The door slammed behind Potter and Snape sank into his chair. It was too early for this crap.

Sirius Black. Gah! The man could haunt him even in death. Try to have a conversation about something important like communication mirrors or Occlumency and the man still came up. It was appalling.

And Potter!

That insufferable brat! He could try to be polite all damn day, but in the end, he just could not contain himself. Snape wished the boy had been sorted into his house. He would have dealt with this...this insolence and emotional stuff long before now.

Of course Snape understood, intellectually at least. Black was the first adult that had wanted to be a parent to the child if his relationship with his aunt and uncle were any indication. Adult, he thought with a snort. That might be going too far. Severus tried and failed to wrap his mind around the idea that anyone could want Sirius Black as a father. Perhaps the boy was just upset because he had lost a friend.

No, that wasn't it. Severus knew it wasn't. He knew it was guilt as well. He didn't expect Potter to be over it by any means, but perhaps his initial assessment of the guilt factor had been off. It was possible.

He forced himself to go back over the conversation. He had ignored several impertinent comments this morning already and agreed to take the Potter brat to see the redheaded brats. How much nicer did he have to be to have some peace in this place? Perhaps he should just ignore Potter for the rest of the summer. He could still protect him. He didn't have to speak to him for that. Five years of experience had taught him that.

But truly, how long would Potter last if he left it up to the Order to educate him? They were a soft lot, despite their training and experience. Every single one of them wanted to protect Potter but none of them were willing to admit that the best defense was a good offense. Potter would find trouble. It was inevitable. He needed to be ready if he wanted to survive.

Why the hell did he care? He stood up and paced to the door. Let Potter get himself killed. How much more was he expected to do? He opened the door and strode out into the hall. How much had he already done? And for what? An unwelcome clap on the back by the werewolf? A grateful smile from the Headmaster? A heartfelt apology and respect from the spawn of James Potter? Of Lily Potter?

He stopped and slumped against the wall. That memory, that had been a mistake to show Potter. How long had it been since he had allowed himself to think about his time in Azkaban? He was not the sort of man that rehashed the past.

He'd probably never forget the boy's eyes when he had told him all the wonderful things that Occlumency could do for you. That had been a mistake. Potter was not like him; had not lived like him. He would have to find a different way to protect himself. Though Snape could teach him a lot of other battle techniques that may very well save him someday.

He picked himself up and kept walking to his lab. He really should not have shown Potter that memory though. Moody had spilled it to Potter that he had been in Azkaban. It wasn't like he was spilling a secret. And it had illustrated his point; a little too well perhaps. He'd never forget Albus' eyes when he had come home from that stint in jail either. Severus hadn't even known then that his eyes had changed. But he understood it instantly when he found out. Prolonged Occlusion. The war, the night the Dark Lord died, his stay with a dementor; it had been too much in a very short time. It wasn't a disease; just a side effect. Still...

He had had to change his eye color for several years, making them darker and darker than his original every day until no one could even remember a time when his eyes had been brown. No one but Albus and perhaps a few other astute observers knew. The Dark Lord had been shocked though, when he had come back. Luckily, he had bought the story that they had turned gradually due to his constant Occlusion in the Headmaster's presence. It had actually helped his story. And he had had Lucius' and other comrades' stories to back it up. Of course Lucius had noticed his eyes changing. But he had only ever seen it happening slowly. He had not been there the night Severus had been released from jail.

Severus dropped into his chair in his lab. What was he supposed to do about Potter? Albus would no doubt tell him to go talk to him. The rest of the Order...they would probably serve him with papers for abusing their precious Potter's emotions.

And then he remembered with a groan that he had agreed to take Potter to see the redheaded clan this very evening. All he needed was to show up with a puffy eyed Harry Potter and the shit would hit the fan.

He could deal with this if it were one of his Slytherins easily enough. Why should it be any different with Potter? He'd march in there, say a few kind words and then...

And then bash his head in because he had no kind words to describe Sirius Black.

"I understand Potter. Losing a pet can be very upsetting. I remember when my own dog died."

