Where the Demon Resides I: From the Snake's Pit

It was Sunday and the Dursleys had gone to church. Many years ago, a lifetime it seemed now, before Harry attended Hogwarts, before Harry knew he was a wizard, the Dursleys had made Harry go to church with them every week. They had even bought him his only piece of clothing, a suit, so he looked presentable to the congregation. They never forced Harry to go anymore, thinking that God would surely curse them for bringing such an aberrance of nature into his house. Not that Harry minded at all; heÂ’d never enjoyed church. Not the dressing up, not the praising of the Lord, not the boring sermons. Hell, give him Snape over a priest any day.

Harry had only been home six days and he was already waiting with baited breath for school to start again. Dudley, since having been forced to lose weight, was at least not nearly as disgusting as he used to be, but he was as mean and annoying as ever. HarryÂ’s aunt and uncle pretty much ignored him these days; not that he minded that, either. When they did speak to him, they never looked him in the eyes and they spoke as if he were a stranger.

Harry knew their behaviour shouldnÂ’t bother him, given he didnÂ’t like his family, but they were all he had left. What bothered him was that he didn't like his family. His entire life (for as long as he could remember) Harry had longed for the type of picture perfect family one saw on television, with a mother, father and maybe even a brother or sister. When he was able to grasp that that sort of family was lost to him, he had tried desperately to bond with his aunt and uncle, to no avail. Now, as adulthood approached, the emptiness that came from having no family was growing exponentially. When he left Hogwarts, Harry would leave behind most of the people who had become like family to him. He knew he would still have the Weasleys and Hermione, but he would never have anywhere to go home to.

Harry found himself a bit melancholy on this fine Sabbath day. Thinking of the coming year made him quite anxious and Harry was very glad that Dudley wasnÂ’t around to goad him. Harry had never been the type who longed for school to be over, to get on with his life. He liked school. There he was safe, had friends and learned things that were not only beneficial, but also exciting and interestingÂ…things other people could only dream about.

The worrying might be a bit premature. After all, he was only entering his sixth year; he still had two full years at Hogwarts. But living under the stairs for several years had caused a few mental issues for Harry Potter, not the least of which was a horrible anxiety when it came to thinking about the future. After this year, he would enter his last year at Hogwarts and he had absolutely no idea what would follow. There was the constant threat from Voldemort, which had kept Harry preoccupied with staying alive and not so concerned about an after-school career. Really, sometimes Harry was very pessimistic about the final battle, wondering if he would even be around to have a career, once all was said and done.

And then there was the most overwhelming feeling of anxiety and sadness that came over Harry whenever he thought of graduation. He knew that he and Ron and Hermione couldnÂ’t stay the way they were forever and he felt as though after graduation it would all fall apart. They were the first people who accepted him completely and gave him some idea of what it was like to be loved. He didnÂ’t want to lose them and yet it felt inevitable.

But it wasnÂ’t just worries of the coming year that bothered him. He was constantly wondering why he couldnÂ’t spend the summer with the Weasleys, or at the very least at Hogwarts. Dumbledore had given Harry the excuse that he was safe while with blood relatives and that was all very well. But, obviously, he was safe at Hogwarts as well and Harry knew that Dumbledore and several other professors spent their summer vacation there. He would be well protected within the castle.

And as if being forced to spend the summer with people that hated him wasnÂ’t enough, there wasnÂ’t much to do at Privet Drive, either. Many years ago, Petunia had used Harry as a slave, making him do pretty much all the work around the house, from cooking and cleaning, to laundry, before the discovery that he was wizard. And now, in recent years, with the threat of magic and an ex-convict Godfather, the Dursleys were more cautious than ever about mistreating Harry, so he was no longer forced to do anything he didn't want to. But to say that this made life easy for Harry would have been quite inaccurate.

Of course, that didnÂ’t mean that Harry was suddenly welcome to watch the television (unless the family was home and already watching something, in which case he could sneak in quietly and sit in the corner) or mess with the radio, or play any of DudleyÂ’s games. And the only children HarryÂ’s age that lived close enough to hang out with were all friends of DudleyÂ’s who knew better than to be associated with Harry Potter.

There were a couple parks within walking distance, but they were usually populated with small children and had nothing to offer besides swing sets and other children's playthings. Nothing exciting was to be done in HarryÂ’s neighbourhood. That left few options for Harry to explore. He could fry himself in the glaring heat outside. Risk being skinned alive by his family and watch a movie. He could read. His eyes fell on the loose floorboard that hid his collection of wizardÂ’s supplies.

With an apathetic sigh, Harry flopped onto his stomach and reached over the edge of the bed, prying the floorboard away and uncovered his schoolbooks. The potions text lay on top, but Harry dismissed it right off and dug deeper until he found the Defence Against the Dark Arts book. He rolled again onto his back, propped against his pillows and began to skim the first chapter. As exciting as the subject was, it still wasnÂ’t enough to hold his attention on a day such as today. Then window was open, letting in the warmth and humidity of the day and Harry felt his eyelids drooping and his body relaxing.

"No rain, again?" Harry jumped at the voice and turned from the mouth of the cave to look inside; she didnÂ’t often speak. She was in the corner as usual, warming herself by the fire. The thin dress she wore served as little protection from the elementsÂ…though there were no elements here. No rain, no wind, no snow, no cold, no warmthÂ…nothing really. Well, nothing Harry could feel, anyway. She always seemed to be cold, though.

"Are you surprised?" Harry asked with a slightly bitter tone of voice.

She tipped her head and Harry wished that just once, just once, she would look at him and let him see her, let him read her face as he read her gestures. "Hmmm," She shrugged. "You never know when the clouds may gather."

"I know they arenÂ’t going to today," Harry muttered, glaring up at the sunÂ…it looked hotÂ…it looked like it should turn him to flames just from standing beneath itÂ…but there was no heat.

"You wait, Harry Potter."

A squawk from Hedwig interrupted HarryÂ’s impromptu nap. She had flown through the window and landed on his stomach, holding a cream coloured envelope in her beak. Harry stared out the open window, looking at the sun, which beat down in incredible heat and tried to grab hold of the departing dream, but the details had gone already, and the rest was rapidly retreating. With a gloomy sigh, Harry shook it off.

Curious as to who would be sending him a letter, as he had heard from Sirius, Hermione and Ron in the past few days, Harry took the envelope from Hedwig, stroking her down the back and receiving an affectionate ruffle against his cheek for the trouble. He slipped a finger under the opening and pulled from the envelope a single sheet of parchment.

The familiar handwriting, words spelled out in violet ink told Harry that the sender was Professor Dumbledore, which gave Harry a momentÂ’s pause. Dumbledore had never sent him a letter before and Harry wondered what could possibly be so important that Dumbledore would take time out of his busy schedule to write Harry about. With a slight feeling of trepidation, Harry began to read:

Harry,

I wish I could bring you better news with this letter, but I must regretfully inform you that you must be relocated at once. Through my faithful informants, I have learned that Lord Voldemort is preparing to strike upon you at your familyÂ’s home this summer. While I have taken precautions to insure your safety while inside the house, Voldemort may be waiting for your family to take you out, or perhaps he has found a way to get around my spells. Either way, you are no longer safe where you are. Therefore, I will be sending someone to take you away to a safe house until school starts again. IÂ’ll be in touch again soon.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore.

Harry blinked several times, trying to process the information, wondering where in the world Dumbledore was going to send him, where he could possibly be safe, besides Hogwarts. Of course he wouldnÂ’t say in the letter, on the off chance that Voldemort might intercept it. Right away, HarryÂ’s mind fell upon the Weasleys and he was cheered up, for a brief moment before he reminded himself that the whole reason behind the move was to get him away from his would be murderer.

Part of him wished that he could stay right where he was and wait for Voldemort to make his move. He just wanted this war to be over withÂ…wanted it to end once and for all. He wasn't really afraid anymore, of the final battle or of death. He would never tell anyone, not even Ron and Hermione what he felt, because they simply wouldn't understand. But being in danger for so long had somewhat numbed his fears, at least for himself. He still feared for the lives of those he cared about. But right now, they weren't the ones in danger. They rarely were.

Harry certainly didn't want to think about this right now. Jumping from his bed, Harry decided he might as well get ready for the trip. He threw open his trunk and started shoving books, robes and other clothes in. He wondered briefly if he would ever see Privet Drive again and at that thought, he let his eyes drift over the room and then he began to pack every personal possession he didnÂ’t want to leave behind forever. It took him only a half-hour before he had his trunk packed and Hedwig in her cage.

Harry had dressed in Muggle clothing, as he had no idea what method of transportation would be used or where he was even going. He sat at the edge of his bed, staring expectantly out the window, as if he could will his rescuers to arrive sooner. But really, he could wait patiently if he had to, because he had the promise of leaving behind the dull, oppressive Privet Drive, perhaps for the rest of the summer.

An hour passed when the Dursleys arrived home again and Harry realised he had spent the entire time gazing outside. His family went about their day as usual, ignoring Harry completely. Harry felt a surge of restlessness and grabbed a Muggle magazine from the floor, flipping through it to pass the time. Two oÂ’clock rolled aroundÂ…five oÂ’clockÂ…seven oÂ’clockÂ…Harry looked longingly out the window, hoping whomever it was who was coming to save him would hurry up and get there already.

Aunt Petunia called for him half-heartedly to come down to dinner, which was a tense, silent affair. Harry wondered if he should broach the subject of his impending departure, but he was rather afraid to be the one to end the silence.

After dinner the Dursleys retired to the sitting room to watch some detective show and Harry figured he could pass the time more quickly by joining them. He hesitantly entered the room, not surprised that they didnÂ’t acknowledge him. He hovered near the threshold and considered joining them, making one last, vain attempt at being part of the family.

Common sense won out, and Harry left the room to sit on the stairs and rested his chin in his hands, waiting. Whoever it was would be coming soon, Harry knew for sure and he found his gaze focused on the door, his stomach tight in anticipation. Behind him, he could hear his family discussing the television program and the faint noise of the onscreen action. He really should tell them he was leavingÂ…

It was only that he was afraid of their reaction. There were two likely things that might happen. One, they would grow angry and forbid him to leave. Lock him back under the staircase and try to prevent him from going back to Hogwarts. Then there was the second and more likely reaction, where the Dursleys didnÂ’t care in the least that he might be leaving for good. In fact, they would probably be happy and that bothered Harry, whether heÂ’d like to admit it or not.

If he waited till the last second, the Dursleys wouldnÂ’t have much time to process it all and react, as they would were he to tell them now. Besides, he didnÂ’t really have any desire to speak with his family at all. But maybe it was the Gryffindor ideal of honour and truth and all that was really getting a hold of him. It was his responsibility to tell them.

Grudgingly, Harry got to his feet and stretched, his legs dragging as if made of lead as he headed down the hallway. Before he could take two steps, there was a shriek of terror from Aunt Petunia. Harry's slow pace quickened to a run, his hand automatically reaching for the wand in his pocket, ignoring the fact that he wasnÂ’t really allowed to use it. For some reason, despite the way he had been treated by his family, he still felt that he should protect them. His hand stilled when he saw who had caused the outburst.

Professor Snape was standing in front of the television set, wand in hand and poised for action. He looked a bit different than usual, more casually dressed in black robes over black slacks and a jumper far simpler than the ones he wore at school. His long greasy hair had been swept back into a ponytail, but his black eyes were as cold and depthless as usual, the ever-present sneer stretched across his lips.

Aunt PetuniaÂ’s mouth was gaping in surprise and horror as she stared at the magical intruder. Dudley had grabbed his bottom in terror and was hiding behind the sofa, shaking wildly. But Uncle Vernon didnÂ’t appear to be afraid; rather he looked terribly angry, furious even, and had turned an alarming shade of red. For the first time in a long time, Harry was afraid of his Uncle. He spun to face Harry, eyes bulging madly.

"You!" Vernon screamed, spit flying, "What the hell is going on?"

Harry shook his head dumbly, and took a step back from his Uncle. He looked back towards Snape, regarding the older man with the same level of surprise as the Muggles. "I demand to know what is going on, at once!"

"This isÂ…" Harry faltered, gesturing towards Snape, "This is Severus Snape," He said finally, though obviously that didn't mean anything to his family. "He teaches potions at Hogwarts."

"And what is he doing here?" Vernon shouted.

"A question I'd like to know the answer to," Harry said calmly with an edge of distaste, looking towards his professor. When Vernon realised that Harry was as surprised as he was, and heard the dislike in Harry's tone, he fell silent. If his nephew did not like the man and did not expect him, then it might be wise not to provoke Snape. Vernon sat back in his seat, remaining quiet and looking back and forth between the two wizards.

Snape waited until the commotion had passed before moving to point his wand at the television, which fell silent at once. His robes swirled as he turned and his eyes narrowed a bit as they fell on Harry. "Mister Potter," He greeted, his brow rising a bit. "IÂ’m here to collect you."

"You? Dumbledore sent you?" Harry demanded, incredulous.

"Obviously," There was a sarcastic drawl in SnapeÂ’s voice.

"But…" Harry couldn’t really finish that thought-‘but everyone thinks you’re a Death Eater.’ He knew it probably wasn’t true and it wasn’t fair to throw it back in Snape’s face, especially when the Potions Master was doing something to aid Dumbledore.

Snape noted HarryÂ’s eyes flick to his arm, where the dark mark was hidden beneath his sleeve. "Yes, odd," Snape agreed to HarryÂ’s silent statement. "Professor Dumbledore seems to think that you will be best protected with me."

"With YOU???" Harry demanded, pinching himself just to be sure he hadnÂ’t fallen asleep waiting and was having a horrible nightmare. But the pinch just hurt and didnÂ’t really make anything go away. And since he wasnÂ’t dreaming, he was certain that the whole situation was entirely screwed up. "IÂ’ll be safe with you? You absolutely hate me. And I don't like you, either. And youÂ…"

"IÂ’m no more thrilled about this than you are, Potter," Snape assured him. "Now, shall we go? The sooner I get out of this Muggle hell-hole, the better," He added, looking disdainfully around the room at all the electronic items, then casting a superior look at HarryÂ’s relatives. Indignant, Aunt Petunia finally closed her mouth and sat up primly and straightened her skirt. Dudley shuddered and sank further behind the sofa. The red colour was creeping back into VernonÂ’s face.

Harry, slightly nervous about a confrontation between Vernon and SnapeÂ…okay, a lot nervous, finally asked, "YouÂ’re serious?"

SnapeÂ’s eyes narrowed, "Apparently. Where are your things?"

Harry shook himself from his daze. "Upstairs, in my room. IÂ’ll get them."

"No need," Snape assured. He brushed past Harry and out of sight and his footsteps could be heard upon the stairs. In the brief moment of silence that passed, Harry could feel the tension in the room grow. VernonÂ’s eyes rested heavily on his back and Harry resisted the urge to look at the man, hoping that if he remained silent, everyone else would, too.

Snape re-entered the room a moment later, empty handed. "We should go now," Snape informed him. Snape held out his palm and something round, wrapped in cloth, rested on it. He held out the fabric for Harry to take.

"Where are my things?" Harry asked, and then added suspiciously, "WhatÂ’s that?" For a wild moment he recalled the bad guys in Muggle movies using rags covered in Chloroform to kidnap people, but he shook his head in disbelief at the ridiculous idea.

"Your trunk and owl are in your new quarters. This," He unwrapped the cloth and revealed a shiny stone, but was careful not to touch it, "Is a Portkey and it is the only mode of transportation available to you. He is currently monitoring your home and were you to leave, to catch the Knight Bus or fly, he would attack immediately. The Floo network is easy to trace and were you to use it, he would know where you had travelled. Now, take it and quit asking so many questions."

Harry reached for the stone hesitantly and sympathy flashed through Severus, before he stamped it out. He would not feel sorry for this boyÂ…The Boy Who Lived, the boy who everyone cares for, everyone was protective of. But for some reason Harry inspired feelings of compassion whether he wanted to feel them or not.

