The Order sat around the kitchen table of Grimmauld place waiting to start their meeting. They were waiting for the arrival of one man. Severus Snape was not usually late.

As the minutes ticked by, the occupants started shifting uncomfortably. The conversation was hushed but held an air of anticipation. It was not that most in the Order really liked Severus, but they couldn't help but be aware of the dangers of his work. Albus Dumbledore was a man that more than appreciated Severus' works. He trusted him and loved him like a son and defended him against all suspicion. So when Albus began pacing, no one was surprised.

Over the years, Minerva had come to care about Severus too. Oh, they argued a lot at school, but really, she was fond of him and she worried about him. She had seen glimpses of Severus' compassion and dedication over the years. She never ceased arguing with him over her Gryffindors, but she knew that he was more dedicated to his Slytherins than perhaps any other Heads were of their own houses. No one commented when she stood abruptly to stand staring out the back window.

Moody did not really like Snape. He had had trouble trusting the Death Eater. If he could get an answer out of the boy, then he might trust him more. But despite that, he'd seen firsthand Snape's intense commitment to his job. He had seen lives saved because Snape put himself in the greatest danger. And so like any solider, Moody found that he cared what happened to the little bugger, because he was a brave warrior. Moody just sat there unmoving.

The slamming of the front door startled them all. The screaming of Black's mother's portrait made them all roll their eyes. Her abrupt silence made their eyebrows rise. Then in walked Severus Snape in all his dark glory. The assembled found themselves wondering how Snape got his robes to flow so menacingly and how they could get a similar effect. Severus was scowling and blood was running down his face from a wound on his forehead. This was not a happy man.

"Albus, forgive me my tardiness."

"Of course, my boy. But what happened? Here let us tend to that cut."

Severus paused and as if he only just noticed the cut, raised his fingers to it and looked at them curiously when they came away with blood. Taking a small pack from his robes and enlarging it, he took from it a square of cloth, a jar of some balm and bandaging. Working quickly and with deft hands it was only a moment before he had his cut bandaged and was seated, as if he had been waiting for the meeting to start the entire time.

Everyone was still watching the man. Severus decided to respond to that by finally replying to Albus' earlier statement. "Thank you Albus, I can take care of it." Leaning back in his chair, he looked at all the faces watching him. His scowl was gone and in its place was an expression devoid of any emotion. This was really the reason that the others were wary of him - because he didn't lose control. The only other face he revealed was a sneering disdain, but at least that contained some emotion - something human.

Taking his own seat, Albus leaned forward. "Severus, is everything alright? You were late and came in injured. What is going on?"

At school and at home, Severus allowed himself to sigh in weariness. But here, he treated it like a battle room. These people were all allies, but he knew that he was outside of the friendship that they all seemed to share. He didn't really care, but it meant that to him, they were only fellow soldiers. What would normally be a sigh anywhere else, became a tight grip on the table here. Leaning forward, he looked straight at Albus.

"I am quite alright Albus. But ‘everything' is not. I believe you got my message last night?" Seeing Albus and the others nod their heads, he continued. "Greyback is becoming more vicious and the Dark Lord has been encouraging him. Last night I was called by the Dark Lord to attend to no less than five children that Greyback had attacked." He saw the others wince, but today he could take no pleasure in it. Turning his head slowly towards Remus, he continued, staring at the man. "As you are all aware, many werewolf victims do not survive the attack. Despite my best efforts, only one of the children survived the transformation. Unfortunately, he died early this morning from self-inflicted wounds; which is where this cut came from." At that, there was a sharp intake of breath from the assembled.

"Are you. . .were you. . .Severus, are you infected?" Remus stuttered with no little amount of concern in his voice.

"No, this is not from the boy directly. I bound him, hoping to stop him from harming himself and others. He kicked out with his legs instead and I fell against a rock. He was unfortunately unable to process pain and struggled to the point of inflicting fatal damage. I couldn't get near him to give him any potions and by the time he stopped fighting it was much too late. The Dark Lord was not pleased to lose five new converts, which is why I'm late."

The assembled looked harder at him at those words. They knew what it meant for the Dark Lord to not be pleased with Severus. The fact that he always walked through the door of his own volition was quite impressive. Looking closer, they could see the dark shadows under his eyes and his skin looking slightly paler. His clothes, which were normally impeccable, were torn in several spots and there was a wetness in certain places that was hard to see because of the color. The Order had stopped wondering why Snape wore black a long time ago. It was obvious that it hid the bloodstains perfectly. But no one said a word about this. Snape was here and he was conscious. He would not need their help, and not for the first time, they wondered if he ever needed anyone's help.

Standing slowly and leaning forward, Snape spoke again. This time there was a steeliness in his voice that hadn't been there before and a hard gleam in the eyes that would speak of violence if eyes could speak. "Greyback must be killed. I cannot get close to him and believe me, I've tried." And they did believe him, both that he had tried and that he would kill Greyback. Turning to Remus he continued, "But you can get close. You know how to find him. You can get help from others. He must be killed Lupin."

Lupin swallowed but rose anyway. "I am not a murderer. What you're asking is too much. I can try to find him and have him arrested but I cannot kill him."

Several people were nodding with Remus. Moody sat silently, curiously watching the exchange. Albus cleared his throat. "No, we certainly don't mean to make anyone a killer. But Severus is right. We should turn our efforts to putting an end to his violence."

Everyone was startled when Severus smashed his fist down on the table. He had never lost control before. His face became cold, as if it was made of the same stuff as the frozen northern plains. In contrast, his voice seemed barely able to contain a seething rage. "The Dark Lord's army is not some criminal organization. The aurors are acting like police, not soldiers. This is a WAR! Why can you not see it? You talk of your high moral standards and while you do, people die. But you cannot know the carnage. Would you like to see my memories of last night? Of last week? Care to take a trip down memory lane with me and watch a six-year old die? Bury his body, half wolf and half child? Greyback is a monster, not because he's a werewolf but because he is cruel. Do you think the walls of Azkaban will hold him. . .hold any of them?"

Everyone was silent; they were appalled. Severus, who had moments before been barely controlling his energy, letting it whip through the room, seemed to pull it all back in. It was a fascinating show really. How his face became smooth and impassive, how his magic seemed to pull back into himself as if it were an animal on a thick leash. It seemed to all watching like a long process but really only lasted a few seconds. He didn't drop back into his chair - oh no, that was not the way with the deliberate Snape. He slowly lowered himself into it. Despite his mask, he would never be able to deny the pain that had flared in his eyes during his outburst. The assembled had seen it and been moved by it. And they were equally moved by his absolute control now. Even when he had been arguing with Black, there had always been a sort of inhuman calm about him, a sort of calculating coolness that seemed to insulate him from emotions. But in that one short outburst, he had shown the Order his heart. Sure, it was surrounded by rage, but there had been raw pain there too; pain for those victims that he had spoken of. And although many assembled wouldn't say they liked Snape any more, they all of a sudden had a glimpse of what they thought might be his true self and something human inside them responded strongly. No, they did not pity Snape for the pain they had seen in his eyes. They could pity a lesser man; a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, as they had often heard Snape say. What they felt was something harder to explain. It was a sort of awe, as if they had never truly seen the man before. Oh, they had all seen horrors. It was war after all, just as Snape had called it. But what had this man seen? What had he endured? All of a sudden they thought that perhaps this man had more reason to fight than every single one of them. Perhaps that was why he was always so intense. Perhaps that was the reason that things like mere physical pain couldn't bother him.

Albus was perhaps the most moved. He didn't like to see pain in the younger man's eyes. He knew Severus better than most. He also knew, unlike them, that the mask wasn't always a mask. Severus was a man who could feel deeply, but rarely bothered. He was in fact one of the more hardy people Albus knew. He did not ever wallow in self-pity. But occasionally, Severus would come back to the school and Albus would see the shadow in his eyes - the ones that no others seemed to notice. The shadows that meant that he had seen or done something painful and was pushing it away, alone and always without help. Pushing it away until it was only a memory in a long list of memories that gave him fuel for the fight and made his resolve stronger. Pushing it away until the pain was muted. And while some might imagine Severus as some kind of tragic hero who only repressed his feelings but was still an extremely sad man, Albus had come to know a different man . . .a man who carefully crafted a persona of bitterness. But Severus wasn't bitter; angry maybe, but not bitter. Other men and women who had suffered as he had were bitter. Severus truly could push away the pain and look toward tomorrow. Albus had been very surprised to come to this conclusion many years ago. Severus Snape was not cold and uncaring, but he was extremely pragmatic. Albus would almost say that Severus was an optimist. But he was also ruthless. Albus' heart bled for Severus that he had to do things that the others would balk at. But he also secretly admired him, because he did what had to be done. He knew Severus could kill, but he did not for one second believe that it was cold blooded in the least. Because it was the nights that he had killed that the shadows in his eyes seemed to be deepest and seemed to linger the longest.

Moody, not for the first time, agreed with Snape. He himself had never used an Unforgivable and he was praised for it. But that didn't mean that he would never. And every time Snape or Remus brought back information on Greyback, he could feel his resolve strengthen. Perhaps not an Unforgivable, but he could break the man's neck or something equally unpleasant. Moody had seen more horrors than all of them, except perhaps Snape. With that realization came the strangest feeling of all. He didn't like Snape, but all of the sudden he felt a sort of brotherly affection that seemed completely out of place but was there nonetheless. But what he really suddenly appreciated about Snape was the man's iron control. Every single one of the Order members had lost control on numerous occasions. Even he himself had had outbursts. But Snape, even the little that Moody had just seen could hardly be called a loss of control. It was just that, for Snape, it was as uninhibited as he ever had been. Impressive boy really, Moody thought. There's definitely a great deal of strength there.

The silence could only last so long. Albus, for his part, was trying to decide what should be said. Lupin was looking for some sort of defense and Moody was satisfied to wait for a reaction. Oddly enough, it seemed that Snape was the only one prepared to continue. Or maybe it wasn't so odd for him to be the first one to recover, thought Moody with a smirk.

