Harry unceremoniously landed in a heap, face down on a mound of dirt and leaves. He raised his head to see Snape’s feet right next to him. Of course he had made a perfect landing, Harry groused and hopped to his feet.

Weed growth enhancer. Harry grinned despite his annoyance as he brushed the dirt and leaves from his clothing. What he wouldn’t give to see the Dursleys’ faces when they couldn’t get rid of their weeds. Ha! If it had been anyone other than Snape who’d cast it, Harry might have allowed himself to be properly impressed. He was, admittedly, surprised.

He glanced up at the man, who hadn’t moved from the spot where he’d landed. Snape was looking at something beyond him, and only then did Harry hear the shuffling sounds of company. A throat cleared. He followed Snape’s gaze and came face to face with a wand. Wait, there were two wands.

Were they surrounded? His pulse quickened.

“Harry!”

Harry felt his heart rate slow as he recognized the body attached to the wand.

“Remus?”

A ragged-looking Remus Lupin blinked at him. He dropped his wand hand, surprise reflected in his warm brown eyes. Harry recognized the other wizard too – it was Mad Eye Moody. There were only the two wizards, and Harry felt profound relief that he was able to identify both.

“Harry?” Remus repeated. “We were told to expect Professor Snape alone.”

“It could be a trap!” Moody, who had yet to lower his wand, wasted no time in pointing out. “How do we know he isn’t a Death Eater impersonating Potter so we’ll reveal his location?”

“Lower your wand, Moody!” Snape snapped. “The Dark Lord already knows Potter’s summer location. We’ve been aware of that for months. Unless you are able to assist him in overcoming the wards, I highly doubt he or his followers would be so fortunate in even obtaining the necessary ingredient for an effective Polyjuice Potion!”

“Polyjuice! Ha! So you’ve revealed your ploy! Disguising one of your own to look like him so we’ll slip up and tell you how to cross the wards! Not likely!” Moody kept his wand pointed at Harry, though his eye swiveled to Snape. “Which means that you may or may not be Severus Snape,” he growled, eyeing the strange sight that the man made, still decked out in Dudley’s old clothes.

Remus intervened, asking Snape a question to placate Moody. “What curse did you use on Sirius fourth year just prior to the train leaving for Christmas holiday?”

Snape played along, though visibly exasperated, “Leg-Locker.”

“It’s him, Moody.”

Moody harrumphed, but he appeared to accept that Snape was indeed who he said he was. He narrowed his suspicion toward Harry.

“What form does your Patronus take, Harry?” Remus asked before Moody could start in on him again.

“Stag,” Harry answered automatically.

“Several people were listening last time you asked him that, Lupin! Ask him something else.” Moody’s eye spun around to scan the surrounding woods for anything suspicious.

Remus humored him. “What–”  He stopped abruptly, eyes darkening. Harry looked around them, worried about what Remus had seen. Were there unusual creatures about? He absently reached for his wand, only to remember it was still in his shrunken trunk. He silently cursed himself for not pulling it out; he had stupidly gotten used to not having it on him.

Remus stalked closer to Harry, but instead of pulling his wand on an unseen enemy, he gently placed his hand under Harry’s chin and turned his head to the side. “What happened to your face, Harry?” Remus asked softly.

Harry felt himself flush, and he pulled his chin away from Remus’ grasp. He hadn’t had time this morning to consider that he’d likely have a bruise on his face from yesterday. He hoped it didn’t look too bad, but judging by Remus’s narrowed eyes, it might look worse than he’d imagined.

“Er, nothing,” he mumbled. He couldn’t quite meet Remus’ probing gaze, but he forced himself not to duck his head like he was tempted to do. Unfortunately, in looking elsewhere, he had to dodge two other pairs of eyes as well – one accusing, the other knowing. “I – I fell. Door was right there. Clumsy.” The strung together words sounded incredibly false, even to his own ears. He must be out of practice. But then he couldn’t remember ever having outright lied to his friends or professors before about the Dursleys. Misled, yes. Omitted things, definitely. But lied? He hadn’t really had to. Vernon hadn’t left a bruise on him – well, on his face, at least – since he’d started at Hogwarts.

