Harry sped recklessly along for a few a few miles before he got his temper under control. As he calmed down he began to scan the area for possible yards that might employ him. He passed up a few small, one man operations that reminded him painfully of Sean’s and made it tough to breath past the lump in his throat.

After a couple of hours of patient searching the perfect yard came into view. A number of boys could be seen bustling about, pushing wheelbarrows and carrying tack. It looked perfect, large enough that he would just be a face in the crowd. Executing a quick u-turn, Harry zipped up the driveway and parked in front of an old building that appeared to be an office. He knocked and waited to be recognized.

A large, dark haired man carrying a cup of tea opened the door and gave him an inquiring look. “My name’s Ian. I’m here to apply for a position,” Harry explained. The man gave him a quick, visual once over and motioned him inside. They entered a cozy office and strolled over to the kitchenette area in the back. After handing Harry a mug of tea and taking a deep swallow of his own he spoke.

“I’m Arthur,” he said with a smile and his hand extended. Harry shook it and smiled back, trying to appear both hopeful and confident. “No good talking business without some tea to wash it down,” Arthur said as he gulped more of the dark brew. He motioned toward the yard with his cup. “We’re looking for an exercise lad and someone to pick up rides on race days. Have you any experience?”

Harry nodded and outlined his duties at Sean and Sidney’s places. He hadn’t ridden in any races but had plenty of experience foxhunting. Nodding at Harry and starting to walk off at the same time, Arthur said, “Sounds brilliant, Ian. Let’s get you in a saddle so I can see you ride.” He turned to go and ran directly into the large pillar that bordered the dining area. A few choice curses rent the air as Arthur vented his frustration.

Hiding his smirk Harry said, “Why don’t you get rid of that column?”

“Ach! This is an old building and it’s a weight bearing support,” Arthur said as he rubbed his forehead. “If we knock that out the whole roof will fall in.” Harry nodded and carefully made note of the curses for future use. They skirted the pillar and made their way out to the yard where Arthur spotted a young man heading into one of the long, narrow barns.

“Patrick! Can you grab Oscar for me?” Arthur looked at Harry with a smile. “We need to give Ian here a test ride and Oscar is due for some work. Two birds with one stone, eh?” Patrick obligingly brought the horse out and watched as Harry tacked him up in the aisle. He gave Harry a leg up and stood back as the pair walked into the school. After jogging around to warm up the horse and check out the arrangement of the jumps Harry indicated he was ready to begin. Arthur guided him through a workout and at the end they were both well pleased.

“Nicely done, Ian,” said Arthur as Harry swung down from the horse. Harry smiled and gave the horse an enthusiastic rub on the shoulder.

“Brilliant horse, Arthur,” he said. “He jumps the moon.”

“You two are a good team.” Arthur regarded him gravely. “We run a fair yard here, Ian. There’ll be no fixing races; we ride to win. It’s not fair to the horse or the betting public to do otherwise. So there’ll be nothing extra for you to make a race come out differently than it should. You okay with that?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Harry intoned. The thought of cheating hadn’t occurred to him but he was relieved to know he wouldn’t be expected to do so.

Arthur stuck out his hand with a grin. “When can you start?” he asked as Harry pumped his hand.

oOoOoOoOo

It was hours after sundown when the sound of a motorcycle coming down the road alerted Snape. He turned down the flame on the potion he was brewing and moved through the house to the front door. A large snowy owl soared up the drive closely followed by the motorbike. Harry clung to the handlebars and drove rather erratically, alternately gunning the engine and then allowing it to nearly die. Once they were near the cottage Hedwig landed on the handlebars and the boy let the engine die entirely. He and the bird coasted forward a few feet and came to a stop by the expedient method of hitting a large oak tree.

Before Snape could get close enough to help the entire collection fell over with a thud. Potter lay there with the bike atop him while the bird noisily protested about the landing. “Shh,” the boy said softly. “Let me catch my breath before you start nagging me.” Harry gently stroked the bird’s feathers but made no move to shift the bike. “So where have you lead me, girl?” he asked when the bird was calmer.

