Harry was thankful that today was Sunday as he made his way through the halls of Hogwarts. It meant that most of the students would be either in the library or the common room getting ready for the next day's lessons. The young Gryffindor was not feeling up to answering questions, but neither was he willing to wait any longer. Harry Potter's mind was made up.

After the dream of the night before, Harry had decided to summon every ounce of the legendary Gryffindor bravery. . .and to the young boy this was certainly reason to use it all. . .and go and talk to Snape. If the Potions Master wouldn't talk to him then Harry planned to go straight to the Headmaster. Although, he might let his friends in on that one and accept some company.

Descending the last flight of steps and proceeding down the corridor to Snape's office, Harry found his resolve of earlier weakening slightly. It was well and good to make up his mind about this in the safety of his dorm room, but now that he was standing in front of the door that led to the Potions Master the boy began to get nervous. What would he say? He couldn't just burst in and demand explanations from the professor, could he?' Hi, Snape. Did you try to kill me yesterday? And while we're at it, why the bloody hell are you in my dreams?' Oh yeah that would go over well, Harry thought to himself.

And what if Snape HAD been trying to hurt him for some reason? Here he was, alone, no one knowing where he was, practically handing himself to the man.

Harry stared at the door for a long moment. He could leave. No one would ever know. But then HE would never know the answers to all his questions. And Harry wanted answers. Setting his jaw, the boy raised his hand and knocked.

Snape heard the knock and looked up from his perusal of the fourth years' essays. "Enter," he called out. Of all the people to visit his office, the professor was not expecting the dark head that cautiously poked in.

Quirking an eyebrow, Snape laid aside the parchment in his hands. "Come all the way in, Potter. It's rude to lurk in doorways."

The young boy stepped into the room and closed the door. Going closer to the desk, he stated, "I need to talk to you, sir."

"If this is about an extension on the essay for tomorrow the answer is no," Snape responded.

"It's not," Harry answered. "I want to know what has been happening. I want some answers." There, he had said it.

Damn the brat. It was the very conversation Snape had been trying to put off. Deciding to stall, he sneered at Harry. "Quite a lot has happened to a great many people, Potter. Shall we do this alphabetically or do you have specifics in mind?"

Harry scowled at the typical snarky answer but he wasn't going to back down. "If you want to do it alphabetically, fine since there's only me and you involved," he announced, looking directly at the Potions Master. "And yes, I have specifics in mind. Like what happened yesterday at the Quidditch match? And before that, what happened Halloween night? Why are you in my dreams? Why did you. . .why did you do whatever you did?"

A question he had asked himself repeatedly, Snape thought. Giving a resigned sigh, he motioned toward a chair in front of his desk. "You might as well make yourself comfortable. This could take a while."

Once Harry was seated and staring expectantly at him, Snape laced his fingers together on the desk top and began to speak. "Yesterday someone hexed your broom. Who it was is of no concern. They have been dealt with. And it will not happen again. As for what occurred on Halloween night. . ." Snape paused.

Harry seized the opportunity at the pause to interject. "What do you mean it's not of any concern?! It was concerning to me! I nearly fell!" The boy swallowed hard at the thought, but he kept his eyes fixed on the man across the desk from him.

"You would not have fallen, Mr. Potter. Of that I assure you. And need I remind you to watch your tone and do not yell at me?"

"No, sir," Harry answered a bit quieter.

With a nod that his point had been made, Snape continued. "As I was saying, Halloween night was a most confusing time. You were full of emotions and your dreams were consequently more powerful."

"But why were you there? How did you get in my dreams? And it wasn't the first time was it? Have you always been there? Have I just never noticed it before when I had the dreams about. . .about that night?" Harry blurted out.

Snape sighed. "Potter, if you will stop interrupting, I will attempt to explain things. Now would you like me to go on?" At the affirmative nod, Snape watched the boy settle back in the chair a bit and try to contain himself to listen.