“The impostor is obviously covering something up!” Moody fixed Harry with the full force of his mismatched stare. “Who are you? Out with it. Who are you, really?”

“Now, Moody. Let’s be reasonable,” Remus chided, though suspicion was simmering in his eyes, which Harry now realized weren’t even focused on him anymore. They were directed over his shoulder.  He followed Remus’ stare to Snape, who had left them to their exchange and was examining their surroundings.

When Remus redirected his attention to Harry, it was obvious the man didn’t believe the ‘clumsy’ story for a second. But thankfully, he dropped it. Looking at Harry, suspicion turned into an apologetic look as he asked the necessary question: “Harry, what do you hear when dementors come near?”

Harry was taken aback at the personal query, but he could see the reason for it. It wasn’t something Harry would have shared with many people, after all. He recovered quickly to answer, “my mum.”

He heard “It’s him, Moody,” from Remus simultaneously with an incredulous, “What!” Snape had turned from the edge of the clearing, face pale, and was looking at him like he’d gone mad. “Who in their right mind hears…that when dementors are near?”

Thankfully, Remus intervened before Snape could stick his large nose further into Harry’s business, putting up a hand to halt the conversation. “It’s him, Moody!” he repeated with an air of finality directed at Snape.

Moody finally dropped his wand, muttering something about tricks and villains and how one can never be too careful. Harry noted that he still kept one suspicious eye trained on Snape, though.

Snape ignored the glare and motioned around them. “Where is Dumbledore?” It was more a command than a question. “I have not been to this location. Has headquarters been compromised?”

Remus answered the question while moving to stand so close to Harry that it was kind of uncomfortable and Harry took a step back. “We’ve only recently started using this location as an emergency meeting place. Wards make it untraceable. The Order thought it necessary that we alternate the use of all safe houses so that if one is compromised, the likelihood of being captured is lessened.”

Harry could see how the clearing they were in could be an ideal place to meet. They were surrounded by trees on all sides, and a look above confirmed that the tall branches and leaves of the trees formed a curtain below the blue sky, a perfect barrier between them and any above ground surveillance.

“We’ve wasted enough time,” Moody growled. “Lupin, you lead the way. I’ll take up the rear.”

Moody motioned for Remus to enter the forest first. Moody walked behind the other three, eye swiveling ever more rapidly for any hint of danger as they entered the dense woods.

Remus kept glancing back to keep an eye on Harry. He also kept a rather intently watchful eye on Snape, which the Potions master resolutely ignored.

When they reached a stream, Remus motioned them to a narrow place for crossing. He continued with his explanation then, as one by one they stepped across to the other side. “This place is especially set up with medical supplies.” He passed a glance over Snape’s healthy-looking form, marred only by scratches. “Few details were in your letter. As Albus was concerned you might have sustained serious injuries, he asked Poppy to meet us here to treat you. After she has seen to you, we’ll bring you both on to headquarters to see Albus.”

He glanced at Harry then, issuing him a reassuring smile before readdressing Snape with an uncharacteristic coolness to his tone, “I’m sure he’ll have quite a few questions for you.”

Snape scowled in return, and the wizards continued in silence.

That gave Harry time for thought as they continued down a little-used dirt path through the trees. Just what would Dumbledore say when he saw Harry? He wasn’t bound to be happy. Snape and Harry had both defied his wishes for Harry to stay put at the Dursleys. He also was a bit antsy about facing him so soon after his horrible tantrum at the end of the last school year. Would Dumbledore take one look at him and send him right back? He felt a sudden urge to plod a little slower. It really was quite scenic. Why hurry?

Snape bumped into him from behind. “Faster, Potter. The longer we are outside, the greater the probability that our location could be compromised.”

Harry reluctantly quickened his pace.

Stepping through another patch of dense trees, he finally saw a clearing ahead of them – a real clearing this time, though barely large enough for the small cottage in its midst. The cottage was built right next to a large stone wall – a natural cliff extending up into the air. The other three sides were dense woods. No one even a few steps into the trees on any side would guess that there was a clearing or a cottage only a stone’s throw away.