"Of course, this is war. You should not do anything you're uncomfortable with," he said with a sneer. "But in that case, I suggest you double your efforts to bring the werewolf population to our side. Perhaps, Albus, you could help the matter by forcing the issue of werewolf rights and assistance with the ministry. If it would help, I could brew larger batches of Wolfsbane every month. As for Greyback, never mind. I will continue my efforts there and see what can be done," he ended on a dark note. The aurors in the Order shifted a little. Now what could that statement have meant? Severus, however, was not going to elaborate.

Albus saw this as the signal to continue the meeting. "Thank you Severus. Please be careful though." That was that. It didn't matter how Snape dealt with it, the Order didn't want to know. Turning to Remus, he continued. "Remus, you told me earlier that there were several men and women who were coming around to your view of things. Severus is right, of course. They would no doubt commit themselves if the ministry supported them. Tomorrow, I would like you to accompany me to the Wizengamot meeting. If we gain their support, we can force Fudge's hand." Turning back to Severus he asked, "Severus, have you anything else to report?"

"Yes, just a few things. The other Death Eaters seem reasonably assured of success with the Giants. The Dark Lord, however, seems less assured and has been...encouraging his diplomats to do a better job. He has asked me to make a large batch of healing potions, so it is safe to assume that an attack is planned for the future. I have an idea of what it may be, but I have not yet confirmed it and I will pass any information I am able to confirm on as soon as I have it. He has also been asking about the wards for the Hogwarts Express. This is nothing new. However, he is becoming more organized and I have witnessed at least one new initiate whom I was told, knew quite a bit about ward breaking. In the remaining months before the school year resumes, I believe we should plan for a guard for the train and the station. There have been at least three new recruits in the last week, but I have not yet learned their names." Pausing, Snape seemed to be considering the next news before revealing it. His eyes fell on Mundungus Fletcher as he said, "Two Death Eaters have gone missing. McGill and Frey. The Dark Lord is unaware of their whereabouts... but I have reason to believe they are dead. On a side note, I would like to recommend that Fletcher lay low, for, oh, I don't know. . . the rest of the war perhaps?"

Fletcher was already turning pale under Snape's scrutiny, but at his words, he could only stutter one question. "W...What?"

"Your powers of speech are equaled only by your intelligence, I see. Imagine my surprise to hear two of my Comrades speaking about one flea-ridden thief as if he were some kind of a threat. They seemed to think that this fool had said something about one Mr. Potter and protecting him. They were, indeed, eager to return to their master to report such juicy news. Unfortunately, they never did make it," he said with mock sympathy. "But I wonder now, whether I should just Obliviate you and send you out right now." Now Snape was hissing. "You fool, how dare you put MY life at risk by your amazing lack of restraint. Or do you honestly believe that you could keep your secrets from the Dark Lord if you were caught. Listen to me carefully Fletcher, because I will say this only once. If you are captured through your own stupidity, I will make sure myself that you can neither speak nor remember even your own name. This time you were lucky. I was able to find everyone that was present during your little outburst and Obliviate them, but next time you may not be so lucky."

Snape always did command most of the attention at these meetings. He did, after all, always have quite a bit of information. And he was always very thorough in his fact finding. The other members had noticed that his recommendations for action were often general pieces of advice on strengthening the guard on something or someone. He seemed to show up frequently with some sort of information about actions already accomplished. He was always very vague about what had happened - never claiming any sort of responsibility for the death of the Death Eaters or the rescue of some family. Still, it was apparent to the more astute at the meetings that Snape had taken his own steps to neutralize the danger. Occasionally they would question him and if he were pressed he would say something about not having time to call for back up, as it were, and shrug off the whole incident as though it were merely due to the accidental folly of the enemy.

Turning his attention to Tonks and Kingsley, he blew off the red-faced Fletcher as if he were nothing more than an irritating fly and continued his report. "You two are targets by your very job. It is painfully obvious to the Dark Lord that you are Order members as well, but then, I imagine that really didn't need to be kept a secret. I would however, like to recommend that you pay more attention to your surroundings. You should be aware of the fact that duels are not always fought with honor. Expect assassins and snipers. Do not let your guard down. Apparate everywhere you need to go and have your wand up and ready when you travel. When you return to your home, proceed with caution. I may not always be able to warn you before an attack. If anything is amiss, leave immediately."

Tonks nodded with gratitude and said, "Thanks." Kingsley also offered his gratitude. He remembered a night not that long ago when he had been walking to his apartment and heard a snap and a thud in the alleyway by him. He had drawn his wand and slipped over to the alleyway. A dark man in black robes had disapparated before he could say a word. At his feet lay another man, only this man was a Death Eater. And he was lying dead, with his wand drawn, his mask cracked and his neck broken. It had been a mystery then, but at the very next meeting Snape had reported that another Death Eater had gone missing. He seemed to think that the man had run afoul of some auror. Staring at Kingsley, he had then said quietly, so that only Kingsley could hear, "As Moody always says, ‘Constant Vigilance.'" Kingsley had known then and there that it had been Snape that had saved his life by killing the other Death Eater that night.

Snape next turned to Moody for a moment and a small smirk was on his lips. But he said nothing. There was no need. If Moody was not careful, it was not for lack of trying. There was no need to say a word there. Moody for his part, felt a small smirk grace his lips too. He had felt the unspoken compliment and found it meant more to him than he would normally have admitted, coming from Snape. After all, it turned out that Snape gave a whole new meaning to the words paranoia, deliberation and daring: words that had a nice ring to the old auror.

There was only one more thing Severus had to say and it involved the whole order. "There is nothing else specifically to report, but I would like to end by saying that the Dark Lord is becoming more organized. You should all be more careful, with your own lives and especially with Potter's. We should also consider more recruitment, but I want no part of that." Looking with disdain towards Fletcher he continued, "Too many people already know about my involvement." He then sat back, effectively conveying to the group that he was done.

The rest of the meeting went by without another word from or to Snape. When they started to rise and discuss other matters, Snape headed to the door. He never stayed there.

Molly Weasley called out to him. "Severus, stay for dinner? There's plenty enough."

But Snape just kept right on walking with a muttered, "no thanks" thrown over the shoulder. As he walked toward the front door, the first one to leave, everyone heard Mrs. Black start shrieking. "How dare you! How dare you curse me? Don't point that thing at me!" And then all was quiet until the front door was heard shutting. Walking into the hall, curious about what had happened, the rest of the Order almost fell over in laughter. There in the portrait shooting murderous daggers at them all, was Mrs. Black in a straight jacket and with a gag tied tightly over her mouth. Severus Snape definitely had an interesting sense of humor.

Harry Potter was back at Privet Drive and things were not going well, despite the Order's warnings to the Dursleys.  In fact, one could say that the thinly veiled threat merely exacerbated issues because Vernon Dursley was not a man to take a thinly veiled, or a not thinly veiled threat for that matter, well.  So when the car pulled up to number 4 and the "family" and "the boy" entered the house, some ground rules were set. 

"Listen boy, I don't care what those freaky friends of yours say, this is our house and I will not take orders here.  You will write those freaks every three days and you will tell them that things are fine or you will not have a home and those freaks can take you.  You will not leave your room except for breakfast, dinner and the bathroom and any chores that we decide to give you.  And you will do these chores without complaint.  If I hear one word from that bird, it's gone.  If you use that stick, I'll break it.  You will spend the summer in your room not making any noise and pretending you don't exist or there will be consequences, do you understand?"

"Yes Uncle Vernon."

Vernon Dursley could not have known how much that suited Harry or he would not have said it.  Harry wanted nothing to do with the Dursleys; he didn't want to talk to anyone.  He wanted to be left alone.  And for the first few days, that was exactly what happened.  He stayed in his room, laid on his bed and thought. 

If some people would say that he wallowed in self-pity and replayed scenes in his head over and over again, Harry wouldn't care, even if it were right.  If some people said that he flip-flopped between accepting undeserved guilt for himself and assigning blame on undeserving others, Harry would not care, even if it were right. 

He missed Sirius so much.  He thought that he had foolishly gotten his hopes up that he would finally have a family and had those dreams crushed, only to squash those feelings as selfish and self centered the very next moment, when Sirius should be remembered by him for so much more.  He'd think about how unfair life had been for Sirius, how he had spent time in the worse place in the wizarding world, perhaps the whole world, for twelve years for a crime he didn't even commit and curse the unfairness of it all. 

And sometimes he'd think about the people he hated and why and what he'd do to them if only he could.  Voldemort, Bellatrix, Snape and himself, though not in the same order from day to day or even moment to moment.  When he was low and thinking about Sirius he'd just lay on his bed, but when he was thinking about Voldemort or Snape, he'd pace, kicking his trunk every time he came to it.  And if he thought of Bellatrix Lestrange, he'd go mad and just stand there seething.

But for a few blessed hours every day, he'd convince himself to accomplish some task, if only to take his mind from the pain that seemed to pulse within him with a life of it's own.  So he reread his books from last year and did his summer homework.  Chores were the best; he'd throw himself at them with a ferocity few have seen in a teen doing chores. 

Despite the fact that Harry had little contact with the Dursleys, he couldn't help that when he did he was sometimes short tempered and bordered on rude.  The Dursleys never had given him a reason to be nice and he was finally in a mindset not to care about their punishments. 

Unfortunately, Uncle Vernon wasn't in the mood to keep the boy at all.  He may have listened to his wife last summer, but he had had plenty of time to think about the threat to his family, and like it he did not.  Petunia had reasoned with him that they would only have to keep the boy for a small portion of the next two summers.  That Dumbledore had promised her that Harry needn't stay the whole time.  And Vernon had relented, agreeing to pick the boy up from the train station and bring him back.  But Petunia knew that it wouldn't take much to give Vernon a reason to kick the boy out on his backside.  There was nothing she could do.  Rather, there was nothing more she was willing to do beyond that.  She knew she would not be able to stop her husband next time, so she waited, with a slightly sick feeling in her stomach for that day to come.  She really didn't like her sister and she certainly didn't like her nephew, but there was a part of her that knew she had wronged the boy and that tiny part of her made her just a little sick with guilt.  But she would do nothing, she knew.  After all, she had her own family to consider.