He snorted. Where was that stupid werewolf when he was needed? He was just the sort of person to deal with this kind of nonsense.

What had he thought this was going to be when he agreed to take in Potter? He had only been concerned with keeping the boy safe. If he was under his own watchful eyes, what could go wrong?

And now the poor boy was in his room crying.

Poor? Yuck!

Severus stood up to pace. He could just go in there and tell him to buck up. It wasn't all that bad. Tell the boy that it wasn't his fault and voila!

Or, he could ignore it.

He sat again. He would not do that if Potter were one of his. No. It was time to stop thinking like that. Potter was one of his. He was staying in his rooms for God's sake.

He stood up again and made the long trip back to his rooms. Potter would just have to...talk it out or something. Perhaps the Headmaster was still in?

When he got back to the rooms, Potter's door was still shut. He hadn't expected anything different. He looked around at the room as though it could give him an idea, but there were no answers in the tomes on his shelves. This was a different type of battle.

Potter was a teenager. Perhaps he just needed a good sulk. Severus couldn't remember ever sulking himself. And if he had, certainly no adult would have come to talk to him. His Slytherins trusted him already and usually came to him. All he had to do was be there and they would speak up. And for the really difficult cases, well, he understood his serpents even if no one else cared to.

And the real trouble was that Potter couldn't afford to lose himself to grief, even now. He hoped that there would be no attacks in the near future and that Potter would have time to grieve properly. But he could not guarantee that. What if Potter met Bella? She would taunt him and even if he were properly trained, which he was certainly not right now, her merciless taunts would undo him. If he lost himself to grief in battle with Bella and Severus himself wasn't there to stop it, Potter would die. It was as easy as that.

He moved toward the bathroom and pulled down a muscle relaxer. He had noticed Potter's stiff shoulders earlier. He had quite forgotten that Potter had spent most of last night with various parts of his body hitting the floor.

When he got back to Potter's door, he stood and stared at it for a moment. Just open the door and get it over with, he told himself. What was Potter's problem again? Right. Black.

He raised his hand to knock, then decided against it. It was better to just enter and deal with Potter's tantrum over that than knock and be told to go away. Then he would have to barge in anyway and there would be no end to the drama.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry heard his door opening and sat up quickly, swiping at his eyes. Why was Snape coming in here? No doubt to yell at him for walking away. And taunt him for being weak. At least in this, they were agreed.

"I'm sorry sir," he said quickly, hoping Snape would just leave it at that. What he didn't expect Snape to do was look around the room for a moment, then pull the desk chair out and take a seat. But he had already established that Snape wasn't very predictable.

Snape sat forward in the chair, his elbows resting on his thighs. He looked for all the world as though he were there simply to discuss something mundane like the weather.

This is not ideal, Snape thought as he leaned forward. Though for the life of him, he could not imagine any conversation stemming from these issues to ever occur in an ideal way for him. Potter looked decidedly uncomfortable and Snape took only a little pleasure in that. It was just as well. If he had to be uncomfortable, so too should Potter. He took a deep breath before he spoke, reminding himself of the objective: tell Potter it's not his fault that Black died, tell him that it will get better with time, and tell him to keep his emotions in check if he couldn't ignore them completely. In that order.

"Potter..." he began, but the boy interrupted hastily.

Harry couldn't stand the thought of talking about Sirius with anyone; least of all Snape, a man that had hated Sirius. He was probably glad he was dead! So he did the only thing he could. He changed the subject.

"Are we going to go mail the letters later or right now? I just need to get my shoes on."

Well. That was easy, Snape thought. He's already over it. But he knew even as he thought it that Potter wasn't really over it. It was just his own wishful thinking. But clearly the boy didn't want to speak of it. His first thought was that that was a good thing. It would absolve him of having this loathsome conversation at least. But no, if there was a possibility that this could endanger Potter, it was best to have it out. What strange conditions everywhere, he thought, quoting the Sumerian hymn he'd been working on. Since when were children placed in danger when they grieved? And since when did he have to deal with the emotional stability of Gryffindors? Was there such a thing as a stable Gryffindor, he wondered?