Both Snape and Harry were ushered into the cottage before he could examine any more of their surroundings.

It was dark inside. Not too dark, he supposed, but he’d gotten used to the brightness of the outdoors. He waited for his eyes to adjust.

“Mr. Potter!” He heard Madam Pomfrey’s surprised voice a moment before he saw her. She looked just as she did during the school year, brown hair laced with gray, her matronly form ready to pounce into action for anything from a bee sting to a war wound.

Peering beyond Pomfrey, Harry could see now that there was only one worn sofa in the tiny room. A few small appliances were off to the side, which Harry guessed served as a kitchen of sorts. As they looked old and dusty, Harry wondered if this place was ever used for more than a few minutes or hours at a time.

“Well, Potter?” The sound of his name interrupted his curiosity about the two closed doors leading off from the main room.  He focused his attention on Madam Pomfrey, who was staring at him expectantly. Looking around at the other three faces, all directed at him, he wondered just how long he had been distracted by his examinations of the cottage.

“Huh?” he asked blankly.

“I asked if you would like to take a seat while I examine Professor Snape.” She put her hands on her hips then. “On second thought, perhaps I ought to check you over as well. Really, you seem quite disoriented.”

Harry was already shaking his head. “I’m fine, Madam Pomfrey. Thanks though,” he added. She was still looking him over like she wasn’t going to let it drop. He hastily took a seat on one end of the sofa. “Really. I’m tired, is all. A hike through the woods first thing in the morning can really take it out of you,” he tried to joke. It fell flat, but she seemed reassured and focused her attention on Professor Snape.

“Come now, professor. I’ve strict instructions from the headmaster to check you thoroughly before allowing you to leave.” Her firm voice brooked no argument, and despite his resentful posture, Snape followed her into the back room.

At Snape’s obvious aversion to being examined, Harry couldn’t help but wonder if Dumbledore hadn’t brought Snape out to the middle of nowhere just so he couldn’t refuse medical attention. Subtle manipulation, he thought. He wondered if maybe the sorting hat had ever told Dumbledore that he’d be good in Slytherin too.

“I’ll bring out some bruise salve for your face in one moment, Mr. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey called over her shoulder as she led Snape into the room. He heard her muffled voice giving some kind of instruction to the man through the cracked door.

Moody took up post by one of only two windows in the room, eyes out for any hint of danger. Leaving the guard duty to Moody, Remus took a seat on the sofa next to Harry. Harry braced himself for a steady stream of questions. Or, worse, for Remus to start a heart to heart - which Harry might not have minded, if he knew it was going to be about his parents or his friends, or even about his classes. Pretty much anything but the Dursleys.

“Harry…” Remus began but didn’t get a chance to voice his first question before Madam Pomfrey bustled back into the main room with a small jar in hand.

“Bruise salve,” she called out efficiently, handing it to him. “Rub a small amount on your cheek with three circular motions; that should do the trick.”

“Here, Harry, let me.” Remus reached over Harry for the jar, no doubt trying to be helpful. But as he closed his hand over the jar, Harry felt Remus’ arm bump into his shoulder, sending a short burst of pain through his arm. He hissed through his teeth and couldn’t help but scrunch up his nose.

He schooled his features, but he was a bit too late, for Remus was already staring at him with his look of suspicion back in place. “Harry?” Remus asked simply, expertly conveying his worry and unspoken questions in one word.

“I’m fine,” Harry said quickly, his face warming under the scrutiny. “I…er, I guess I must’ve sprained my shoulder…” he explained feebly, avoiding Remus’ eyes. He looked at Madam Pomfrey. “I don’t suppose you could…um, fix it?”

“Harry!” A hint of frustration seeped into Remus’ usually calm demeanor. “I think you need to tell us who did this to you.”

“Why do you assume it was a ‘who’?” Harry retorted, fight flooding back to him at Remus’ stern tone. “I pulled my shoulder lifting something heavy, okay? I just didn’t want to carry on about it like a baby!” Well, it was sort of true, anyway. His shoulder probably wouldn’t be as bad if he hadn’t had to pull Snape up all those stairs when it was already sore to begin with.