Harry was in the back yard pulling weeds on his first Saturday back at Privet Drive.  He had somehow managed to obey his aunt with, if not cordiality, at least a degree of civility.  Things might have gone well for him that day too, had Dudley not come home early from his friend's house.  He was perfectly willing to spend all day in the garden and all night in his room pretending he didn't exist.  But Dudley was bored and he had apparently gotten over the dementor episode last summer reasonably well.  In fact, he was quite determined that it had been his cousin's fault.  Vernon and Petunia were watching TV in the living room so it was just he and Harry in the backyard when he came out.  A full year of training for boxing had made Dudley quite a strong young man and he was about to use that to get revenge on one Harry Potter. 

            "Well Potter, thought you could avoid me all summer eh?  After what you pulled last year?"

            "I'm not avoiding you Dudders and the only thing I pulled was your fat ass home that night."

            Harry knew he should just shut up, especially since his wand was locked away in the cupboard, but he found he just didn't care anymore.  Of course, if he had thought it through, he might have cared, because the next thing he knew Dudley smashed his fist into Harry's face, knocking him to the side. 

It hadn't been a straight shot thankfully.  Nothing was broken.  But his lip had been busted and he had bit his tongue while falling.  Well, that was it.  Jumping back, he swung his leg out and kicked Dudley in the knee. 

For such a tough guy, he didn't deal well with pain.  Falling forward and screaming, he managed to grab Harry's arm and drag him down too.  By now, the adult Dursleys had heard something and were in pursuit of said noise.  Dragging Harry around by the shoulder, Dudley made to put Harry in a headlock, but Harry managed to squirm out and turn.  Kicking Dudley in the stomach and scooting back as fast as he could, he tried to get up, but Dudley grabbed his leg and dragged him back.  Fortunately, one leg was still free and he used it to kick Dudley square in the face.  Dudley roared and pulled back, grabbing his nose while blood streamed out. 

And that was when Vernon Dursley came running out of the house.  It took him only a second to see the blood coming out of Dudley's nose and decide what to do.  Hauling Harry up painfully by his arm, he dragged him into the house.  Petunia was beside herself with Dudley's condition and couldn't spare a thought for her nephew.  Throwing Harry down in the hallway, Vernon ripped Harry's old cupboard door open and threw his trunk out.  Bellowing so loud the neighbors could surely hear, he yelled, "Get all of your things and get out." 

            Harry couldn't believe it.  "But he started it.  Please."  Before he could defend himself though, Vernon grabbed his arm again and hauled him up the stairs. 

Harry didn't even try to fight back.  He knew he shouldn't be surprised, but he was.  He was also scared.  He had spent the last week convincing himself that he didn't care if he lived or died, but now all of a sudden, he changed his mind.  If he left, would Voldemort be able to snatch him up?  No, no the Order would be watching him.  They'd just take him back to Headquarters. 

His uncle threw him in his room and ordered him to get all of his things together.  His only thought was, please let there be an Order member watching.  When he had gotten all his things together, his uncle marched him downstairs, opened the door and threw his trunk out.  Then he grabbed Harry's arm, turned him around, and spat, "Never come back here boy."  And with that he was thrown out the door, tripped over his trunk and landed on the sidewalk.  Then the door was slammed in his face. 

He was homeless. 

He wanted to lie there and cry, but instead he grabbed his trunk and stepped to the corner.  What to do now?  No one from the Order was coming out.  He decided right then and there to go to Mrs. Figg's house.  Surely she could contact somebody.  But first, he remembered that his wand was uselessly stuck in his trunk.  "Right, first wand, then Mrs. Figgs."

            The second he bent down to unlock his trunk, a red light soared right over where his head had been moments before.  Turning his head so fast he nearly passed out, he saw something that made his heart stop completely. 

A Death Eater. 

And he didn't have his wand.  He'd never have time to get to it.  It was time to make a run for it.  Jumping up, he made a mad dash for the alley to his left, hoping, praying that he could somehow outrun them and maybe give the Order time to react. 

But where was the Order?  Surely they hadn't abandoned him.  Another spell sizzled over his head and he zigzagged his way to the alley.  Of all the times to not have one's wand, this had to be the absolute worse.  Swearing, he dove for the alley.  He looked ahead and made a plan.  He'd go through the yards.  Maybe he could lose them.  He looked back to see where his pursuer was.  The man was just now making it to the alley.  He turned back around, preparing to change course through someone's yard, only to have to duck. 

Another Death Eater had come up from the other side of the alley.  The spell soared past him, just barely missing his shoulder.  He heard someone shout behind him, but didn't waste time looking back.  Leaping to his left, he dashed for the picket fence, preparing to spring over it. 

And he might have made it too, had his baggy second hand clothing not got stuck on the fence.  Rather than the graceful landing on the other side that he had been going for, he fell over the fence, ripping his old shirt half off his body.  In any other circumstance he might have lain there groaning for a moment, but all he could think of was escape, so he jumped right back up, turned around and started running. 

But that fall had been all the time the second death eater needed to take good aim.  Harry jumped over a lawn chair just as the spell hit his back, and came crashing down on the chair in the exact position he had been in while jumping.  He was petrified!  Now he was really done for.  He prayed to all known deities right then and there for someone friendly to come along and he even allowed himself to hope that the footsteps he heard were someone from the Order.  But it really wasn't his lucky day he realized, as the black robes and white mask of the Death Eater came into view.  Now seemed like a great time to start screaming bloody murder but nothing came out, not even a moan.  Even his vocal chords were frozen. 

The Death Eater was smiling through the mask, he could tell by the eyes.  Harry then prayed for anything to stop what was going to happen next.  The Death Eater reached out, grabbed his arm and they disapparated on the spot.  While Harry's insides were folded in on themselves and then rearranged, all he could think was "Damn damn DAMN!" and even he realized how much of an understatement that was.

Every time he had been in trouble before he had had his wand on or near him.  And every time he had met Voldemort, he had started off with the ability to move and talk.  That realization really brought home to him how very screwed he was. 

He had imagined that someday he would face Voldemort with his wand and just like last time, Voldemort would want to duel with him to prove his supremacy.  And while that thought never gave him comfort before, all of a sudden it seemed like the best possible scenario, especially compared to this.  Because even if Voldemort did want to duel him now, he wouldn't have his own wand.  There would be no Priori Incantantem.  And this time there was no portkey and he still hadn't learned to Apparate.  His mind, unwilling to admit to such dire circumstances, turned to the comforting thought that the Order would find him.  Maybe he was a pessimist though, because those thoughts were followed by the grim knowledge that the Order hadn't found Voldemort before.  And even if they did, he'd probably be a stain on the ground by then. 

Harry had expected to open his eyes and see Voldemort's evil red ones looking down on him.  So when he did open his eyes, he was almost thrilled to find that he was in a room with several Death Eaters but no Dark Lord.  He couldn't move yet though.  All he could do was listen.

"Hey Lestrange, what you got there?  Is that Potter?"

The man who had grabbed him must be Rodolphus Lestrange then.  So where was his evil wife?  Perhaps that thought had summond her, because Harry was watching her lean over him with a sick smile on her face through a sudden haze of red. 

"Why, it's wee little Pottie.  Come to play?  Ooh what a cutie."  She was pinching his cheeks and shaking his jaw like some sort of sick parody of Aunt Marge with Dudley.  Bile was rising inside him.  He knew if he could just get his body to work with him he could puke all over her face.  How cute would she think he was then he wondered.

"Oh Rodolphus, the Dark Lord is going to be so pleased.  When he gets here he will reward you, husband," she squealed with delight.

Rodolphus clearly took his orders from his wife because the very next thing out of his mouth was, "What should we do with him until the Dark Lord returns?"

He was apparently not as creative as his wife.  Cooing as though she were watching a new born she stroked Harry's cheek and said, "Oh dear, what should we do with the Pottie boy?  We must entertain him of course."  This got a good laugh out of the rest of the Death Eaters. 

"Our master will be displeased if you kill him Bellatrix," said one Death Eater out of Harry's sight.  He didn't recognize the voice at all.  All he could think was, yes, I'll be displeased if you kill me too.

"Oh but I wouldn't dream of killing the little dear, would I Rabastan?  Oh no, I just mean to have a little fun with the wee baby.  Yes I do."

Oh Merlin, thought Harry, couldn't she just stop with the baby noises and faces.  He was a little surprised that he could feel embarrassment through his desperate fear.

Everyone was laughing again at some joke she had made.  Harry could only hope she kept up with the jokes instead of more unpleasant things.  But when she turned back to him there was no smile there.  In its place was a look of such pure hate it went past the border of troubled and planted itself firmly in the insane camp.  Uh-oh, was all Harry had time to think before she pointed her wand at him and cancelled the spell keeping him petrified.  He barely had time to register that he could move before she shouted "Crucio" and every part of his body was in agony.  He cried out but even that didn't relieve the pain.  When she took it off, there was a new light in her eye.  She had enjoyed that.  "Oh little Potter, how you've occupied my mind.  Over thirteen years in Azkaban because of you.  You'll pay now."

Before he could regain his breathing, she flicked her wand and he flew toward the ceiling, hitting it with a loud thud before falling back to the floor.  He could hear most of the Death Eaters laughing and a few of them cautioning her to be careful not to kill him.

"Oh don't worry, I won't break the masters new wee toy."

Harry was trying to sit up.  Nothing was broken, but he had had the wind knocked out of him.  He could feel tears streaming down his face, and whether from the pain or the fear or both he didn't know.  He tried to think through it all, to make some sort of plan, but he was several feet away from all the other wizards in the room.  He couldn't get to a wand even if he tried.  He could barely sit up at the moment.