"Very well Potter. Get your shoes on. We can speak of your actions while we walk."

Harry didn't like how that sounded, not one bit. Was he in trouble now? He pulled his shoes on slowly, hoping against hope that Snape would just drop the issue.

Severus managed to stop himself from cringing and instead stood up and paced to the door. He had meant to say, ‘your feelings' but had instead fallen back on ‘your actions'. He pursed his lips in agitation. This was not something he should be having trouble discussing. It wasn't like he'd never dealt with similar issues in Slytherin House. And he had even thought that he had done so admirably. It was difficult to find common ground with Potter though.

If only James Potter could see this, he thought with a shake of his head. That actually cheered him just a little, until he remembered that Lily Potter might very well be watching from the grave too. Severus did not shudder...ever. But if he were the sort, that thought would have made him do so. Lily had given her life for her son. If she were watching, she would probably beg Severus to help in any way he could. It was a request that he would not be likely to ignore were she capable of making it.

When Harry had his shoes on, Snape opened the door for him and they walked out in silence. Snape only made a pit stop to grab the letters and then they were heading out. It took him nearly the whole trip out of the castle to decide what he wanted to say. The whole time, Harry was becoming more concerned with Snape's silence than with the subject of Sirius. He was almost relieved when Snape finally spoke.

"Have you talked to anyone about what happened Potter?" At the young man's confused look, he clarified. "About what happened at the ministry."

"Oh. Um, I talked to the Headmaster." Harry twisted his shirt in his hands. Where was Snape going with this? Surely he wouldn't want to talk about any of this with him. The very thought almost made him shudder.

Something very close to relief swept through Severus. Of course the Headmaster had dealt with the problem. And Potter was simply going through normal grieving. It was perfectly reasonable, even if it was Potter.

But then why was Potter exhibiting signs of guilt? Was it simply survivor's guilt? Surely the Headmaster had told him it wasn't his fault. But would Potter have believed it? And did anyone even know he felt that way? Severus was a spy and a Legilimens, not to mention a Professor and Head of House in charge of adolescents most months out of the year. Very few adults would notice the subtle signs as well as he, even if they knew Potter well. And he was spending a great deal of time with Mr. Potter these days.

And then he recalled something that the Headmaster had said to him very shortly after Black had died. "My boy, give Harry some space. He's very upset about what's happened. Your conflict with Sirius will make it very hard for him to talk to or see you for a while." Of course, at the time, he had thought nothing of it. Why would Potter need to talk to him anyway? But perhaps the boy was also laboring under the delusion that Severus was to blame for Black's death just as much as he thought himself to blame.

"And what, pray, did the Headmaster tell you?" he queried. He was surprised when Potter answered in a bitter voice.

"That it was good that it hurt. It told me I was a human," he spat.

Severus rolled his eyes. "And was there ever a question? Whether you were human or not?" he asked.

Harry snorted despite himself. "No. He was just saying that to...to, well I don't know why he said that."

Snape stopped walking and stared ahead. Harry looked up at him and saw right away that whatever Snape was going to say was going to be difficult. He steeled himself.

"And your pain? Has it diminished?"

"I don't know," Harry said, looking away. It had dulled a little perhaps. He no longer thought of it every second of every day. But there were times when he would be reminded of it and the pain would come right back. But the guilt was always there.

"I think you do know Potter. There is nothing insignificant about grief." He looked at Potter and noticed the boy watching him surreptitiously. "It can be disabling on its own. Add any other feelings to it, and it can take a long time to recover from it, if ever."

"Great," Harry said sarcastically.

"Listen Potter. Things like what happened to Black, there's no way to prepare for them. They challenge your sense of security and your confidence in yourself and in life. It is common to feel guilt or remorse when things like this happen."

"This isn't common!" Harry said hotly. "It was murder."

"I didn't say it wasn't Potter," Snape said in a surprisingly gentle tone. "I am merely telling you that there are certain feelings that are common to those who are grieving. You needn't feel weak or alone in that at least."

"Yeah, well, I don't feel alone," Harry said defensively, even though he did. It wasn't like Snape would understand anyway. Snape arched an eyebrow at him and Harry turned his head with a huff.