Harry still hadnÂ’t touched the thing and was looking hesitantly from it to Snape. He hadnÂ’t used a Portkey sinceÂ…sinceÂ…he couldnÂ’t bring himself to think about it and swallowed hard. He caught the black eyes with his own for a moment and saw what he thought was a brief flicker of sympathy but then it passed and Harry brushed it off as the lighting of the room. Harry closed his eyes and finally let his fingers close over the stone.

The feeling behind HarryÂ’s navel was more intense than it ever had been before and it pulled him forward quite roughly. He squeezed his eyes tighter shut as he felt himself being propelled downward. He met the smooth floor with a dull thud and refused to open his eyes. HarryÂ’s brain told him that he wasnÂ’t in a graveyard and that Voldemort wasnÂ’t around and that when he opened his eyes, Cedric wouldnÂ’t be lying dead next to him, but opening his eyes seemed like a task too great for even Harry Potter.

There was the sound of footsteps drawing near to him and gathering what courage he could, forced his eyes open. There was no grass beneath him and no dead body in sight, only shining white marble and a pair of black shoes before his eyes. He glanced up, his neck straining at the odd angle and saw Snape glaring down at him.

"Get up," Snape ordered and Harry obeyed, scrambling to his feet as quickly as possible, and was sorry for doing so. A wave of nausea swept over him along with vertigo and he was sure he was going to pass out. He felt his legs giving way beneath him, saw the floor rushing towards him, felt as if his body had turned to lead.

Then, there was a steadying hand on his shoulder and a supportive arm around his waist and he just wanted to cry, feeling as though the memories of that night were going to swallow him whole. There were voices in his head, the high pitched, cold sound of Voldemort saying to kill CedricÂ…Lucius slimy, smooth pleas for knowledge and forgivenessÂ…WormtailÂ’s sobbingÂ…His parents, Cedric and other victims of Voldemort giving him words of encouragement and Cedric, asking that his body be delivered to his family. And it was all too much.

A sob was trying to force its way out of HarryÂ’s throat and tears were stinging at his eyes but he had promised himself over a year ago that he wouldnÂ’t let that event haunt him forever. He had to be strong, because he was Harry Potter and he was Gryffindor and he would not be beat by memories. That would be making it far too easy for Voldemort.

Severus had grabbed Harry out of reflex and now was regretting it, not sure what effect it was having on him. He didn’t like to feel, as clichéd as that statement seemed to him, it was true. It especially bothered him that the one currently making him feel was Harry Potter. He knew what Harry was going through, even if he couldn’t quite relate. He knew that no boy Harry’s age should carry the burdens he did and should never have to see the things Harry had seen.

At the same time, however, he knew that Harry, specifically, had to deal with the things he had. It was most likely, Severus knew, that Harry would be the one to finally rid the magic world of Voldemort and Harry had to be strong to be prepared. As long as Dumbledore and the others continued to coddle him, Harry would draw strength from them, rather than depending on himself and that maddened Severus beyond words.

Taking a few deep breaths, Harry focused on his body and finding his balance on his own two feet before finally opening his eyes. He found himself partially in SnapeÂ’s arms, being held up by the older man. His first thought was surprise at how warm the body pressed against his was and that it was firm, yet soft. He had always assumed that to touch Snape would be just like looking in his eyes, cold and hard. Harry felt very awkward, not knowing whether he should say thank-you or remain silent. On the one hand, Snape might sneer at his thanks, but on the other, find him insolent for withholding appreciation.

During the internal debate over whether to express gratitude or not, Harry remained in SnapeÂ’s arms and he realised that while he wasnÂ’t withdrawing, Snape wasnÂ’t pushing him away. He looked up and their eyes met again and some strange, unnamed energy crackled between them.

Harry steadied himself and whispered, "Thank-you," Never taking his eyes from Snape's. The older man didn't respond, but his hands tightened on Harry's body and suddenly Harry felt claustrophobic in the embrace, and yet made no move to leave. There was a fluttering in his stomach, and he felt as if he might be sick if he stayed in SnapeÂ’s arms, but he might be even worse off if he left them.

Snape, however, seemed to have no compulsion to stay in the tableau and cleared his throat, gently disengaged himself from Harry. "Follow me," Snape instructed, with one hand held out in a vague invitation, gesturing down the hall.

Harry did as he was told, nearly running to keep up with SnapeÂ’s long strides. As they walked, he got his first good look at his surroundings. The hall was immense and seemed to go on forever in all directions. The ceiling was high with intricate, beautiful chandeliers, the candlelight casting a golden glow over the marble walls and floors and the tapestries and rugs in rich jewel tones. Gold trimmed mirrors made the room appear larger and there were tables at even intervals, covered in fresh flowers and delicate artefacts and every lovely thing imaginable.

Snape led them from the main hall down a narrower one decorated in much the same manner, but also adorned with portraits. Most of the paintings were waving merrily and smiling at Harry as he passed. All in all they seemed like a cheerful bunch. A few were having a heated debate over literature and didnÂ’t spare Harry a second glance. Two others were playing a game of chess.

A couple of Gryffindors (Harry guessed they were Gryffindor, as they were wearing ensembles of red and gold and bore the lion on their shields) were embroiled in a duel and their seconds were watching anxiously, obviously waiting for their turn. Harry briefly wondered if portraits could die. HeÂ’d have to remember to ask Hermione about that. No doubt sheÂ’d discovered the answer in one of her many magic texts. To HarryÂ’s surprise, a single teenage girl, wearing a Hogwarts robe from the house of Hufflepuff, was making her way through the frames, trading pleasantries with the other portraits and flashing curious glances towards Harry and Severus.

Harry considered whose home he was in and the first person that came to mind was Professor McGonagall. She had been in Gryffindor and with her intelligence, there was little doubt that she had Ravenclaw ancestors. Of course, if he were at McGonagallÂ’s house, why hadnÂ’t she come to get him? And where was she now? And why did Snape, of all people come to get him from his Aunt and Uncle?

Snape had led them to the end of the hall where they encountered a spiral staircase. Up and around to the second floor, which appeared to be no more than an expansive ballroom, though along the far wall Harry could see a few doors. They continued up the spiral stairs past the third floor, a hall lined in doors and then to the forth, where Snape led Harry to the first door and pushed it open.

Inside was the most lavish, decadent bedroom that Harry had ever seen. It was at least as large as the entire first floor of number 4 Privet Drive with a hardwood floor covered in colourful rugs. Large windows draped in golden curtains with bay seats lined the far side of the room. The walls were painted a deep red with pure gold panelling and were covered in gilded mirrors and richly coloured tapestries.

The bed, in the centre of the room and larger than all the beds in the fifth year boysÂ’ Gryffindor dorm pushed together, reached HarryÂ’s waist and was decked in sheets of silk and a comforter of velvet in the same shade as the wall. Gauzy curtains of gold hung around the bed, partially shielding Harry's view of it. The walls were lined with a large redwood wardrobe and matching desk. At the foot of the bed sat his chest, Hedwig and her cage on top.

"YouÂ’ll be staying here," Snape said, gesturing around the room. "When you wish to leave your room, simply tap the door handle twice with your wand. Someone will come along shortly to show you your way around."

Harry nodded his understanding and Snape continued. "Meals will be announced to you each day and if you are hungry between meals, the kitchen staff are available to you."

"You must not, under any circumstances, send any messages with your owl. Once he realises that you are gone from your family's home, he will begin to search for you and he will be monitoring the owl post in an attempt to locate you. If you feel the need to send a message, give it to a house elf, who will take care of it for you." Snape, feeling that he had done all the explaining that he needed to do and thinking his job done, began to back out of the room, drawing the door closed with him.

"Wait," Harry called out, effectively halting Snape. "WhoÂ…what? What I mean isÂ…"

"Very articulate, Potter," Snape scowled, sick of having his time wasted so completely. "Have you considered speech therapy?"

Harry flushed in embarrassment and anger, but couldnÂ’t think of an appropriate response because what he really wanted to do was retort with an equally snarky, smart-ass comment. But, seeing as how they werenÂ’t at school, Harry wasnÂ’t sure he wanted to know how Snape would punish him.

"Nothing more? Very well. You are in the east wing; my rooms are in the west wing. If you stay out of the west wing, we shall have no problems," Snape said coolly and was gone, as Harry did not protest to his leaving this time.

Of course now HarryÂ’s question had been answered, though he was sure Snape hadnÂ’t intended to be of assistance in that regard. He was at SnapeÂ’s house and that made absolutely no sense to him whatsoever. Why would Snape have portraits of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs on the walls? Why wasn't there a single Slytherin in the bunch? There was definitely a mystery for Harry to solve, but he wasnÂ’t sure how he would go about finding clues. Snape was hardly likely to answer any of the questions he had.

But that was too much for Harry to think about at the moment. All he could see was the bed with its soft sheets, beckoning him to it. Everything was so pristine, so rich and stately that Harry remained still, afraid to touch anything. Had Snape brought him here on purpose to intimidate him? Surely there were a more suitable room for him, something smaller, less fancy.

Harry found a door along the wall and upon inspection, found it was a large bathroom, comprised mainly of a tub. It was a bit smaller than the one in the PrefectÂ’s bathroom with fewer knobs, but still looked quite inviting. Harry began to run the hot water, fascinated with the way the steam rose and obscured the marble walls and seemed nearly opaque in the pale candlelight. As he began to undress, he was again caught by the strangeness of it all and felt suddenly vulnerable standing naked in SnapeÂ’s home.

He sunk quickly into the tub, hiding his body from any prying eyes and decided that he would not dwell on the oddities around him tonight. No, sleep seemed like a much more viable option. He could worry about everything else in the morning.

~*~

Severus burst into his quarters in the west wing, instantly comforted by his surroundings-deep blue and bronze. His room was substantially smaller than the one he had provided for Harry, simply because he strongly disliked wide-open, brightly lit places, one of many reasons why he liked his place in the dungeons at Hogwarts so well.

He made his way to the bathroom to prepare for bed, trying not to think about Harry and wondering if he was doing to the same thing. It seemed preposterous that Harry Potter was in his home. It seemed like the most improbable idea in the world. But Severus was an intelligent man and he knew, as Dumbledore did, that Harry was quite safe at SnapeÂ’s home. After all, with Severus parading as a Death Eater, the last place on earth one would expect to find The Boy Who Lived was at Snape Manor.

But that didnÂ’t change the fact that Severus would right now rather be spending time with Lucius Malfoy and Peter Pettigrew than staying in the same house as Harry. Could his life become any worse? He knew better than to ask that question out loud and therefore incur the wrath of whatever evil fairy looked over him daily.

Three months. Three months until they would head back to school. Severus knew those three months would be an eternity. He wasnÂ’t sure what he felt for Harry, besides seething anger and hostilityÂ…he wouldnÂ’t go so far as to say he hated himÂ…and he was quite sure he didnÂ’t want to examine his feelings for the younger man. Living here, with him, presented problems Severus didnÂ’t want to face.

Perhaps they could go three months without seeing each other. Was that an entirely too optimistic opinion? After all, Snape Manor was rather large and Severus spent most of his time in his laboratory anyway. Very slim chance of finding Harry there. So, there was no problem. He would avoid Potter, he could do that and just maybe they would both make it back to Hogwarts alive and emotionally unscathed.

~*~

The woman in the corner ignored him and continued stirring the fire, bringing it back to life and casting a stark shadow of her profile along the craggy surface of the wall. Her task complete, she sat back, resting her weight upon her hands and looking towards the mouth of the cave. "ItÂ’s going to rain."

Harry followed her gaze but didnÂ’t see the slightest hint of rain. The plains went on forever, it seemed, covered in dead, wheat coloured grass that hadnÂ’t seen water of any kind in years. There were a few animals, scattered, where there had once been herds. Everything was dying because it wouldnÂ’t rain. It couldnÂ’t rain. Not here.

"Rain doesnÂ’t fall here," Harry countered. It had stopped raining many years ago. He used to think it was just a brief draught, but then he came to accept the truth. The heavens forgot about him, here. "You should know that by now."

Finally, she looked at him and her poignant beauty struck him. Her thick black hair was matted in dirt and her skin was coated in a layer of dirt and grime. She looked as if she hadnÂ’t eaten in ages and was so thin that Harry was afraid the slightest wind would break her apart. But her eyes, obsidian, red reflected in the firelight shown out from her gaunt face and her smile, because now she was smiling at him, revealed two rows of startlingly white teeth. And she was breathtaking.

"It will. There is one who can bring the rain. But you have to be ready for it. You canÂ’t hide here forever and expect to be safe," She reminded him. She had told him so a thousand times.

"Yes. No one will find me here. IÂ’m safe from the heat and ifÂ…" He paused, and looked at the sky, full of the glaring yellow sun and not a cloud in sight. "If it rains, IÂ’ll be safe from it, too. The fire will keep the moisture out."

"The fire wonÂ’t last forever, silly boy. The fire canÂ’t protect you forever."

"Then IÂ’ll sit in the dark."

She stood suddenly and her smile widened as she slunk close to him. "YouÂ’re afraid," She observed. "You think the rain will do you harm."

Harry turned away from her, not wanting her to see the effect her words had upon him. "ThatÂ’s silly. Rain would do us good. The animals canÂ’t survive much longer without itÂ…so many have already died," He looked back in the depths of the cave and shrugged. "Rain is good," But his voice wasnÂ’t very convincing.

"You think the rain will make you sickÂ…make you weak if it is too strong or if there is too much," She observed wisely. "Oh, Harry," She enfolded him in her slender arms, cradling his head and pulling him close to her body. "Harry, the rain will do you so much good."

"IÂ’m not so sure. IÂ’ll just stay here. It will be fine, youÂ’ll see."

She shook her head and released him, retreating to her corner. "No, weÂ’re no longer alone. You arenÂ’t safe from the rain here. YouÂ’re in the SnakeÂ’s Pit, now and heÂ’ll force you out into the stormÂ…"

~*~

For the first time in what seemed like forever, his alarm, Dudley, Ron, or anyone or anything else for that matter didnÂ’t wake Harry up. For the first time in a very long time, Harry was permitted to sleep until he woke up. The first thing he noticed, as be became conscience, was the hot midday sun pouring through the windows and the curtains around his bed.

Harry stretched lazily and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Already fading was the strange dream heÂ’d had and all he could recall the vague feeling of disquiet it left him with. Try as he might, he couldnÂ’t remember the details just beyond his reach. As he sat and opened his eyes, he became aware of another presence in the room. There was a house elf sitting on his trunk, being very careful not to look at Harry. "Er, hello?" He asked hesitantly. He hoped the silent creature hadnÂ’t been waiting long.

When she turned his way, Harry noted she was similar in appearance to Winky, her eyes only slightly larger and nose smaller. She was wearing a flattering white gown that brushed her sandal-clad feet and wore a tiny white bow between her pointing ears.

"Hello, Sir. My name is Lily. Master Snape sent me to bring Sir to lunch. He was afraid that Sir missed breakfast because Sir was lost. I didnÂ’t mean to wake you, Sir." Harry blinked in surprise, not only at the elfÂ’s perfect speech, but also at the fact that she shared her name with his mother. "If Sir would like to get dress, I will wait outside," She offered politely.

"Alright," Harry agreed easily, though he was a bit perplexed. He seriously doubted that Snape was concerned about him missing breakfastÂ…Snape concerned about anything (except exacting punishment and removing points from any student who was not in Slytherin) was not something Harry considered possible. Perhaps Lily was just trying to cover up for what Snape had really said, which was most likely rude and uncomplimentary.

After throwing on a pair of loose jeans (DudleyÂ’s from when he was nine now fit sixteen year old Harry quite nicely) and one of DudleyÂ’s newer, relatively smaller shirts, Harry met Lily outside the door where she was waiting obediently.

"Sir, you are wearing Muggle clothing?" She asked incredulously when she saw him. Her already large eyes grew even bigger.