"Oh is the baby crying?  Oh dear, we can't have that.  What would your dear old Dog-father say if he saw you right now, hmm?"

Rage.  The pain faded away, the fear faded away and he was left with rage.  Snarling, he lunged for Bellatrix like an animal.  Grabbing her feet he pulled her down and climbed over her with amazing speed.

"Shut up you psycho murderer.  Shut up!" he yelled as he brought his fist into her face. 

The others in the room recovered quickly though and all of the sudden he was writhing on the ground beside Bellatrix, trying and failing to block out the pain of the Crucio someone had cast.  When it ended, he was truly sore, but he tried to fall back away from the boot he saw sailing towards his head.  He failed to miss it entirely, but it didn't quite have the sting it would have if he had not moved. 

Unfortunately, Bellatrix was standing now, her nose bleeding freely and a low noise was coming from her lips, which turned into a snarl of rage as she pulled her wand up.  She screamed "Crucio" and his world again exploded in pain, but that was wholly unsatisfying to her.  Levitating a chair, she smashed it over his head.  He saw stars for a moment but managed to stay conscious.  Screaming she ran towards him.  "You evil little boy.  I'll kill you.  AAAHHH!"  Her foot connected with his ribs and he felt a snap. 

Well, there's broken rib #1 he thought ruefully.  She pulled back for another kick, but one of the Death Eaters grabbed her and threw her back.  And then the door slammed open and in walked his Worse Nightmare with Wormtail and Nagini in tow. 

All the Death Eaters bowed immediately.  Bellatrix sank to her stomach.  "My Lord, look what my husband has brought you.  Potter, My Lord."  Her voice was shaking though. 

And then that high, cold reptilian voice answered and it was all Harry could do not to whimper or faint.  But he was stronger than that.  If he was going to die, and there seemed no doubt to it, he'd at least die with some dignity.

"Yes, Bella, I am aware of that.  And Rodolphus will be rewarded.  But you, Bella, you should know better than to harm Potter without my orders.  Crucio."  She screamed a high, ear-shattering scream and in any other time and place Harry might have smiled to hear it.  "Get out of my sight Bella.  You disappoint me again.  See that it does not happen a third time."

She was whimpering on the ground, but at his words she cried, "No My Lord, never again.  I'm so sorry My Lord," and she ran out of the room. 

"Well Harry, we meet again.  But you do not look so well this time.  Pity."  His flat humorless voice made Harry's skin crawl but he made himself stand and look straight at the monster. 

"Oh yes Harry, how brave you are.  You think to stand and face your death.  How...noble."  With a lazy flick of his wand, Harry was bound with glowing chords and dropped to the floor.  He couldn't help but hiss at the pain from his wounds.  He was exhausted from the Crucios and the kicks.  "Ah, you're hurt Harry.  Let me order you some help before you die.  Make no mistake Harry, you will die, when I am done with you.  Wormtail!"  Wormtail, who had been in the corner pretending to not exist, scurried forward looking for all the world as if he were about to piss his pants.  "Y...yes Master?"

"Bring me the potion we were just discussing.  Harry here has come just in time to sample it."  Wormtail ran through the door as if he were being chased through it.

"Harry Potter, your lucky day.  You'll be testing a potion that your own Potions Master made for me.  In the meantime, Crucio." 

Harry screamed.  Had he been able to think through the pain he would have been cursing Snape's name but as it was, all he could do was focus on the curse.  When it was lifted, Voldemort was standing on the other side of him.  He regained his breathing while Voldemort and his followers laughed at him. 

Wormtail came running through the door with the potion then.  He looked back to see the pleased expression on Voldemort's face.  Desperate times called for desperate measures and he was desperate not to sample that potion.  Gathering all his energy, he threw his bound body into the path of Wormtail, who fell hard and crushed the vial of potion. 

Harry barely had time to see that he had succeeded before Voldemort shrieked and began firing hexes at Wormtail.  The screaming seemed to go on forever and Harry thought once again, that if the situation had been different he'd have been able to spare a smile for Wormtail's pain.  Voldemort was yelling at Wormtail, threatening to kill him or disembowel him or both.  The torture lasted for nearly five minutes and when Voldemort finally stopped, Wormtail was a quivering mass of flesh on the floor right next to Harry.

"You're lucky, Wormtail, that I did not kill you.  Next time I will not be so forgiving."  He then turned to Harry, his eyes narrowed and Harry could barely swallow past the lump in his throat.  "It's no matter, Potter.  My Snake can make more." 

At first Harry thought he was talking about Nagini, but Voldemort's next words were, "I'm sure Severus will be pleased to see you.  You've been quite the thorn in his side." 

Laughter greeted these words and all of the sudden Harry couldn't keep the contents of his stomach down.  This made them all laugh harder.  He didn't trust Snape.  He never had.  Any joy at being proven correct however, was drowned out by the fear that was twisting his empty stomach.  He hated Snape and he hated Voldemort, but really he was terrified of them both. 

"Take him to his guest rooms Rodolphus.  I think he's feeling a little ill from his journey.  Make sure he gets plenty of sleep.  We wouldn't want him to be exhausted during his little holiday." 

Harry listened to the sounds of their laughter as he was levitated out of the room.  Rodolphus seemed to take great pleasure in bouncing him off the walls and skimming his head along the ceiling on the way to what Harry assumed were the dungeons. 

And he was right.  They passed through a darkened hallway, turned right and descended into the cold and damp sublevel.  All in all, Harry was surprised to have survived thus far.  But he didn't have much hope for his continued survival.  A small part of him was rationalizing.  Surely Dumbledore has a reason to trust Snape.  Snape had saved him before.  But even if he could be trusted, and Harry had a lot of doubt there, how could Snape do anything without risking himself. 

He selfishly started in on an inner tirade about how he was important.  Surely Dumbledore would order Snape to rescue him.  But there was no love lost between them.  Even if Snape was on their side, he could just tell Dumbledore that he was dead by the time he got there. 

Yes, he hated Snape.  Snape wouldn't save him.  He'd be too thrilled to have him at his mercy, right where he'd always wanted him.  This internal rant was going through his head while he was levitated into the cell and dropped three feet to the floor.   He had been terrified only seconds before but now he was pissed and that felt a lot better.  He knew he'd be terrified again soon enough but for now, he let the anger take over.  He was going to die because Voldemort hated him for nothing that he'd ever done.  He was going to be humiliated by Bellatrix because he was powerless to fight back.  And he was going to have to look into Snape's black eyes and know that he and all the rest of his friends had been fooled.  And then he was going to have to die. 

He turned his head toward Rabastan, fully intending to lose his temper and yell at someone, but only got as far as "You..." before Rodolphus flicked his wand and he lost consciousness.

"Severus will be here soon and then we will discuss what is best to be done," came Dumbledore's voice.

"I don't trust Snape. Why did he not know of this attack?" came another person's voice.

Snape was, of course, one to stand listening at doors, but he never really bothered at Order meetings and conversations like these were more common than not, so he promptly entered and took pleasure at the discomfort his presence brought to some of the Order.

The Headmaster had fire-called him not ten minutes ago to attend an emergency meeting but had not said what the meeting was about. He did note, however, that there was more wariness and sadness? than his arrival normally garnered, so it was with great curiosity that he took his usual seat.

Albus Dumbledore may, at times, appear to be a doddering old fool to those he wished to fool, but he was not. In fact, he was quite capable of facing nearly any challenge. But today, he looked very old. It was something in his eyes, something that made Snape wary. Something bad had happened. Albus sometimes would beat around the bush when dealing with matters with two exceptions. He never wasted time when the situation was dire and he never wasted time telling Snape what the problem was. Snape wouldn't appreciate it.

Severus had rarely seen the Headmaster look so grave and when he spoke, his voice betrayed the same emotion as the face.

"Severus, not much more than three hours ago, Harry Potter was taken from his home by Death Eaters. We have gathered from witnesses that he and his guardians had argued and that he was sent away. Apparently, the Death Eaterss knew of the guard, for the moment that Harry left his home, the guard members were stunned and Harry was captured. We know no more than this."

Dumbledore's speech had moved Severus to his feet, though his face, as always, betrayed nothing. Albus had said it all very brusquely, but Severus now understood the attitude of the others at the meeting. They thought he had betrayed them in some way. When he had first heard Dumbledore say that Potter had been captured he had felt a strange sort of panic, but he had quickly crushed that feeling. Fools who panicked were fools who would die. Anger was giving way to his panic and surprise, now that he fully understood what the rest of the Order was thinking. Had he not warned them?

And on cue, Remus Lupin, who in his fear and grief lost all appearance of gentleness, rose to face Snape.

"Well Snape, we all want to know how you could not have known about such a significant plan, when you seem to know so much else. Do you claim to have known nothing about this?" Remus ended in a scream. He had just lost Sirius and now he was faced with losing Harry. He felt his heart would break if anything happened to that boy, and he couldn't control his fear, not like Snape.

Snape would normally have been all too happy to put the wolf in his place, but before he could decide how to respond to the fool with his heart on his sleeve, Dumbledore interrupted in a stern voice. "Remus, Severus is on our side, as he has proven time and again. This meeting is not a trial, we are here to decide on how to act. Now Severus," Dumbledore said to Snape, not giving him time to interrupt, "Can you tell us anything that might shed some light on these events?"

Despite the arguing and regardless of whatever the order expected him to do or say, Severus already knew what had to be done. It had always been his decision, when to end his role as a spy. Oh, if he could, he would act in a way that would continue that role, but such did not seem likely now. It did not matter to him what the others thought, nor whether they would agree with his decision or not. His mind had been made up a long time ago. He had been protecting Potter for years. At first, it had been done out of a sense of obligation. He was a student after all. Now, it seemed like he couldn't do anything else but save the brat. It was hard really, for anyone to put so much effort into ensuring the safety of a person without taking at least a little interest in their life. Snape was not so much removed from humanity that this wasn't the case with him. He didn't like Potter, but he'd be dead before he did nothing to save him.