"That is fortunate Mr. Potter. Just remember that these other feelings that you may have, like anxiety or guilt; remember that they are merely part of grief and will pass."

And as soon as Potter admitted to feeling guilt or anger, Severus could deal with the situation properly.

"Right," Harry responded curtly. The guilt would never pass, of that he was sure.

"You do not believe me? You think you know something of grief at your age that I don't?" Snape pushed. Come on Potter, spit it out and be done with it.

"What would you know about it? You're probably happy he's dead! You were always making fun of him for being stuck in that house."

He had been needling for the guilt issue, but perhaps he'd deal with this first.

"You are wrong Mr. Potter," he said, crossing his arms and speaking firmly. "I am not glad that he is dead. Nor was it my intention to taunt him into leaving Headquarters. He left because you were in danger and he was your godfather." And now, he thought as he glanced at Potter's scrunched up face, comes the guilt issue.

"I know it was my fault, all right! I shouldn't have gone. I should have known it was a trap. If I hadn't been so stupid he wouldn't have died. Don't you think I know that?"

Potter's shoulders were shaking, but the boy was not crying yet. Severus briefly considered squeezing his shoulder, but decided against that. Receiving comfort from Black's sometime enemy would not go over well with Potter, he thought. Not to mention his own discomfort at the idea.

Instead, he dropped his hands to his side, clenched his fist to show he was serious, and leaned forward until Potter had to back up a step. "It is not your fault!" he snapped. "You may not have acted intelligently, but you had no concept of the Dark Lord's machinations. I believe we've established already that that was my area of expertise. Furthermore, you lacked the experience and the knowledge to make the best decision. You are not a general, Mr. Potter. You do not get to take responsibility for the failing of others, nor do you get to take responsibility for the actions of the Dark Lord and his followers. Sirius Black was a soldier and he died in battle. Do not trivialize his death with your misplaced grief. He gave his life for a cause he believed in."

Harry had actually taken several steps back in response to Snape's rant. It took him several moments to process what Snape had just said. When he did finally, he stared at Snape in shock. Of all the people to say that, he didn't expect it to be Snape.

"But, he wouldn't have gone there if it hadn't been for me..." Harry started only to get interrupted.

"You believe that Potter? Let me tell you something about your godfather then. He had been running off to Order calls for nearly a month before that happened. And yes, he had done so in my absence, without my input. I report to the Headmaster alone more often than not during the school year. Sirius Black left the house because he could not bear to be imprisoned any longer and because he believed, quite correctly, that he had something of value to contribute to Order operations." That had hurt to say that. Snape didn't actually believe that Black had contributed all that much, but a little misdirection couldn't hurt. And he could be wrong. "Furthermore," he went on, "everyone in the Order knew of the danger you were in. The possibility of the Dark Lord luring you to the Department of Mysteries had been discussed more than once. Black himself knew about it and agreed to say nothing of it to you. Still feel it's your fault Potter?" he finished sarcastically.

"I...but why would no one tell me? And don't tell me it was because He could read my mind."

"I never told you because it was possible that he would see it in your mind. I did have a job to do, in case it escaped your notice. As for the rest of them, I cannot say why you were not told because I don't know. If you were not informed of the danger by another adult, it is their failure, not yours. Do you understand?"

"But you said Sirius agreed not to tell me. Why would he do that?" Harry was aware that his voice sounded plaintive, but he couldn't help it. Sirius wouldn't keep anything from him would he?

"He agreed in response to the Headmaster's request. No doubt you know better than I why the Headmaster neglected to tell you."

"He said he wanted to spare me," Harry said through clenched teeth.

And now it was Snape's turn to be surprised. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly and his mouth opened a little. "Spare you?" he asked as though he had never heard of the concept before.

"Yeah," Harry said, crossing his arms. This still made him very angry.

Severus recovered quickly. Oh, it made perfect sense to him now. Of course the Headmaster would want to spare his precious Potter's feelings. If anyone had asked Snape's opinion, he would have told them to shatter Potter's illusions his first year here. A lot of trouble would have been avoided if the brat had known the danger of his little escapades all those years ago.