Remus opened his mouth to reply, but Madam Pomfrey intervened. “That is quite enough, you two. Mr. Potter, allow me to take a look at that shoulder so that I may bring out the proper treatment.”

Harry didn’t move, not sure what was expected of him.

Madam Pomfrey crossed her arms across her chest. “Potter. Did you or didn’t you just ask me to ‘fix’ your shoulder? You do realize that I need to actually see it in order to help you?” She asked her question with eyebrows raised.

Harry’s face grew red again. “Erm…” he began, lacking any feeling of eloquence. “Don’t you need to see me in the back room or something? I mean, isn’t that where all your hospital stuff is set up at?”

Remus reached a hand out to place over Harry’s. “It’s alright, Harry. You’re in the company of friends. There is no shame or embarrassment in showing your injury.”

“Remus Lupin,” Pomfrey scolded, “this boy is obviously feeling bashful about parading around half-dressed in front of your prying eyes. Come, Potter,” She gestured him up and to the back room. “Let’s have a look.”

He wasted no time following her to the open door, eager to get out from under Remus’ well-meaning intentions. He loved Remus, he did. Almost as much as he’d loved Sirius. He just…didn’t fancy giving him more to be concerned about. Harry hadn’t looked for himself, but he was pretty certain he’d have a few bruises on his arms. They were minor, but that wouldn’t matter to Remus, and Harry didn’t fancy his dad’s friend thinking that he couldn’t take care of himself with his own relatives.

There was simply no way he’d confess to Uncle Vernon’s recent treatment of him. He knew he could trust his father’s boyhood friend - the problem was that Remus cared about him. Unlike Snape, who, despite his recent confusing behavior, regarded Harry with predictable hatred and loathing, Remus might decide to coddle him or something. Harry hated being coddled. He hated being pitied even more.

Plus, it’s not like the Durseys were abusive. They were unpleasant, rude, uncaring, and generally horrid people, sure. But other than by Dudley, he wasn’t usually hit or anything. This summer was a fluke. It wasn’t really a lie to hide the source of his injuries from Remus, he decided. He was just omitting certain details to keep the truth from being blown out of proportion.

Pomfrey led him through the door to the one bedroom and closed the door behind them. There were two beds, one against each wall, with a chair in between. A floor to ceiling cabinet with clear doors lined the wall closest to the bedroom door, and Harry glanced at the shelves of potions, salves, and other healer supplies. Remus hadn’t been kidding. This place really was set up for medical pit stops.

“This way, Potter. Sit up on the bed, shirt off.” She bustled over to the cabinet. “Lie back down, Severus! I haven’t yet completed my diagnostic spells.”

Harry glanced across the room at its other occupant. Snape was sitting on one of the beds glaring at Harry, a full blown scowl on his face. He didn’t look happy at all to have Harry sitting in on his medical examination. Harry inched over to the opposite bed and sat on the very edge, as close to the door as possible.

Pomfrey stopped her assessment of the medical supplies long enough to snap again at them both. “Severus! The sooner you comply, the sooner we will be through here! And Mr. Potter. This is not a private room at St. Mungo’s. I may assist you with your shoulder in here or in the main room. Just please make up your mind!”

Make up his mind…

Display his injuries in front of Snape? Or Lupin and Moody?

Harry resigned himself to staying in the room with Snape. The professor already knew about how they’d been caused, anyway. And he wouldn’t make a fuss over him. In fact, the man looked as if he’d be pretty disgruntled even without Harry’s company. He had laid back down upon Pomfrey’s threat to make a full report of his behavior to Dumbledore.

Harry caught himself mid-snort at seeing Snape being treated like a child. He quickly followed it up with a pretend coughing fit after getting a nasty glare from the man in question.

Pomfrey ran her wand in the air over the entire length of Snape’s body, hmm-ing and tsk-ing all the while. Finished, she scribbled out a few notes on a piece of parchment and walked back over to the cabinet to pull out a few bottles of various sizes and colors.