"Dreams are a way of releasing our subconscious," Snape began. "In dreams we can relive things and at times alter them as we please. A dream can be based on a memory, such as yours. Or it can be a collection of pictures that might make no logical sense at all but simply are ideas, words, or feelings that we have encountered at some point during the day and which come out in a garbled way as our brain strings it all together while we are asleep. There are dreams in which you are merely an observer, unable to do anything to alter the events no matter how much you want to. And there are dreams that can be shared."

"Like mine. But how. . ." Harry stopped at the glare he was receiving.

"I believe I said that I would explain, but if you can not be silent perhaps you would do better going to find your answers elsewhere. Might I suggest the library? Though Madame Pinch would not permit talking back to the books either," the Potions Master commented.

Harry felt his temper rise but he didn't want to go to the library. He wanted this man to tell him what was going on. "Sorry, I'll be quiet now."

"That was your last warning, Potter," Snape stated as he returned to the topic. "As I was saying some dreams can be shared. It is by no means a common occurrence. Usually the dreams are the result of either having shared the same experience originally or there is a bond between the persons involved."

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask more about the bond as the professor paused and looked over at him, but Harry managed to stay quiet. He knew that the next bit of information would be important and no way was he losing the chance to find out more.

Snape studied the boy. How was he going to describe this strange occurrence to Potter when he was still mystified at the choice himself? "Most bonds of the sort needed to share dreams exist between a parent and child, or at the very least two people who are close. However, in VERY rare cases, there is a link with people who might somehow share a similar fate."

The look of disbelief and confusion was clear on Harry's face as he stared at his professor. Just what was the man saying? That Harry and Snape were. . .close?? Or that they could be?? The thought was impossible! And what was this similar fate thing? He opened his mouth and then closed it again. The boy had no idea where to actually start with all the questions and comments that flooded his mind.

"Speechless, Potter? That might be a rare, but good thing," Snape remarked.

"Why me?" Harry finally got out. "And why YOU?"

"Believe me, I am as thrilled about this as you are. And if I knew the answer of why this has happened, I would gladly share it with you. But I do not," Snape admitted.

Harry frowned. "So you don't know what is going on any more than me? But. . .well, you're older and you've always been a wizard and well. . .you ought to know," the boy declared.

The Potions Master snorted. "So because I am an older wizard than you, I am automatically to understand ever minute detail of the universe? I think not, Potter. It doesn't work that way."

"Isn't there anyone that can tell us why this is happening?" Harry was becoming nervous. "The Headmaster?"

As if that old coot would actually explain anything, Snape thought to himself. No, they would only get more riddles and tea and candy if they went to Dumbledore. "I doubt it," he answered. "Mental bonds and things to do with the mind are one of the more complex and difficult to explain things. They seem at times to follow no logical pattern." Like now, the Potions Master added silently.

"But I want to know. I need to know!" Harry protested.

"Potter, the only explanation I can give you for this occurrence is that somehow, for some unknown reason, a bond has been lying dormant in the both of us without our being aware of it. It only materialized when we at last met each other. The pathway has always been there but it took a face to face meeting before it opened more, allowing me access to your dreams."

"Why did you wait so long?" Harry blurted out.

Snape looked at him. "I just told you I had no idea about the connection. What did you expect me to do before now?"

"No, not that," Harry clarified. "If you have been able to see my dreams since I got here, why did you wait for weeks and weeks before. . .before you did whatever you did on Halloween?"

"You mean why didn't I immediately jump at the chance to be forever linked with the insufferable Brat-Who-Lived?" Snape sneered. "Because I happen to like my privacy, Potter, that is why. Because I have no desire to become your keeper. Because I do not wish to be reminded over and over through your dreams what the Dark Lord was capable of."