“Right back to my cottage,” Snape interjected.

Harry twitched with surprise then lightly cuffed the owl, who pretended not to notice. “I said somewhere to rest up a bit, not back to the dungeon, Hedwig.” Snape rolled his eyes and then floated the bike off the young wizard. The boy got up but after stumbling several steps toward the cottage he sank to his knees. He did not look up as the potions master quickly appeared at his side.

“Don’t,” Harry said stridently. Snape stopped in the middle of reaching for his arm. “This is hard enough without you helping me,” he whispered. Snape snorted with derision and grabbed Harry by the elbow.

“Might as well start learning to accept a little help right now, Mr. Potter,” he said with a hint of a smirk. Snape supported the boy as they made their way into the cottage. After Harry collapsed into the sofa he asked, “Are you unwell, Potter?”

Harry sank back wearily. “No. Apparently Vol…The Dark Duffer doesn’t want to give me a break, that’s all,” he said tiredly. The boy pushed his fingers through his fringe and heaved a great sigh. “You were right,” he said with a crooked grin. “I was being a selfish prat. I should definitely invite Ron and Hermione to spend some time with me.” He laughed loudly then broke into a rather hysterical giggle. Snape eyed him carefully which only served to prolong the attack.

“Don’t know how you death eaters put up with all that crutiartis crap,” Harry said thickly after he managed to stop laughing. With startling speed Snape stood and tilted Harry’s head back to look at his eyes. The unequal pupil sizes and sluggish reaction to light told him that the boy was suffering from the after effects of the unforgivable again. Muttering under his breath the potion master released him and strode off. He returned with a vial of nasty looking sludge.

“No way. I’m not spending the night heaving my guts out again,” the boy said with an eye on the potion. “I’ll just sleep this off.” With difficulty he stood and tottered toward his room.

“Not so fast, Potter,” said Snape. “If you would listen for a moment I will explain something to you.”

“Now that would be something new,” Harry muttered as he turned and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.

Snape’s scowl stopped any further remarks and Harry waited with feigned patience for the man to continue. “The effects of the cruciartis curse are cumulative. If you are not treated between repeated exposures you will develop nerve damage.” He stood and looked into the boy’s unfocused eyes and said, “You will feel like this permanently. Or worse.” He did not have to mention the Longbottoms for Harry to get his point.

“When you received the curse after the Tri Wizard Debacle it was assumed you would not be exposed again so healing was allowed proceed naturally. We cannot assume that anymore, can we?” Harry shook his head and looked at the potion with resignation.

“I was only exposed through another vision. Doesn’t that make a difference?” he asked with a bit of a whine.

“Apparently not, Potter. Go get ready for bed and I shall bring the potion to you. You will not be sick. I was forced to give you a large dose combined with another potion last time.” Snape held the bedroom door open and Harry shuffled in, looking rather subdued. After toeing off his trainers he flopped into the bed and held out a trembling hand for the potion.

Snape huffed and said impatiently, “Is this how you normally sleep, fully clothed except for your shoes?”

A shrug and some uneasy fidgeting was interpreted as an affirmative by the potions master. “We shall address this when you are feeling better,” Snape pronounced. “For now if you will at least remove your jacket it will suffice.” Harry complied and was finally given the potion. He lay back and closed his eyes.

“Thank you, professor,” he muttered, his voice still thick from the noxious taste. Snape eyed him thoughtfully and left the room.

oOoOoOoOo

Harry woke the next morning feeling disoriented. He was sleeping in a large bed instead of his little camping cot and his head was thrumming with a hippogriff sized headache. Before he could stop it a low moan slipped past his lips. He clamped his jaws shut and reached frantically for his wand and glasses. As he fumbled with the nightstand a blurry figure detached itself from a chair in the room and moved toward him as he closed his hand over his wand. Still struggling with the pain in his head and the bewilderment of the newly awakened, Harry flinched away and tumbled onto the floor.