"Yeah, why?" Harry looked down at himself to verify what he was wearing and saw no problem.

"No reason, Sir. Follow me, Sir." Lily moved surprisingly quickly for such a small creature and soon he began to recognise his surroundings as those of the entrance hall. It looked a bit different in the daylight, much brighter and somewhat less majestic, though not at all less impressive.

"You know," Harry said in a conversational tone, breaking the silence which felt profoundly uncomfortable to him, "You donÂ’t have to call me Sir all the time. My name is Harry." He had no hope that Lily would actually address him as such, given his knowledge of house elves, but he hated to be called upon so formally.

"Very well, Harry. Master Snape is already dining, right through there." Lily pointed towards a set of large double doors that were slightly opened and then left Harry stunned at the use of his first name, and on his own to face Snape.

It was true, Snape was waiting for him inside, but his plate was empty and clean. The table, however, was laden with several different dishes, each still steaming and smelling absolutely delicious. His place was set and at the opposite end of the table from Snape.

"Mister Potter," Snape greeted, his voice barely audible.

"Professor," Harry returned, as cordially as he could. He couldnÂ’t help but note how different Snape appeared here. In the natural lighting, his skin was merely pale, not sallow and he looked much healthier and younger because of it. He seemed much more at home here than in the Hogwarts dungeons.

"I trust Lily treated you well?" Snape asked, gesturing for Harry to sit, which he did hesitantly with a nod of his head to answer SnapeÂ’s question. "Good, she will be your guide around the house. If you need anything, Lily will gladly provide it. I would like to keep our contact with one another to the absolute bare minimum, understood?"

HarryÂ’s eyes narrowed and he felt suddenly angry. Only Snape could inspire in him the righteous indignation he felt now. "Do you honestly think I feel any differently?" he demanded. He hadnÂ’t asked to be brought here. "Do you really think I laid awake last night imagining us frolicking through the house together?"

The instant his tirade was finished, Snape stood, placing both hands on the table and leaning forward in a rather intimidating manner. "You are here because you must be, to ensure your safety. I did not make the choice to bring you here, yet I have graciously allowed you to stay in my home. I will not be treated so disrespectfully by you." SnapeÂ’s voice when he was angry didnÂ’t rise in volume or pitch. Rather it got softer, lower and infinitely more deadly.

"Good day," He added, and then stormed from the room, slamming the doors shut behind him.

Harry looked down at his plate in embarrassment and just a bit of shame. He realised that Snape would probably rather play host to a hundred Muggles than him and that he was doing this for HarryÂ’s own good. Still, did Dumbledore expect them to live in the same house for three months? Somehow, the possibility seemed absurd.

After eating a large meal, Harry decided to further explore the manor, as he knew he would be spending the majority, if not all of his time there. If he were to be safe, he needed to remain out of sight from everyone. He journeyed down the halls alone, examining the pictures hung on the wall.

One of the more attractive portraits, dressed more modern than most (and wearing the Ravenclaw crest upon his robe) was reading a large book entitled Evelina. He looked up from the pages as Harry passed by and nodded invitingly towards him. "Good day, young sir. I am Derran Snape."

This caused Harry to do a double take. "YouÂ’re a Snape?" He asked in disbelief. "Snape is a Slytherin."

Derran sat aside his book and nodded thoughtfully. "We are all Snapes, that you see hanging along this hall. It is true; Severus is a Slytherin, the only Snape to be sorted into the house of the snake. We Ravenclaws have had many discussions over why. After all, Severus is very clever, perhaps the most intelligent of us all. And heÂ’s brave, too, which could have placed him in Gryffindor. But heÂ’s cunning and sharp and the Sorting Hat sees things we cannot."

Harry certainly knew Snape was intelligent. He knew what kind of skill it took to become a Potions Master. Not many in the magical world held that title and potions was not a subject that came naturally to a person. It took hard work and keen mind and a great deal of brains.

And SnapeÂ’s bravery was obvious, to Harry anyway. To know what Snape faced if Voldemort ever found out he was being double crossedÂ…Not for the first time, Harry found himself wondering what had caused Snape to join the Death Eaters and why he had turned back.

"Well, what were his parents?" Harry asked, curious now that he thought about it.

"Ah, Peter and Meredith Snape. He was a Hufflepuff, she is a Ravenclaw. A lovely match, they were. Why, they used to lavish affection upon SeverusÂ…Meredith still treats him as if he is the little boy he used to be."

Harry barely heard the last bit of the statement, as he was a bit hung up on the beginning. "SnapeÂ’s father was a Hufflepuff?" He squeaked. Ron and Hermione would never believe itÂ…he didnÂ’t believe it!

"Yes," Derran answered. "There are only a handful of Hufflepuffs in the Snape family, but they are loved above all others."

"And you?" Harry asked, changing the line of questioning. "How are you related to Snape?"

"I am his great uncle, quite deceased, sadly. I only met Severus a few times before I was painted, when he was much younger."

"Oh," Harry crossed his arms, suddenly remembering that he was talking to a piece of art and stepped closer to the frame. "What was he like then?"

"Much like he is now. He was quiet for a young boy and smart beyond words. I believe he was nine the first time I met him, I was visiting Peter and Meredith for a week. In that time he was reading some French Muggle novel. He didnÂ’t bother with translatingÂ…read it all in French and then wrote a paper discussing it just for the fun of it."

Derran smiled, his mind obviously off somewhere else. "He was also very affectionate. Always curled up between his mother and father, holding their hands. He wasnÂ’t the type to be ashamed of the feelings he had for his parents. He loves them both very dearly.

"Oh, and his sister! I donÂ’t think I ever saw any two people so close. They seemed to read each otherÂ’s minds. Though, sheÂ’s the exact opposite of him, you know? Out-going, loud and while intelligent, very flighty."

"His sister?" For the first time ever, Harry was thinking of Snape as a human being, rather than a heartless automaton. It seemed hard to picture Snape as part of a family. He seemed like the type who had never had anyone to love him, least of all a close-knit family. "And what house is she in?"

"Serenity is a Gryffindor, a few years older than Severus. She currently teaches at Beauxbatons as the Master of Divination. She is one of the few seers that can actually read tea leaves and tarot cards properly and predict future events," Derran explained.

"Harry?" Lily was approaching from the main hall and looked perplexed, "What are you doing standing here?"

"Oh, I was just talking with theÂ…" Suddenly it sounded so ridiculous, "Portrait."

Lily gave him an indulgent smile. "Well, as fascinating as Master Derran can be, perhaps you would like to be shown around the Manor. There are several rooms that I am quite sure you will enjoy."

Harry shrugged. He was going to be here a while, he might as well get to know his way around. "Sure."

The first place he was shown was the library, which far surpassed anything Harry could imagine. He was quite sure it was larger than the library at Hogwarts, though without the rows of shelves. Instead, the books were on shelves lined along the walls, from floor to ceiling. There were no breaks in the shelves for windows or bare wall, only for the door. Halfway up the room there was a platform that bordered the entire room.

In the middle of the room there was a comfy looking conglomeration of chairs, sofas and feet rests around a low table, which was currently piled with books. And there was a large podium with the biggest volume Harry had ever seen atop it. After a quick peek, he realised it was a book of potions, ingredients and substitutes--similar to the students' text, but much more detailed.

The next room looked like something out a museum with clear cases of ancient relics all around the room. The walls were covered in Muggle paintings that refused to move, even when Wizards and Witches snuck into their frames, admiring the strange surroundings. There also hung several Muggle and Wizarding weapons and windows opened out onto a large balcony, covered in exotic plants and outdoor furniture.

A game room, complete with billiard table was next. The chess set was ancient and tamer than most Wizard sets Harry had ever seen. They were in fact playing a game by themselves and completely ignored Harry and Lily as they looked around the room. There were also several wizarding games that Harry had never seen before that made him vow he would come back to this room later and try them out.

During their visit to the kitchen, Harry had a quick lunch and met most of the rest of Snape's staff. There were witches, wizards and house-elves alike in the huge room. Some cleaning, others cooking and the rest seated at the small staff table, listening to the butler recite their chores for the day.

They were all extremely polite and Harry noted that all the house-elves spoke perfectly, as Lily did, which puzzled him to no end. However, like other house-elves he'd met, they were all concerned with his well-being, asking what his favourite foods were, if there was anything they could pick up for him in town and if his room was to his liking.

After the tour, Harry spent most of the day in the library. After scanning a small bookcase of the lower level, he found a few books of interest and took them to the softest chair in the room and settled down to read.

When what seemed like a short while later, Lily announced dinner and Harry was astounded to see that several hours had passed. What he was not surprised by was the fact that he was alone in dining, Snape nowhere to be found. He ate in silence, wondering where the staff was and if it would be proper for them to dine with him. He finally decided it wasn't the sort of thing they'd agree to anyway and resigned himself to eating alone.

~*~

The next day, and for several following, Harry spent his time alone in the house. Lily helped him find his way until he could find it himself and now he would wander the halls, talking with the portraits, exploring new rooms or reading various interesting books from Snape's library. Lily had proved to be quite talented in many areas and had taught him several wizard games, which she would play with him when he couldn't find anything else to do.

Once in a while, Harry would pass Snape in the halls, or run into him in the library. Every so often, Snape would acknowledge Harry with a curt nod or a simple gaze in his direction; most of the time, Snape flat out ignored him. So, it came as a complete surprise when one day, as Harry was in the game room, currently playing against (and losing to,) the chess pieces themselves, that Snape sought him out.

Harry straightened immediately, upon Snape's entrance, feeling strangely embarrassed being caught in a desperate attempt to entertain himself. Snape didn't seem to be making any judgements, however, nor did he seem in the mood to start a war of words. Instead, he swept into the room and took the seat opposite Harry, making a great show of arranging his robes around himself.

Harry remained silent, afraid that if he spoke, he would inevitably say something wrong and cause an argument to ensue. At the same time, Snape was just as reluctant to speak first, for some of the same reasons.

While Severus had no compunction about tormenting Harry Potter, and in fact enjoyed it most of the time, it had not been his reason for coming to the game room he hadn't used since his teenage years. What had forced him to do so was a letter from Dumbledore. A letter that he had, upon receiving and reading, had taken great joy in the satisfactory (yet pointless and ultimately childish) action of burning.

The letter was checking on both Severus and Harry. Mainly on Harry. It had basically said, "Dear Severus, How is young mister Potter? I trust you are treating him well and have not been too hard on him. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, there is much the two of you can learn from one another. I know that you had issues with James in the past but I'm glad that you've put those behind you and I am sure that you are not taking out your anger towards him on Harry. The Boy Who Lived needs all the attention you can possibly give him. Coddle him, bath and dress him, give him everything he wants. Oh, and I hope the stress of being a double agent for myself and Voldemort isn't getting you down and that the fear of torture and death isn't weighing too heavily on your mind."

Okay, so maybe the last bit had been worded differently, but the message had been the same and along with it had come several letters from Granger, Weasley and Black, all desperately worried about Harry and why he hadn't returned their messages.

So, Severus told himself that he was here to deliver those letters and not because of any guilt Dumbledore's letter may have inspired. Severus knew Harry wasn't JamesÂ…he disliked Harry for being Harry, not for being James' son, he told himself firmly.

Finally, when Harry thought he might scream, if only to break the silence, Snape spoke. "I trust you have been well occupied by Lily?" Harry nodded dumbly in response. Like he was going to do anything else? "Good, and you haven't been bored?" Harry shook his head 'no.'

"Very well. These letters are from your friends. Dumbledore has asked me to pass them onto you. I shall remind you that you must not send them anything in response with your owl. If you must write them back, make no allusions as to where you are or whom you are with and then give the letters to me. I shall make sure they reach their correct destination."

There, enough charity for one day. Severus stood to leave, setting the rolls of parchment neatly on the table next to the chessboard. "Thank you," Harry murmured softly, halting Severus' progress towards the door.

The older man looked over his shoulder, pinning Harry with a glare of intense scrutiny. "You're welcome."

~*~

If either Harry or Severus thought that moment of brief rapport would lead to more friendly contact, they were dead wrong. By the last day of June, a month of torment, the loneliness and silence made Harry certain that he wouldn't be able to make it through the rest of the summer without going crazy.

Harry knew it was odd to feel so completely miserable here. He had survived years with the Dursleys, living under the stairs, and in the smallest room of the house. He had survived their neglect and maltreatment of him. He had even survived years of physical and mental abuse from his only living relatives.

Yet here, no one treated him badly, not even Snape, who simply avoided him, preventing him further discomfort. He was living in opulence, waited on by dozens of servants who fulfilled his every wish. He had a huge, comfortable bedroom and many other rooms to occupy his time and keep him entertained.

So why, when he had everything he had never had at with the Dursleys, with the obvious exception of affection, did Harry feel so miserable?

Lily was good company, but she couldn't spend all of her time with him and as the days wore on, the more time he spent with her, the harder it was for him to be alone. At least at his aunt and uncle's house there had been Dudley to torment him constantly.

It seemed strange to Harry that the isolation should bother him, as it never had this much at the Dursleys'. There, he had always found some way to entertain himself. Then, he had kept up constant dialogue with himself and inanimate objects around the house and garden and he always felt that someone, or something (even if it were a snake, a rock, a cloud or his own reflection) understood him.

Harry knew when it had started, how young he had been when he began to take solace in the things surrounding him, rather than the people. It had been a very early age, when he had rescued a stuffed animal (missing half its stuffing and with a split down its seam) from Dudley's second bedroom. At night, after the others had gone to bed, and when Harry lay alone in the dark cupboard, feeling insects crawl over his flesh and seeing shadows in the dark, he had begun to talk to the toy.

That night, he created an entirely different world, in which he was fully understood by the animal and in which the animal could communicate with him, as well. They talked about everything and nothing, Harry too young to realise that he was really only speaking with himself. He'd only kept it a day before Dudley noticed Harry had got some joy from a discarded toy and demanded it back. In the tugging match which ensued, the animal had been torn in half and Dudley laughed in malice as hot tears had begun to spill down Harry's cheek.

After that, he found himself speaking to any and everything about him, always making sure that none of his relatives saw him. He didn't have to be told the trouble he would be in were he to be caught speaking to nothing. That wasn't normal and his family despised anything that was not normal.

Of course, he'd given up that habit not long after joining Hogwarts. Though every so often he found himself returning to it late at night while trying to fall asleep, or when playing Quidditch, or even at odd moments when he felt if he spoke out loud, others would think him strange.

Then, during his second year, Ron had made the off-hand remark that went something like, 'Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world.' After that, any time Harry found himself about to start up a conversation with anything non-sentient, he stopped himself immediately.

Now, he was thinking about taking up the habit again, if only to keep his sanity intact. Harry wasn't stupid; he realised that even if Snape offered his company, Harry wouldn't take it. They had absolutely nothing in common and couldn't get through a dinner without insulting each other, let alone an entire day. It would be better not to try.

So, after the first week, he had begun sleeping in longer, lounging about listlessly and, more often, daydreaming. But this proved not at all helpful, because he had the most disquieting dreams that always floated beyond the realm of his understanding while sleeping and whose images vanished completely as soon as he woke.

And, after having drifted asleep in his room while reading his charms text for the coming school year, Harry was currently having one of said dreams.

~*~

The first thing Harry noted was that she wasn't tending the fire as usual, though the fire, however, was burning merrily. Instead, she was standing at the opening of the cave, looking out. "Why are you here?" Harry asked suddenly. "Who are you?"

She took her time getting around to answering him, staring out at the dismal yellow for quite a while. "You finally ask? I have been waiting for that question for quite a while. As for what I'm doing here, I have no idea. I've been trying to figure that out for some time myself. You're quite persistent, I'll give you that, Harry. You keep dragging me here when you fall asleep, though you don't seem to heed my advice. It is getting quite tiresome."

"But who are you?"