Hot fury rose in Harry at the words and it was the last ones that pushed the boy over the edge. "And you think I DO??!! That I ENJOY watching my mother die??!! And I sure as hell don't want a bloody git like you having anything to do with me! Forget the bond!! You won't have to be bothered with it anymore!!" Whirling, Harry bolted from the room, slamming the door as hard as he could before fleeing down the corridor, half blinded by tears that he would never, ever allow Snape to see.

Snape was on his feet as the boy ran out. "Potter!!" he roared. "Get back here!" But the words were not heeded and as he opened the door and saw the last glimpse of the brat disappear around a corner, Snape sighed and let him go. Turning back to his office, the Potions Master sank into his chair. If only they could forget the bond, he thought. But Snape well knew that there was no turning back now. Despite what he or Harry wanted, they were connected.

s s s s s s s s s

Harry had at first thought of retreating to his dorm, but there would be too many people there and he was in no mood to see anyone at all. He had to get away and just be alone at the moment. Rushing out of the castle, Harry's steps took him to the lake and he flung himself down on the ground under a tree. Drawing his knees up, the boy wrapped his arms around them, buried his head on the same arms, and sobbed.

Why had he ever let the slightest bit of hope creep in? Why? Stupid, stupid, stupid, he mentally berated himself. They were right. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were right. No one could ever care about him. Why had he been dumb enough to think that Snape cared? Just because he seemed to help Harry? They were dreams. Nothing more, the boy told himself. They didn't mean anything. Hermione was probably right. Snape HAD tried to hurt him. The dreams were just a cover up. Snape had made his real thoughts about Harry abundantly clear time and time again. But even in his upset state of the moment, Harry didn't believe that in his heart. Why? Why was something in him still defending that git? After all that he had said! The child struggled to find answers to things that made no sense to him.

Hot tears soaked into his robes, even as a chill began to permeate him. It was, after all November now and the weather was getting cooler and Harry hadn't bothered with a cloak before rushing outside. It took a while to process that the shivering he was doing was as much from being cold as it was from crying hard. But despite that realization, Harry remained where he was. He pulled his hands and arms inside the sleeves of his robe to keep warm, the same way he had done all his life with Dudley's outgrown and oversized clothes. Huddled in a small, miserable heap, Harry stayed by the lake throughout lunch and into the afternoon.

His solitude went undisturbed until mid afternoon.

s s s s s s s s s s

Snape had drummed his fingers on the desk for some time after Harry left the dungeons, thinking through things. What did the brat expect from him? He was not a caring person. No matter which way one looked at it, Severus Snape was not cut out for this.

He had tried to explain things rationally. Had thought he was doing pretty well. Then the boy had turned those eyes to him. Those half haunted, questioning, green eyes.

"Why did you wait so long?"

Even if Potter hadn't meant it as any more than a question, the accusation was still there to Snape. And he could see the glimpse of hurt still in the boy's eyes.

And so what had he done? Sympathized with the brat? Eased his fears? No. He'd reacted the same way he always did when faced with too many emotions. He had shut them off and retreated inside himself, snapping at the one who had caused the turmoil.

Potter had run out angry. Leaving Snape alone to deal with the emotions that he had forced aside. The Potions Master allowed the feelings out carefully, one by one, critically attempting to examine them. But that was the thing about emotions; the bloody things seemed to always defy logic!

So it was that Severus Snape found himself scanning the Great Hall at lunch for a sign of the frustrating brat and finding none, he had, for some totally irrational reason and because of his damnable feelings of concern, gone looking for Harry. Empty classrooms had been searched as well as the library. Even though the Potions Master had spotted the bushy haired Miss Granger in the library, there was no sign of Harry.

Turning his search to the grounds, Snape headed first for the Quidditch pitch and then strolled by Hagrid's house, stopping to inquire if the huge man had seen Harry. Frowning even more when the answer was negative, Snape was about ready to give up and just let the brat stay hidden and sulking somewhere, when he spotted something near the lake.

Upon closer investigation, Snape found that the dark shape was the child he had been seeking. He studied Harry quietly for a moment before moving closer and speaking. "Tantrum over, Potter?"