The icy cold floor dispelled any trace of drowsiness and Harry shot to his feet clutching his wand. The sound of chuckling brought back the memory of last night’s return to Snape’s cottage. Harry took his glasses from the older wizard and waited for the scathing assessment of his ineptitude with downcast eyes. When no lecture seemed forthcoming Harry looked up at Snape.

“Interesting method of waking up,” the potion master said dryly. “Looks rather painful to me.” With that Snape returned to his chair. “Please sit down, Potter. We need to talk.”

After retrieving his slippers to shield his feet from the cold Harry took a seat in the chair opposite Snape. Moments later Widget appeared and distributed tea and breakfast. As Harry dug in gratefully Snape began to speak. “Clearly, you will require some type of guardian if you are to make it through this holiday.” When Harry’s expression turned mutinous Snape stopped him from interrupting by holding up his hand, palm out. “I am quite sure that under normal circumstances you could easily take care of yourself. These, however, are not normal circumstances. Would you agree to the truth of that, Mr. Potter?” Harry nodded stiffly, reluctant to agree to anything.

“It is therefore necessary to agree to some type of arrangement that we both can live with.” Harry felt his mouth drop open. Snape looked irritated at this so he hurriedly shut it and composed himself. “The headmaster and I feel it is unreasonable to expect you to return to headquarters so I would like to propose a compromise,” continued the professor. He looked at Harry expectantly. Harry, still reeling with the shock of hearing Snape negotiating with him, nodded mutely.

“You will return here to my home each night. I will be able to deal with any problems you may incur with the dark lord’s curses and see that you are eating properly. You will make yourself scarce during the day and endeavor to stay out of my way as much as possible. Do you think you can handle that, Potter?”

Harry rubbed his aching head as he regarded the professor. “No more locking me in,” he temporized. This new, reasonable Snape was an unknown quantity. He decided to play along for now and see what the man was plotting.

With an inclination of his head Snape accepted Harry’s terms. “So we are in agreement?” he said. Harry hesitated then tipped his own head in purposeful mockery. Snape snorted and stood up. “Fine. Would you like something for that headache?”

Harry snatched his hand away from his forehead. “No thank you sir,” he replied quickly. The thought of more potions was worse than the pain. Glancing at his watch he said, “I found a job yesterday. It’s time for me to go.” He stood up and headed for his pack, his steps a bit more deliberate than usual.

Harry felt Snape’s eyes on him as the professor said, “Are you certain you are well enough? You are not yet fully recovered.”

“Much better today, thank you,” Harry answered without looking up. The desperate need to flee was building inside him. He pulled out breeches and boots as Snape stalked out and shut the door. As he was struggling with the boots Snape returned. He flung something small and round at Harry who caught it instinctively with a seeker’s reflexes. It was a bottlecap from a muggle soft drink.

“That is an emergency portkey. Should a… situation arise you simply tap it with your wand and say, ‘Portus.’ It will activate and return you here. Understand?” Harry stuffed the cap into his pocket and nodded. Snape looked at him with an unreadable expression and said, “Do try to stay out of any such situations, won’t you, Potter?” Harry nodded again and went back to trying to pull on his boots. Sweat began sticking his hair to his forehead as his anxiety escalated. He heard an exasperated sigh from Snape and looked up to see him gesturing with his wand. The recalcitrant boots slid on his feet without further assistance. The potion master stepped aside and Harry fled the room.

oOoOoOoOo

Ron and Hermione were puzzled. They knew Harry had been found but he was still not back. When they asked Ron’s mum she brushed them off with a muttered, “Professor Dumbledore has the situation well under control. Don’t you two worry another minute.” Her concerned expression belied her comforting words and the pair retired to Ron’s room to discuss things. Ginny tagged along as well.

