Snape remained by the stove, mute with anger, for several minutes. He stirred the tea viciously as he seethed. “I can’t believe I have to keep the infernal idiot! And no use arguing, I’ll just end up agreeing to something even more heinous. Blast!” he spat as he gnashed his teeth. By now he was in a total fury.

When Widget appeared suddenly at his side it was only by the greatest effort of self-control that he kept from hexing him. “Can Widget help Master Severus?” the elf asked nervously.

“Yes,” said Snape angrily. He poured some of the fever reducing tea into a mug and thrust it at the waiting elf. “Give this to the brat.” The mere thought of Potter was making him crazy with fury. “Stay with him and come fetch me if he seems to be worsening,” he snapped. With that he turned and stomped off into his workroom.

Several quiet hours and three potions later Severus was interrupted by the house elf. “Excuse me, Master Severus. Widget is preparing lunch now. Will Master eat at the table or shall Widget bring lunch here?” The elf looked at him anxiously, twisting his hands in his tea towel toga.

Feeling much calmer now, Snape answered the elf civilly. “I shall come to the table, Widget.” After setting his ladle aside and extinguishing the flame under the caldron he took a breath and asked, “How is our guest?”

“The boy’s fever wanes and he sleeps but he is restless. Widget puts a privacy charm on the room so Master is not disturbed.” The elf looked at him hopefully, still kneading the towel with his long fingers.

Snape frowned and moved to the door. “Why did you not come for me, Widget?” he asked.

“Mr. Potter’s health improves. Master did not want to be disturbed,” he stammered with his eyes now on the floor.

With a sigh Snape turned back to the elf. “You did as I instructed, Widget. Master is not angry.” As he walked to the guest bedroom he said, “You may continue with lunch while I check on the boy.” The elf scuttled off to the kitchen.

When Snape stepped into the bedroom and through the boundary of the charm he was assaulted by the sounds of Harry’s nightmares. “Cedric, no!” the boy called hoarsely. For a moment Snape allowed himself to feel happy that Widget had not called him to stay with the child. Bedside comforting was certainly not his area of expertise. With a sigh he brushed the boy’s damp fringe aside and felt his forehead. The fever was much reduced. Harry struggled with the sheets and muttered, unintelligible this time.

“Potter,” Snape said gruffly. He shook the boy’s shoulder and Harry started awake, eyes wide and glassy. “Potter,” he repeated, “wake up, boy. You’re having a nightmare.” The young wizard looked around the room, obviously still disoriented.

“Professor?” he said with a puzzled frown. His roving eyes settled back on the potions master. “Where…?” he mumbled. He tried to sit up and this time he managed it, albeit unsteadily.

Snape regarded him grimly. “Do you recall coming here to my home?” he asked. He watched the boy struggle to remember. “Do you remember hexing Nott?” Harry rubbed both hands back through his hair and breathed deeply. Eyes on the bed and fists knotted in his dark locks, he pulled up his knees and rested his elbows on them. His face an impassive mask, Snape watched as Harry’s fists tightened and trembled.

“Did I kill him?” It was whispered so low Snape barely heard him.

“No. I obliviated him and returned him to his home. He will awake with no memory of what happened.”

The hands relaxed but remained tangled in the messy black hair. As Snape watched Harry took a deep breath and blew it out noisily. “I just wanted him to stop hitting me,” he muttered. His voice was muffled. Snape stifled a laugh. Here was the Gryffindor hero of the Wizard World, practically unmanned at the idea of killing a death eater. He grimaced at the thought of how he had been cowed by the boy’s wand at his throat.

Harry looked up and caught Snape’s sour expression. Snape scowled as the boy dropped his head back into his hands. Potter’s life with the Dursleys had obviously taught him to expect no sympathy so why would he presume he would receive any here? The boy sighed as he sat up and faced the potions master. “What happened? I remember taking the potion and … now I’m here.”

