you? You were only a child. From my experience children have memories like a sieve so I hardly think it's probable."

Harry chuckled. "You were a bit nicer then. Confusing, but nice."

"I assure you that I was not." Severus protested. He turned about and began to walk away hoping that Harry had the sense to follow. "Potter, I have never been nice in my entire life and if you did indeed remember our encounter you would have remembered that much."

They made their way over to the Leaky Cauldron and joined the line for Floo travelling. When it was their turn Severus handed Harry the canister.

"Have you ever travelled by floo before?" he asked with a narrowing of his eyes to show that the boy dare not say no.

Harry blushed. "Funny you should ask that. It's how I ended up here two years ago, although I wasn't planning on seeing quite as much of Knockturn Alley as I did."

It took them two hours longer than apparition to arrive at Peniwynth Manor and by the time they did both wizards was of the agreement that a better means of travelling was in order. Trying to mix wizarding and Muggle transportation to find a place that was semi-unplottable was probably not the best solution, but it was the only one that Severus had initially found acceptable.

"Wow!" Harry exclaimed in his native language. "This is huge!"

Before Severus could protest, he had discarded his cloak and shoes. Then, he went bouncing down the entrance hall in a series of flips and cartwheel. And just for the fun of it he returned to the front door in the same way, managing to build himself up to no-hand twist flips that made him look as if he had springs on the sole of his feet.

"C'est magnifique! I could spend all day in here. Je ne veux pas manger ou dormir...as long as I can stay right here," he chattered, switching between languages with lightning speed.

Severus took one look at his excited face and raised an eyebrow. "Now that doesn't seem very wise, n'est-ce pas? I will not have you living only on adrenaline while you are with me and the hall was not made to be played in."

Harry looked crestfallen. He gave the hall a wistful look before turning his attention on locating his cloak and shoes again. Severus looked at him wondering what sort of teenager he was to still find pleasure in a huge room and his own capabilities.

With a flick of his wand he had the cloak and shoes levitating near him, before he approached the grand staircase to the side. The banisters were made from gold twisted and carved to look like snakes while the steps were pure marble. To light the hall, high above, the candle chandeliers had hanging diamonds. Severus couldn't believe that Harry had no interest in the finery around him. Everyone else who entered spent hours staring in envy, as they seemed to plot a way of stealing some jewellery or another from the place.

It was strange that one so young could appreciate simplicity.

"If you break anything I will repair it with the bones of your fingers," Severus threatened. His voice carried impressively in the wide hall as if he had years of practicing how to get it to echo in just the right way. "I am sure that you would not wish to be reminded of how painful re-growing bones are."

Harry stood in stunned silence for a second before shouting, "Thank you!"

Severus made a point of ignoring both the little miscreant and the tightness in his stomach at the sounds of glee when Harry took off down the hall again.

.

It didn't take long for Harry to attempt to hang off the columns and crossbeams that were mostly for decorational purposes.

The first time Severus realized what he was doing, the older wizard was surprised at the grip of fear that coursed though his body. He wasn't able to do much more than stare in shock as his brain tried to figure out how exactly the little cat had scaled the smooth towers of black marble. The balancing act that he was immediately treated to had him clutching his wand.

"Get down here right now!" he snarled. "Should you fall I will skin you alive, provided that you don't die on impact."

"I won't fall!" Harry shouted back. "I've been taking gymnastics since I was seven and I'm perfectly capable of casting a levitation spell on myself. I play Quidditch remember? If I haven't died from falling off my broom yet, I won't die from this. I like being this high. The view is amazing."

To prove his point, he did a series of back flips along one of the hexagonal shaped beams that framed the high magical ceiling. The night sky's darkness had nothing on the colour of Severus' angry gaze as he flicked his wand and wrenched Harry off the beams to stand before him on solid ground.

"You have been here for two days and already you are trying to meet an untimely death," he chided in rapid French. "Do not give me reason to discipline you Potter."