Harry kept his face averted. He was well aware of who the voice belonged to and felt no need to look around at Snape. "What do you want?" he asked.

What did he want, Snape pondered another simple question from this boy. What had led him to track down Harry? The Potions Master knew deep down what had driven him, but he refused to voice it and most especially not to the pest who had asked the question and made it necessary to come find him in the first place.

"I was out for a walk," he replied. The snort let him know what Harry thought of that comment. "I believe I asked you a question first and you have yet to answer me."

This time Harry turned toward the professor. "I wasn't having a tantrum."

Now it was Snape's turn to be disbelieving and he arched an eyebrow. However, the sharp eyes took in the tear streaked young face and the shivering body. "No, yelling, slamming doors, and sitting out here for hours with no cloak trying to make yourself sick in no way constitutes a tantrum. Get up, Potter, and come with me."

Harry hesitated for a moment but at last got to his feet. "Where are we going?"

"Back to the castle," Snape stated as he turned and started in that direction. "We need to finish our talk."

"I don't think we have anything left to say," Harry commented, stopping after going only a few feet.

Snape turned. "Once again let me remind you that you do not know everything, Potter. Now come along."

Scowling, but willing to at least go back inside where it was warmer, Harry followed. He could always just take off and leave Snape again once inside.

Not a word was said as they made their way back, but as they entered the main doors, it was as if Snape had read Harry's mind. A hand fell on the slim shoulder and Snape steered the boy toward the dungeons once more. So much for any hope of escape, Harry thought.

s s s s s s s s s s

Snape stopped in front of the door to his quarters and opened it. Ushering Harry through first, he had to give the boy another nudge. "Move, Potter. I plan to enter my quarters as well."

If Harry had been confused before, it had just grown. He had expected to be taken back to Snape's office and though he knew the door was not the office door, he had never anticipated this.

The room was spacious and cozy at the same time. There was a dark green rug on the floor and two comfortable armchairs and a couch surrounded a flickering fireplace. A couple of end tables were conveniently placed, one having a small stack of books on it. Through an archway to an adjoining room, Harry caught a glimpse of what must be a dining room with a wood table that gleamed in the light from the candles. It was nice. And, well, homey. And totally un-Snapelike!

"Have a seat, Potter," Snape directed and then promptly disappeared down a small hall to the right.

Still attempting to process everything, Harry did as he was told and settled himself in one of the chairs, his eyes still scanning these new surroundings. He looked over as Snape returned to the room. With a blanket? Harry was further surprised as the professor unfolded it and draped the forest green material over the boy.

"You need to get warm," Snape explained simply at the look and then curtailed any further comment by stating. "It would reflect badly on me if I allowed any student, but particularly Gryffindor's Golden Boy, to become ill from being chilled. Even though the same student was foolish enough to sit outside, with no cloak, for hours, for no reason." The Potions Master gave Harry a stern look as he tucked the blanket around the child.

"I was upset," Harry stated sulkily, while unable to resist snuggling in the warm softness the blanket offered.

"That does not excuse your actions," the Potions Master snapped. "You were rude to me and ran off to have a good sulk, not thinking about your own welfare and leaving without a cloak. That was bad enough, but then you continued to stay outside, even when you clearly were cold. What did you hope to achieve, Potter? Were you hoping to become sick as a way to try to make me feel guilty?"

"You started it!" Harry defended himself. "You said all those things! You were rude first! And I didn't sulk! I just. . .well, I needed to be alone." Harry wasn't about to say that he had needed privacy to cry as well as think, even though the evidence of the tears was clear on the young face. "And I wasn't trying to do anything. I just didn't want to come back. But maybe you SHOULD feel guilty! Though I doubt you ever would since you're nothing but a cold hearted snake!" Even as he said it, Harry was amazed by his own words and the green eyes widened slightly before the boy dropped his head. Snape would kill him now. No question about it.