“Mr. Potter!” She stood over him on her way back to Snape’s bed. “How many times must I repeat myself? Remove your shirt! I may be a witch, but I cannot see through cotton!” She huffed and turned back to Snape, proceeding to administer to him doses of some of the potions.

Heaving a sigh, he pulled his shirt over his head. It proved kind of difficult, actually. He was having a hard time raising his sore arm, and he felt downright silly moving his head and torso around at odd angles to remove it one-handedly. He finally tossed it next to him on the bed. At least he could be grateful that neither Pomfrey nor Snape had been watching his contortionist act.

The mediwitch kept giving Snape potion after potion to drink. Or maybe they weren’t all potions – he couldn’t tell. But sheesh. How many different types of medicine could one wizard need - especially as he hadn’t really been acting injured? It was kind of odd, actually, now that Harry thought about it. The man had been cursed and beaten and wounded when he’d landed with Harry, but except for that first day, he didn’t really seem to be that hurt. No one could recover that quickly on their own. Was Snape just so tough that pain didn’t bother him?

Or had he been feeling much, much worse than he let on that entire time? It would fit with Snape’s stubborn pride. Relying on Harry Potter for anything more than absolutely necessary probably would have killed the man more than mere physical injuries.

He mentally shrugged. Well, it was just as well with Harry if the man wanted to kill himself by acting fine when he wasn’t. No skin off his back.

Pomfrey finally replaced the cap on the last of the potion bottles. “Now stay put. You know very well the combination of these will need time to penetrate your entire system. Five to ten minutes should do it.” She turned around to Harry then. “Alright, Mr. Potter. Your tur-” she stopped mid-sentence with widening eyes. Recovering quickly, she placed one hand on each hip. “Mr. Potter!” she scolded, “What in Merlin’s name have you been doing to yourself? ‘Lifted something heavy,’ my foot!” She grabbed a few of the bottles from Snape’s bedside and replaced them in the cupboard, continuing her speech. “Honestly, boys these days! Sports this, sports that, and the Muggle-raised ones don’t even give a thought to the inaccessibility of proper magical healing remedies.”

Harry didn’t know what to make of her reaction until he looked down at his arms for himself. There were bruises on both, just as he’d thought there would be - bruises from where Uncle Vernon had grabbed him over the last few weeks, and a pretty nasty one on his elbow from when he’d fallen after Vernon had hit him. They weren’t all that bad, to tell the truth, hence Madame Pomfrey assuming it a result of nothing more than sports…but on the one spot where Uncle Vernon had grabbed him over and over – right near his sprained shoulder – was a series of small splotches, some a dark bluish-purple and some the  reddish color of fresh bruises. They ran together so that it all looked like one huge, nasty multicolored bruise. It was hideous. No wonder his arm had been so tender every time something brushed against it.

When Pomfrey turned back around, it was to heave a thoroughly exasperated sigh. “Severus Snape! Don’t make me report you to Albus! I said lie down and I mean lie down! Honestly, I don’t think I’ve had more troublesome patients than the two of you.” She threw up her hands and returned to Harry’s side to perform several diagnostic spells.

Sure enough, Harry confirmed with a glance to the other bed, Snape was sitting up in his bed again. And he wasn’t lying down, even after her final scolding. He was just staring at Harry. More precisely, at his bruised arms. His thoughts were carefully hidden.

Harry attempted to slide over so that Pomfrey would hide him from Snape’s scrutiny, but when that earned him yet another scolding, he forced himself to remain still.

“Drink this, Mr. Potter.” Pomfrey handed him a small vial filled with a horrible-smelling greenish liquid. He downed it in one gulp in an effort to keep the horrible substance from touching his tongue.

Ugh! It was awful. He grimaced.

Snape was still watching him, and Harry shifted uncomfortably.

As Pomfrey reached for the jar of bruise salve, Harry’s nervous fingers found a corner of the discarded shirt and began to fiddle with it. He didn’t know what Snape was thinking, but this day was an awful mix of up and down emotions for Harry.