Harry bowed his head to stare at his bare feet. He fiddled with the hem of his black t-shirt. A habit he obviously hadn't lost over the years. The semi-tight and worn out jeans that he wore just made him look that much smaller as he stood looking so contrite.

"Je suis désolé professeur," he apologized in French but quickly switched. "But I really wasn't going to fall and even if I did I know how to stay safe. Please. I'm really sorry but I promise that I won't fall."

Severus stared at him very hard. He wondered if it wasn't best to cast a protection spell on the boy but that would be useless if nothing was to attack him but the ground.

"Go to your room. I will inform you of when you may come down."

On arriving two days before, Harry had been given a quick tour of some necessary sections of the house, before being shown to his room. Which really meant that he only knew as much as how to get to the dining room, the entrance hall, Severus' room door and his own room. He had spent most of those two days in the entrance hall causing an uproar with the house-elves who had never had to dodge a tumbling, bouncing obstruction in all their years serving the Snapes at Peniwynth.

As soon as Harry had disappeared up the grand staircase, Severus called one of those very same house-elves and left orders for her to cast imperceptible buffer spells on the ground of the entire house. It was obvious that the boy liked his dangerous hobby and since Severus couldn't talk him out of it he would have rather not be faced with the task of informing Dumbledore that the great Harry Potter had fallen off his manor's sky beams and broken his royal neck.

And so the matter was settled.

Which was why a day later he was not the least bit as shocked as his model to see the slim figure hanging upside down near the chandelier in his art room.

"Pay attention you imbecile! I don't have the time to repaint this. You had better fix yourself into the exact pose I set you in or you'll be made to regret ever sitting in that chair," he snapped when he realized that the girl had all but sprung out of the seat in shock.

"There's someone up there!" she exclaimed.

Severus looked up to scowl at Harry's sudden presence but made no move to send him away.

"Yes," he drawled. "One would think you've never seen another human being before. Unfortunate really since your mother finds the need to constantly bore me with her wish to marry you off like some common chattel, Miss Parkinson."

"But he's hanging from the roof!" She pouted.

"It's the ceiling beam you idiot. Don't exaggerate," Severus snapped again. "Besides, what are your eyes doing so far up? You should be staring at that lamp near the window. Sit properly. I don't have all day!"

She bit her lower lip in shame, which just cost her an even darker look from the artist. She wiggled back into the pose, hoping that she had it perfect again, before having to move again to fix the bodice of her eighteenth century gown that had manage to become twisted somehow.

Harry tested the sturdiness of the chandelier and, hoping desperately that it carried his weight, he used it to lower himself until he could jump back to the ground. He landed in a crouching position at her feet.

"Potter!" she shouted in her fright. "What are you doing here?"

"Hanging out Pansy. What did it look like to you?"

He ignored her otherwise, in favour of walking over to stand behind Severus. He looked around the room, taking note of the paintings that were propped up along the wall to dry and hung out of reach. He also was quick to notice that apart from the small chair that Pansy was once again wiggling on and the stool that Severus was working from, the only other furniture were corner tables. There were no other colours in the place other than black or cream and there was certainly nothing as frivolous as flowers to decorate the room.

"It looks different," Harry said, turning back to Severus.

Preoccupied with painting again, Severus answered distantly. "That's because it is different. For someone who brags about having a good memory, you would think to realize that this is an entirely different house. Surely the network of crossbeams that you have become so attached to was a huge tip."

Harry grinned. "Wasn't interested in crossbeams then or how big the house was."

"And yet you thought it pretty, if I recall," Severus responded.

"It was, but here is just as good too."

Harry caught Pansy's eyes glaring at him again. He supposed that by the time she made it back to her home the entire Slytherin student body would be informed on what their Head of House was harbouring in his home. Well he didn't have to explain anything to her and he doubted that the professor would feel the need to either.

He carefully lowered himself into a handstand before lifting one hand away. He was in the process of slowly lowering himself onto his head when Severus declared with a snort that he was finish.