"Potter, what happened to your godfather was tragic. Grief is something that you're going to have to live with for some time I imagine. But don't compound it with undeserved guilt. Believe me Potter, I will let you know when you have done something worth that amount of guilt. You are not responsible for Black's death." Potter's arms were still crossed, but he could tell he had the boy's full attention. The thing about undeserved guilt was that every one wanted to be set straight, but no one ever felt they had a right to pronounce themselves blameless. There, he thought sarcastically. I've just done my one good deed. Now I can die.

Of course, he didn't want Potter to learn nothing from this experience. "I will, however, allow that you should be feeling very foolish. You should never have left the safety of this castle to engage in a battle that you could not have hoped to win."

"But..."

"But what Potter? You think you were prepared to face the Dark Lord's soldiers? Even if he had had Black, your running head first into danger would have solved nothing. You were lucky, but luck will not always save you. Believe me Potter, this is something that I will fix in you if I have to put you in a full body bind to do it. Even when you are a seasoned soldier, rushing into danger will only get you or others killed. You're very lucky none of your little friends had died. That would have been your fault Potter. If you want to lead people, you'll need to learn strategy and patience, even in the face of panic."

"I don't want to lead people!" Harry denied.

"What a relief. I assure you that I would never consider your orders knowing how little thought you put into any plan. Just showing up is not a plan by the way."

"Well it's not like I had much time," Harry said angrily.

Snape felt an internal smile. Now Potter was defending his actions. At least now the blame was spread around evenly; even on Black himself. And the best part? Snape was the recipient of none.

He started walking again, considering Potter's point.

"Tell me then Potter, what should you have done differently?"

"I don't know. What?" Harry could think of a few things, but he didn't feel like volunteering that information. "Sir," he added hastily when Snape gave him a glare.

"Ah, here we go again. You refuse to analyze your actions. You want to be a soldier Potter? You need to learn to be your own judge. You will know when you have made a mistake. So tell me. What should you have done?"

"Well I didn't know I could trust you," Harry defended himself, thinking that Snape meant he should have come to him.

"Of course. My being in the Order certainly gave you no indication of my loyalties."

Harry wanted to say, "Actually sir, it didn't" but held his tongue. No doubt Snape would have nothing good to say about that.

"Don't think I can't see what you're thinking Potter. It doesn't take Legilimency for me to tell that I am not trusted."

"I trust you now though," Harry said hastily. The last thing he wanted was for Snape to think that Harry didn't trust him now.

"Thank you for your vote of confidence Mr. Potter," Snape said sarcastically. "But I believe I asked you a question. Coming to me was not your only option."

"I could have trusted that you would take care of it when I tried to tell you in the office I suppose."

"But we've already established that you didn't trust me Potter." Snape didn't sound upset when he said that, much to Harry's relief.

"I could have gone to Headquarters directly, I suppose."

"Better; but only a little. Tell me, why did you not attempt to contact other Order members?"

"How would I have done that?" Harry asked in confusion.

Snape looked at Harry with surprise again. "You were given no way to contact the Order?" he asked incredulously.

"No. Look, I know I didn't do everything right, but I didn't know what else to do. There was no one here I could have gone to but you. I'm sorry I didn't. I really am!"

Snape rubbed his forehead in frustration. "Perhaps, Mr. Potter, the problem was just out of your hands," he conceded.

Harry looked up in surprise. No way had Snape just said what he thought he had.

"Don't think for one second that that excuses you from having gone to the ministry in the first place. If you ever do something so stupid again, you will regret it, I assure you. If you live that is."

"Yes, sir," Harry said with a little smile on his face. Maybe he shouldn't have gone to the ministry, but what Snape had just said was as close as he was ever likely to get to Snape seeing things from his point of view.

Snape could have groaned at the arrogant little smile on Potter's face, but even he knew this subject was not worth pursuing. That whole fiasco at the ministry had been one mistake after another for the Order. They were lucky that it had ended as well as it had. They could have lost the prophecy and some of the children as well. From a tactical standpoint, it had hardly been a loss at all. Black had died, but Death Eaters had been arrested. And the prophecy had been destroyed, which should have been the objective all along.