Snape stood for a moment utterly silent at the boy's outburst. A part of him wanted to yank Harry from the chair and paddle his backside for the blatant disrespect. Yet there was a tiny particle of truth to the words as well. He had reacted as badly as Harry had by saying those things in the first place. Logically, Snape knew it wasn't Harry's fault the bond existed and yet he had all but blamed the child for it happening. And even though he had tried to tell himself otherwise, the Potions Master did indeed feel a twinge of guilt that Harry had run off like he had.

Taking a deep breath, Snape spoke in a quiet and controlled voice. "Indeed. I shall overlook your derogatory remarks to an extent, Potter. We will discuss them more later. But for now I suspect that one reason you are so irritable is because you haven't eaten." Snape raised his voice and called, "Mercer!"

Harry watched in amazement as, with a popping sound, a small creature with large ears and big blue eyes, suddenly appeared in the room, wearing what looked to be part of an old blue and green striped blanket. A hole had been cut for the creature's head to fit through the material and the contraption was belted around its waist with a strip of bright yellow cloth, the ends of which drug the floor and were frayed and dirty.

"Yes, Master Snape, what can Mercer do for you?"

"We need a tray of food, Mercer. For the boy." Snape thought for a moment. "Ham or chicken sandwiches, carrot sticks, and pumpkin juice will do nicely."

"Right away, Master Snape. Mercer will be right back with food for little master." And with another pop the strange creature disappeared.

Snape saw Harry's questioning look and explained. "Mercer is a house elf. One of many who work here at Hogwarts, but one of few that I would allow in my rooms."

Harry nodded, still not fully understanding and ventured. "What exactly IS a house elf?"

"A house elf is a devoted servant and helper and most wizarding families have their own to help out with cleaning, doing laundry, caring for the gardens, basically whatever they are told to do. Very useful little creatures. The ones here at Hogwarts also do the cooking," Snape informed Harry.

At that moment Mercer reappeared with a laden tray. "Does Master Snape wish to be eating here or in the dining room?" he asked.

"Here is fine, Mercer. Just leave the tray on the end table there," Snape nodded.

"Yes, Master Snape." The little house elf made his way to the table near where Harry was sitting and placed the tray down. "Mercer hopes you enjoy the food, little master."

"Um, thanks. I'm sure I will," Harry responded.

With a nod Mercer addressed the Potions Master once more. "Will Master Snape be needing anything else?"

"No, that will be all, Mercer," Snape dismissed the house elf, who once again disappeared with a popping noise.

Now with only the two of them in the room, Snape looked over at Harry. "Eat something, Potter, and then we will talk more."

Harry's stomach had growled at the mere mention of food and now that it sat within reach, the boy's hunger was even more acute. Gratefully helping himself to a sandwich, Harry took a bite.

Snape leaned back in his chair observing the thin child and thinking privately that he could do with a few supplemental potions. No doubt the brat had lived off sweets and never been made to eat vegetables if he didn't want them. "Eat the carrot sticks as well, Mr. Potter. They are good for you."

Giving Snape a look, Harry took a couple of the vegetable in question. Once done with the sandwich and the carrots, he drained the mug of pumpkin juice and sat back, the blanket still draped over one shoulder. "That was good. Thank you, sir."

"See to it that you do not skip any more meals," the Potions Master responded. "Are you warm enough now?" At Harry's nod, Snape remarked, "Very well. I believe we have some unfinished business since you ran out earlier."

Despite the food and blanket, Harry felt himself bristle at the words. "I had reason to. You were being a git. And there's nothing more to talk about."

"Mr. Potter, I have been patient with your little slurs and disrespectful name calling until now. One more, just one, and you will find yourself face down over my knee. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry gulped at the threat and nodded. He certainly didn't want THAT to ever happen again!

"Good. Now as for there being nothing else to discuss, I do not share your opinion," Snape stated.

"I'll bet you don't," Harry muttered.