If it had merely been a matter of saving the boy who lived, prophesied to kill the Dark Lord, he would have no trouble going about securing his freedom, with deliberate care, even if that meant taking his time and allowing quite a bit of torture for the boy in the interim. He did, after all, take his other responsibilities seriously. He was in a position to save lives and it would take a lot for him to give that up. But Snape did not really believe in prophecies. He did not see Harry Potter as a weapon, but as a boy, a very foolish boy, but a boy none-the-less; a boy whom he had already invested much of his time in. He knew that he had only one option, not because he would be forced, but because he could do nothing else. He would save that boy and he would do so as quickly as possible so that he would suffer less. He didn't know now whether that panic he had felt had been because of worry for the boy, or from worry over his success in the attempt he would now have to make, but it hardly mattered. His mind was made up and now all he had to do was address the Order and then get to it.

Looking at all of the Order in turn, Snape began. "As I have said on numerous occasions, the Dark Lord has always had spies at Potter's residence. And as I have also said before, these spies were instructed to be invisible unless they found an opportunity to act. I have also been very clear that the Dark Lord is more organized this summer than last. I am, therefore, more surprised that your guards," he sneered the last word, "were so easily overwhelmed, than I am by the attempt by the Death Eaterss." This had all been said in a very soft and silky voice, reminiscent of an adult speaking down to an errant child. And it seemed to have the same effect on the Order members as it would on said child. While Severus delighted in the reaction his speech had, he was much more interested in action, so he continued after only a small pause.

"I do not believe that this attack was specifically and wholly planned for this time, but rather, is the product of preparation in the event that such an opportunity arose. The question now is whether Potter is alive or not." At this, several people sucked in a breath and a few sobbed. Severus ignored the fact that his stomach had flipped when he said that and ploughed on. "On this note, I believe that Potter is most likely still alive. The Dark Lord has stated before that Potter might have his uses alive, especially since he does not know the extent of the prophecy. The question then comes down to the Dark Lord's pleasure in causing pain, which in Potter's case, is what we should hope takes precedence to finding Potter's secrets."

Then abruptly and before anyone else could respond, he began giving instructions. Talking about Potter being in the Dark Lord's grasp had somehow brought home to Severus the dire need for speed. He didn't have time to argue or explain his reasons for what he was about to say. He just needed it done.

"I expect I will be summoned soon. If Potter is dead, I will inform you immediately." Bile rose in his throat but he ignored that too. "If he is not however, it may be some time before you hear from me. I cannot give you a time, for I do not know how close I will be allowed and care must be taken if I am to be successful. Albus, it would be best if you had a watch put on my normal apparation point outside of Hogwarts. They should be prepared for the event that either I, or Potter is injured. Tell Pomfrey to be ready. She knows what is needed, she's dealt with this before. I will..." but anything else he might have said was cut off by the burning in his arm. It was time.

"I am being summoned now. Be prepared Headmaster."

Albus knew that Snape would do this before he had even come to the meeting and he was proud and relieved that he could rely on Severus, but he was also very worried for both the man and the boy. "We'll be ready for you but, Severus, be careful, please. I don't want to lose you either." Severus had never really allowed Albus to get too near him, but Albus would not be stopped. He grabbed Severus' shoulder and pulled him into an embrace. It only lasted for a moment but it made everyone in the room stop what they were doing. Severus had, for once, allowed it. Even returned it, although very stiffly. He knew that Albus was fond of him and fond of Potter. He could not deny the man a last embrace. Indeed, he could not deny himself that. After all, he very well might not live through this.

When Severus pulled away, he did not have time for any more speeches or warnings or wishes. He merely nodded and said, "I'll be careful." Then he swept toward the door.

While he had been talking, the Order members became aware of what he was proposing. He was going to go in there and get Potter out himself. There was no other choice anyways. Only Snape had access. They also knew that this might cost them their spy, but even those who were not close to Potter thought this a reasonable price to pay to get him back.

Remus' mouth was hanging open. He had been watching Snape carefully after all. He knew what Severus was proposing to do and realized that, like always, he trusted Snape to do it. Which made him feel embarrassed for his outburst earlier. When Snape grabbed his arm and stopped talking, Remus knew that this was it. He was placing all his hopes on this man, who he had only moments before been screaming at. Remus had been the only marauder to actually trust Snape back in the old days. He even felt bad about how they had treated him, really bad. And now, he realized that Snape, who had saved Harry's life before, might die in the attempt to do so again. He had seen something in Snape's eyes when he had talked about Harry's death or torture, something that had wiped the anger and distrust right out of him and replaced it with fear and hope all at once. When Albus had hugged him and he had returned the hug, he had realized just what this might mean for Severus. Traitors to Voldemort could expect something much worse than death. When Severus swept toward the door, Remus realized what he had to do. It wouldn't really change anything but he had to do it anyway. So he reached out and grabbed Snape's arm gently as he passed. Snape spun towards him but held his adrenaline in check.

"What is it, Lupin?" he snapped with teeth bared.

"Severus, I am sorry. Be careful"

Severus felt the urge to punch Lupin in the face. It would be so easy and no one would be able to say a word because he had to leave. But something made him pause. Lupin was a wreck. And Lupin was placing all of his hope on Snape's shoulders. So instead of punching Lupin, Severus had mercy and shrugged off the apology. But he could still not ignore the despair in Lupin's eyes, so maybe what he said next was to console himself as much as the wolf before him. It was far from what others might have said in the situation, but coming from Snape, it seemed right and gave everyone in the room more hope than they had dared before. If Snape could be his normal sarcastic self in this situation, then it couldn't be that bad right?

"Lupin, your inability to make a connection between your brain and your mouth is not surprising. And do spare your concern for the bloody boy-who-will-not-die. Trust that I will not allow the Dark Lord to take Potter's life when I have promised myself that particular honor. Now, move wolf, before I give into the temptation to make improvements to your face with my fist."

Remus, of course, took this in his normal way, which is to say, he allowed himself a rather large smile. He wasn't stupid enough to press his luck though, so he removed the temptation of his nose and watched as Severus passed him. That was the Severus they all knew and um...loved...or not, and Lupin let just a little of his despair go. Snape had never failed them before after all.

Albus watched the exchange with no small amount of amusement. But when Severus walked out the door, the twinkle in his eye disappeared. Severus never made a big deal out of danger. But Albus was very worried. He took only a moment to let the worry consume him, and in that moment, the rest of the Order realized just how much Albus trusted and cared about Severus Snape. Then he pulled himself together and in no time at all, a watch was sent to Hogwarts and Madam Pomfrey was contacted. Now all they had to do was wait. Those that had no other pressing duty went to Hogwarts to wait. Albus, after seeing to other order business, Apparated right to Severus' normal apparation spot, fully prepared to stay there until his boys came home to him, no matter how long it took.

Severus walked out of the door, cursing himself for throwing away his opportunity to punch Lupin. Even if he hadn't always been so bad, he was still quite irritating. But those thoughts could only keep his mind occupied for a few seconds. He mentally braced himself as he did every time he was preparing to Apparate to the Dark Lord's side. He always knew that to stumble in the Dark Lord's presence would be to fall, so despite the urgency he felt to get to Potter, he took the time to clear his mind of deceit. Then, without a backward glance, because only sentimental fools did that, he Apparated to the Dark Lord's side. What he saw when he Apparated made him want to cry out and start cursing everyone in the room, but he was much too good at what he did to do that. In fact, he was so good, that he allowed a smile to curve on his lips before bowing before his ‘master' and let out a laugh when he heard Potter yell, "Traitor!"

Harry woke up only to be dragged from his cell and thrown roughly before a padded chair that held his Worse Enemy.  He didn't know how long he had been unconscious but for some reason, he missed the sensation.  It was entirely better than being here in this nightmare. 

"So good of you to join us Mr. Potter," Voldemort said. 

 Harry hadn't noticed the other Death Eaters in the room until he heard their laughter at their lord's words because they were standing mostly in shadow.  Voldemort was peering at Harry as if he expected him to speak.  Harry thought about saying nothing and in retrospect, he probably should have continued to do so.  But there was something about really believing one's situation to be hopeless.  It can do wonders to a person's self-preservation instincts.  So he replied, "Thank you so much for the invitation Tom."

Harry might have gotten scared if Voldemort had flown into a rage.  Instead, he became terrified when Voldemort stood and smiled at him as if he were a particularly juicy meal.  Then, without a word, Harry was writhing on the ground under the Cruciatus curse.  When the curse was lifted seconds later, Harry decided to keep his mouth shut.  He'd probably still die, but no sense asking for it. 

He foolishly hoped that Voldemort would be done with him.  He couldn't have been more wrong.  Before he even regained his breath, his head exploded in pain.  It felt like a brand was covering his scar and had been there long enough to touch brain.  He could feel Voldemort in his mind, searching. 

He saw Sirius falling through the veil, but any guilt associated with that feeling was pushed out by the pain in his head.  He saw his friend's faces before him.  And even his love for them didn't seem able to push itself past his pain, but somehow, he held onto their faces. 

They were alive.  They cared about him.  They'd want him to fight.  He wanted to see them again.  And slowly his pain faded and he was able to focus on one thought and one thought only.  He was loved and he loved.  And then the pain ended and Voldemort was flung from his mind. 

Screaming in rage, Voldemort rounded on him and flung another Crucio at him, followed by a curse that threw him across the room. 

Voldemort seemed to regain his composure then.  In a sneering voice, he said, "It is no matter, Potter.  Severus will be here soon to make Veritaserum and then all your secrets will be revealed.  And then, you will die." 

Harry couldn't move.  He had fallen on his ankle and heard something snap.  He was sure that his ankle was broken.  He hadn't really considered escape a possibility before, but now that his ankle was broken and he realized that escape was impossible, he realized that he still hadn't really given up. 