Snape tamped down on his worry for Lucius at the thought of the arrests. The man might be a menace, but he was also a friend. Or had been. Severus wouldn't labor under the mistaken notion that Lucius would follow his example and switch sides. Although, when he found out just how angry the Dark Lord was with him, Lucius just might consider it. Severus never thought he'd think this, but he was relieved that Lucius was safe behind bars. He wished he could say the same for Cissy and Draco.

He turned his mind from such thoughts and refocused on Potter. The boy had been given no way to communicate with the Order? How monumentally stupid! This, he would have to rectify immediately.

"You can produce a Patronus correct Mr. Potter?"

"Yes," Harry answered. He had been lost in his own thoughts, but the odd question caught his full attention.

"That charm is one of the ways in which the Order communicates. It is not much more complicated than casting the corporeal version of the charm itself. You must form your message in your mind before casting it. When it is cast, you merely instruct it, either verbally or by your will, to go to the recipient."

"That's it?"

Snape smirked. "Try it Potter. Send me a message."

He took two steps back and crossed his arms. Harry raised his wand; trying to think what message he could send to Snape. Concentrating on his message (Is this correct sir?) he conjured his Patronus. The silvery white stag shot out of his wand and he shouted "To Professor Snape." He watched as it trotted the short distance to Snape. But something was off with the stag. It seemed blurry around the edges.

The stag passed through Snape's chest and the man closed his eyes and cocked his head for a moment as though he were attempting to listen to a message. When he opened his eyes, the stag was gone.

"Did it work?" Harry asked excitedly.

"Not unless you were threatening to break my neck Potter," Snape said wryly. "And for your own health, I do hope that was not your intention." The message had been distorted. To Snape it had sounded like, "Sthreak neck sree?" He could at least tell that it had been a question.

"Oh," Harry said in disappointment. "I was asking if it was correct actually.

"It was close Potter. Though the charm does become more difficult as distance increases. It is not a matter of finding a sufficiently happy memory though. The message itself requires a great deal of concentration. Did you notice anything off with your Patronus?"

"Yeah. It was kind of faded at the edges."

Snape nodded. "Practice will improve your efforts. For the next few days, until I am satisfied with your progress, I want you to cast that charm and send me a message telling me the time every other waking hour, even if I am in the same room."

"Ok," Harry agreed. Then, remembering his manners and feeling grateful for the useful lesson, he said, "Thank you sir."

Snape nodded and resumed walking.

"I assume you'll want to send Ms. Granger's letter only, since you'll be seeing Mr. Weasley tonight?" he said to change the subject completely. That whole discussion, minus the Patronus instruction, had been far more talking than he had ever wanted to get into with Potter. Though it had gone relatively well. He did at least give Potter credit for being reasonable about this issue.

Harry agreed and they climbed the owlery stairs. "Are we using a school owl sir?"

"Those mindless birds? I think not Potter." And that was all Snape said as he marched up a second set of steps. Harry followed wordlessly. He hadn't expected Snape to have a pet.

Snape stopped in the middle of the large room and called out, "Eric! Isa!" Immediately, two birds flew from the rafters and landed on the windowsill directly before Snape.

"You have two owls?" Harry asked.

But he was wrong. Only one was an owl; a small Tawny owl. There was nothing distinct about it at all, unless one considered that it belonged to Snape. The other bird though, was a very scary looking raptor. Harry didn't know enough about them to guess the type, but Snape seemed willing to explain.

"This is Isa," he explained, pointing to the Tawny Owl. "I only used her for communicating with the Dark Lord and his followers." Harry nodded, but his eyes were glued to the raptor.

"This one is Eric," Snape said with a smirk. "He enjoys some notoriety in the Order."

Harry's gaze swept up to Snape to see the man's smirk. "That's some...interesting symbolism sir," he said. Why would Snape use the cute little owl to write to Death Eaters and the raptor to write to Order members?