Snape tried to school his features to eliminate any more scathing looks. He needed some trust from the boy if he was going to accomplish his assignment. “The potion separates you from your magical core so it can replenish itself without you drawing on it. Unfortunately that was the only thing keeping you from being ill. As soon as the potion took effect you were overcome with a fever.” Snape shrugged. “Widget and I have been treating your fever and now it is time for another dose of the magic replenishing potion.” He was unable to suppress a smirk as Harry shuddered at the mention of the potion.

“Accio potion,” snapped Snape. The potion flew into his hand with a pop. He handed the vial over to Harry and eyed him until he gagged it down. Taking the empty bottle from the boy he stood as Harry huffed and fell back against the pillow, eyes closed. Snape stalked out and immediately returned. The tray he carried held a large bowl of beef broth and some bread. The boy sat up, startled. Snape frowned as he watched him swallow and fasten hopeful, questioning eyes on the elder wizard.

“Did you not think you would be fed?” he asked, newly incensed at Harry’s expression. After a moment’s contemplation Snape muttered, “Perhaps you did not.” He moved to the bed and set the tray down next to the boy. After another moment of reflection he spoke. “Your treatment at your family’s hands was wrong, Potter.” He caught Harry’s eyes and held them. “You will be properly provided for here.” The boy flinched away.

“I don’t need to be provided for,” he muttered. “Just get me through this problem with my magic and I’ll be fine.” He glanced at the broth. Snape pushed it toward him and he grabbed it eagerly. In a matter of minutes it was gone. “Thanks, Professor,” he said contritely. “I owe you one. A wizard’s debt, I mean.” Snape picked up the bowl and walked to the door.

“Potter,” he said, “it is the right of every young person to be suitably provided for by adults who have his best interests at heart.” He inwardly cringed at his choice of words.

Harry shrugged. He almost suppressed his wince at the twinge in his shoulder. “Maybe so, Professor. It’s just not working out that way for me, that’s all.” Another shrug, this time just the left shoulder. “It’s not so bad once you get used to the idea.” He smiled uneasily, obviously embarrassed. “Anyway, thanks.” Snape gave him a cold look and left the room. Harry sat back and soon drifted off to sleep.

Snape observed the boy as he convalesced. The young wizard kept to himself most of the time with his face averted. Although he heard nothing at night after Harry went to bed he was sure the boy wasn’t sleeping. In an effort to gain Potter’s trust Snape made it clear that he would provide him with potions to ease his recovery. A flat, unreadable stare was the boy’s only response to the offer. One thing Snape had learned from years of assisting his young serpents with their transition into Slytherin was that the child had to ask for help. The only thing he could do was to be ready to give it when the opportunity arose.

As the hours crawled by Snape began to notice an additional problem with the boy. Severus was reminded rather forcefully of Black each time he looked at him. Harry wore the same pained, caged expression the mutt wore during the time Dumbledore kept him kenneled at Grimmald Place. The young wizard stalked around the cottage, slouched in the library chairs, and slunk to the front door at regular intervals. Snape watched him as he glared out the windows and scuffed his feet through the halls.

On the second day Snape surreptitiously ran a scan on the boy and his magic appeared to have recovered although he was still physically weak. Reluctantly, Snape informed Harry that the cure was complete. The boy immediately jumped up and headed for the door.

“Wait, Potter,” Snape intoned. The boy stopped but did not turn around. Back and shoulders rigid, Harry waited without speaking. Snape spelled the door shut.

“You said I could go,” Harry said flatly.

Snape sighed. “Do you not think it would be prudent to have somewhere to stay?” he asked with exasperation.

“I don’t need any help,” Harry said. His hand was on the doorknob.

“I think you do,” returned Snape. “Your magic is recovered but you are not. You will not be well enough to ride a horse for several more days.”

Harry turned around. “How did you know I was riding?”

A trademark smirk crossed Snape’s face. “I have my ways, Potter.”

The boy frowned. Turning back to the door he said, “I have to find my bike and pack then set up a camp. It’ll take a day or so then I’ll be ready to work.”

“Harry.” The use of his first name stopped him. Snape made an effort to soften his tone. “Be reasonable. You have no where to stay and no money, boy.”