He was brought out of those thoughts by Voldemort calling for Wormtail.  The rat-like man moved forward, evidently still in pain from his earlier punishment and very much preferring to keep to the shadows.  Voldemort grabbed his arm and touched his wand to his Dark Mark, which became very black.  Then turning back to Harry, the Dark Lord seemed to consider him for a moment.  "A pity that your friends are so trusting Potter.  You will die, and my Snake will still be there, trusted.  He has been a faithful servant and I will reward him tonight with your death.  And when he returns to Hogwarts, he will kill your little friends." 

More laughter met his remark and Harry lost his temper.  He could hardly stand, but that didn't stop him from struggling to, or from hopping toward Voldemort.  He was relatively sure that this was some sort of suicide attempt on his part, but he just didn't care.  He'd rather die than have to face that traitor, Snape.  And he wanted to kill Voldemort so that he couldn't hurt his friends.  Unfortunately, he only made it partway across the floor before a Death Eater stepped out of the shadowy circle and threw him down. 

Voldemort was laughing.  "Oh Potter, I never tire of hurting you.  It will almost be sad to kill you and give up my new toy, but I will manage somehow.  Crucio." 

And it was at that exact moment that Snape Apparated to his "master's" side. 

Harry was released from the curse when he heard someone Apparating.  Catching his breath, again, he looked up to see Professor Snape smiling down at him in a very nasty way and bowing to his lord. 

"Traitor!" he screamed. 

This made Snape laugh. 

"Severus, I have such a treat for you tonight.  I know you have longed for an opportunity to really teach Mr. Potter here some lessons.  As a reward for your infinite patience, I will let you do just that, but see that you do not kill him just yet."

Snape bowed low again and smiled even more broadly.  "My lord, you are too kind to me," he said sincerely.  "Thank you."  Then he turned and his smile became even more diabolical as he pulled out his wand.  "Mr. Potter, you should know by now that I will not tolerate disrespect from my students.  You will call me ‘Traitor, sir'." 

This got a loud laugh from all the Death Eaters and Voldemort.  Before Harry could even respond, Snape lazily flicked his wand and without a word from Snape, Harry's limbs were thrashing.  Oddly, the only pain he felt was from his previous injuries being jostled.  But at the moment, that seemed like quite enough.  Snape lifted the curse, whatever it had been, and Harry was breathing hard from his strange exertion.  Snape lifted his wand again and Harry flew at the high ceiling with great velocity, but just as he hit it, he felt a cushioning charm, although no one had spoken, then he fell back to the ground quickly, only to be cushioned again.  It had still hurt, but not nearly as bad as it could have.  Perhaps old Snape was loosing his touch, Harry thought with some satisfaction.  Before he could even move from the ground, Snape flicked his wand again and Harry screamed.  He couldn't stop screaming, although nothing hurt. 

What the hell had that spell been?, he thought as it was lifted and he swallowed past a scratchy throat. 

Snape spoke again.  "Mr. Potter, what would your arrogant father think if he could hear you screaming now?  Pathetic Potter.  Have I taught you nothing?"  He flicked his wand again, and again, Harry was thrashing on the floor.  Again, the only pain he felt was from his previous injuries being disturbed.  While he was still thrashing, Snape flicked his wand again, but no one else saw it.  Harry went unconscious.

Snape had Apparated not knowing what to expect.  What he saw was terror inspiring.  Harry was lying on the ground, just set free from a Cruciatus.  How many had the boy already gotten?  He could see that Potter had bruises and scratches.  He could also see that his ankle was swollen around his trainer, most likely broken, but nothing else seemed to be wrong, as if that wasn't enough. 

Severus had been in this position before.  At first, he had used the real curses, because there was nothing else he could do.  But that hadn't stopped him from searching for some spell that would seem like the Cruciatus to observers but not to the afflicted.  He had found a few spells in his search.  One that caused a person's muscles to spasm and make them thrash about as if they were under the Cruciatus.  Another that forced a person to scream, but did no more damage than a slightly sore throat.  He had learned how to be more creative over the years to assure the Dark Lord of his dark nature. 

So in that vein, he had sent Harry Potter flying to ceiling.  As always, every eye was on Potter, watching his torture with glee, so they didn't see the small cushioning charm he silently cast, both before he hit the ceiling and before he hit the floor.  Taunting the boy made for an even better show.  But he knew that Potter would yell back if he didn't do something quickly afterwards, and that would not be good for the boy, so he cast another spell to make him thrash.  Then while all eyes were on Potter, who appeared to be in more pain than he likely was, he quietly and subtly cast a charm to put the boy to sleep. 

Sweeping forward, he knelt next to the boy.  After checking him over and seeing that his initial diagnostic was correct, except for the addition of a broken rib, he turned back to the Dark Lord, disappointment in his eyes.  "My lord, I did not realize that the brat had been so severely hurt before.  He will need to be healed before we may begin again."

Snapping his fingers, Voldemort gestured for two Death Eaters to take the boy back to the dungeons.  "Severus, give them the potions that they will need for Potter." 

After Severus gave the men the bottles, they left with Potter.  Severus had been careful to give them the strongest healing potions he had.  They would keep Potter unconscious for the next hour as well, but escape would be impossible with Potter so hurt, so he'd just have to wait a little while.  That worked out for the best anyway, because Voldemort was asking him to prepare Veritaserum for use on the boy. 

"And don't worry, my Snake, you will have more fun with Potter before we are through with him.  I will even let you watch at my side as I kill him," the Dark Lord said with a smile. 

He thought he was rewarding Severus, and the sincerely grateful smile on Severus' face showed how much of a reward that was.  But inside, Snape was fuming.  And he was also just a little bit scared.   No matter how he looked at it, he knew that if Potter disappeared from the Dark Lord's clutches, he would be caught out.  Only the most loyal were here and none of them had any ties to Potter or the ‘enemy.'  The Dark Lord did trust him as much as he trusted any of them, except perhaps Bellatrix, but his distrust could sway from hour to hour.  And it would only take an hour for his life to end if the Dark Lord suspected him.  There was no doubt that he would.  The wards would give him away anyways.  He toyed with the idea of breaking Potter out and making it look like the boy had done it all himself, but he was a practical man.  And he knew that there was no way Potter would make it out without him.  The boy couldn't even Apparate yet, and even if he could use a portkey, he'd still have to make it through a small section of forest.  Injured as Potter was, there was just no way he'd make it without Severus' help.  There was no time to wait for Potter to heal either.  So it was up to him to get them both out alive.

He had a moment of grief over his lost position.  Not that he enjoyed it, but he had done great things as a spy.  Still, he had never relied solely on his meetings with the Dark Lord for information.  He would have been a sorry spy indeed, if he had.  That was a surefire way to get caught.  He was always very careful that he not pass on information that wasn't told to at least a few others in the Dark Lord's confidence, and that had saved him from being tricked more than once.  And it was not only Death Eaters that had information.  After all, the Dark Lord and his followers had to deal with others occasionally.  There was always information to be gained from the spending habits of the Death Eaters from shop owners.  And with his own knowledge of the organization, he himself would be able to spy without them knowing.  He was quite adept at listening at doors and walking in shadows after all.  And since he knew almost all of the Death Eaters, the occasional bout of Legilimency would not be a bad idea.   The more Snape thought of it, the less upset he was at having to give up his role in the Dark Lord's camp.  He might still be able to be just as successful without his mask if he was a little daring and willing to work longer and harder. 

Snape left the room to ‘brew his potion', but stood outside the door for a moment longer to hear the marching orders.  Only seven Death Eaters were staying in the complex.  And one of them would be leaving soon anyway.  That left one to stand guard over Potter.  Voldemort was going to be in his personal chambers and Wormtail, who Snape didn't even count as a Death Eater was to be with Voldemort to serve him hand and foot.  The timing and situation couldn't be more perfect for his plans.  He still needed to kill some more time though, and he knew just what to do with that time. 

The mansion he was now in was more remote than others that he had been to, which meant that it was familiar and more permanent because it was much more secure.  The only reason they didn't often meet here was that it was so out of the way and Voldemort preferred to be closer to the rest of the wizarding world when actively plotting.  Snape practically had his own domain here, in the western wing.  He was the only Potion's Master after all.  Both the lab and potions stores were here.  Walking into his lab, he cast a silencing charm.  The five remaining Death Eaters were in the large common room on the first floor.  They were supposed to be on guard duty, but the strength of the warning wards meant that they merely needed to be here for quick response and not on patrol duty.  Severus smirked to himself. It was arrogance on the Dark Lord's part and he would utilize that.  They were most likely arguing or playing games in that room and only a border alarm would alert them. 

Walking into the potions storeroom, he pulled down his stock of poisons.  He was very selective, but in no time at all he had four bottles of a very nice poison that he had tweaked more than once over the years.  The original had first been made in Germany some 200 years ago and as a joke, he had taken to calling his version of it ‘gift,' which in German meant poison.

He slipped out of the rooms quietly.  He had a little time before he could go wake Potter so he may as well make good use of it.  He would leave the Death Eaters a ‘gift.'  He slipped down to the food stores undetected.  Pulling out a syringe, he injected all the bottles of wine with the poison.  Then he moved to the preserved meats and did the same.  When he was satisfied, he silently left the kitchens and went back to his lab with a smirk in place.  Murder was not easy, but Severus Snape always rose to the challenges of war.  And he knew more than any other just what losing this war could mean to all mankind.  If he had to be ruthless, so be it.  Certainly there were no others willing to step up to that challenge on his side of the war. 

When he made it back to his potions lab, he began pouring potions down the drain, careful not to mix any volatile ingredients.  The Dark Lord would be able to replenish most of the easier potions with relative ease, but it was still an advantage.  There would be no healing potions available for a little while though, and that might curtail activity.  Some of the more complicated potions, which were Voldemort's favorites, were Snape's own creations and he had been careful to never leave written instructions for any of them here.  He allowed himself a frown as he destroyed the potions ingredients.  As a Potions Master, he could hardly bear to destroy some of the more expensive ingredients, but he could only fit so much into his robes.  Some ingredients just weren't the same after being shrunk. 