The Potions Master arched an eyebrow. "Something you would like to say, Potter?"

Quite a lot, actually, Harry thought to himself and then looking at the professor who had caused him to get so upset and angry earlier and then come looking for him only to bring him back here and tuck him under a blanket and then make sure he was fed, the boy found the confusion and conflicting emotions prompting him to answer. "Yes, sir, there is. I want to know why you are acting like you are. I. . ." Harry took a deep breath. Should he even voice the idea? Was he only opening himself up to more hurt? But he wanted to know. He HAD to know! Looking directly at Snape, Harry asked what was the hardest question imaginable to the child. "I want to know if you care about me or not."

Snape had prepared himself for some smart mouthed answer or even a quiet no, but nothing had prepared him for the words that the brat spoke. Of all the things the blasted boy could have chosen to talk about! Did he care about him? How was he supposed to answer that one??

Harry watched the Potions Master closely and saw the unreadable expression on the man's face. Swallowing, the boy stood up. "Nevermind. I shouldn't have thought that, let alone asked. I'll go now. Thanks again for the sandwiches and stuff."

"Sit down, Mr. Potter." Snape's voice was quieter. "You are not running away this time."

"I wasn't," Harry protested, "I just thought. . ."

"I would assume with a question like that you wanted an answer of some kind."

"No. Yes. I don't know," Harry stammered.

"That pretty much covers all options," Snape commented dryly.

"I don't want an answer," Harry responded. "I changed my mind. Besides I already know what the answer would be."

Snape leveled a look at the boy. "Do you?"

Harry nodded. "You've made it clear. Well, that is you did at first. But then. Lately you. . ." The confused child sank into the chair again, voice a scant whisper. "I just thought. . ."

"You thought what, Harry?"

The dark head shot up, not at the softer voice but at the fact that Snape had said his name. "You. . .you called me Harry."

Snape nodded. "I did."

"You never call me anything but Potter," Harry pointed out.

"Consider it a lapse for one evening if you want," Snape commented. "Now finish you statement. You thought what?"

Harry studied the Potions Master for a long moment and quietly voiced his thoughts. "You could have left me alone after what happened with the troll. Professor McGonagall had already scolded me and Ron. But you didn't. And then that night in the dream. . .you reached out to me and. . ." Harry paused. He wasn't quite ready to delve too deep into those feelings just yet. "And you helped me. And then the dreams stopped until last night. But you helped me again in that one. I was so afraid of falling. But," the green eyes locked on Snape, "you didn't let me. So I. . .I thought maybe you cared. But then today you said all those things and I knew I was wrong. At least, I thought I knew. Until you came and found me and brought me back here. Now. . .I just don't know."

That makes two of us, Snape thought as he sat and listened to Harry. Contemplating what to say, the Potions Master sat silently for a moment. "As I told you earlier, a link such as the one we have is usually forged by a close relationship. And one that would naturally have a deal of caring from both parties to the other involved." Snape paused, trying to decide how best to phrase the next part. "In that respect, then yes, I do have concern for your well being."

Green eyes regarded the professor steadily as Harry took it all in. "So you do care," he said quietly.

"If I did not I would never have reached out. But then the link would have never been completed and the dreams would have continued haunting both of us," Snape replied. "It was a way to end that."

Harry nodded, but the look he had seen ever so briefly in Snape's dark eyes led the boy to believe there was more to his level of caring than the Potions Master was admitting. But for the moment it was enough to feel that he wasn't alone anymore. Not that Harry would have voluntarily picked Snape of all people, but now that they were connected with neither of them being able to do anything about it, it was almost reassuring to the boy.

Uncomfortable with the topic of emotions and caring, Snape abruptly changed the subject. "Have you completed your homework?"

Harry blinked at the sudden shift. "Um, well not quite," he admitted.

"Then I suggest you go and rectify that," the Potions Master directed. "And I will expect to see you at the Gryffindor table at dinner. Do not miss another meal."

