Hedwig winged her way swiftly through the darkening sky. After a short time she glided through an open window at Remus Lupin’s cottage and landed on the table in front of the two wizards seated there. Remus recognized her immediately and cried, “Hedwig!” She immediately stepped over to him and hooted with distress. He looked at his companion and said, “She’ll know where Harry is.”

“Clearly. Now, take the wolfsbane.”

Remus gave him a feral glare but complied with the order.

“Good. I’ll see if the bird can lead me to the brat.”

Remus sighed dejectedly and ran his fingers through his hair. “Damn this curse! Harry must be in trouble if Hedwig is here like this. Of all the nights to be a full moon!” He pounded the table with his fist and swore loudly. The other wizard sneered and stood up from the table. Remus looked up at him and growled, “Try not to be a total bastard, Severus.” He changed his expression to one of entreaty. “The boy is suffering.”

Severus snorted and moved toward the door. “So I’ve been told.” When he opened the door the owl flew out so he grabbed a broom from the umbrella stand and followed with his characteristic flare. Remus bolted it behind him then added a locking charm. The werewolf returned to the table and sat down with his face in his hands waiting for the moon to rise.

oOoOoOoOo

Severus followed the bird for a few miles to a stand of trees. The motorbike was parked nearby. Hedwig landed on the handlebars and eyed him expectantly. Potter was nowhere in sight but an obvious trail of broken branches and crushed underbrush led off to the right. Muttering under his breath, Severus moved toward the trail. He was preparing a suitably scathing comment for the moment of discovery when the sickening feeling of a wand pressing against his neck stopped him.

“Now, I ask you again, Professor, what did you say to me at the end of our last Occlumency lesson?” Potter’s voice was heavy with malice and the wand jabbed uncomfortably into his neck, just under his jaw.

“I told you to get out and I never wanted to see you in my office again. Satisfied?” Snape slowly turned to face his attacker, the wand still imbedded in his jugular. The boy looked rather the worse for wear. His clothes were wet and the blood from their earlier meeting adorned his face and hands. Leaves were stuck in his unruly hair and his face was pale and drawn with pain. The hand holding the wand at his throat quivered.

Potter lowered the wand but kept it pointed at his chest. Much to Snape’s surprise he let out a sharp bark of laughter. Breathing raggedly, Harry said, “Oi, Professor, what is Dumbledore paying you to make you so tenacious?” He paused to take in a full lungful of air. “I can’t believe you were able to find me again.”

Snape studied him a moment. The month had wrought some obvious changes in The Boy Who Lived. The increased height and musculature he had noticed before but now that they were facing each other across Potter’s wand Snape could see the subtle difference in the boy’s eyes. Previously he had seen nothing but anger and ridiculous Gryffindor courage in Potter’s expression but now those emotions were overshadowed. He looked... resigned.

“I require no monetary compensation to motivate me. The thought of the Dark Lord gaining control of the wizard world is more than enough incentive,” said Severus sarcastically. Potter was about to reply when a spasm of pain gripped him, causing his body to shake from the strain of staying erect. He somehow managed to keep his wand out but Snape doubted if he could have generated even a lumos charm at that moment.

“That was some ... hex, Professor. Doesn’t ...seem to be wearing off. Getting...worse if anything.” The boy finally succumbed to the pain and clutched his left shoulder, dropping his wand from its position of pointing at Snape’s heart. Breathing raggedly as he rode out the pain, Harry leaned against a nearby tree with his eyes clenched shut.

Snape sneered halfheartedly. When he and his friends had tried this spell at Hogwarts none had made it past the first hour. Harry was going on twelve hours now. It was remarkable that he was still able to function, let alone orchestrate the ambush he had just walked into. He begrudgingly admitted to himself that it was a testament to the boy’s strength, both magical and spiritual. “Your execution was good, Potter, but it seems I am still left with the upper hand.”

Harry opened his eyes and regarded his professor blearily. “So it would seem, Professor,” he slurred. He pushed away from the tree and stood, swaying, before Snape with his wand ready. “I won’t go back with you,” he said wearily. He looked exhausted and desperate. Green eyes shifted, looking for a means of escape.

“I will lift the curse, Potter.” Snape nearly laughed at the surprised look on his student’s face. Amusement was followed by disgust that the boy obviously expected nothing from him. “Do you think me so vindictive that I would not release you?” He scowled fiercely as his anger at the situation deepened. It was becoming apparent that Granger’s analysis was correct. ‘Damn it,’ he thought angrily, ‘McGonagall should be here, not me.’