Harry’s eyes flashed with anger. “Don’t. Call. Me. Boy.” He grabbed the knob. Snape grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. The boy stumbled and fell into the corner, knocking the umbrella stand over as he caught up hard against the wall. He righted himself and looked up at the potions master’s tall form completely blocking his escape. Harry’s breath immediately became ragged and he pressed hard against the wall. Brandishing his wand he crouched like a cornered animal, feral and desperate. His teeth were bared and a low growl rumbled in his chest.

Snape raised his empty hands in a placating gesture. Instinctively he legilimized the boy, needing to know what would produce such a reaction. Images of Vernon Dursley, large and overpowering, flooded his mind. The obese man had a young Harry cornered and was punching and shoving him. Harry tried to escape but the larger man easily prevented it. “I’ll crush the abnormalness out of you yet, boy,” snarled the man as he landed another blow. Snape cut the connection and stepped back feeling sickened by what he had witnessed. Harry was on his knees now but still holding his wand on his professor.

“Don’t do that again,” Harry rasped. He struggled to his feet and leaned against the wall breathing heavily. Sweat dampened hair clung to his forehead.

Still holding his hands up Snape said, “Relax, Potter. I merely wanted to know what was frightening you.” He searched for the right words. Persuasion had never come easy to him; he did better with manipulation. “Perhaps you could use this as your home for the remainder of the summer, Mr. Potter. You’ll be free to come and go but you won’t have to hide from the headmaster and the Order.” Then he played his trump card. “Weasley and Granger could visit you here.”

Harry clenched his fists. “You don’t understand anything. I don’t want them to visit! I don’t want to stay with you. You all deserve a safe summer instead of hanging around a Voldemort magnet.”

Snape frowned. “That is our decision to make, Potter.”

“They don’t know what they’re risking. They haven’t seen the bastard face to face like I have.” He ran his fingers through his hair and muttered, “They seem to think this is some kind of a game.” He stepped around Snape and leaned against the door. “That’s why I want to stay alone. It’s easier if I only have to worry about myself instead of endangering anyone else.” He looked away and whispered, “Like at the ministry.”

“I too have seen the Dark Lord face to face and I understand the risk,” said Snape gravely. “It is my decision to make. I wish you to stay.” With a start he realized that he meant it. He smirked to cover the unexpected and unwanted emotion as he said, “If you do not stay I shall have a very difficult time explaining it to the headmaster.”

Harry snorted. “That’s the least of your worries.”

“Believe me when I say that it is not the least. The wrath of Albus Dumbledore is not something to be incurred lightly.”

“Do you think it would be worse than if Voldemort catches you sheltering me?” The boy scowled and reached for the doorknob. “Which way?” he asked wearily.

“Which way is what?”

“My bike. Which way should I go?”

Snape sighed. He reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out the shrunken bike and pack. “Your things are here.”

Green eyes snapped up to his and the anger in them almost made him back up a step. “You lied,” the boy snarled.

“Of course,” Snape said mildly. He schooled his features into a frown as he handed Harry his possessions.

Harry eyed his stern expression then tried to open the door. It was still spelled shut. He pointed a finger at the knob and muttered, “Alohomora.” Nothing happened. Scowling with irritation he said in a commanding voice, “Alohomora!” The door remained obstinately closed and he felt no energy drain. “Bloody hell,” he growled. He looked up at Snape and said, “My magic isn’t fixed at all!”

The man looked puzzled for a moment then his expression cleared and he said, “You are still under the effect of the potion. You will not be able to perform magic until tomorrow morning.” He gave Harry another irritating sneer. “You cannot go out alone without magic. Not even your foe glass will work without your magic to power it.”

Looking resigned Harry leaned his forehead against the door. “Can you at least unlock the door,” he mumbled. He placed both fists against the door and lightly struck the wood on each side of his head.

Snape had a sudden realization. All the times the boy was flaunting the rules and traipsing about the castle at night he was probably relieving his feeling of being trapped in the tower dorm. The memories that he had viewed during Occlumency lessons bolstered his theory. Being locked in a closet would have contributed to Harry’s aversion to being confined. One look at the boy’s tense shoulders convinced him to unlock the door.