Pansy rose from her seat and with as much airs as possible, stalked over to see what the painting looked like. In the pretence of getting closer, she gave Harry a sly shove that send him crashing into the ground.

"This is so good," she purred as Severus added his signature double 'S' with interlocked lower halves.

"You're opinion means so much to me," Severus responded dryly. "However, thank you very much for your assistance today."

"Of course Professor. I really like being a model for you."

Severus removed the painting from the stand before walking over to the side of the room to prop it on one of the corner tables.

"Need I remind you yet again that while we are here I am no longer your Potions Professor?" he asked her with obvious irritation in his voice.

She coloured in embarrassment before responding softly, "Sorry sir."

He ushered her out of the room and down the two hidden staircases then out on the grand staircase and into the entrance hall before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek in thanks again. He had her out the door seconds after that before closing the double doors resoundingly.

He looked up at the network of cross beams to see Harry balancing in a handstand on one of them.

"You kissed her," Harry noted softly.

Severus sighed. "Her parents and I attended Hogwarts together. I was in the vicinity of St. Mungo's for her birth, I will be there should her mother succeed in cajoling someone of wealth to marry her and I expected that should I outlive her, I shall have to pay my respects at her funeral. Now what exactly do you find so odd about a Pureblood Slytherin bestowing a kiss to the daughter of another?"

"Had nothing to do with status," Harry pointed out as he wrapped his arms and legs around one of the slimmer beams then releasing his hand grip to hang upside down in the air. "I just can't believe you'd want to put your face near hers. She has the worst damn reputation in Hogwarts."

"Nothing compared to mine Potter."

By the time Harry made it back to the art room, Severus had another canvas ready. He began to wash his brushes the muggle way since he had learned long ago that magic and bristles equalled the equivalent of a feather duster.

"You use your Slytherins as models?"

Severus glanced away from his task to note in surprise that Harry was walking into the room via the floor instead of swinging haphazardly along his ceiling. His hair was an absolute mess, which signified that hanging upside down all day with the unruly mop that the boy had dubbed as hair, was perhaps not the best thing. It looked ruffled now, as if someone had given it a rough tussle or as if Potter had spent hours running his fingers through it.

Yet his eyes sparkled with hidden mirth and his lips was an unnatural cherry shade, perhaps from all the blood rushing in the wrong direction.

"Sit," Severus commanded without a second thought to what he was about to do. "And in response to your question, I only use students who are aware that their professor and the artist are the same. Unlike you I see no need to be flocked at every opportunity."

Harry sat...indian-style on the floor. Severus couldn't have said that he was surprised.

"May I paint you?" he asked instead.

Harry gave him a confused look before raising his eyebrow in question. "Good lord! You don't have to ask Monsieur artiste. Anything I can do to help is a given. I mean I'm staying at your house. Who am I to refuse?"

"You may refuse Mr. Potter because as you get older your privacy becomes your most valuable possession and should someone strip you of this they will leave you feeling nothing but bare."

Harry took a deep breath before timidly nodding his consent.

Severus set to work mixing the first colour, glancing back and forth to see if he could capture Harry's now slightly darker shade.

"Your birthday is soon?"

Harry nodded again before asking, "Wait, how do you know that?"

"The whole world knows everything about you down to the flavour of your favourite ice cream. What makes you think that should I have not known the date and bloody hour of your birth that I would not have gotten owls by the thousands informing me? In fact Dumbledore would have been so put off that I would probably have to find employment elsewhere out of shame." Severus sneered.

"Do you like teaching Professor?" Harry smiled again, as Severus began to paint. "I hear the Ravenclaws talk about you at dinner and you don't sound very pleasant."

"I detest it!" Severus snapped.

"Anything else you detest or does that just about cover it?"