Harry shrugged then cringed at the pain that produced. “I don’t know what to think about you, Professor.” He staggered a little then resumed his dueling stance. “What do I have to do to have the curse lifted?” he asked. It was obvious that the boy was rapidly reaching the end of his endurance. His legs were shaking and his eyes were beginning to loose focus.

Snape scowled at the second reference to payment. Obviously the oblivious idiot thought him to be a mercenary. Reminding himself that he did not care what this whelp thought of him Snape said, “The curse is called Recompesoria. It causes progressive paralysis and pain as long as the victim eludes the caster.”

Snape felt uneasy with this admission but maintained his neutral tone as Harry waited for the rest. His fury at being hexed by the boy had caused him to use a spell he would normally not consider. ‘The boy brought this on himself,’ he thought defensively, ‘I will not apologize.’ “I had intended to immobilize you and lift the curse immediately. Since you only received a partial hit you were able to keep going.” He gave Harry a grim look. “I can lift the curse but you will experience some pain. About half a minute for every hour you have been under the curse.”

Harry looked dismayed. “That’s at least 6 minutes. There’s no other way?”

Snape shook his head. “I had intended to lift it immediately and the result would have been negligible.” With a shrug he continued, “To attempt any other method will only prolong the curse.”

Harry looked at Snape levelly. “Is it worse than Cruciartis?”

Snape flinched minutely. “No.”

“Fine. Let’s get this over with, I’m tired.”

Pulling out his wand Snape stepped back and looked at Harry inquiringly. Harry straightened up shakily and looked at the wand with resignation. “Ready, Potter?”

“Yeah. Just do it.”

A quick wand flick and a muttered incantation and the spell was cast. Harry immediately fell to his knees, clutching his arm tightly. “Gods!” he gasped. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on the ground, groaning softly through clenched teeth.

“Don’t ask me what I think of you now, sir,” Harry said breathlessly. He finished the statement with a sort of hysterical giggle that ended with a choked off sob. Clamping his hand over his mouth he pressed his face hard against the dirt to smother any further sounds. Sweat trickled down his scalp, plastering his hair to his forehead. Snape watched impassively as the boy struggled against the urge to cry out.

Finally it was over. Harry took a shuddering breath and sat back on his heels. His eyes were hazy and unfocused as he looked up at the older wizard. “Well,” he slurred, “that was fun. What’s next? Care to practice your cruciartis? I could give you my subjective opinion.” He toppled forward onto the grass and lay there, unconscious.

oOoOoOoOo

A ray of early morning sunshine fell across Harry’s face, awakening him. He looked around groggily, unsure of where he was. An unfamiliar room came into focus as he found his glasses and shoved them into place. As the memory of last night came back to him he sat up, his head throbbing unmercifully. He scrubbed he hands over his face and through his hair, leaving the locks even more disheveled than normal. Standing shakily, he surveyed the room. He was alone.

“Wand, where are you?” he whispered. He shuffled over to the fireplace and ran his hands over the mantle. “Not here,” he murmured. None of the tabletops in the room yielded any better results. Harry became more and more anxious as the minutes ticked by. “Damn. Gotta get out of here. Now.” He nervously ran his fingers through his hair for the tenth time in as many minutes as the need to escape escalated.

With a couple quick tilts of his head accompanied by satisfying popping sounds he straightened up and cleared his throat. “Accio wand,” he said clearly, with his hand outstretched. The strain of performing wandless magic forced him to his knees but the wand flew through a doorway and into his hand. Harry blew out a breath of air and muttered, “Gotcha,” as he stood.

Before he could take a step toward the door a growled, “Finite Incantatum” had him spinning around, wand outstretched. Snape appeared in the opposite doorway, dressed in his usual black robes with his arms crossed formidably across his chest.

“Trying to kill yourself, Potter? How ungrateful, after all the effort I have put into keeping you alive this summer,” he spat as he took a step in Harry’s direction.

Harry took a shaky step backward and leveled his wand at Snape’s heart. His eyes flicked around the room then stopped on Snape. “Where am I?” he asked, still unable to identify the building.

“You are in my home,” Snape replied levelly. “I brought you here after the effects of the counter curse rendered you unconscious.” Harry watched the older man and edged toward the door. It was getting hard to keep thinking of escape when his fatigue was so severe. He imagined himself back in Sean’s loft with the kitten sleeping on his chest. “When was the last time you ate, Potter?” Snape asked, bringing Harry’s wandering mind back to the present.