Snape actually chuckled. "I thought so too," he said.

"Uh, what kind of bird is it?"

"This is a peregrine falcon. It has the fastest diving speed of all birds."

"Wow," Harry said. "I didn't know falcons could deliver messages too."

"They aren't common, by any means. But it's not unheard of. They're quite capable of bonding with a wizard, but their attitudes leave something to be desired," Snape said with a smirk as Harry raised his hand to pet Eric and almost got his fingers bit off for the trouble.

"But, isn't he more conspicuous than any owl?" Harry asked. The falcon seemed to be glaring at him so he glared right back.

"He would be if anyone knew that I had him," Snape said. "But his speed will make up for it if the Dark Lord ever does figure it out. Most people think he's just a bird out hunting when I send him. They don't expect a falcon to be delivering messages. It's no matter, I won't be sending him out of the country to deliver this message at any rate."

"But I thought you said the Death Eaters knew about Isa," Harry said in confusion.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Tell me Potter, how many other birds in here look exactly like Isa?"

Harry looked around and had to admit that he couldn't tell the difference.

"She'll do fine. She needs a job to keep her busy. I won't be sending her off to the Dark Lord any time soon I expect," Snape said, running a hand down her back.

"Poor bird," Harry whispered. He wouldn't want to be even the messenger to Voldemort.

"Where did you get Eric though?" he asked, turning his attention back to the falcon that was still eyeing him.

"Hagrid found him when he was a fledgling," Snape answered. Harry reminded himself to not always be surprised when Snape answered a question.

"But how did you end up with him?"

"I provided the necessary healing potions for his injuries. You wouldn't even know it, but this wing had been broken quite badly," Snape ran a hand down the falcon's left wing.

"So what? He was grateful?"

"Ha! Hardly. Hagrid thinks he stuck around because he liked the taste of the potions. I think he wanted to make himself a nuisance. But I decided if he wasn't going to leave, he could do something useful. It was worth it to hear the Headmaster describe the look on Mad-Eye's face when he took the message I sent."

Harry had to crack at a smile as his imagination supplied him with that image. "I'm sorry sir, but how do you train a falcon to deliver messages?"

That actually stopped Snape. "How did you train your owl?"

"I didn't. She just knew what to do."

"I suppose I never gave it any thought, but so did Eric," Snape said, an assessing glance leveled at the raptors. "Perhaps there is some magical bond between birds and wizards. It's not something I've ever considered."

This conversation seemed surreal to Harry. Since when did Snape admit to not knowing something? Since when did Snape not know something?

"Perhaps Hagrid will know. He does seem to understand creatures," Snape said as he tied the message to the bird.

When the letters were sent off, Harry was instructed to make himself scarce until it was time to leave for Grimmauld Place. Snape, apparently, had work to do. Harry rather thought that Snape always had work to do, but didn't mention it. They were to meet a half hour before leaving.

Which gave Harry the better part of a day to do whatever he liked. He tried to read Snape's books, but even though they were extremely interesting to Harry, he could not concentrate. His earlier conversation with Snape kept popping into his head.

He tried not to be angry, he really did. But every time he considered that every one had known that Voldemort might try to lure him to the ministry, even Sirius, he couldn't help but feel some resentment. He knew why Snape had said nothing. He even wondered if Snape had said so little during their lessons about how to block one's mind to protect his position as a spy as well. He supposed that was a good enough reason. He didn't want to think what would happen to Snape if he had been caught out.

He was still angry, yes. But he had to forgive them all didn't he? They had meant well, and he was no stranger to good intentions gone wrong. The grief was still there though. He missed Sirius. But that churning self-hatred was gone. If Snape couldn't blame him, he could hardly blame himself.

He didn't consider the strangeness of the conversation until about the third time he went back over it, taking time to congratulate himself on Snape siding, at least in part, with him. But it was odd that it should be Snape, instead of Remus or his friends that talked to him finally; that it should be Snape that explained his feelings as normal and understandable. Snape didn't try to make it better by telling him the pain was good for him nor did he go on and on about how Sirius was in a better place, though that thought did help. Snape couldn't have wanted to talk to him about Sirius could he? But Harry hadn't noticed any discomfort in Snape's mannerisms if there had been any. Whatever the case, Harry was at least relieved to be absolved of guilt by someone in the know.