Severus looked over at him with flashing black eyes. "Gryffindors and their misguided bravery that manifests itself in acts of mischief ever so often to the amusement of my colleagues. Rule breakers who get away with murder under the nose of those who should know well enough to dole out punishment. And your parentage, because James Potter was the worse Gryffindor of all and he as good as set the bar for the type of behaviour that you are rumoured to entertain yourself and your housemates with."

"Right. Got it," Harry muttered softly, dropping his head so that he could stare at the ground. "You bloody hate me."

"Don't assume anything Potter," Severus retorted. "Sit up!"

Harry froze in the position that he was sitting in, afraid to move in case those dark eyes were still glaring at him but knowing that he had changed his pose and so the artist was probably more than justified to yell.

Severus stalked around the canvas to kneel before the thirteen year old. He ran his fingers through the untamed black hair before sliding his hand to cup the already sharp jaw line. With a little pressure he raised Harry's face to tilt upwards towards him. Green eyes gazed at him sadly behind clear glass lens and Severus was fairly certain that the little pink tongue behind those perfect lips was being bitten in earnest.

"Now is the time to prove that my impressions of you are incorrect," he said in a voice that was a little more edgy than he intended. "You have been given an opportunity that many wish they had before they entered my Potions classroom for the first time. Show me that you are not another incompetent idiot who appreciates nothing but the favours of their classmates instead of grasping the fine art of potions making and perhaps I will excuse your uncanny resemblance to your father so far."

After that they sat in silence while Severus painted.

Harry's sad expression had remained and so had the slight hanging of his head as he stared at the floor, lost in thought. Severus simply painted him that way instead of trying to correct the position yet again. Midway into the piece Harry changed his position further by tucking his legs up to chest height and wrapping his arms around them, for comfort. No amount of exasperated sighs or growls of anger could snap the boy back into reality long enough for him to assume the correct position. So, Severus added that change also.

He changed the background of the room so that Harry alone sat in the centre of a semi-circular room as if he was trapped in a tower with only a single window and the sky outside to keep him company.

By the time he declared that he was finish Harry was already by his side gazing in awe.

"It's really very good," Harry said softly.

"I have had practice painting you before I must confess, although not quite like this," Severus returned just as softly. "You make a very good model."

Harry's gaze followed the lines of his replica noticing the change of clothes that Severus had implemented. He felt as if he could almost see the wind ruffle the cream peasant shirt and the ragged black pants legs that the figure wore.

"I'm sorry I was so pensive."

Severus gazed up at him although Harry's eyes were still glued to the painting. Up close he could see that Harry wasn't quite as young looking as he had assumed before. Perhaps the knowledge that in a few more days the boy would be fourteen and perhaps the hours of hanging upside down or spending years bouncing around the place took more upper body strength that necessary. In any event he was right in thinking that Potter made one of the best models.

"Variety helps in art," Severus told him. "I prefer to paint natural expressions than something as false as a smile. Unless they are done with one of those muggle cameras, it makes no sense having someone grinning like a complete idiot for the hour or two that it takes to paint them. Or worse, the five days for wizard paintings. I don't mind pensive as long as you keep your expression constant."

Harry grinned. "What will you do with this?"

"Hang it into the room that you are currently residing in. Perhaps on the opposite wall of the painting that currently hangs there."

"'The Little Cat'?" Harry's eyes creased in concentration as he tried to remember the painting that he had not realized that Severus might have drawn.

"Yes that one." Severus gave him a look of intrigue. "Do you recognize it?"

"Well I think it's amazing."

"Aside from that Potter."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Should I recognize it?"

"Perhaps not." Severus gathered his brushes and began to wash them again in a bucket of water. He levitated the painting to hang on wall to dry before walking over to the door. "Should you figure it out, or not, dinner will be served in the Green Room tonight. Ask the house-elves to direct you to it."

He left Harry in the room, looking quite baffled.

.

Peniwynth Manor at night was usually a very quiet place.