“Wha? Oh, I don’t know, I’ve been busy lately,” he said. With effort Harry managed to focus on the situation. He took a step toward the front door. “Where’s my bike?” he asked, trying to sound menacing.

“I left it where I found you,” Snape said smoothly. “You can’t expect me to worry about ridiculous muggle devices like that.”

Harry gave him an angry look. Desperate to escape the confines of the small cottage he asked, “What about my pack?”

“It is undoubtedly with the bike,” Snape replied. Harry took another step toward the door, beginning to droop with fatigue. “When was your last meal, boy?” Snape asked again.

Harry’s head snapped up and he locked eyes with Snape. “Don’t call me that,” he growled. “I’m not your boy, get it?” Unreasonable fury gripped him and he desperately tried to calm himself as his scar seared. Using all his self-control Harry managed to occlude his mind enough to stop the pain. His left hand scrubbed at his forehead and his right kept his wand trained on Snape as he moved unsteadily toward the door. As he reached for the knob Snape fired a spell at the door, sealing it shut. Harry shook the knob but it wouldn’t budge and Snape started toward him.

Operating on adrenaline, Harry spun back around and staggered over to a window. He grabbed a book off a nearby table and thrust it through the glass. Heedless of the flying shards he quickly knocked the remaining bits out of the frame and plunged one leg through the opening.

Snape reached him before he could get the rest of his body out the window. Choking in the potion master’s tight grip on his collar, Harry was pulled back into the room. With an angry swish of his wand Snape barked out, “Silencio,” followed by a binding curse. Harry found himself on the floor with his hands tied behind him and unable to speak. He sat glaring up at Snape and breathing hard, anger and pain deepening his respiration.

Snape took a deep breath, obviously trying to calm himself. After several heartbeats he said, “Now that I have your attention, Potter. When was the last time you ate anything?” Wanting nothing more than to wipe the smug look off his professor’s face, Harry began to incant a wandless curse but no sound escaped the silencing spell. “Now Potter, what would your mother think of you using language like that?” Hearing Snape mention his mother brought on another surge of anger with an accompanying twinge from his scar. Harry forced the rage out and tried to calm himself with steady breathing.

As Harry struggled to occlude his mind Snape grabbed his collar again and dragged him to his feet. Unprepared to stand, Harry sagged weakly and the older wizard had to catch him to prevent him from falling. Once he was balanced Harry shrugged off Snape’s support and stood unsupported but shaking like a leaf. With a tilt of his head Snape directed Harry to proceed into the kitchen.

oOoOoOo

After the boy was seated Snape turned to start the kettle. The calming smell of steeping tea started to permeate the small room as he turned back to his prisoner. Harry had his forehead on the table and was twisting his hands behind his back. Snape could see blood on his wrists. He snarled, “Cease,” and the hands stopped moving as Harry whipped his head around to look at Snape over his shoulder.

“Stop struggling, you imbecile. You cannot escape,” Snape growled. Harry regarded him belligerently over his shoulder for a moment then faced forward. He did not attempt to speak. Snape sighed and took a seat across from the captive wizard. He stared at him without speaking for several moments while the boy glared stonily back at him.

A variety of questions clamored to be asked but he was reluctant to do so. The boy was totally worked up and probing him with questions would be unproductive at best. He considered lifting the silencing spell to see if the brat would say anything enlightening or incriminating but decided it wasn’t worth listening to the inevitable whining. It seemed the best path to keep him confined and dump him on Dumbledore as soon as possible.

Finally he sighed again and spoke. “Widget,” he said in a neutral tone. Immediately a house elf appeared at his right elbow.

“Yes, Master Severus,” the elf said obsequiously.

“You will prepare a breakfast for Mr. Potter and feed it to him. You will not, under any circumstance, release him. After Mr. Potter has eaten you will stay here and ensure that he does not escape.” After a moment’s consideration he continued, this time looking at Harry as he addressed the elf. “If he does escape you will punish yourself, severely.” Harry gave him a look of pure loathing. With a triumphant sneer, Snape turned back to the elf. “Do you understand, Widget?”

“Yes, Master Severus,” the elf repeated. He immediately went to the stove and began preparing the meal.

“I shall return shortly, Mr. Potter. Professor Dumbledore will be most interested to hear of your exploits. Perhaps he will lock you in the dungeons for the remainder of the summer holiday.” The desperate look in Harry’s eyes and the boy’s burst of struggling confirmed that this was exactly what he was afraid of. Snape merely sneered and, with his trademark swirl of robes, left the room.