"Someone who's advice you should take. I have your best interest in mind. Now, do as I say, so we can quit having these silly, cryptic dreams," She replied shortly.

Before Harry could remark on her rudeness, the dream dissolved as Lily's disembodied voice announced dinner. Harry blinked the sleep from his eyes and tried once again, vainly, to recall the dream and why he was unaccountably angry.

With a sigh, Harry forced himself off the bed, ran his fingers through his hair and straightened his robes. He didn't know why he bothered, really, as he didn't expect Snape to suddenly show up for dinner for the first time in weeks.

As predicted Snape wasn't there that evening, but there was a woman. When he opened the door, she stood with her back to him and he noted that she was extremely tall and thin, much like Snape. She turned to face him when she heard the door and he noted that her skin was the same pale shade as Snape's. That was where the similarities stopped. Her hair was very short and blonde and her eyes were bright crystal blue, smiling at him.

"Hello?" Harry greeted awkwardly, wondering who she could possibly be. She was dressed in pale blue, high necked robes secured with a series of bronze 'S's and was therefore not part of the staff, all of whom dressed in plain black robes.

She smiled and set him at ease right way, gesturing for him to sit. "Hello, Harry. I've heard so much about you, as has everyone, I'm sure. My name is Meredith Snape, I'm Severus' mother."

"You?" Harry sputtered, and immediately regretted sounding so dumbfounded and childish.

Meredith raised one fair brow and asked, "You are surprised?"

"Sorry, but I just can't imagine Snape having a mother, let alone one as different from him as you," Harry admitted.

"It's alright," She said, shrugging her shoulders gracefully. "I know it is sometimes difficult for students to realise that their teachers are human beings too. Especially teachers such as Severus. From what I gather, he is not the easiest man to get along with."

Harry let out a burst of laughter in spite of himself and glanced at Meredith to see how she would take it, but she was laughing a bit too. "Yes," She added, when she caught him watching her. "I know that Severus delights in tormenting his students. But you have to understand that he isn't like that around everyone. Not around me, for example."

"And how is he around you?" Harry asked, hoping it wasn't too forward a question.

"He's my son," Meredith said simply and at Harry's still puzzled look, she extrapolated. "Well, he's not any happier around me. But, he is affectionate towards me. He never liked to be around anyone except Peter or myself and always preferred to play by himself or with his sister.

When Harry still looked doubtful, Meredith said, "There have been instances in his life which have caused him to be the way he is now, distant and seemingly cold, but that is for him to explain to you, not to me."

Harry didn't pry any further, knowing that not only would it be rude, but that it would get him nowhere. They spent the rest of dinner discussing other, more pleasant things. Meredith told him about her profession as part of the Ministry's Wizard-Muggle Relations Committee.

Harry was astounded to hear that the Wizard Ministry and Muggle Ministry were in constant contact with one another and that the Muggles knew all about the wizarding world and helped to keep the magical society protected and unnoticed. Likewise, the Wizard branch made sure that wizards didn't use their magic on unwitting Muggles or open locations for their own entertainment

Every story Meredith told, she managed to, none to subtly, sneak in praise for her son. Harry was catching on that she wanted him to give Snape a chance. He could take a hint, but certainly she didn't realise how strongly Snape disliked him, or she wouldn't be urging him on.

After dinner they had retired to the library for a game of chess and Meredith was suddenly forcing Harry to speak, asking him questions about his own experience in the Muggle world. She fortunately knew more about Muggle society and technology than Arthur Weasley and was therefore much easier to talk with on the subject.

"Are there times when you prefer Muggle technology to magic?" Meredith asked.

Harry was caught off-guard by the question, honestly never having thought about it. "I guess there are some who might feel that way. Like electricity could be considered easier than lighting a bunch of candles. Or a heating system more efficient than a fireplace, but I've always thought magic was easier and of course it doesn't waste so much energy. The Muggle world has all sorts of pollution and energy problems that we don't have to worry about."

"Ultimately magic wins out?"

"Well in my experience, yes. But there are areas that I don't know about. Like medicine, for example," Harry told her.

Meredith raised a brow at that and pinned him with a sceptic look. "You think that Muggles with all their pointless machines and experimentation on sick people is better than our potions?"

"I wouldn't know. My Potions Master hasn't exactly taught me much about the craft," Harry retorted and felt like cursing himself for saying it.

But Meredith simply let out a little giggle at the comment, "No, I imagine he hasnÂ’t. What is his class like for you, really?"

"Hell," Harry joked. "Seriously, if you're already good at potions, I guess his class is easy. But I didn't understand it to begin with and Snape didn't explain anything--his class is pretty much pass or fail. Since I never understood the basics, I don't get any of the more complicated stuff.

"I've got a friend, Hermione, who is the smartest witch I've ever met. She helps me some and I've learned more from her than I have from Snape, but I'm still lost in that class. It's really frustrating, I'll tell you, because I want to understand it. But if I so much as raise my hand in that class, I lose five points for Gryffindor."

"Mother?" Harry froze in the middle of his latest tirade and turned to the doorway where Snape now stood. He raised his brows and pursed his lips, watching his mother and Harry with shock and not a little anger.

"Severus!" Meredith grinned at her son and stood, crossing the room quickly and enveloping him in a tight hug. Harry watched transfixed as Snape returned the hug, tucking his mother's head beneath his chin and drawing her body tightly to his. "I decided to surprise you with a visit and Lily told me you were busy. Luckily, I ran into Harry and he has been keeping me company."

"I see," Snape said slowly, releasing his mother and not taking his eyes off Harry. "How long will you be staying, mother?"

Meredith hummed, winking at Harry, "Oh, I don't knowÂ…I have to leave Friday for a couple weeks. The Muggles are having some silly weekend retreat, but Fudge insists it is important. Then I planned on coming back and staying a while."

"By that you mean the rest of the summer?" Severus asked wryly, indulging his mother with a smile. "We will have to share the home with Mister Potter, of course."

"I have no problem with that," Meredith told her son, "Harry has been quite entertaining."

"I'm sure," Snape muttered.

"Well, boys, I'm terribly tired. I think I'll be heading off to bed now. Harry, it was lovely meeting you. Severus," She kissed the taller man on the cheek and ran an affectionate hand through his hair. "We'll talk tomorrow?" He nodded in agreement.

Snape gave Harry a long piercing look after Meredith had gone and then continued across the room to a bookstand that held his most advanced potion volumes. He selected a large, worn book and flipped it open, scanning the pages thoroughly, a scowl crossing his face. Finally, he lowered the book again and began to head out, not once looking at, or making a comment to Harry.

As he passed the table where Harry sat, Snape's eyes flickered over the abandoned chess game and scanned the board critically. He plucked up a pawn and moved it in the same line as Harry's king, effectively blocking the last path the king might take. "Checkmate." He locked eyes with Harry, noting the younger man's dropped jaw, and smiled triumphantly.

"Talking about me behind my back, Harry?" Snape asked with false innocence, wielding Harry's first name like a weapon. He clucked his tongue. "Not nice."

For a long moment, Harry didn't know how to respond. Finally, he said, "I'm sorry, but-well, IÂ…"

"Still having problems with the whole 'talking' thing, are we?" Snape asked caustically. "What did you say to her, Harry? Did you tell her how horrible I was? How badly I treated you?"

There was his first name, again. Harry winced at its use. "A bit, actually, but she spent most the time telling me how wonderful you were."

"My poor deluded mother," Snape said, smiling humorously.

Harry scowled at Snape, much to the older man's surprise. "Why do you do that?"

"What?" Snape demanded, a little too quickly and harshly.

"If you came out of someone so kind and charming, and if she thinks so highly of you, there must be something she sees in you. Something you don't let anyone else see," Harry observed, thinking better of it after the fact. He was putting his foot in his mouth an awful lot lately.

The anger Snape felt left him in waves, invading Harry's senses. He looked madder than Harry had ever seen him. "Potter, do I need to remind you that you are here on my charity alone? You have no right to pass judgement on me or my behaviour." Snape's eyes flashed dangerously.

Harry shrunk back into the seat, flinching at Snape's tone and the menace in his face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that, I swear."

Snape calmed visibly and was obviously upset with himself for having reacted as he had. "Well then, how did you mean it?"

"I'm going to be here all summer, right?" Harry said, "And the way we've been avoiding each otherÂ…I don't imagine it could go on two more months. I just figured we could try to get along. MaybeÂ…" He trailed off, peering up at Snape through his lashes.

"Yes?" Snape probed, leaning forward unconsciously.

"MaybeÂ…we couldÂ…get to know one another better," Harry finished at last, closing his eyes in anticipation of Snape's response.

"Get to know one another?" Snape was incredulous, to say the very least. Harry opened his eyes and met Snape's gaze hesitantly. Snape let out a derisive snort. "You're serious?"

"Well, yes." Harry felt a bit indignant.

"I don't know what you're playing at, Potter, but I don't appreciate you wasting my time like this," Severus muttered, trying to decide whether to take the younger man seriously or not.

"I told you I was being serious!" Harry protested.

Snape narrowed his eyes and stepped even closer to Harry. "You want to spend time with me? Oh, what would your Gryffindor friends say to that?"

Harry scowled and said, more softly, "Yes, I want to spend time with you. And I don't care what my friends would say. They aren't here."

Severus pursed his lips in thought, staring down his nose at Harry, who was gazing expectantly up at him through those damned thick lashes of his. Severus felt his will weaken and he knew that he was going to break the promise he had made to himself about treating Harry like an irritating insect.

"Very well," He said at last. And with that, Snape spun and left the room, robes billowing silently behind him, leaving Harry, befuddled, on the couch. After it was very clear that Snape wasnÂ’t returning, Harry got up and headed slowly back to his room, wondering what the hell had just happened.

~*~

So, Potter wants to play niceÂ…I can do that. Snape told himself this firmly, though he wasn't quite sure of the fact. He didn't play nice with anyone, least of all annoying, goody-two shoes Gryffindors. Still, the guilt trips Dumbledore had been giving him via owl-post were getting tedious. This way he could at least shut the Headmaster up.

Give Potter a chance to prove himselfÂ…that's what he'd been trying to do for the past six years and perhaps he had been going about it the wrong way. Anyone with brains could see that Harry was going to be pivotal in the final battle and he had to be prepared. Perhaps Severus could take advantage of their time together to get him ready.

It was a better option than to allow Potter to lie around the house all day doing nothing more productive than daydreaming.

~*~

"I just want to say that it is about time," She told him, her tone exasperated. "Just remember, when all is said and done, I told you so."

"Well, aren't you behaving in a mature manner," Harry retorted. "All of the sudden you go from being all motherly and concerned to being downright rude."

Her scowl faded at that. "It's for your own good, Harry."

~*~

For the first time since Harry had arrived at Snape Manor, he was woken up by a knock on his door. Rubbing sleep from his eyes and feeling dead tired; Harry answered, "Yes?" When that garnered no response, he added, "Come in."

The door flew open and admitted Severus, who practically glided into the room and pushed back the curtains along the far wall, allowing sunlight to flood in. "Do you sleep this late every morning?" Snape said, in a chastising manner.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, brain still drugged with sleep.

Snape stopped, dropping the drapes and turning to face Harry. "I'm waking you up, obviously." Harry grinned despite himself. "Now, get dressed. I'll meet you in the dining room."

When Harry arrived in the dining room, Snape and Meredith were already seated and discussing something in soft, hushed tones. When Harry walked in they fell silently immediately and straightened in their seats. During breakfast, Meredith did most of the talking, as Snape and Harry both seemed reluctant to make conversation. After breakfast, Meredith left to go into town for a while, leaving Snape and Harry alone together again.

Snape stared appraisingly at Harry and folded his hands over his plate. "So, you want to know me better," Snape wasn't asking this time, rather he was stating. "Well?" He stood and tipped his head slightly towards the door, leaving the room. Harry got the hint and ran out of the room behind Snape, following him through the wide halls of the manor, towards the west wing.

This side of the house was much different than the rest. The halls weren't decorated with portraits and were painted deep royal blue that matched the carpet. Every once in a while there was a tapestry to break the monotony of the blue, but on the whole, the West Wing was barren compared to the rest of the manor.

Snape came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the long hall, without a door in sight. Harry looked around, for some sign as to why they had halted. "Here," Snape gestured to a brightly coloured tapestry with a wave of his hand. Harry looked at it, puzzled. "Mandrake roots." Snape said loud and clear, lifting the edge of the cloth. Beneath it, a door opened.

Immediately, Harry was reminded of Dudley's favourite scary movie, Frankenstein. The room was dimly lit, the candles casting large, vague shadows in the corners. There were several large cauldrons, filled with different coloured potions, some bubbling, some simmering, others just sitting there. Several gadgets around the room were working on their own, measuring and adding ingredients, stirring mixtures and bottling potions.

"I've noticed that you've been barely scraping by in Potions," Snape said and Harry opened his mouth to protest, but realised that Snape was trying to elicit that very response from him. Besides, truth be told, Harry really did very badly in Potions, even without Snape's help (or lack there of.)

"So," Snape continued, in the wake of Harry's silence, "I've decided to tutor you personally. Perhaps, with my help, you could do better than Granger."

"I doubt that," Harry muttered.

"Doubt not. I could make Neville pass potions if I wanted. Which I don't," Snape began and Harry wondered, with a bit of awe, if perhaps the older wizard had a sense of humour after all. "I figured if we were going to be spending time together, I could make the most of it," Snape told him, raiding the cabinets and gathering a collection of jars and vials on the countertop.

"So, what are you teaching me today, oh wise one?" Harry asked, mimicking Snape's trademark sarcasm.

Snape raised a brow, "Don't call me that."

Harry straightened, and tried to look apologetic. He certainly didn't want to cause any trouble now that they were in the same room and remaining civil to one another. "What shall I call you then?" Harry asked sincerely. "Calling you Professor in your home, over the summer seems really strange."

"You could call me by my name," Snape pointed out in the voice he reserved for explaining something very difficult to a very small child.

"Severus?" Harry asked, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Why not? It is what I generally go by," Severus said, measuring some brown powder and dumping it into a cauldron.

"Severus," He tested the name softly under his breath, wondering how in the world he had ended up at Snape's home, in his laboratory, calling him by his first name. Oh, life could take some strange turnsÂ…

"Now, as for your tutoring. My mother, the wonderful, wise woman that she is, suggested I start out with some rather rudimentary potions, as you may not have mastered them the first time around." At this, Severus paused and gave Harry a wry scowl. "I wonder where she got that idea."

"She asked," Harry protested, hoping that this wasnÂ’t going to lead to another reprimand. "I didn't just start off on your teaching skills."

"Of course not, that wouldn't be very Gryffindor-like of you, would it be?" Severus demanded. Before Harry could retort, Severus held up a hand to silence him. "Why don't we start with a simple healing potion?"

Harry nodded his agreement and Snape pointed to the thick book he had laid on the counter next to the ingredients. Harry recognised it as the first potion text he had ever had. He flipped through the pages to the designated spell, noting the list of ingredients. Dried nettles, crushed snake fangs, bubotubor pus, horned slugs, porcupine quills--it seemed very familiar, probably a potion that Neville had managed to screw up.

Snape had already started a flame under the cauldron and stood aside to allow Harry to begin the potion. Harry scanned the instructions. It seemed simple enough. Ten fluid ounces of bubotubor pus, two and a half teaspoons of snake fangs, four slugs, and a pinch of nettles brought to a boil and kept at that heat for ten minutes while stirring. Remove from heat, allow to cool for five minutes and add twelve quills. For some reason, Harry got the impression that it wouldn't be so easy.

Casting a furtive glance towards Snape, Harry began measuring and adding the ingredients in the order they were listed. He was intent on getting this right. Snape didn't make a comment as he worked, simply watching Harry like a hawk. When the water began to boil, Harry stirred as instructed, gently turning the wooden spoon within the mixture. Instead of turning pale yellow, as the book indicated, it was taking on a reddish brown tint.