Finally satisfied that the potions lab was destroyed, he walked out and quietly made his way to the library to set his next plan into motion.  As he walked, he allowed a small smile to grace his lips.  His plan was not foolproof, not at all, but it would be quite a surprise, and that might just do it for he and Potter.  And while the plan wasn't perfect, it was positively inspired.  Poison some Death Eaters, destroy the potions lab, burn all the Dark Lord's books and rescue Harry Potter.  Yes, despite the gravity of the situation, Severus Snape was finding it hard not to laugh.  What a surprise all this would be to the Dark Lord.  His displeasure at being unable to rescue Potter without giving up his position was almost eclipsed by the idea of finally sticking it to the Dark Lord and all his servants.

The books here were not all of the Dark Lord's books, but they represented a great percentage of them.  They were excellent references and the Dark Lord had gotten some of his more horrible ideas from them in the past.  This was the hardest part for Snape.  Some of these books were the only copies in existence, but these books were some of the worse as well.  With a small sigh, Severus began the most difficult part of his plan.  He would need a distraction eventually, but it wouldn't do to tip them off before he had gotten Potter out of the house.  There were wards set up to alert them to any entrances onto the grounds and then another set to alert them if someone came into the house proper.  He would have to be very careful to ensure that Potter and he were exiting the house at exactly the time that the fire was noticed.  It would only buy him a little time, if any, but it would split the forces and that was the best that he was going to get.  Five Death Eaters, Wormtail and Voldemort.  Those were his worse odds, but he hoped that he could even them a little bit with this distraction. 

So he poured a slow burning potion on the floor running from the door to the books.  Then on the books, he poured a very flammable potion.  He hoped that by the time the fire made its way across the slow burning potion to the books, he would have already gotten Potter.  That would give him time to reach the doors before the alarm went up about the library.  And the potions would ensure that the books couldn't be saved.  If they tried to use water, it wouldn't help at all.  When he was satisfied with that, he walked to the door, set a fire on the potion on the floor and ran quietly to the dungeons, taking care to make sure he was alone as he crept around corners.

Harry woke up feeling better than he thought he would.  His ankle swelling had gone down, but it still seemed broken.  His rib still made him wince, but not as badly.  His cuts and bruises were the best improvement.  He was no longer bleeding and his bruises were quite a bit smaller.  He still felt very tired but that was to be expected.  He noticed that he didn't have any tremors that the Cruciatus normally gave him either. 

Sitting up a little more, he tried to remember exactly what had happened.  And he did remember.  Snape had come. 

He was instantly angry.  The greasy git seemed to be enjoying himself.  That made Harry stop though.  He had seemed to be enjoying it, but Snape's curses hadn't even really felt like curses.  And he was certain that had been a cushioning charm on him when he was thrown against the ceiling and floor.  And then he had passed out, but he didn't remember having felt the need to.  All he could remember was seeing Snape flick his wand and then he had woken up here feeling much better. 

Was Snape a traitor?  Of course he was, right?  Why else would he have looked so pleased?  But he was a spy, and he must be a good actor to still be alive.  Surely Snape would have really hurt him if he had wanted to.  He'd been given the opportunity.  But even if Snape wasn't a traitor, what could he possibly do? 

No, Harry was alone.  He knew that.  He was slipping into depression, sitting on the cold stone floor.  His chances of survival at this point were not looking good.

Then he heard a door open and a man speaking.  It was Snape.  Moving carefully to the cell door, he looked out of the bars.  Snape was speaking to another Death Eater.

"The Dark Lord wants Potter.  Open his cell."

The other man grumbled a bit, but turned to obey anyway.  As he was fishing out his keys, Snape pulled out his wand behind the man's back and stupefied him.  The guard fell to the floor and without missing a beat, Snape swept forward and unlocked Harry's cell door with a flick of his wand. 

Harry's eyes grew wide.  What was Snape planning?  And as if he had asked the question, Snape raised his eyes to Harry's. 

"Mr. Potter, it is time for us to be leaving I think." 

Harry could only watch in bewilderment as Snape stepped in and pulled out several vials of potions.  Holding them out, he said, "Drink these." 

Harry took them and eyed them with a little suspicion.  He had already been threatened with one of Snape's potions and didn't know if he wanted to test his luck.  Still, if appearances could be trusted, Snape was breaking him out, so he uncorked the first one.  When he brought it up to his lips and hesitated for the smallest second, Snape spoke again. 

"They will not fully heal you by any means, but they will shut off most of the pain in your partially healed bones and allow you to move faster.  One is also a stimulant, which I assume is necessary.  Drink quickly Potter, we do not have all day." 

Harry couldn't think of a reason not to, so he drank all of them quickly.  He could hardly believe Snape was helping him, but he'd think about that later.  When he finished the last potion, Snape spoke up again before he had a chance to ask questions. 

"Do not make a sound as we leave.  Follow my every instruction without question.  If I die or am unable to continue, keep running through the forest that surrounds this property without looking back.  Do not stop running until you make it to somewhere you can find a way to send a message.  If you can, take my wand with you.  If not, just keep going.  Understood?" 

All Harry could think to say was "Yes, sir."  That seemed to please the professor.  Pulling Harry along behind him, they crept to the door out of the dungeons.  Just before Snape walked out, he turned back to Harry. 

"Potter, I know you're hurt and you don't have a wand, but if you trust me this day, we may yet survive this.  Now, keep up or we may both meet an end." 

Harry nodded.  And then they left the relative safety of the dungeons.

Severus had to admit, Potter was acting quite adult like about the situation.  He knew that Potter had instantly believed him to be a traitor when he'd Apparated and he'd expected to have to argue with the boy to get him to work with him. 

Apparently Potter had worked through the situation rather quickly.  What surprised him the most however, was Potter's obedience.  He drank all of the potions that he was given quickly, as instructed, didn't ask useless questions, nor demand an explanation from him.  It was with gratitude for all of these things that he turned to Potter before they left the dungeons and spoke one last time, trying to give the boy hope.  It was the best he could do in the way of assurance because he refused to lie about the situation.  But he hoped that it would be enough for Potter. 

At any rate, it was already too late to go back now.  The destroyed potions would give him away and the library was about to burn.  But Severus knew that even if he could go back, he wouldn't.  Potter needed to get out or he would die tonight and he just could not allow that.  So he opened the dungeon door and slipped out into the hall, with one hand on his wand and the other pulling Potter along behind him. 

Harry had about a million burning questions in his head when Snape showed up, but it didn't take long to realize that Snape was planning an escape for him.  So he took his cue from Snape.  When the Professor had turned to him before they left the dungeons and spoke in that low tone, Harry had known what Snape was doing for him.  He was assuring him without lying.  And Harry allowed it to work.  He thought for a moment about how it was funny that mere hours before, he had been ready to curse Snape himself and now he was following the man, trusting him to get them both out alive. 

But then maybe it wasn't so odd.  He did have a history of being wrong about Snape after all.  He was briefly surprised when Snape gently grasped his wrist and pulled him along silently behind him.  If it had been any other situation, he may have balked at being led around like a child, but this situation was entirely different.  This was Snape's element and Harry found reassurance in Snape's grasp, knowing that it was a way for Snape to be aware of his presence even when he wasn't looking.  And it would allow Snape to place him if he needed to be in one spot or another.  So without further thought about Snape and his reasons, Harry followed quietly and without question as Snape led him through hall after hall. 

At each intersection, Snape would pull Harry behind him and creep forward to check that they were still alone.  They had moved through many halls when they heard an explosion from somewhere far off in the house.  Harry jumped and longed to ask what that was, but Snape seemed to take that as some sort of cue and moved Harry along faster.  They carefully turned a corner and Harry saw a door up ahead that appeared to be the way out.  They had one more hallway to cross and then they would be at the door.  But Harry could hear yelling now.  It seemed that whatever that explosion was had caught the Death Eaters off guard much more than it had Snape.  Harry thought that that was reassuring. 

Severus picked up the pace.  He had hoped to be at the door when the explosion happened, but he was close at any rate.  No plan always went perfectly.  He congratulated himself though.  The sound of the books rapidly combusting had been more alarming than he had dared to hope.  It was almost a sure thing that the Dark Lord would be in that vicinity, trying to save his books. 

And wonder of wonders!  Potter was still following silently.  Severus was relieved when the boy had only jumped a little at the sound of the explosion but hadn't asked questions.  Perhaps Potter wasn't as foolish as he had thought.  The door was straight ahead now and he was grateful that they had made it that far.  So far, things were going good enough.  Just one more hall to cross and the door would be feet away.  Stopping at the corner and pulling Potter behind him, he peered around it. 

Only years of practical experience stopped him from swearing at what he saw.  Four Death Eaters were heading their way, no doubt under instructions to search out the cause of the explosion.  Still, four was all right odds for him.  There was no place to hide and staying in the building for any longer would only decrease their chances of escape, so slipping into the calm indifference that engulfed him in any battle, Severus motioned for Harry to stay back.  Then he stepped out quickly, wand raised, and blasted a portion of the ceiling down in front of the approaching Death Eaters. 

There were screams, but unfortunately, it hadn't crushed any of them.  Now, three were behind the debris and one was before it.  They hadn't had time to react before and Snape didn't give them time now.  Before the other Death Eater could even raise his wand, Snape flicked his wand and the man flew back, snapping his neck when he hit the rubble of the ceiling.  Then quickly casting a fog spell over the area, he grabbed Potter and hauled him across the hall, making sure to keep his body between Potter and the Death Eaters.  They had still not gotten over the rubble pile, but they were casting spells from behind it.  Snape ran fast, not bothering to dodge and for once, chance was on his side, as they made it to the other side without incident.  The door was mere feet from them, but Snape didn't have time to bother with doorknobs.  He blasted the door off its hinges and Harry and Snape tore through the opening. 