"Yes, sir." Harry took the words for a dismissal and stood up again. "Thank you, Professor." Though Harry wasn't entirely certain what he was thanking Snape for, perhaps everything in general, he felt it was the right thing to say. He had taken a few steps toward the door when Snape's voice stopped him.

"And you may add two hundred lines of 'I will show my professors proper respect' to your homework," the silky tone stated. Snape glanced over and smirked at the shocked look on the young face. "I did not forget your outburst, Mr. Potter. And if you recall I said I would discuss it later. Consider it addressed and you a fortunate brat to be leaving here with nothing more painful than lines." He gave Harry a pointed look.

Biting back the groan that had wanted to come out at the thought of lines, Harry caught the underlying meaning in Snape's last comment and quickly nodded, indeed grateful to have escaped other consequences. "Yes, sir, thanks again. I'll go get busy on all my work." And before Snape could change his mind about anything, Harry took his leave.

Snape waited until the door was closed and the sound of footsteps in the corridor died out. Then he chuckled slightly as he pictured the look on Potter's face as those last words had registered. Just why he had been so lenient all day with the brat was beyond him. Looking over at the blanket that had been left on the chair, Severus shook his head. What had he gotten himself into this time by even partly admitting he cared for the impossible, infuriating child? Even as he thought it, the Potions Master remembered the longing in the green eyes that had looked at him when Harry confided his thoughts. As much as he was loathe to admit it, he had had no other choice but to care. But that didn't mean he was about to go announcing that fact or revealing it at all if he could help it! Taking a book from the stack on the table beside him, Snape settled back to read.

s s s s s s s s s s

Harry walked quickly down the dungeon corridors, but once back on the main floor of the castle, he slowed somewhat and wandered at a leisurely pace up the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower. His mind was a mix of all the things that had happened today. He couldn't help but smile as he recalled the fearsome Potions Master tucking the blanket around him. Who knew Snape had a heart? But Harry was truly starting to believe the professor cared about him. Of course he would never be able to convince Ron or even Hermione of that fact, so Harry decided it was best just to keep things to himself. At least for now.

Entering the common room, he was suddenly the victim of questioning as both of his friends came hurrying over to him.

"Where have you been? You weren't at lunch. And you still have Transfiguration homework!"

"We looked for you everywhere, mate. You just disappeared."

"I just went for a walk," Harry replied. "I needed some fresh air, so I went to the lake for a while. Guess I lost track of the time." It wasn't a lie, the boy thought to himself. All of that had indeed happened.

"Oh," Ron commented. "Well tell a person next time how 'bout it?" The red haired boy leaned closer and whispered, "And don't leave me alone with her if we have homework still. She's been a right harpy about it all day."

Hermione pinned the boys with a glare. "You two can just stop whispering about me and get to work. That is IF you want my help on anything after you've wasted most of the day."

Ron gave Harry a look that said, 'see what I mean!' and Harry grinned.

"Alright, alright, let me grab my books," the dark haired boy responded. Darting to his dorm, Harry secured the needed items and returned to the common room, flopping down at the table where Ron and Hermione were and opening his books. As he took out a piece of parchment, Harry chuckled to himself.

"What's so funny?" Ron asked.

"Nothing," Harry replied. "Just a strange thought. So. . .where do we start?"

Hermione thankfully launched into discussing the lesson they had had in Transfiguration and the spells that were similar and how they should be able to do the compare and contrast paper easily if they would read certain pages. In all the deciding who would read which part and explain it to the others, Harry was spared having to reveal the thought that had amused him.

He couldn't help but smile slightly again at remembering the question from Snape of whether or not his homework was done. It seemed so. . .fatherly, to the boy. Harry told himself that he was probably reading way too much into it again, but still, it was a nice thought. What would it be like to have someone remind you of things and make sure your homework was done? Then again, the same person had given him two hundred lines! Holding back a groan again at that thought, Harry set to work on his reading about Transfiguration.