Long ago, Severus had given up on the hope that once darkness descended, sleep would come to him. In general it didn't and unless he lost patience and took a sleeping potion he could stay awake all hours of the night. A good book or time spent sketching usually passed the time well enough. It was intriguing to him the sorts of ideas that assaulted him at nights.

"Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday to Harry. Happy Birthday to me..."

In the silence of the house the words were soft and almost muffled as testiment to the fact that the song was a private celebration. It was a sad celebration. There were no sound of happy laughter or claps of pleasure to count down the years. Instead the quietly drifting words sounded almost mournful.

Severus endured all he could before he went in search of the boy.

By the time he got to the door Harry was winding down the ending to the song. Severus knocked twice to indicate that he was about to enter the room. The door was unlocked, which he did not expect, but when it seemed that after a pause, Harry was not going to respond, he slowly opened the door to look inside the room.

Harry was sitting on the white carpet floor with the smallest cake that Severus had ever seen before him. A single candle burned brightly on the top of it. The glow blended with the soft glow of the other candles that Harry had allowed to stay lit. They floated around the room, four in all, and were the only indication of festivity.

Across the room, the wizards' eyes met and seemed to fuse.

Harry's eyes... his captivating emerald eyes... seemed to glow in the candle light. There was a sense of peace in their depth. Pure. Beautiful. Ancient.

Severus wondered at the gaze. He wondered how this boy, fourteen now, could have been touched so deeply that his soul glowed. It was etheral and filled with a pain only one who had suffered and survived would have. Severus himself had not acquired that particular look until he was eighteen and even then he had been broken for a long time as he healed.

In his confusion Severus' eyes frantically looked over the figure that sat staring so unnervingly at him... but it was only a child. Not an illusion or a myth. Just Harry being himself. Because this child had been through enough in his fourteen years to gain the respect of a world but beyond that there was no glory. He was not 'too mature' or 'so different' from his peers. Still a boy, but a special boy.

"Would you like to share my cake?" The moment was broken with the very soft words.

Severus raised an eyebrow as he looked at it again, before crossing the room to sit opposite the birthday boy. Harry chuckled, less mournfully than his previous singing.

"Sorry, I usually celebrate my birthday alone you see." He blushed. "This should do though right? I can't imagine you stuffing your face with cake and I have to leave space for when Hagrid's own arrive so a bigger cake would just be for show."

After blowing it out, he stared at the candle for an extended time however and soon the look of sadness was back in his eyes.

"It's my birthday again," he said softly. "I wonder what fate has planned for me this year."

Instinctively Severus reached out to him, not understanding why but knowing that reassurance in any form would probably be appreciated. As soon as his fingers came in contact with the warm cheek, he realized that it was not enough so slowly he lightly carved imaginary circles with his thumb.

"Tell me how you speak French so well." The words came out soft also as the conversations was steered into another direction. "I knew your parents and so I very much doubt that they left instructions for you to be tutored in it before they died."

Harry leaned into the caress, like a kitten on the verge of purring, but his expression was distant as he pulled the reason from his memories.

"When I was young I dreamt of running away. I thought of going to Italy or Belgium or Germany. Anywhere was better than living with my aunt and uncle. God, I wanted to escape so badly. I researched all three languages and decided to study them one by one. I started with French but I haven't actually made it to the others yet. I'll get to them one day, but French... I learned it and now I can't let go long enough." He ducked his head shyly.

Severus moved his hand away and allowed Harry to cut the cake with the plastic dinner knife that he had managed to aquire somewhere. He waited before he spoke, knowing that his voice would be cold with anger.

It was. "Why did you want to escape? Did they hurt you?"

Harry shook his head slowly, staring at the mutilated cake now, before reaching for it. "Not in the way you think."

"And what way is that?"

"They didn't hit me. They just... I wasn't a part of their family. They wanted me to remember that."

Severus' eyes narrowed and the scowl on his face darkened. "There is more to abuse than you think Potter. Words cut far deeper than a single hit and there are other touches that would rob you of your innocence. Be grateful that they are muggles and do not have the magical ability to plunder your mind, but don't underestimate the pain that they caused you. Nothing hurts more than to disappoint the ones who should care for you."