As instructed, Harry sent a Patronus message to Snape every other hour. The first time he sent it, he waited with baited breath for Snape to respond, wondering what the man's Patronus could be. But no answering message had ever come. He had worked himself up into such a state over that, that he had dug the mirror out of his pocket and called out to Snape. The man had answered immediately, the first question out of his lips being, "Are you in danger?"

After Harry had assured him that he wasn't in danger, he had stammered an apology to Snape, now completely embarrassed by the day's events and his unfounded worries. Snape's response had surprised him, though perhaps it shouldn't have.

"Stop apologizing Potter. It's nauseating," he had said in exasperation. "I gave you the mirror for this reason. You will not use this false alarm as an excuse to not contact me if you are unsure, understood?"

Of course, Snape had been sure to respond to his messages after that. Unfortunately, Harry did not get a chance to see his Patronus. Apparently Snape had decided to communicate via House Elf. The second time Harry sent his message, Winky had popped in, startling Harry nearly to death.

"Master Snape wishes Winky to inform Master Potter that his message was received but the words had been," here she screwed her face up in concentration, "indistinct and the stag looked more like an antelope than anything." Harry could tell she was quoting Snape here.

"Um, thank you Winky," Harry said. Then, before he could get another word out, Winky popped back out of the room.

And so the rest of the day was spent relaying messages. At one point, Snape had decided to respond via the mirror instead of Winky. Harry found himself wondering why Snape didn't send a Patronus. Surely he could produce one, couldn't he? Of course Snape could; he was a powerful wizard after all. Maybe he just didn't want anybody to see its form. A sly smile formed on Harry's face. He'd bet it was something embarrassing, like a vulture or a cow.

When it was finally time to meet Snape to leave for Grimmauld, he had already changed into his best clothes, which consisted of an oversized pair of slacks and a Weasley jumper from last Christmas that was only slightly too small.

Snape swept into the room, took one look at him, and ordered him to change into something appropriate for the weather. "You'll perish from the heat in that Potter. Are trying to help the Dark Lord?"

Harry's face turned beet red as he looked at his shoes. Could this day be any more mortifying? He walked to his room and put on one of Dudley's old t-shirts. It hung from his thin frame like elephant skin. When he came back out, Snape still wasn't impressed.

"Tell me, do you have any clothes that weren't stretched by your cousin or knitted by the Weasley Matriarch?"

"No," Harry said, looking at his shoes once again. He was sure he hadn't seen so much of them in all his life than he had in the last twenty-four hours. He wondered idly if he could buff that spot on the toe out.

"Oh for the love of..." Snape began, brandishing his wand. "Hold still Potter." A few flicks of his wrist and both the shirt and the pants shrank until they fit his form properly. They still looked old and grubby, but at least he wasn't swimming in them.

"Thank you sir," Harry said, cheeks still flaming hot.

Snape ignored his rather unenthusiastic gratitude. "We will deal with your wardrobe later Mr. Potter. Now, remember the rules. No wondering off without my express permission. No whining, no disrespect, and no stupidity, though I know how hard that will be for you. Displease me, and we leave immediately and you can spend the rest of the night scrubbing out cauldrons. Understood?"

Had Harry thought for a few seconds in the last day that he could like Snape? Scratch that. The man was just mean. But he was taking Harry to visit his friends; something he was clearly not excited about. Perhaps mean wasn't the right word; unpleasant then.

"Yes, sir. I understand. No fun unless you say so. Got it."

Snape eyed him with a glare. "Just remember that Potter. I am not one of your little fan club members. Make me angry and you'll wish I had left you with the Dark Lord."

Snape turned on his heel and marched out the door, Harry following close on his heels. Harry smiled behind the man's back. Snape could be counted on to be himself at the end of the day, no matter how understanding he had been earlier that day. One thing was for sure. There was still a lot that he didn't know about Snape.