“What do you think is going on?” Ginny asked as soon as the door was shut. The three flopped onto the bed and eyed each other.

“I don’t know,” said Hermione, “but they are definitely not telling us something.”

“Aye,” said Ron. “They’ve found him all right, but something’s up.”

Ginny nodded. “The question is, what?”

With a shrug Hermione scrubbed her fingers through her hair, leaving it even bushier than before. “And where’s Snape?” she asked with a scowl. “He hasn’t been around at all the last couple days. You can bet he’s caught up in this somehow.”

A tear rolled down Ginny’s cheek. “You don’t think Harry’s hurt, do you?”

Ron put out his arm and his sister snuggled into his comforting bulk. “No Ginny, I’m sure if he was hurt he’d be right here so Mum could take care of him. There’s no way she’d let anyone stand in her way, not even Dumbledore. Right?” The red head nodded and sniffled quietly. “There has to be another explanation,” Ron said forcefully. “We just have to figure out what it is.”

“Do you think,” Hermione said tentatively, “he may not want to come back?”

A grim look crossed Ron’s face. “If that’s the case then he’s got some explaining to do when we catch up with him.” Hermione smiled and when Ron raised his other arm she gratefully slid in next to him.

“I think we may have to do some investigating of our own,” Hermione murmured. Ron and Ginny eyed her and grinned. “I have an idea…”

“Definitely too much time around the twins,” Ron said and Ginny nodded soberly before sitting up eagerly to hear the plan.

oOoOoOoOo

A week flew past and Harry fell into a comfortable routine. He would bolt down a quick breakfast while Snape scowled at him from across the table. After enduring a few scathing comments about his lack of table manners he would fire the bike and enjoy a bit of a ride before pulling into Arthur’s yard. He and the other lads would feed and after mucking out they would ride on the downs. The whipping winds and pounding hooves helped to soothe the ache in his heart and for a few hours he managed to push his guilt and grief over Sirius into the back of his mind.

When he was done at the yard there were still far too many hours left in the day. There was no homework to distract him since sixth years had to wait for the OWL results to determine their schedules for the year. He steered clear of Snape’s cottage as much as possible, only coming in at night to eat and sleep. Needing to feel he was doing something to atone he spent hours studying the occlumency manual from Knockturn Alley.

It was near the end of his first week with Snape that he felt he was ready to try the occlumency spell. The methods in the book were different from those taught by the professor and some of the techniques looked rather unpleasant. Harry felt it was a small price to pay to ensure he would not be fooled into leading another person he cared about into danger or death. So when the instructions called for him to spill some of his own blood he did so with grim determination. When he was violently sick after completing the rituals and incantations he bore it stoically in the name of keeping everyone safe. Occlumency with Snape had never been pleasant either, he reasoned.

After a couple of days he became more adept and was able to maintain the occlusion for most of the day. He suppressed a wave of apprehension over the detachment he began to feel. Now when he thought of Sirius it only triggered a vague uneasiness and images of his friends seemed like those of mere acquaintances. Harry quickly banished his fears as this was the very thing that would protect them the most. Should Voldemort penetrate his mental defenses none of those he cherished would be targeted.

Snape seemed to be watching him extra carefully so Harry continued to stay away from the cottage as much as possible. He kept his answers to single syllables and grunts and avoided eye contact at all costs. This of course inflamed Snape’s anger but Harry found himself able to ignore his insults by drifting into the safety of the occlusion trance.

At work he withdrew completely from the other lads, only speaking when necessary and avoiding eye contact with them as well. The only time he felt like himself was when he rode, the bite of the wind brought him back to the moment as he reveled in the exhilaration of the gallops. He vaguely remembered a similar feeling from playing a sport at school but the memory was shadowy and indistinct. The loss of these memories nagged at him briefly but he stood in the stirrups and laughed as the horse’s mane whipped his windburned cheeks.