Harry turned his head away from the burning charcoals of Severus' gaze.

"The crossbeams," he said suddenly. His voice gave away the frantic desire to change the subject. "The house wasn't built with them, was it?"

Severus didn't immediately respond. Harry turned pleading green eyes to him again. In their depth Severus could read the pleas that spilled like a silent mantra into the space between them. The silence became almost uncomfortable.

"They were built by my great great grand aunt." The words rearranged the silence, purifying it. "They called her 'The Spider'. She was indeed just like a black widow. She rarely dressed in any other color and was married twelve times. Four were forced upon her, three were favors, three as challenges to the family, one was her sister's fiance and the final one was the man whose heir she bore. Legend has it that she was cursed. All her husbands, save the last, died on their wedding night of questionable causes. While she lived, the drapes were tattered black cloths and the Muggles around for miles swore that they heard cackles and cries each night. She was a witch and for once they were true in dubbing her as that. I am told that I inherited her gift for potions."

"And now we know what family Muggles get their inspiration from when they think of witches," Harry said with a grin.

"Perhaps," Severus conceded softly.

Harry sighed again when their conversation was once more blanketed by silence. He yawned tiredly, catching himself just in time to realize that it was almost one in the morning and it was definitely better if he retired for the night.

"I should probably just go to sleep now," he said reluctantly. "Hedwig will know to make sure that the other owls get in here just fine."

Severus rose from the floor, dusting his spotless robes off, before whipping out his wand and muttering a few cleansing spells. All evidence of their little celebration disappeared from the silver carpet while Harry languidly rose also.

Harry stretched and yawned again. Severus indicated that he should get to bed by pointing his wand in the vicinity of the furniture. Harry complied easily enough that Severus soon realized that he should leave the boy to sleep in peace.

"Stay with me until I fall asleep?"

Severus froze in his charge towards the door. He turned to look at Harry buried beneath Slytherin green silk sheets to see if from that distance he could determine Harry's reason for such a strange request. Harry just looked drowsy. His emerald eyes were clouded with sleep as he peered at Severus through half closed lids.

Severus mentally sighed before he conjured up a chair which he placed at the side of Harry's bed. He sat staring at Harry, wondering what to do next, but Harry was too far along in sleep to care what the man beside him was doing.

"G'night," he muttered before snuggling deeper into the covers, turning his head away.

It was a few minutes later that Severus could respond and by then Harry was lost in the world of sleep. His unruly black hair sprinkled the pillow and a lock of it was curved across the lightly tanned skin, hiding the lightning scar from sight.

Severus reached out for that lock.

He held the clump of hair between his fingers, marvelling at the soft texture. In the candlelight the color was a darker shade of black than Severus knew it was. He ran his thumb along the length. The strands were fanned flat along the plain of his index finger as he stroked. Silky smooth. If the boy's hair got any longer then he would need a severing charm, he realized.

Because of the proximity, Harry's eye lash tickled the back of Severus' hand. Severus abandoned the lock of hair for those other strands of black. They too were smooth. Or perhaps it was the silky skin beneath that which drew Severus' finger tips.

He followed the bump of Harry's cheekbone down to the slightly red cheeks where he gave into the impulse to mark imaginary erratic lines slowly up and down with his thumb as he marvelled at the softness yet again.

Finally, pulling his hand away, Severus spent another few minutes gazing at the captivating young wizard. He looked so innocent while he slept. Whatever haunted Harry in the waking hours were not haunting him in Peniwynth Manor and for that Severus was grateful. As a silent stipulation, Severus knew that Albus had meant for Potter to find peace during his time at the secluded manor.

"Leave him be," Severus whispered into the still room to the demons and angels that vied so tirelessly for Harry's soul. "He is still a child. He is not ready for the fate you have planned for him."

~X~