"I don't understand why it won't work, if I do exactly what the book says," Harry said plaintively.

"That is only part of it, Potter," Snape said with a slightly exasperated sigh. "You must add the ingredients at the proper intervals. For example, in the Pepper-up Potion, it is necessary for the honey and pepper to simmer for ten minutes before adding the mint or you end up with a quite useless, rather disgusting tasting mixture instead of the medicine.

"And then the type of stirring is important too. A book will never tell you how gently or vigorously to stir a mixture. You must look at the volatility of the ingredients and decide for yourself. That is why it is important to understand what each herb, each animal part, each individual ingredient is used for, and what they are capable for before beginning the potion."

Finally, Harry understood why Hermione spent hours on end reading their potion text, learning what Harry and Ron had thought were irrelevant facts about potion ingredients. Well, if the tutoring kept up, Harry might finally be able to give Hermione a little competition, at least in one of their classes.

"Well, then why didn't you tell me if I was doing it wrong?" Harry snapped, a bit irritated. Didn't tutoring require someÂ…wellÂ…tutoring on the part of the instructor?

"I was waiting for you to ask," Snape said simply. "Why don't we try it again?"

They spent the majority of the afternoon in Snape's lab, going over some rather routine potions, Snape explaining everything in detail, so there was no possible way Harry might get confused. After Harry had succeeded in tackling several potions he'd had trouble with in the past, Snape decided they could finally leave the dismal (from Harry's perspective) dungeon-like room and have dinner. He had Harry take an index of ingredients and their uses to read until their next lesson. Despite the fact that Harry thought he might be bored to death, he vowed to himself that he would learn what he was supposed to.

When they arrived in the dining hall, smelling of disgusting potion ingredients, Meredith was waiting for them. They spent the rest of the evening together, retiring to the lounge after dinner to talk and allow Severus and Meredith to take turns beating Harry smashingly at chess.

~*~

The rest of the week Harry spent half of each day with Severus and the other half with Meredith, enjoying the company of both and learning a great deal in the process. Already Harry was to the fourth year potions text and he found that he had a good memory for the uses of many magical plants and herbs, as well as animal parts. He was not only learning quickly, but enjoying it as well.

Meredith had told him a great deal about Muggle-Wizard relations that he found quite interesting and he knew that Hermione would love to hear about it all when they returned to Hogwarts. As they discussed the merits of Muggle technology and medicine, while acknowledging that it could benefit from Wizard improvements, Harry began to think that he knew what he wanted to do with his life beyond Hogwarts. A career as part of the Ministry's Wizard-Muggle Relations Committee sounded quite promising, especially since he had grown up in a Muggle environment.

Meredith left on Friday, as she had said she would and once again it was just Harry and Snape in the huge mansion. The difference, of course, was that Snape wasn't ignoring Harry as he had before. They continued their lessons in Severus' but had, however, carefully avoided conversation that veered away from potion making and casual topics.

It was mid-July, and Harry had begun to feel more comfortable around Severus when a nagging question began to form in the back of his mind. He had been making increasingly difficult potions with Severus for over two weeks and he could tell that the older wizard enjoyed the process very much. He spent nearly all his free time making ancient potions, some easy, some quite difficult and even experimenting with new ones of his own.

After a short time, it became obvious that potion making was the one great passion in Severus Snape's life, so that left Harry wondering why he would want to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts.

~*~

They had finished their potion-making for the day and Severus had begun working on one of his private potions, ignoring the fact that Harry was lingering. He crossed to a cauldron of lavender liquid, bending at the waist. His hair nearly brushed the surface and he breathed deeply before smiling an expression so rare that Harry was startled by it. Severus grabbed a bottle from the counter and sprinkled some of the contents over the mixture, which turned pale green on contact.

Harry followed Snape's steps, smelling the concoction himself--it smelled like the ocean. "Severus?" Harry asked softly.

"Hmm?" Severus hummed absentmindedly, moving to another cauldron, adjusting the heat.

"Why do you want to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts? I mean, don't you love Potions?"

Severus' head snapped up in response to the question, his eyes going wide as they fixed on Harry's, searching for an endless moment. Finally, he tore his gaze away, shaking his head slightly. He didn't answer right off, though, as he wove through the rows of cauldrons and counters, checking his potions. "What ever gave you the impression that I wanted to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts?" He whispered and didn't look up as he added some liquid to another potion and stirred it gently.

"WellÂ…" Harry was at a loss for words for the first time since he and Severus had begun to spend time together and he sincerely hoped that Snape wouldn't resort to his old insults. "Everyone thinks that you do," He finally blurted out.

For an instant, Harry thought he saw a flash of sadness flash through Snape's eyes before they recovered their cool distance. "Yes, but why do you think that I want to?" Snape rephrased, not looking directly at Harry.

Harry shrugged, bewildered. "You--well, you never seemed to like any of the Defence professors--"

"One had Voldemort as an occupant of his body, one was a werewolf that nearly killed me in our youth, one an incompetent idiot who illegally altered memories and the other was posing as Auror who caused me a great deal of difficulty. And let's not forget the most recent, shall we? A twit who couldn't even make it through the year, so convinced was she that every shadow was out to get her," Snape said sharply in his defence. "I never coveted their position."

Though Harry knew better, the words slipped out before he could stop them, "An Auror who gave you difficulty because you used to be a Death Eater?"

Severus' back went rigid and his hand instinctively flew to grip his left forearm. "You have no right," He shouted, surprising Harry, who had rarely heard Snape's voice go above a whisper.

"But-"

"Get out, now," Snape's voice was again soft and quiet, but Harry knew that the older man was just as angry now as he had been a second ago. He also knew to follow the order he had been given. With one last desperate look at Severus, he turned and ran quickly from the room.

Severus stared blankly ahead for a moment, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of his arm, causing a stinging pain even through the layer of clothing. Defence Against the Dark Arts? He shook his head in disbelief, wondering just when that little rumour had begun, and how. It didn't matter, though. So the little brats thought he was out for a different position. What did he care what they thought?

What did he care what Harry Potter thought?

He had to see it; it was a strangely fascinating site. Severus rolled back his sleeve, baring the mark on his inner arm, startling black against equally startling white, encased in four crescent moon indentations from his nails. Tiny bits of flesh had been carved out from the contact and Severus traced a finger over the brand, brushing away the skin. What would they think if they could see this? Would they think him interested in their safety from the Dark Arts then? Severus let out a very un-Snapish snort.

They would never understand the truth, or believe it, if they could indeed comprehend. There were a few teachers who still didn't trust him, despite their proof of Severus' loyalty. So why would he think that Harry Potter, of all people could be the one to fully understand, and accept and believe that he wasn't the monster he was portrayed as?

Harry looked up, startled by the knock on the door. Lily generally announced her presence verbally and Meredith was still out of town. Confused, Harry called, "Come in."

There was a moment's hesitation on Severus' part before he reluctantly turned the handle and stepped inside Harry's bedroom. He wondered at what point his mind had begun to refer to it as Harry's, rather than His guest room.

Immediately, Harry jumped off the bed, looking distinctly uncomfortable, almost as much as Severus felt. He wanted to apologise, but refrained, not wishing to call any attention of any sort to himself. Severus found his eyes slowly and Harry noted that the black gaze was filled with sorrow and anguish.

Severus gestured to the edge of the bed. "Do you mind if I sit?" He asked softly and Harry shook his head "no" in response, waiting until Severus sat before he did so himself, perching lightly on one heel, ready for flight if necessary.

A long moment of rather uncomfortable quiet followed, neither man meeting willing to look at the other. Severus braced himself at last and pulled back his sleeve, baring the Dark Mark which Harry's eyes immediately fixed on, staring in unmitigated curiosity and a bit of horror. Severus traced it thoughtfully, obviously searching for the right place to begin his explanation.

"I didn't want it," He said at last and Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. "The mark, the vaunted status of Death Eater. It was forced on me."

"Forced upon you?" Harry echoed. And regretted it. Severus didn't like interruption and he did not want the older man to clam up on him now.

But Severus didn't seem to mind the question. "I know you've wondered why I'm Slytherin and why I joined Voldemort. All this goodness around me and I turn out evil. I'm surprised you let the question slip sooner, knowing your inquisitive nature." Harry felt a bit guilty, but Snape was right, they were good questions and he wanted good answers.

"Ready for a long story?" Harry nodded, careful not to say another word. "Very well. You must realise that Voldemort had been gaining power slowly and steadily for many years before he became the Dark Lord. He began recruiting followers secretly based on their skills and desire for power. As you can probably guess, most of these followers came from Slytherin. Anyway, most people dismissed Tom Riddle, thinking him a fine example of what all wizards should be and they never for a moment believed that he could be evil.

"Eventually, he disappeared altogether and underwent several magical transformations that changed him from the boy you saw to the snake-like creature that you have encountered. He openly declared himself Lord Voldemort and few realised that he was Tom Riddle.

"However many older, wiser wizards knew differently, thanks to Albus Dumbledore. The Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws saw this coming, yet were powerless to stop it due to the way the Ministry was run and the way Voldemort was going about business. They knew the best way to end his reign of terror before it could grow out of control was to infiltrate his lair and defeat him once and for all. Yet, Voldemort knew them all his foes by name and face and knew that no one out of the house of Slytherin was to be trusted.

"My parents were eager to help in any way they could. Serenity had already been sorted into Gryffindor and no other parents were willing to let their children be used as pawns," There was a bitter pause here, Severus looking out the window where it was rapidly growing dark. "So, why not use young Severus?"

Severus stood and walked to the window, placing a thin hand on the glass, the cool soothing him somehow. He stared out blankly as he continued, "I had just turned eleven when it was all explained to me. I knew then as I know now that my role is vital in the downfall of the Dark Lord. Dumbledore brought the sorting hat to my home a few days before school began and while it wanted to sort me into Gryffindor, Dumbledore instructed it to sort me into Slytherin.

"I was instructed to befriend the sons of all of Voldemort's followers and become their confidants. I was to be the best Slytherin, the most ambitious and ruthless. I played the part to perfection. Which lost me all the friends I should have had."

"My father and Sirius," Harry hazarded a guess.

"Yes, and all the others, of every house. During those times, the animosity between Slytherin and the other Houses was unbelievable, much as it is growing to be now, thanks in large part to young Mister Malfoy. None of the other houses would give me a chance, even if I had allowed them to. Of course I was bitter, which is part of the reason I followed your father and his friends around everywhere. I was envious of the kind of friendship they had-the undying loyalty.

"The worst part came at graduation of course, when I was forced to become a Death Eater."

Harry felt a gasp escape him despite his best attempts to hold it in. "They forced you to join Voldemort? How could theyÂ…"

"I didn't join him, Harry," Severus said firmly, turning back and locking eyes with Harry to drive home his point. "I had the mark burnt into my arm and I did as Voldemort told me, within reason. I would feed him false information about what Dumbledore and the others were planning. But, I never joined him; it was all a façade, to learn what I could about his plans. I worked as his Potions Master, and in like, the Potions Professor at Hogwarts.

"I learned about his plan to kill you and your father and I warned Dumbledore, who in turned warned Sirius and James. Obviously, it didn't work, but thanks to you, Harry, I was free from Voldemort.

"Only a chosen few had known about my role as a double agent and Alastor Moody was not one of those few. That is why he brought me before the Ministry of Magic."

"But," Harry spoke hesitantly, straightening a bit. He raised his eyes to Snape's.

"Yes? I think we've moved beyond the point of polite conversation," Severus said dryly, clasping his hands behind his back and fixing his full attention on Harry.

Harry faltered under the gaze, but was resolved to have his question answered, because he was even more confused now than he had been before. "I saw, in Professor Dumbledore's PensiveÂ…Karkaroff's trial. Dumbledore said that you had been a Death Eater but rejoined our side before Voldemort's downfall and then you turned spy."

Severus nodded in agreement, "That is what he said at my trial. We knew even then that Voldemort was not completely defeated and he would one day return to be defeated properly. As such, I was forced to continue to play the part of the nasty, Slytherin Potions master, awaiting the day when Voldemort rose to power once again. Voldemort would never take me back if Albus had revealed that I had been working undercover all along. This way I could tell Voldemort that I had saved myself from Azkaban with the lie as to assist him when he once again rose to power. And here that day is."

~*~

After the truth of Severus' past had been revealed, Harry found that Severus was more open about a great deal of things, and infinitely easier to get along with. They had passed the fifth year curriculum and were moving on to sixth year potions. Severus acknowledged that this would give Harry an edge over the other students, but Harry was eager, so they continued. Before Harry knew it, he was considering Snape a friend, something he had never thought possible. They were even beginning to spend time with one another outside of the dungeon-like lab.

"Potter, it has been your turn for over ten minutes, now," Snape drawled catching Harry's eyes. "Are you ready to concede? Are you ready to admit I am better than you at chess, as I am with everything else?"

"Shut up, Severus," Harry growled, staring hard at his chess pieces. He was relieved when Severus didn't appear angry at his words. It was still difficult to think of Snape as a companion, friend even, rather than the head of Slytherin House and the indomitable Potions Master. He never knew what was appropriate to say and what was still off-bounds.

"Give it up."

Harry shook his head firmly. "There's a way out of this."

Severus leaned back in his seat, lacing his fingers behind his head and closing his eyes. "Wake me when you find it." Harry scowled.

A few minutes later, "Oh, fine! I give up."

Severus quirked his lips triumphantly and muttered under his breath, "Pathetic." Harry stuck is tongue out in response. "Oh, very mature."

"Thank you," Harry responded, raising his nose to the air.

"Another game?" Severus suggested playfully as the chess pieces began to drag themselves back into position. There was much bickering between the white and black pieces, neither colour wanting Harry to play with them.

Harry, with a look at the pieces said, "Maybe a different game?"

"You'll never be any good at it if you keep giving up," Severus pointed out and the chess pieces, who had thought they were going to get out of playing glared up at their owner.

"Fine," Harry conceded again, setting back in his seat. The pawns were looking mutinous.

The game continued in companionable silence, except for the voice of the white queen, who kept hissing orders in Harry's direction. Harry's mind wandered as he watched Severus make many strategic choices, finally understanding just how formidable a foe Severus really was to Voldemort. With his keen intelligence, Severus was quite capable of taking on just about anyone, mentally and he could certainly lead one to believe just about anything.

Of course, Voldemort wasn't just anyone. While any normal human being would be no match for Severus' intellect, Voldemort was another matter entirely. Despite Severus' cool, no nonsense demeanour, Harry couldn't help but wonder what Severus felt about the situation and his role as a spy.

"Are you afraid? Honestly?" Harry asked suddenly, softly, "I simply can't imagine what it would be like to be close to him on a regular basis."

Snape didn't look up from the board, where he was considering his next move. "I suppose I am a bit. I don't think I'll be alive at the end of all this."

Harry could hear the quiet resignation in his Snape's voice and felt horrible for it. He didn't continue on the subject, not wanting to dwell on the thought of a dead Severus Snape, nor the war with Voldemort in general. But somehow, he knew that Severus was the only one that he really could talk to about his fears and have them understood.

"Well," Harry said, "I'm terribly afraid--not for myself."

Severus finally looked up at him, a pensive look in his black eyes, considering Harry's troubled expression. Harry continued, unaware of the older man's attention. "I'm afraid about those we will lose. Those we've already lost--Cedric, Bertha, that poor Muggle man and all those who died before I was even born. My parents certainly immune to the evil, so who am I to think that my friends will be? Hermione, Ron, Lupin andÂ…SiriusÂ…Voldemort really wants him, doesn't he?"

Severus looked away from Harry, but shook his head 'yes.' "Why? What is it about him? And what was it about my father and myself? Why did he want us and not my mother?"

The chess game was forgotten. Severus didn't respond, but stood and turned his back to Harry instead, hoping to dodge the questions. Of course, Harry wasn't going to let it go that easily. He surprised both himself and Severus by reaching forward and gripping the older man's sleeves in a death grip.