As the door swung open Harry took a deep breath and stepped out onto the steps. He stayed out there, gazing at the stars, for quite some time after Snape moved back into the cottage. Snape felt confident Harry would not leave until his magic was back. After setting an early wake up spell the potions master retired. The boy was still on the front step.

Hours later, as the sun began to peek over the treetops Snape awakened. After pulling on his robes he walked toward the kitchen. As he passed the door he saw it was partially ajar. Elbowing the door aside he saw Harry dozing on the step, his head against the trellis. His faded jumper was sparkling with dew and the shrunken motorbike was still clutched in his hand. The door tapped against his leg, rousing him. He sat up abruptly and scooted away from the figure looming above him. The boy looked drowsy and somehow vulnerable which irritated Snape for reasons he did not understand.

With a scowl Snape performed a drying spell on Harry and said, “Come inside, Potter. You should eat before you leave.” Wordlessly the teen followed him into the kitchen where Widget quickly served them a large breakfast. Still silent, the boy dug into the meal. After they both pushed back from the table Snape turned to Harry.

He took a firm hold on his temper and said calmly, “So, Potter, can you explain what you were thinking when you decided to tackle a Death Eater by yourself?”

Harry’s mutinous expression pressed Snape’s control to the limit but he maintained his composure. “He was threatening the people I was staying with. He had to be eliminated,” Harry explained. Then the brat crossed his arms. “And it felt good to clear Sirius’ name.”

Snape clenched his jaw but the caustic words escaped. “It felt good, boy! What would it have felt like if the floo wasn’t connected in that cottage or if that idiot hadn’t kept his floo powder handy?” He saw Harry blanch but continued relentlessly. “Your little holiday would have taken quite a different turn if Pettigrew had turned you over to the Dark Lord, eh Potter?” His hand snaked out and clamped on the boy’s wrist. “If you pull another stunt like that I will personally administer the Draught of Living Death to keep you contained until the semester begins. Do you understand?”

Harry shook off his hand and rubbed his wrist. “Yes. Sir.”

“Can you explain your reasons for wanting to continue this foolishness?” Snape asked scathingly.

Harry sighed. “You know the prophesy.” It was more of a statement than a question but Snape nodded in confirmation. “Voldemort will continue to send his death eaters after me and those around me until the job is done. I can’t stay with anyone right now. It’ll just mean more people get in the way and end up dead.” He squared his shoulders and said, “It’s my destiny, my problem.”

“Do you plan to continue with school in the fall?”

“Yes. I can’t…”

Snape didn’t let him finish. “Then your logic is flawed, Potter. You will be endangering the whole school with your presence if we assume your reasoning is correct.”

Scowling at the interruption Harry said, “Hogwarts is different. With Dumbledore there the others will be safe. Besides, how else will I learn enough to kill…”

“Do not say the name again!” Snape barked.

Harry looked uncomfortable. The boy got his emotions under control then spoke. “Thank you, Professor. You’re right. I should leave school completely while I find a way to defeat … You know who.”

Snape frowned. This was not the response he was trying to elicit. “You misunderstand me, Potter. The flaw is your assumption that because it is your destiny to defeat the Dark Lord that you must assume the entire burden alone. Hogwarts will protect you just as it does the other students. You simply need to allow us to get you through the summer.”

Harry rolled his eyes and Snape gave him a glare. “Consider this, Potter. If the prophesy were referring to Mr. Weasley, would you want him to take the responsibility alone or would you want to help him in any way possible? Would you not expect him to take your assistance without question?” Snape drove his final point home, “Would you feel he was rejecting your friendship if he did not?”

Harry became agitated as he contemplated Snape’s questions. His mouth opened several times as if to speak but no words came forth. When he finally did speak he looked the words came out with difficulty. “It’s not the same, Professor. Ron’s got his whole family and of course they’d want to help him, and Hermione and me too, I mean who wouldn’t right? But, I don’t know, it’s just different for me, that’s all!” Harry was completely wound up by this time. He got up from his chair abruptly and marched over to the door.