He should have known right away when he woke up crying and clinging to Snape that that this day wasn’t going on the top of his list of best birthdays ever. At least he was away from the Dursleys; that sure went a long way toward lending some happiness to the day. But everything else – the display his relatives had made in front of Snape, how obvious they had made it that they hated Harry, the embarrassment at having Remus notice and question his injuries – it all culminated in this never ending moment of having to just sit there under Snape’s endless scrutiny, with evidence of his relatives’ hatred of him on open display.

Even though Snape had seen and heard enough to know what – or specifically, who – had caused it, knowing the sight he must present with his limp arm and his bruises made him want to sink into the floor and stay there until Snape left.

And it wasn’t even noon yet. Harry heaved a sigh.

“Alright, move your arm now,” Pomfrey urged him. He lifted his injured arm slowly, carefully, and was pleasantly surprised to find it felt perfectly normal. Relieved at having the soreness of the last several days behind him, he raised it completely and then yelped at a sharp pain.

He raised his frustrated eyes to Pomfrey’s no-nonsense ones. She took his not quite healed injury in stride, holding out another vial of the green potion for his consumption. “One more dose and your shoulder should be fine.”

He swallowed, grimacing again at the awful taste.

“Yes, I know the taste isn’t the best. Next time you decide to partake in dangerous activities, you might stop to consider how you might be hurt, Mr. Potter.” She tsk-tsked.

“Erm…yeah. I mean yes, Madam Pomfrey. I’ll be more careful. I promise.” He managed to add a bit of contriteness to his tone and blinked his eyes a couple of times for good measure. He was relieved that Madam Pomfrey hadn’t put it all together.

Contrite blinking still in effect, he locked eyes with Snape. The man probably hadn’t even looked away from him, and he was giving him a knowing look.

“Just what Muggle sport did you happen to be playing when these heinous injuries occurred, Mr. Potter?” Snape obviously couldn’t resist calling him on his act.

Harry’s display of contriteness gave way to a glare.

Snape shrugged in an exaggeratedly innocent manner. “I do have many Muggle-born students in my classes. As a teacher, I feel obligated to prevent them from participating in such injurious sporting activities.”

“Why, Professor Snape, that is quite commendable of you!” Pomfrey beamed. “We really do need more of our professors to take an active interest in the health and safety of our students. Just think of all the injuries I tend to that could be prevented with a simple increase in education and awareness!” Her previous frustration at both of them gave way to satisfaction at the positive outcome. “No need to be shy, Mr. Potter. Please continue,” she urged as she began gently rubbing the bruise salve on the smallest, lightest bruises first.

Continue? Harry narrowed his eyes at Snape’s smug air. He hadn’t started anything to continue – Snape had!

He scanned his mind for Muggle sports, an area he didn’t have much familiarity with. He hadn’t had much to do with the Muggle world since he was eleven, after all, and Dudley’s sport of Harry Hunting didn’t exactly count. He ran through the list of activities that Dudley was taking this summer. Swimming, boxing…

“Boxing!” he blurted out.

That was a sport he knew a little something about from listening to Dudley. It had to do with punching and dodging…right? It could easily explain his injuries.

“Boxing,” Snape echoed dryly.

Harry lifted his chin, daring him to find fault with the plausibility of that lie. “Yeah, boxing.”

Pomfrey was nodding, though her lowered eyebrows betrayed her confusion. She obviously didn’t know what boxing was, but she’d accepted it, which was all that mattered to Harry.

“Perhaps you would care to explain this…boxing,” Snape continued, crossing his arms over his chest, “for educational purposes, of course.”

“Educational. Yeah, sure, of course,” Harry muttered. What was Snape playing at, anyway? Why was he toying with him? Was he planning to tell Madam Pomfrey the truth no matter what Harry said or did?

Worse than that, what if the man decided to spread Harry’s secrets all around school, like he had first feared? It’s not like Harry hadn’t ever been ostracized or made fun of…it’s just that he could deal with most of the other stuff people had held over him because it hadn’t been true. He didn’t fancy spending an entire year with people whispering and pointing at him like he couldn’t take care of himself under his own roof - with Muggles, no less.

The horrible thought occurred to him that Draco Malfoy would have a field day with this information.