Severus regarded him silently for a moment before taking Harry's hands in his and prying the fingers from the cloth and using the leverage to push Harry slightly away. It did not bother him to explain why Voldemort was after Black and his reasons not to kill Lily were things that he did not want to tell. Harry, however, was seemingly quite insistent on learning the truth and would learn it eventually, anyway. Why not prepare him sooner.

"Very well," Severus said tightly. "It is true that Voldemort is particularly keen on catching Black. Not many people have the ability that Black does--his power is similar to Dumbledore's, yet not so refined. He will be essential in the final battle. Voldemort offered Black a place at his side many years ago, before Pettigrew betrayed your parents. Of course, when he refused, Voldemort was furious and has been attempting to get rid of him ever since.

"As for your mother, she never had anything to worry about. She was in Slytherin and Voldemort figured that she could be easily swayed by an Imperious Curse to join him, once he had taken away everything she loved. He underestimated her goodness. Not everyone in Slytherin was evil.

"But your father and you, Harry," Severus slowly and reluctantly looked Harry in the eye. "We never understood. Not any of us. He didn't explain it to us then and he hasn't mentioned it since he has returned."

Harry was watching him with wide-eyes. "My mother was in Slytherin?" He demanded shrilly.

"Harry, she was nothing like what you would imagine a Slytherin to be. I do not know why she was sorted there; she was good and kind and sweet, but she was cunning, too. You must understand that she never behaved like a Slytherin. Never likeÂ…" Severus' voice faded away, his gaze falling to the floor. "Me."

Suddenly, Harry felt sorry for his attitude. What did it matter now which house his mother had belonged to? Obviously his father hadn't had any problem with her being a Slytherin. "Did you know her well?"

Severus sighed, the sound seeming to carry the weight of the world. "I was her house mate, but she could not stand me. She could not stand many of the students in Slytherin. She had always been the outcast of Slytherin, spending time with your father and the other Gryffindors. She had even dated a Hufflepuff. I think by our third year, Lily was no longer considered a Slytherin.

"But every once in a while, she would show the qualities that had placed her in our house. Did you know that she was the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, and the Seeker?" Severus asked, a reminiscent smile tugging at his thin lips.

"No," Harry said, disbelieving. Why had no one told him his mother was a Seeker? Why had no one told him his mother was in Slytherin?

"Well, she was the best Seeker we've ever had. It was often a source of amusement-the Gryffindor Keeper dating the Slytherin Seeker. But Lily always showed her true Slytherin spirit on the Quidditch pitch. She was ruthless during the game and she came up with the most devious plans. She only ever lost one game and that was to your father, the year he won the Quidditch cup.

"But we didn't really know each other personally, though I did spend some time with her during our last year. She was head girl and I was a prefect and we had to work together sometimes. Lily always wanted to see the good in people and I assume she realised that I was not what I pretended to be. She never did anything to compromise my cover, however, which she inevitably would have, were she suddenly to become my friend."

Severus abruptly snapped out of his recollections. "You must never doubt that Lily Evans and James Potter were anything but pure and good Wizards.

It was such a shock for Harry to hear Snape speaking favourably about the Potters. Of course, now he understood why James had received all the ridicule from Severus while Lily had received none. Harry wondered what Severus would say of James Potter now, were Harry to ask him. He wasn't sure that it would be entirely complimentary, so he refrained.

After a long silence, both decided the subject was best left behind for now. "I think that is enough chess for one day," Severus said softly, and swept from the room.

~*~

On July thirty-first, Harry moped about the entire day, feeling foolish for doing so, but sad none-the-less. After all, it was his sixteenth birthday. He was now only one year away from becoming an adult in the wizarding world. Of course, if he were at his aunt and uncle's house, he would have had no party, so he shouldn't have felt sad that he didn't have one here.

Through Dumbledore all his friends had sent him gifts and while it was comforting, it wasn't the same as having a real partyÂ…not that he would know. He realised that he'd never had a birthday party, so he couldn't really find a basis of comparison.

Harry tore open the first of the letters and smelled a hint of lavender wafting from the paper and elegant, dark cursive scratches across the high quality paper.

Dear Harry,

I'm so worried about you! Dumbledore has said you are safe, but I wish I could see you myself. I hope that you are well, wherever you are, and happy. My summer has been very interesting. My parents took me on vacation to Nice and it was very lovely, though a bit hot. I did get to meet several local witches and wizards though, and you won't believe who I ran into--Fleur Delacour! She was tanning on a nude beach--can you imagine?? Oh, perhaps I don't want to ask you that question. Ron demanded to know if I had taken a picture after I told himÂ…of course I didn't! Anyway, it was fascinating to see how a different culture practices magic!

I've decided to go to Ron's early this year, Mrs. Weasley mentioned that things were lonely around the house without the twins around. I suppose that you will not be visiting the Burrow at the end of the summer as planned, due to the danger? Ron and I will miss you a great deal (Not to mention Ginny.) If you can respond, let me know you're okay! Otherwise, I'll be waiting for September 1^st with baited breath.

Love,

Hermione

Harry smiled at the sweet words and the image of Hermione and Ron having to put up with an insanely worried Ginny. He just knew they were going to kill him when he got back to school. Of course, if they ever found out where he had spent the summer, Ginny would seem like a walk in the park in comparison. Not that they ever would find out.

He moved onto the next letter, noting the familiar, somewhat sloppy handwriting of his best friend.

Dear Harry,

Dumbledore won't tell us where you are! It can't be that serious, can it? I mean, you've faced You-Know-Who before, quite a few timesÂ…and you're still standing! I don't see why you couldn't come and stay at the Burrow. We could protect you. At least, Percy could have. He's been going on and on all summer about the new training he is receiving. The ministry is insisting that all employees have minimal Auror training. Course, don't know what good that'll do Percy--at the first sight of danger, I'm sure he'll do a splendid job of shrieking like a room and running away and/or fainting dead away!

Anyway, Hermione is worried sick about you and Ginny is always crying. Save me! At this moment, I'm not sure it would be so bad to have You-Know-Who hunting me if it meant I could get away from all these crazy women. I don't imagine I'll be lucky enough to have you visit. What about buying our school supplies? Are you going to Diagon Alley? I hope so! In any event, I'll see you on the Hogwarts Express.

Ron

Harry heaved a sad sigh; what he wouldn't give to be with his friends right now. He had thought that the letters would cheer him up, but instead they had left him feeling very lonely. He picked up his quill and a fresh sheet of paper and sat to work on writing them back.

Dear Ron and Hermione

I know you're both at the Burrow, now. I wish I could join you, but I'm not entirely unhappy here. As you know, I cannot say where I am, but you shouldn't worry. I'm very safe.

Thank-you both for the gifts on my birthday, they meant a great deal to me. I only wish you could have been here.

Unfortunately, I won't be able to go to Diagon Alley this year. My caretaker has already purchased my supplies. I will be on the Hogwarts Express, though, and I can't wait to see you both. Oh, and tell Ginny I'm fine! See you soon!

Love,

Harry

Severus was in his study, bent over his desk, scribbling hurriedly. He glanced up when Harry entered, then went back to work. "Do you need something?"

Harry was startled at Severus' abruptness and faltered. "UhhÂ…"

Again Severus looked up, prompted by Harry's hesitancy and his expression softened a bit. "What is it?" His tone didn't hold any edge.

"Letter," Harry said, holding up the scroll and smiling hopefully at the older man.

Sensing Harry's insecurity, Severus smiled back. He made a clicking noise and his owl fluttered to his shoulder and stuck out a leg. Severus took the letter and secured to his owl, petting the dark feathers coating the owls belly. "This goes to the Burrow, then I want you to go to Hogwarts for a few days."

The owl chirped in agreement, nipped Severus' cheekbone and flew out the open window. "Is that all?" Severus asked, his eyes pinning Harry's with a startling intensity, daring Harry to say no, there was more. Harry thought, for just a moment that perhaps Severus did know it was his birthday. Then Severus turned back to his papers, when Harry didn't reply.

Dejectedly, Harry turned to leave and said, "Yes, thanks." And was gone before Severus could reply.

Meredith and Lily were kind to him as usual and he spent most of the day with one or both of them, but neither seemed to realise that it was his birthday. That evening, after the others had announced that they were heading to bed, Harry made his way for the library, hoping to immerse himself in a nice fiction and get his mind off his life.

Harry walked into the darkened room and immediately the lights came on, as they always did when someone walked in. However, different this time was the pouring of ribbons and balloons from the ceiling, the blowing of noise makers and the presence of Lily, Meredith and Severus. They began to sing 'Happy Birthday' and presented him with a simple chocolate and vanilla cake that read, "Happy Birthday, Harry," and contained sixteen candles glowing in all different colours.

"You? You did this for me?" Harry asked, nearly choking on the words. He knew he shouldn't be getting this emotional over a cake and a present, but that Snape would do something so kind and thoughtful--it was overwhelming.

"I knew how much you wished to share your birthday with your friends, but seeing as how that would be impossible, I did my best to make up for the loss. I'm sure it would help if you actually had someone you liked here, but I will simply have to do." Snape said the last bit with his trademark sarcasm.

"He has me," Meredith pointed out.

"And me," Lily added slyly.

Snape scowled playfully. "I think we get the point. Blow the candles out, Harry. I don't want to eat wax icing."

"Don't forget to make a wish," Meredith reminded him, as he took in a breath.

Harry closed his eyes and couldn't think of a single thing to wish for. Should he wish for wealth? He had that. Friends? He had plenty. Success? Not to sound egotistical, but he was pretty successful at everything he did. Good fortune? He had beaten the Dark Lord in battle (in one form or another) five years in a row. Love?

Well, that was obviously it. The one thing he did not have. He had friends who cared deeply for him, perhaps even loved him, but he was not in love and he was fairly certain no one was in love with him. Well, perhaps Ginny, but that wasn't ever going to happen.

He could tell the others were waiting and finally thought, 'I wish for love.' Even in his head, he knew it sounded silly. Yet, for quite some time he had wanted someone who not only loved him, but was in love with, too. He wanted to be hugged and kissed. He wanted someone to always be there for him who wouldn't judge him, no matter what. He wanted someone who knew him inside and out--his fears and dreams and desires. And he wanted someone to make love to himÂ…yes, it was a good wish, after all.

Opening his eyes, Harry exhaled, blowing every one of the sixteen candles out. Meredith and Lily cheered him on while Snape watched with a tiny half smile. He leaned forward and asked, very close to Harry's ear, "What did you wish for?"

Harry's breath caught in his throat and he suddenly felt very strange; warm and dizzy, like Snape's voice were the most seductive thing he'd ever heard. Never had he had such a reaction to such a simple thing. "I can't tell," He choked out.

"Have it your way," Snape said with a shrug.

Meredith gave him his first gift, a one-person chess set, created to help the owner learn strategies and for practice. The game pieces had been charmed to instruct the player on how to play as well as point out possible moves. She presented it to him with a mischievous smile, saying, "Well, with us you weren't really learning anything. You were just getting very badly beat."

"Thank you," Harry said, grinning at the teasing tone. "I'll put it to good use."

"I hope so," Meredith continued. "I fully expect you to be able to last longer than ten minutes when you return for Christmas break."

Harry froze at her words and turned to look hesitantly at Severus, who only smiled in response, his head nodding the slightest bit. Harry hadn't thought as far ahead as Christmas. In fact, for the first time in his life, he hadn't been preoccupied with the future at all, only with the "now."

"You mean, I'm welcome here at Christmas?"

Severus arched a brow at the question, his face taking on a slightlyÂ…angry?Â…look. "You're welcome here anytime."

Harry didn't say anything back, only smiled a little, wondering what he had said or done to make Severus angry. But the look had gone away, to be replaced with a tiny smirk. Harry hadn't imagined that he would receive a gift from Severus, not in his wildest dreams. So when the older man presented Harry with a small wrapped package, Harry was greatly surprised.

Inside, nestled among several layers of red tissue paper, lay his gift. It was a set of scales, the best available, coated in 14 karat gold. They had been expertly crafted to disallow even the slightest corruption of the measurements and had dials and switches to tune and align the instrument.

"You have been using the same set of scales since your first year and I have noticed that they are less than accurate," Severus scowled. "If you are to keep up the level of work you have been doing here, you need the proper equipment. Wouldn't you agree?"

Harry nodded, running his finger over the glistening gold and then smiled at Severus. A few months ago, he would have thought a potion scaled the dullest gift one could ever present him with. Now, though, with his new appreciation for the art of potion making, he understood the importance of a good scale and he couldn't wait to try it out during their next lesson.

"Of course, I knew that you wouldn't die from excitement from this alone," Severus added, and offered Harry another package.

Two presents. Harry was beyond shocked and he fumbled the package a bit as he tore the wrapping away. There was a jewellery box and inside lay a gold necklace chain. The charm that hung from the links was a golden snitch dotted with rubies and a pretty yellow stone that Harry didn't recognise. The snitch was complete with animated wings that would occasionally flutter gently. Upon closer inspection, he noted pretty cursive letters spelling out "Harry Potter, Gryffindor Seeker."

Amazed was one word to describe Harry at that moment. He honestly didn't know what to make of the gift--or how to begin to thank Severus for it. His eyes were wide when he caught Severus' gaze and held it for a long moment, oblivious to the other's around him. There was an indiscernible feeling growing in the pit of his stomach and he was pretty certain that he didn't like it. It was fluttering and tight and extremely disconcerting.

Severus knew what he was feeling, Harry could tell by the look in the older man's eyes and the tilt of his lips--yes, Severus knew what he was feeling and wasÂ…amused?Â…by it. "Thank you. It's beautiful." Harry looped it around his neck and fought with the clasp for a moment before securing it. The snitch fell very low on his chest, the chain long enough to be hidden among the folds of his robe. Which he knew he would. It became very clear to him, as the cool gold warmed against his skin, that he would never take the necklace off.

~*~

Harry's head was resting on Severus' bare chest, his fingers running absently over the muscles. The sunlight streaming through half-closed blinds told Severus that he should be getting out of bed, but that didn't spur him into action.

"You know, living here isn't half so bad since you're around."

Harry looked up at him with a grin. "I'll take that as a compliment, knowing how much you hate all things Muggle."

"Hate is really such a strong wor--oh, who am I kidding, no it isn't."

"But I make it bearable?" Harry asked sleepily.

"You make everything bearableÂ…better than bearable." Severus traced a finger down Harry's nose and tapped it lightly.

"Thanks," Harry murmured, placing a kiss on his lover's stomach, the moving up the length of the long body to kiss Severus on the lips. "MmmmÂ…"

Severus broke the kiss long enough to smile at Harry and say, "I love you." And when their lips met, he felt and heard Harry return the sentiment.

~*~

There was a filling-emptiness in Severus' chest when he woke one morning. It was as if he'd had an epiphany in his sleep, but couldn't remember it now. What he did know what that he felt like he'd found a missing piece of himself, but he didn't know where it went, exactly, or how to put it back. Or, like he had found the piece, only to have it stolen awayÂ…painfully jerked back out.

And he was terribly sad. Desperately, he tried to recall his dream, hopeful that if he remembered it, he would be able to relieve his sadness and the pain. But there was no luck. Part of him was tempted to curl back up in his sheets, draw the curtains closed and go back to sleep. But Severus never indulged in such things, so he forced himself up. Of course, he couldn't, for some odd reason, bring himself to wake Harry. For some reason, he felt that might only make things worse.

He pushed himself out of the bed, feeling light-headed and leaden, and moved very ungracefully to his bathroom. The sight that greeted him in the mirror was slightly shocking. He hadn't realised that he had let his hair grow so long, but his was halfway down his chest now and the messy tangles would be quite appealingÂ…if there were anyone around to see them. His face was flushed, his lips full, as though he'd been well-kissed and his skin was most surprising of all. He was as pale as the white marble trim around his skin and bathtub and the skin was smooth and seemingly flawless. He realised, suddenly, that he hadn't been outside since before the end of the last school term. He looked like a stranger, the only things that remained the same were his large, cool black eyes and his long, hooked nose.