Snape’s soft whisper stopped him as quickly as if he had shouted. “So you are saying that you are not worthy of the same consideration as Mr. Weasley?”

Obviously distressed, Harry barked, “I don’t know what I’m saying. It’s just different for me! I’ll handle this on my own, just like I always have!” Without turning around Harry exited the cottage and shut the door. Snape heard his shouted “Finite Incantatum,” then the rumble of the engine as it fired. Gravel hit the side of the cottage as the bike sped away. Snape sighed and dropped his head into his hands.

oOoOoOoOo

As the Order meeting let out Hermione, Ron, and Ginny stood outside the kitchen door nodding politely to the adults as they walked past. When the twins emerged Ron stepped forward and said, “Fred, George, a word?” The expressions of false politeness that instantly sprang to their faces made Hermione give up any hope of a productive meeting. Nevertheless she followed the group as they walked upstairs and into Ron’s bedroom.

Ron waited until they had arranged themselves comfortably on the bed before speaking. “We need to ask you what’s being done about Harry,” he began. “No one else is giving us any information.”

Before Ron could continue with their carefully rehearsed plan one of the twins spoke up. “Ah, Harry.”

“Quite the enterprising young lad…”

“He’s making us very proud…”

“Very proud indeed. Continuing our…”

“Fine work of constant chaos…”

“And mayhem. We’re so pleased and…”

“Proud. Yes, very proud.”

They both wiped tears of joy from their eyes and wrapped long, freckled arms around Ron and Ginny in a false display of emotion. “He’s like the child we never had!” they exclaimed in unison. Nearly knocking everyone off the bed in their glee, they exploded in raucous laughter. Hermione considered leaving right then but one look at Ron convinced her to stay. His determined expression bolstered her fading hopes for getting any information from the two.

Ever the strategist Ron assessed the situation and immediately launched into their nonexistent plan B. As the twins began to regain their composure he gestured to Ginny and said, “Poor Ginny is worrying herself sick over the prat. Can’t you tell us anything to stop her from losing any more sleep?”

The youngest Weasley, no slouch in the prank department herself immediately caught on to Ron’s plan. Hermione watched in awe as Ginny turned to the twins with such an expression of woe in her eyes that Hermione had to hold herself back from throwing her arms around her. In a crowning touch a tear rolled down her cheek as she spoke in a trembling voice. “Please, I need to know what is happening to my Harry,” she moaned. “It’s tearing me up with worry.”

Ginny dropped her head into her hands and began to sob. It sounded a bit like laughter so Hermione put one arm around the girl’s shuddering shoulders and spoke up. “Can’t you help us?” she said as she felt Ginny press her face into her robes. The twins looked utterly gobsmacked. Hermione avoided looking at Ron and gazed into their identical expressions of panic with what she hoped was entreaty.

As one Fred and George struggled off the bed and moved to the door. “We can’t divulge any order business,” one of them said hastily.

“Yeah, it’s a spell.”

“A secrecy spell.”

“Dire consequences for anyone who gives up any information.”

With that they opened the door and scrambled down the stairs. The three teen looked at each other and erupted into laughter.

“Sorry,” said Ron as he wiped tears from his eyes, “I could see the plan was bollixed so I went for the long shot. Should have known they’d run from ‘crying Ginny.’” He made quote marks in the air with his fingers to emphasize the last two words.

Hermione looked between the two and asked, “So you’ve used that before?”

With a snort of laughter Ginny said, “Yeah. Whenever we need them to leave so we can get something done.” She looked a little wistful. “I guess it was worth a try but now we don’t know anything about Harry.”

“Actually we do.” The two red heads looked at Hermione. “Obviously they’ve found him and whatever he’s up to is okay by the twins.”

Ron nodded sagely. “And that means he’s causing some chaos somewhere.”

“I just hope he’s okay,” Ginny said. “I hope he’s dealing with what happened in the DOM.” They all nodded, levity forgotten. Ginny looked at the tiny sketch that still persisted on the window. “Come back soon, seeker,” she whispered.