He took a deep breath. “Boxing…well, it’s a sport with two people in a ring.”

“A ring?” Pomfrey interrupted, confusion in her face.

“Well…yeah, a ring. Not a little ring, like on a finger. It’s what they call a big area that’s roped off. And they fight until only one is left standing.”

“Fight!” Pomfrey stood, hands on hips, eyes blazing. “You got into a fight?!”

“No! It’s a sport, Madam Pomfrey. You throw punches and dodge them and…” He was at a loss. Pomfrey was growing even more irate and obviously didn’t see a difference between regular fighting and boxing. And Harry didn’t know enough about it to convince her otherwise. He wasn’t even convinced otherwise – to Dudley, it was an excuse to beat up other kids and get congratulated for it.

He shrugged carefully, really not wanting to continue with the lie anymore but stuck with finishing it now. “Anyway, I guess I lost…” He trailed off.

Pomfrey huffed. “And one would hope that you learned your lesson, young man! Fighting, honestly. Don’t you be getting any ideas about starting off on the wrong foot this school year. I won’t put up with injuries caused by schoolyard fights!” She was furious, though her hands were gentle as she finished rubbing the bruise salve on one arm and went on to the other.

Harry fixed Snape with his most withering stare, which earned him a knowing glare in return.

Pomfrey finally finished up Harry’s arms, though the rubbing of the salve on the worst of the bruises had hurt. He’d closed his eyes against the pain, but it only lasted a moment, and then the bruises disappeared.

“You both lie down while I inform Lupin and Moody to prepare for departure,” she instructed as she replaced the cap on the bruise salve and replaced the medication in the cabinet. “When I return, I expect to see you both resting!” She gave a stern stare and left them alone.

Neither Snape nor Harry followed her orders, of course.

“What are you playing at?” Harry demanded as soon as he heard the click of the closing door. “You know what happened – you were there!”

“Of course I was there, Potter!” Snape retorted. “I am able to recall my own whereabouts and what I was so fortunate as to witness.”

Harry felt his neck getting hot at the blatant reminder.

Snape continued, sneering now. “Do you seriously intend not to inform anyone? Not the most intelligent of decisions, is it, to keep your uncle’s abuse secret only to return to it next summer?”

Harry cringed. Well, maybe it looked that way to people on the outside, and he had sure never liked the way his uncle treated him…but he wasn’t abused. He didn’t want anyone else to think of him that way, either…especially not his least favorite professor.

“It’s my business what I do or don’t do about it, isn’t it?” he grated out. “It’s my life. And you can pull that ‘I’m your professor’ crap with me all you want, but it won’t make one bit of difference – it’s summer. You’re off the hook! Besides, what do you know about it anyway?”

Snape looked ready to continue the argument indefinitely until that last comment; his face drained of color. Harry almost swore he saw a haunted look in Snape’s eyes, though it only lasted a second.

Snape suddenly apparently decided to heed Pomfrey’s advice. Lying back on his bed, he snapped at Harry, “Lie down, Potter, before you put us both in danger of an exhaustingly unnecessary and thoroughly annoying tongue lashing.”

“Fine!” Harry flopped down onto his back. “But just so we’re clear, stay out of my business from now on!”

“Gladly,” came the curt response. “However, one thing you might want to keep in mind as you lie your way through Britain, Potter. You’re terrible at it. You can’t even fool a fool like Lupin.”

And waiting there for Pomfrey to return, Harry felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Snape was right. How long could he go on misleading Remus before it caught up with him? And why did he feel compelled to, anyway? Harry’d never hesitated letting his friends know that there was no love lost between him and his relatives. It was pretty obvious anyway, with little more than a toothpick or an old sock from them for Christmas.

But…there was a world of difference between grousing that his relatives hated him and admitting that he was weak enough to let them lay a hand on him. He couldn’t confide in anyone about that. Whether it was embarrassment or pride stopping him, his practical side also knew that it wouldn’t change anything that had already happened.

It didn’t matter, he finally decided. Only one month and he’d be back at school with his friends and the familiarity of classes.

And nothing that happened this summer would matter at all.