Severus shook his head and turned away from his reflection. There was a quick shower and then he decided he wanted to go outsideÂ…become reacquainted with the sun, even if only for one afternoon. He dismissed a robe at once, feeling that it would be too confining and knowing it would catch on thorns and branches. He settled instead for a flowing white blouse and black tights.

One of the servants had set out breakfast while he was in the shower, but Severus ignored it. He did eat, on occasion, but he never ate breakfast. Of course, he'd never told the servants to stop making it, either. So it was prepared every morning and thrown away a short while later and Severus knew he should feel guilty, but he didn't.

The grass beneath his bare feet was intoxicating. The sunlight burnt his eyes in its brilliance before he grew adjusted. He rarely went outdoors and that was what allowed him to so thoroughly enjoy nature, when he did. And the day was perfect for his outing, warm and breezy, without a trace of humidity. He took off at once for the forest, keeping in mind the clearing that he and Serenity had so loved as a child. The place he frequented before being sorted into Slytherin, when his life had changed so dramatically.

It was as he remembered--the placement of the trees, the types of flowers that bloomed there, the way the sunlight streamed through the leaves. Again the sadness hit him, hard and unrelenting. It was nearly unbearable and he wanted desperately to know what was causing it.

Words to one of his favourite songs appeared unbidden in his mind. It had been ages since he had sung. Literally years since he had so much as hummed a bar. He had used to love it. Had wanted nothing more than to sing his entire life. That dream had been shatteredÂ…still, the words were persistent. He hummed the opening pitch hesitantly, then sung it on an "Ah." Then the words followed and he realised he felt exactly what the song said and his eyes fell shut in grief.

~*~

It seemed, to Harry, that it had been an entire lifetime since he had been outside. Meredith was in town, out to lunch with some friends. SnapeÂ…Harry wasn't sure where Snape was--sometimes the man would disappear for an entire day and never explain his absences. Lily was busy in the kitchen, preparing dinner. That left Harry on his own, something he was no longer accustomed to.

The window in his room beckoned Harry to venture outside. The grounds were emerald green and full of various gardens, a hedge maze, a stable of magical animals and a large forest. Harry could tell from the full white clouds, brilliant blue sky and the sunlight, heating him through the thick glass that it was a wonderful day. He was spurred into motion.

It was better outside than he had imagined. Harry collapsed on the freshly cut grass and folded his arms to cradle his head. For as long as Harry could remember, he had loved staring at the clouds, picking shapes out of them and today was no exception. Not long after he had begun to do so, the warmth, gentle breeze and nature's sounds had lulled Harry into a nap.

Harry didn't know how long he lay there, knowing he was between sleep and wakefulness, enjoying the sunlight on his bare skin when he heard soft singing in the distance. It was a brief sample and so very far off that Harry at first thought it was a dream, but then he caught another snatch. There was no way he could make out the words, but the soundÂ…Harry never gave much thought to music, but this definitely had an effect on him.

Rolling onto his stomach, Harry pushed himself to his feet, stumbling as vertigo swept over him momentarily. Steadying himself, Harry strained to hear the song again. He waited several minutes without hearing a thing and had just about convinced himself that he was either imagining things or the song had ended when another clear note reached his ears.

The song was coming from the woods, Harry decided and he headed that way slowly, paying close attention to where he was going in relation to where the sound was coming from. There was a worn dirt path, overrun with wildflowers and berries and several thorn bushes that had been trampled on recently. They stuck to his robe as if trying to keep him away, hold him back.

A clearing came upon him suddenly, when he pushed apart two leafy branches, revealing a strange, fascinating sight. Severus was wearing his hair down and it was an unusual sight, since he'd had it pulled back every day of the summer. And he wasn't wearing robes. The shirt he did wear was open to his waist, baring a smooth, hairless chest, lined with hard muscles and still thin enough to show his ribs. The pants were so tight, Harry could see the lines of muscleÂ…and other things. His face looked so young, and sweet. His eyes closed in sadness, his cheeks flushed red against paper white skin and his full, enticing lips forming words.

But it was Severus' voice that entranced Harry. That voice, so fluid and beautiful and seductive (without trying) when he spoke was ten times as lovely when he sang. Harry stood transfixed, eyes locked on Severus' lips, following their movement as if he could anticipate the next word.

I don't care much, go or stay

I don't care very much, either way.

Words sound false, when your coat's too thin.

Feet don't waltz, when the roof caves in.

So if you kiss meÂ…if we touch

Warning's Fair

I don't care very much.

The words were so powerful in their simplicity. So terribly sad, because Harry could tell that Severus meant them. He'd lived a secret his entire life, hidden every true feeling he'd experienced. Done so much so that others could be safe and free and now he was denied everything important. Friendship, loveÂ…even something as base as feelings, the ability to care. It wasn't at all fair, Harry thought, with a sudden rush of red-hot anger.

A sudden, inexplicable tightness seized Harry's chest and every sense lost focusÂ…the world was lost in a haze and the only brightness in the dim fog was Severus Snape. Everything seemed to be sliding in place-every unsure thought he'd had about his feelings were made clear. As he listened to the perfectly sad notes and the clear, rich voice, he knewÂ…

He was in love.

With Severus Snape.

And it wasn't some fleeting love and it wasn't infatuation. It wasn't a simple crush. He knew, then and there, that Severus was the only person for him. And no, there was nothing wrong with finding his soul mate at sixteenÂ…not since he was Harry Potter, and he could appreciate the beauty of love. He could give himself completely to Severus and never want for anything different or anything more.

The world rushed back into focus with a round of vertigo and Harry caught onto a nearby tree as not to fall. He breathed deeply, blood ringing in his ears, eyes focused straight ahead. Sudden urges filled Harry's mind, none that he could ever fulfil. He wanted to rush forward and take Severus' face in his hands and look into those bottomless pools of black and make all the hurt go away. He wanted to kiss those full, witty lipsÂ…

The song be damned, he wanted to touch Severus and kiss him and make him care. Never in his life had he wanted something so badly, not ever. He wanted it so badly it hurt.

In the distance, there was a roar of thunder and a crack of lightening and suddenly it began to pour rain, heavier than Harry had ever seen. He hesitated, wanting to stay, go to Severus, act in some way, but at the same time desperate to stay unnoticed, to get away before Severus realised that he was being spied on. Self-preservation won out and Harry darted back along the path that he had come.

When he was safe back in his bathroom, leaving puddles along the marble floor, Harry finally relaxed. For a long moment, he stared at his sodden reflection in the mirror, breathing heavily, supporting himself on the sink. He was unbearably hard.

~*~

It was a lazy day in late August and the midday sun was already streaming through the window when Harry finally woke up, he noted that he head slept in quite a bit longer than usual. Which meant no one had bothered to wake him. That thought caused a brief frown to flicker across his face. It was afternoon and lunch would be served soon. Harry dressed quickly. Wiped the sleep from his eyes and rushed down stairs.

Severus was nowhere to be found and Meredith was in town, leaving Harry all alone and wondering why he had not been woke. He found a servant in the lounge whom directed him to a room on the third floor that Harry had never visited. Upon opening the door, Harry realised why he had never been there.

Inside, two people, one male and one female of similar body types were dressed in white fencing garb. From what Harry could tell (and it wasn't much, considering he had never fenced, nor had he seen anyone fence), the pair was well-matched, blocking and parrying about the room, never landing a blow.

Harry was enthralled by the action--the clean lines and the improvised moves seemed like a well-rehearsed dance. He found himself wishing he had the grace and agility necessary for fencing and wondered if Severus would consider teaching him a few moves.

He could have watched all day, but apparently, the two fencers felt differently about things. Severus finally got the upper hand, knocking the weapon from his opponent and there was a tearing noise as the blade of his weapon ripped a hole in the shoulder of the costume. The woman seized her arm in surprise and Severus placed the tip of his blade to her heart.

There was a growl of frustration from the woman, which caused a short burst of laughter from Severus. He pulled off his mask to reveal his flushed, glistening face and noted Harry for the first time, waving him over. Harry swallowed hard, forcing his raging hormones under control--a difficult task given the way a bead of sweat gather in the dip right above Severus' lips. Harry squeezed his eyes shut briefly and steeled himself before coming to Severus' side.

Severus' arm stretched out in welcome and a warm hand rested unconsciously on the small of Harry's back. "My sister, Serenity," He introduced.

Serenity lifted the netted mask from her face. Long, black hair spilled from the confinement; red-black eyes sought him from a face of fine bones and hollow cheeks. "Hello, Harry," She greeted, extending a hand.

It took Harry a moment to respond; too busy was he gaping at the woman from his dreams in disbelief. Silent, and feeling light headed, Harry reached for her hand. The memories of recent dreams and ones from long ago rushed at him and he was hit with vertigo for the second time in as many days.

Severus was looking back and forth between them, an uncertain expression on his face. His hand pressed more firmly against Harry's skin and he asked, "Is everything alright?" He jumped when Harry laid a hand on his arm. "Harry?"

Harry blinked and looked up at him, shell-shocked, then at where his hand rested on Severus' arm. He jerked it back quickly, as if he had been burnt. "I'm sorry," He said finally. "I justÂ…" He shook it off. "Forgive me, Serenity. I am pleased to meet you."

Serenity nodded her head in acceptance, a playful smile toying at her lips. Severus was obviously still confused by their behaviour and Harry knew he would be interrogated later. Now, however, Severus' sensed that the others needed to be left alone.

"I'm going to take a shower," Severus said. "Shall we meet for lunch in a half hour?" Serenity and Harry nodded their agreement, but remained silent, staring each other down. Severus shook his head and left the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Harry immediately stepped away from Serenity, putting much distance between them. Serenity followed, still smiling coyly. "Oh Harry," She cooed. "I'm not going to hurt you! Have I ever given you reason to fear me?"

This seemed to calm him a great deal and he stopped backing away and allowed her to advance. "So, you are the one from my dreams?"

"Yes," She answered slowly, closing the space between them. She took Harry's face in her hands, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks and brow in a reverent manner. Her eyes narrowed as they focused on his face and she drew him closer, continuing her caress of his skin. Unnerved, Harry took her wrists in his hands, but didn't force her away.

Harry hesitantly met her eyes, shocked at their unnatural beauty--they were like liquid smooth obsidian tossed into a fire, reflecting the red flames and they flickered, just as the flames wouldÂ…and they look smooth and glassy, just as the obsidian would. It became difficult for him to focus on her eyes and he realised that it was because she was lowering her face to his and he allowed his eyes to drift shut. The next thing he felt were her lips upon his, brushing oh-so-lightly, then pressing firmly against his forehead.

Serenity's touch was a shock to his system, the greatest contradiction he had known. It was soft and feminine, like the touch of a mother and a lover at once. Harry dropped his hands and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. Serenity's fingers ruffled through his hair and came to rest at the back of his neck. The feel of her hug was so utterly foreign to him, but was welcome just the same. Never had he been held like this before and truly, no one had ever known him as Serenity did. It made her touch intimate and familiar despite the unfamiliarity.

Pulling back from the embrace, Serenity kissed him again, parting her mouth over his and melding their lips together. Harry's hands gripped the fabric at her waist and he tilted his head back, offering his mouth to her. It was strange, because he felt no attraction towards her (not that he didn't find her pretty) and he knew he was in love with Severus, but her touch was comfortable and soothing and with it, he felt a strange sense of peace.

At last their kiss ended and she retreated from him completely. "Oh, Harry, I'm so glad to finally meet you!"

Serenity looked far more accessible now than ever with her flushed cheeks, glazed eyes and well-kissed lips. Harry felt that he could finally get the answers that were denied him in his dreams. "Can you explain to me why you have been in my dreams?" He asked, looking up at her plaintively.

"I don't really know myself," Serenity said after a long silence. "At first I thought you were in dangerÂ…and that turned out to be true enough, what with Voldemort inhabiting a professor's body. But then the danger passed, and I was still drawn to you. It wasn't in my power to stop the dreams. Perhaps one day we might understand. It doesn't matter anymore."

Harry frowned at her--wasn't she a Master of Divination? If Severus told Harry he didnÂ’t know how to make a difficult potion, Harry would be quite disappointed. Of course, he knew Divination was a lot trickier. "But, you've been so cross with me," He protested at last.

Serenity let out a sigh that seemed to deflate her entire being. "I told you it was for your own good," She said softly. "And I was right."

"You were."

That made Serenity smile again and she welcomed him back into her arms, drawing him into another tight hug. "Then why the hell aren't you doing something about it? Walk with me while you try to come up with excuses." She shifted so that her arm draped over his shoulder and led him from the room.

"SerenityÂ…" Harry said warningly. "You want excuses? I'm sixteen years old. Severus is thirty-three. I think that's more than reason enough, but I could give you a dozen more."

Serenity gave him an annoyed look, pursed her lips and asked, "Do you love him?"

Harry was lost. He got a sad, faraway look in his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but remained silent for a long moment. "I don't know," He said at last. "At first I thought it was loveÂ…but now. What do I know of love?"

"Oh please, Harry," Serenity scoffed.

"I'm serious!" He protested. How could he make her understand? He had thought she would, of all people. He had thought she had already known. "I've never been in love before. How do I know what it feels like?"

"You just know," She told him, almost motherly.

Harry smiled, his lips tinged with melancholy. "I love him, then."

"Good boy. Now that we've established thatÂ…What's holding you back?"

"I've told you! He's seventeen years older than I am! He's smarter than I am; he's experience more than I have. He's a teacher, he's a Slytherin, and I'm a Gryffindor. I'm a student! Do I really need to go on?"

"They are just differences," Serenity said, as if it were so simple and profound.

"Exactly!" Harry protested, throwing his hands up in an exasperated manner. "And I know he doesn'tÂ…couldn't feel the same way about me."

"Do you, now? My whole point is that it is your differences that make you and Severus so perfect for one another."

"Oh, really?" Harry snorted and Serenity gave him a sharp frown for his sarcasm.

They had found their way to the fourth floor of the west wing and entered a room Harry had not seen before. It was startling, all black, walls, ceiling, carpet, bedspread and curtains. And then, in stark contrast were crystals, everywhere--a huge crystal chandelier, crystal stars, moons and suns, flowers, teardrops, butterflies--all hanging from the curtain pole, ceiling, and bed, casting rainbows over the entire room.

"Father nearly died when he saw this--I did it when I was twelve, right when I got back from by first year at Hogwarts. I found it easier to concentrate. He saw it as bleak and depressing," Serenity explained, walking into her closet.

"But he let you keep it this way," Harry pointed out.

"Yeah," Serenity agreed, her voice a bit muffled. "Father always encouraged us to be free and express our individuality." She emerged, having undressed and redressed quickly. She was wearing a thin, gauzy robe, the same scarlet as her eyes. She looked stunning, so like Severus, yet entirely feminine.

"He sounds great."

Serenity nodded, a far off look in her eyes. She pulled her long hair from her neck and knotted it high on her head, tucking away any strands that tried to fall loose. "He was wonderful. He would have been very happy to know you. He wouldn't trust just anyone with his only sonÂ…his youngest child."

Harry favoured her with an arched brow. "Would you get off it? There is nothing between Severus and I."

"Only unrequited love! Nothing big," Serenity said mockingly. "But I've plenty of time to convince you of that."

"Well, only until I return to school, which is only a five days," Harry informed her, saddened by the thought. He had finally found a real home, a man he loved and the woman of his dreams (literally) and in only a few days time, he had to give it all up and return to the world where he was "Famous Harry Potter." It wasn't at all fair. What he wouldn't have given at that moment to have been sorted into Slytherin, just so he and Severus could be civil towards one another at school.

Serenity's eyes sparkled, as if she had just read Harry's thoughts and she pressed a finger to her lips. "We'll see," She said simply and left the room, forcing Harry to follow.

Severus was waiting as promised in the dining room, glistening clean and dressed in fresh robes, hair still slick and wet. His hands were clasped and his chin rested on his palms and he levelled Serenity and Harry with a look that clearly said, "I know there's something going on between you two and I'm going to figure out what it is."

"I was just getting aquatinted with Mister Potter, here. He is such a fascinating young man," Serenity cooed, trailing a long fingernail over Harry's chin. Harry jerked away from the touch, giving Serenity a playful scowl.

"Oh, I know," Severus said slowly, lowering his hands and gesturing to the seats on either side of him. Serenity and Harry took the hint and sat. "So fascinating in every aspectÂ…especially the way he reacted to your arrival."

"You know Severus, you aren't very good at doing subtle," Serenity remarked casually, plucking a bit of bread from the tray on the table and chewing it thoughtfully.

"Serenity is the woman of my dreams," Harry said lightly and winced when he felt a sharp toed shoe kick him in the shin. "Well, you are."

Severus looked back and forth between the two of them, waiting for a further explanation. "So, when shall we announce the wedding?" He said quietly, feeling irrational anger creep into his voice. He only now noticed the flush on Harry's cheeks and the fullness of Serenity's lips. It figured that Serenity of all people would be the one to win the affection of Harry Potter.

"Oh, come off it, Severus, that wasn't at all what he meant," Serenity told him sternly.

"Yeah, she's actually in my dreams," Harry protested.

"Really?" Severus asked, not paying them the slightest bit of attention, but focusing on spreading jelly across a slice of toast that he had no intention of eating. The knife broke the stiff bread in half at his vehement strokes and he was forced to lower both the food and the utensil, leaving his hands empty. He focused on a spot on the far wall, breathing deeply.

"Severus?" Harry's hand hovered cautiously over Severus' and he flicked his gaze towards the wall, wondering what had caught the other man's attention. When he saw nothing, he looked back at the black eyes, trying to discern the problem.

Serenity had seemed to have had enough of it altogether. "My brother is simply being an irrational fool," Serenity assured Harry, ignoring the way Severus pinned her with a deadly glare, his nostrils flaring slightly in anger. "We share dreams, Severus. It is as innocent as that. I am not, nor do I intend to ever to become romantically entangled with Harry."

"Is that so?" Severus asked, a dangerous slant to his voice.

"Yes!" Harry and Serenity chorused.

Severus eyed them each in turn, long and searchingly. "Then why, pray tell, have you been kissing?"

Harry felt a flush of heat and knew he was blushing and Serenity felt a similar rush, though out of anger. "You fool! When have I ever lied to you? Why would I start know? Yes, I kissed HarryÂ…" She paused momentarily after her confession, realising how it must sound in contrast to her earlier statement about avoiding romance. She grimaced and took a calming breath and placed her hand on her brother's.

"Yes, I kissed Harry. I don't have any excuse for it. I know he's much younger than I am. I know I had no right. I know that I over-stepped many boundaries by doing so. But I have been connected to him for so longÂ…I've felt that he was a part of me. And kissing him felt like a natural extension of our linkÂ…it felt necessary. I don't plan to kiss him again and I don't feel anything towards him romantically.

"Now, I feel that I have done enough damage for one day. I think I'll go find mother, see if I can start an all out family feud. Hey, maybe I'll call Cousin Sarah and remind her of the time I stole her boyfriend! Great idea," Serenity left the room, still muttering ideas under her breath.

Severus turned to Harry with a look that clearly said, "Well?"

"What do you want from me?" Harry squeaked. "She said it all. She kissed me, not the other way around. And besides, when did I start having to explain myself to you?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Severus asked.

"We just did! I didn't know that the woman in my dreams was Serenity! I never had any reason to tell you about my dreams. As soon as I found out, I told you." Harry threw up his hands in disgust. "I honestly don't know what the problem is. What does it matter to you who is in my dreams and who I kiss?"

"It doesn't," Severus said coldly, his eyes narrowing, lips drawing into an old, familiar sneer. "Nothing about you matters to me, Potter."

Harry's eyes widened and his face took on an enlightened statement as if he were thinking, "I knew it all along!" He nodded slowly, indulgently and started to back out of the room. "In that case, Professor Snape, I'll see you on September 1^st." And Harry drew the doors closed behind him, realising that he was mirroring Severus' actions from that first day, so long ago.

~*~

Later in the evening, well after dinnertime had come and gone (ignored by the lord, lady and guest of the house), when Harry was lying in his bed, staring at the moon and frustrated beyond words, he decided he did not want to dream that evening. And that meant he really shouldn't fall asleep.

Dressed in his sleeping robes, Harry slid silently from the room and tiptoed down the hall to the stairs. The portraits that weren't asleep eyed him with indulgent amusement, probably assuming he was up to some mischiefÂ…though he wasn't.

Somehow, he found his way back to Serenity's room, through the labyrinth that was Snape Manor and then, as his fist was raised to knock, he hesitated. He had no idea if she was awake. And on the chance that she was, there was no guarantee that she wanted anything to do with him, after the trouble earlier.

Swallowing his fears, Harry tapped his fist lightly against the door and waited, with his breath held, for a long moment. Then, Serenity's soft voice granted him entry and he stepped inside. The room was completely different at night. All the lights were out and only the moon served as illumination, causing erratic, bright streaks and rainbows to spark from the ever-shifting crystals.

Harry could barely make out Serenity's form on the bed curled into her pillows at the head of the bed, partially obscured by the curtains round her bed and concealed in shadows cast by her hair and the moon. She looked his way and he could just make out the sparkle of her eyes. She beckoned him with one hand, the other firmly holding a wineglass. Harry crossed the room quickly and climbed onto the bed, leaning his back against the footrest.

"You didn't want to dream, either?"

"There has to be some way to stop them!" Harry protested, feeling helpless and watched Serenity open the bottle of wine and pour the red liquid into an empty glass. "It isn't that I don't appreciate that you try to help. ButÂ…perhaps there is some way that we could control them--so we only share dreams when it is important, or one of us is in danger."

Serenity nodded thoughtfully and passed him a glass. "I'm sure there is a way, Harry. But I've never heard of this sort of thing. Generally when wizards share dreams, they mean to. I will continue to research it. I will have plenty of opportunity in the fall."

Before Harry could ask what was going to happen in the fall, Serenity continued. "In the meantime, I propose we just get so smashed that we pass out and hopefully avoid dreams altogether." Serenity noted the sadness lingering in Harry's eyes. "And perhaps we can forget everything else, too."

It took two shots of whiskey, a half a bottle of wine and thirty minutes for Serenity to realise that Harry wasn't the type who could use alcohol to forget his troubles. When the alcohol hit him suddenly, he grew very silent and curled against Serenity, placing his face in the softness of her stomach, breathing the hot air between their bodies.

Everything was suddenly very clear. He loved Severus Snape so much that it was painful. Every breath he took hurt, terribly. And that love would be with him forever and it would hurt him forever and each day would drive the spike of pain further into his heart. And there was no way that Severus would ever return his loveÂ…that had been made perfectly clear at dinner. Because, for one insane, irrational moment, Harry thought Severus was behaving in a jealous manner. But the firm dismissal, the use of his surname and the cold, awful sneer had told him otherwise. Harry had just been an amusement for Severus, something to keep him occupied while he was cooped up over the summer. And now that summer what over, so was whatever they had been to one another.

Hot tears began to coarse down his cheeks and his breathing became more strained and he tried to suck in the heated air through Serenity's dressing gown. His fingers dug lightly into her hip and her back and he shook his head slowly and helplessly until her fingers began to run through his hair soothingly. And he couldnÂ’t look at Serenity, because she looked so much like Severus, but she let him touch her, and let him be close to her.

Serenity wouldn't let him hide either. She gently coaxed his head up and Harry gulped at the cool, fresh air, but recoiled from the sight of her face, pale in the moonlight. "I could tell you your future Harry. When you'll die, what you'll do with your life. How many children you'll haveÂ…and most importantly, whether or not you and Severus will live happily ever after. But I won't do that. Because everything we say and do changes and shapes the future and you must decide for yourself if you will be happy forever."

Harry's temporary calm was broken, his face crumpled and the tears came again. Serenity lay back with him on the bed, cushioned by a mountain of pillows and let his headrest on her shoulder. His ear lay above her heart and she could feel every breath he took and every beat of his heart, and he the same with her. And like that, they fell asleep, and neither one of them dreamed that night.

~*~

The first thing that Harry noted when he woke the next morning was that he wasnÂ’t alone in the bed. A slender, cold hand was linked with his own and his head was resting gently against someone's arm. After a moment of insane panic, he remembered the night before and relaxed.

The second thing that Harry noted when he woke was the stretched, uncomfortable feel of dried tears down his cheeks and a slightly stuffy nose from all his crying the night before. He sniffed and rubbed away the tear tracks with is free hand.

The third thing that Harry noted when he woke was that he really had to go to the bathroom. But he was so comfortable and content that he forced himself to ignore the pressure and was ready to settle back into sleep when he noted the forth thingÂ…a shadow was cast over his body.

Harry opened his eyes, blinking back the brightness and hit with a slight, throbbing headache. Severus was standing over the bed, watching him with an indiscernible expression. Harry scowled and slid out of the bed, disentangling his hand from Serenity's, careful not to wake her. He moved to the hallway with Severus before speaking. "What the hell do you want?" Harry whispered harshly. "Have you come to scold us some more? Because if so, I'll remind you that the school term doesn't start for another two days and until then, you can't tell me what to do, Professor." Harry stressed the title as if it were a mockery, the worst curse word ever uttered.

"I haven't come to argue with--"

"Oh, but we've given you such great fodder. We slept together, Severus."

Severus' lips tightened. "Only in the most innocent interpretation of the word."

"Now you see it as it is supposed to be seen," Harry said scathingly, turning away from Severus and starting back towards his room.

"I've come to apologise," Severus said softly, almost inaudibly. Harry went on as if he hadn't heard. "Where are you going?"

"I've got to take a piss," Harry informed him darkly, target still set on his room. At least now he was in the east wing. This was his territory.

"Please, Harry--"

"Oh, we're back to a first name basis, now?" Harry hissed.

"I'm sorry!" Severus shouted impatiently, grabbing hold of Harry's sleeve. He was growing desperate now, because he never apologised for anything, least of all to a student half his age. And he didnÂ’t know what had possessed him, why he had done it.

Well, that was a lie, he knew exactly. It was the tiny voice in his head that had kept him up all night shrieking, "What the hell is your problem? Are you going to let this friendship go to waste? You've built a relationship and a good one at that for the first time ever with someone outside of your family. You've worked hard, you've trusted him, you've gained his trust and you're going to throw it away because of a simple kiss?"

And Severus' logical side had to admit it was pretty good argument. After all, what did it matter to him if Serenity kissed Harry? She had said it was not romantic. And even if it were, who was he to protest. He had no claim on Harry Potter. He didn't love the boy!

Yet, here he was, asking for forgiveness and not certain of what he would do, were it not granted. But Harry seemed to sense that Severus was sincere and truly sorry. Still, he felt that indignation swelling inside. Did Severus even deserve forgiveness? He was going to have to try a lot harder before he earned it.

"That's nice," Harry hissed and jerked out of Severus' grip. His head was screaming "Don't do this, don't drive him away. Not nowÂ…not when you're going back to school, not when you'll have no chance to fix it!"

Severus watched the retreating form with chagrin and decided against following him. He did not want to deal with a hung-over, ill-tempered sixteen-year-old. If Harry wanted to be irrational, then let him be. Severus would deal with that later. He headed back towards his sister's room for further damage control.

Serenity was sitting up in bed with the sheets drawn up to her chest and her long hair hung messily around her shoulders and she had a cigarette caught in her lips, the smoke swirling around the entire room. "Hello, brother," Serenity said, without looking his way. "Come to alienate me even more."

"Oh, shut up," Severus snapped, resting a knee on the bed and leaning towards her. Serenity turned to him and cupped his cheek in her hand in a sisterly caress.

"Whatever were you thinking last night?" She asked, though it was not a reprimand, and her voice held only wonder and a hint of pity and sadness.

Severus let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding and dropped entirely onto the bed. "Brilliant," He said, grabbing the empty wine bottle and glancing pointedly at the scattered alcoholic beverages.

"You're dodging the question, Sevvy." Serenity shook a finger at him, the cigarette in her hand weaving a net of smoke around his head. Severus scowled at her, snatched the butt from her fingers and smashed it out in the ashtray.

"What do you care?"

"Well, I guess it doesn't matter when you treat me like shit, cause you know I, like a fool, will forgive you right away. What I'm wondering is why you treated Harry like you didÂ…and why you overreacted so terribly," She asked, reaching for another cigarette and her lighter.

"Why?" Severus demanded. "Why do you care how I reacted to Harry?"

"Why do you give a fuck if I kissed Harry?" Severus looked away sharply, as if he had been slapped. "OhÂ…" Serenity drawled, a superior tone in her voice, like she hadn't known that Severus was in love with Harry. "So you like him."

"Serenity," He said warningly, his fingers reached for her lips to quiet her. "We won't have this discussion." When she opened her mouth to speak, he said firmly, "We will not have this discussion."

Her lips snapped shut to form an appealing pout and her eyes grew wide with mischief. "We won't have this discussion now," She agreed, much to her brother's displeasure. The door swung open before he could reply and both heads swivelled to see who had interrupted them. Meredith stood just inside the room, a small smile playing on her lips at the scene she observed.

"Interesting night?" She asked, crossing the room. It was obvious that she had had an interesting night, wherever she had been. She was dressed in a diamond studded, floor length black robe that had clearly spent sometime crumpled on the floor. Her makeup was nearly worn off and her up-do was rapidly becoming a down-do, falling in messy curls around her shoulders.

"Could ask you the same thing," Serenity pointed out.

Meredith wrapped her daughter in a hug for a long, long moment, squeezing the younger girl tightly. "Oh, it is so good to have you home. Both my children under one roof again. If only for a day!"

"It's good to be home," Serenity admitted, drawing away from her mother's embrace and smiling sincerely. Meredith took the cigarette from her daughter and took a drag herself, causing Severus to sigh in disgust and be immensely grateful that he had never picked up the habit.

"So, what did I miss?" Meredith asked, kicking off her heels, drawing up her robe and tumbling onto the bed with her children.

"Severus had a temper-tantrum," Serenity said plainly.

"Ooooh, and I had to miss it!"

"Yeah, too bad. Since they are so few and far between," Serenity agreed.

Meredith looked around the room, noting the spent bottles. "Seems like someone had a good night, though."

"Harry and I got drunk."

"That's great, Serenity," Meredith muttered, "Corrupting the youth."

"Tell her what else you did to Harry," Severus whispered under his breath. Serenity rolled her eyes and Meredith gave them both a questioning glance.

"Whatever happened that may have been illegal, do not tell me," Meredith said, "Now, get out of here and let me pass out."

Her children obliged, Serenity taking a moment to comb out her hair and throw on a fresh robe. "I suppose you're going to hide out in your lab all day, huh? Avoiding life and all your problems?"

"I've got my lab, you've got your alcohol. Leave me alone, Serenity," Severus said, tired.

"Fine, fine," Serenity capitulated. "I'm just going to go find our young guest and keep him entertained."

"Just remember what mom said, nothing illegal."

Serenity's eyes sparkled at the comment. "No, she said donÂ’t tell her if we do anything illegal." And she dashed off before her brother could protest. Severus sighed and world-weary sigh, dragged a hand over his face and wondered why the he was the one who ended up feeling hung-over when he hadn't touched a drop.

So, yeah, Serenity was right. He was going to hide out in his laboratory. After all, he had tried to play nice, had tried to apologise. If Harry were going to be stubborn, Severus was going to ignore him. For the time being anyway. He had preparations to make for the beginning of the school term and he had to pack so he would be ready to board the Hogwarts Express the next morning. Harry could wait.