Harry had seen Snape push out from the wall and meet the Death Eaters and he had been worried.  But Snape had reacted extremely fast.  When he saw what Snape's curse had done to the man, his blood had run cold, but he pushed that thought away.  This was battle and the Death Eaters wouldn't spare them.  He was glad that Snape was there though.  He knew that he wouldn't have been able to deal out such harsh curses, even in battle.  For some reason, it didn't seem unforgivable to Harry.  Snape was acting to get them out alive and the fewer enemies left to chase them, the better their odds. 

But he'd think about that later.  Snape grabbed him and hauled him through the now blasted door.  He could hear the Death Eaters back in the hall, yelling to get past the debris and screaming for the death of the traitor.  If Harry had thought that Snape would allow them a second to catch their breaths, he soon found out that he was wrong.  They blasted through the door and without stopping at all, Snape pulled Harry along, running full out now.  The forest was looming up quickly before them.  Harry's rib was beginning to ache again and his partially healed ankle was starting to scream in protest, but he knew there could be no stopping now. 

They crashed into the forest running full out.  Spells were flying over their head now from far back.  Their motion and distance made it unlikely that the spells would hit them at any rate.  Snape pulled Harry along, darting through the under growth of the forest more nimbly than Harry had expected out of the thin professor.  Harry was keeping up because he had no choice.  Snape was pulling him along with a death grip on his arm.  Harry's breath was coming ragged now, but he was grateful for the grip that moved him.  He had no doubt that if it wasn't for that, the temptation to rest would be too much for him. 

They were running fast, but the Death Eaters were making good progress themselves.  The spells were wild around them.  The dense forest made it impossible to take aim.  Unfortunately, Harry was paying too much attention to the spells hitting trees around them to see the log that Snape had just jumped and he stumbled over it.  Only Snape's tight grip had stopped him from completely falling, but now the Death Eaters were catching up with them.  Harry inhaled sharply.  The slight fall had jarred his ankle and now he could only limp behind. 

Severus nearly cursed when Potter stumbled, but he kept that all inside.  What could he expect?  That ankle had been broken and only a potion had been keeping it loosely together and dulling the pain.  Unfortunately, with Potter limping, there was no way to outrun the Death Eaters now.  He couldn't carry Potter, use his wand and outrun the Death Eaters following.  He made his decision quickly.  Pulling Potter forward, he yelled, "Keep running," and turned to face the Death Eaters. 

Harry knew why Snape had decided to fight.  For only a moment, Harry had the crazy urge to stand by his professor, but he let go of that thought.  He had decided before to follow Snape's instructions and he himself saw the wisdom in Snape's decision.  Harry had no wand and Snape could hold them off.  He may even be able to stop them entirely and catch up.  So Harry kept running.  He was decidedly slower with the limp and the loss of the hand that had been forcing him to move faster past the pain, but he kept going anyway, trusting Snape to do all he could and hoping that it was enough. 

Severus watched Potter continue and thanked every deity he had ever read about for small wonders like the boy's obedience.  But there was little time to guess at Potter's chances of escape.  Turning quickly, he stepped behind a tree and, taking careful aim, began firing off hexes.  But the enemy soon found their own cover and began firing back.  He had been lucky that his first spell had caught its target and the man was now lying on the forest floor, quite unable to move, most likely for a long time. 

This was a battle of Death Eaters after all.  The spells were all meant to hurt and while Snape tried to avoid using most of them in service to the Dark Lord, he was by no means unskilled in the darker arts.  Indeed, he was quite talented.  He had had much practice, between keeping up appearances and taking out the Dark Lord's servants with no one the wiser when given the opportunity.  He did, after all, believe in being proactive.  And if he caught a lone Death Eater on a dark night with no witnesses, and took matters of war into his own hands, well, no one was the wiser. 

The Death Eaters were moving forward.  They had the benefit of cover fire.  Dodging through the branches, Snape began his careful battle dance.  He spun from tree to tree; firing out hexes one after the other.  He saw another Death Eater slipping past him toward the path Potter had taken but before he could react, a slashing spell caught his shoulder and spun him around.  He would have to deal with the other two Death Eaters first, and then he'd follow the other.  The spell had ripped his shoulder open but it had also propelled him behind a tree, where he took cover.  Thank Merlin for small wonders, he thought. 

I am death.  I am the instrument of my enemy's demise.  He knew that his inner dialogue was rather corny but it had always helped in battle after he had been injured.  It was with these thoughts that he rejoined the battle.  Ignoring the pain and the blood, he side stepped and fired off a spell that hit his target, the nearest Death Eater, and made him crash to the ground, definitely out for the count.  Snape didn't bother to aim again as he stepped behind another tree to avoid the other Death Eater's hexes.  Darting out again, he fired off a volley of spells, hoping to keep the last Death Eater confused. 

As he and the man fought with brutal spells that tore through the forest, Snape let a little of his attention wander to the yelling he heard off to his right.  Stepping behind cover, he looked for the noise.  What he saw made his blood run cold.  The fourth Death Eater had Potter bound and over his shoulders, running back toward the mansion.  Now he desperately needed to get out of this battle and stop the man from his progress back to the house.  If he were allowed to return with Potter in tow, this would all have been a waste and Potter would be dead by nightfall.

And me too, he thought wryly.  He would have to go back and at least attempt something.  Leaving Potter to that fate at this point was out of the question.  He had already committed to this objective and he would not give it up without a fight.  And even if he did return alive but without Potter, there was a good chance, in his mind at least, that the Order would turn on him.

Stepping behind a tree, he steeled himself.  The thing about duels was that the faster person didn't always win.  They were sloppy and often missed their target.  So stepping out, he pointed his wand and took the time to aim at his opponent.  His aim was true and the other dropped to the ground, bloody and unconscious, just the way he liked his enemies.  Unfortunately, the other's spell had hit his mark too.  The man had used another slashing spell.  It hit Severus' chest and he groaned with the impact. 

Luckily, the other man was young and inexperienced.  Snape had learned a long time ago that there was a time for show and a time for battle and the two rarely coincided.  Slashing could hurt an opponent but it didn't take them out of the equation.  He almost always chose spells that would keep his opponents from participating further.    His robes were slashed horribly and blood was running down his chest, but he was still in the battle.

There was no time to deal with his injuries though.  The sound of Potter's struggles were becoming fainter.  There was no time for stealth.  He took off in a mad sprint.

Harry had kept going when Snape ordered him to, but the going had been a lot rougher without Snape pulling him along.  He worried that he didn't know which way to go, but he didn't make it very far before he was hit by a spell from behind and he was bound in glowing ropes.  Struggling to turn over, he saw a Death Eater leering over him. 

"You and the traitor will suffer for this boy," he said in a rough voice.

The masked man reached down, and with some difficulty, got Harry over his shoulder.  The pain in Harry's ribs was making him struggle for breathe and being bound and over the man's shoulders was not helping.  He tried struggling as much as he could but wisely kept enough energy to not pass out.  The man tried to run back through the forest but only managed a halting stride as branches whipped Harry's face. 

He could hear Snape's battle going on off to his right but he had trouble seeing it.  He didn't want to distract Snape but thought it was better that he at least know that Harry had been captured, so he started yelling as loud as he could.  The man carrying him made it past the battle and Harry realized that going any further would make Snape's job even harder if they continued, if Snape was still willing to rescue him that was. 

With that thought in mind, he stepped up his effort to struggle and was rewarded with a nice fall to the ground.  The wind was knocked out of him for a moment but he kept struggling, hoping to keep the Death Eater from making too much progress. 

Severus could hear Potter struggling just out of sight.  Running forward, he turned around a giant tree toward the noise and saw who he was sure must be Ian McGant, one of Voldemort's new recruits, dragging Potter across the forest floor.  Apparently the boy had managed to throw himself off of his shoulder while bound and he had been unable to get him back up. 

Snape didn't waste any time.  His wand was raised before he ever came into view.  He blasted the man into the nearest tree so hard that something snapped and the man fell to the ground in a position that no person alive should ever try to imitate. 

Snape ran forward, knelt and undid the spell keeping Potter bound. 

"Potter, can you stand?" 

"I think so Professor," Harry replied, still quite short of breath.  He was relieved beyond words that Snape had won his own battle and not left him. 

Severus helped Potter up quickly, but it was obvious that the boy couldn't run.  There was nothing for it then.  He grabbed Potter as gently as he could, put him over his shoulder and took off running again.  There wasn't much further to go and anyone following was too far behind to catch them now. 

Severus was now bleeding quite badly and he was glad for Potter's weight on his injured shoulder stopping the flow of blood, even if the pressure hurt quite a lot.  His chest was aching badly and he knew that he had to get them out of there quickly before he passed out from blood loss.  In hindsight, he should have taken the time to heal himself since he was the mode of escape, but time was short and Potter was having trouble breathing.  He could hear the boy's heartbeat in his ear, and it was irregular.  His breaths were more like gasps of pain.

Severus didn't know if Potter had obtained any more injuries since they had begun their journey but he didn't want to chance that something was really wrong with the boy, so, without a pause, Severus began quietly chanting under his breath.  It was difficult to carry Potter, make his way through a dense forest and chant a complicated spell all at once, but necessity and adrenaline seemed to give him the strength and concentration.  As he chanted softly, he could hear Potter's breathing become slightly more even. 

Harry winced in pain as Snape hauled him over his shoulder but he knew there was no other choice.  Snape had tried to be gentle but one could only be so gentle when running through a forest for one's life.  He knew that he couldn't stay conscious for much longer though. 

The pain and shortness of breath was becoming too much for him.  His head started to feel foggy and he was sinking into oblivion gratefully when his ears picked up a very light chanting.  He might not have heard it at all if it weren't for the feeling of magic coiling around his chest.  He was worried at first, but realized quickly that it was Snape's voice chanting quietly.  His heartbeat began to pound in time with the tempo of the chanting and the sharp pain in his ribs became just a little duller. 

As Snape kept running and chanting, the fog in Harry's mind began to clear just a little and the strangest feelings ran through his mind; feelings that were not his own.  He couldn't understand the words of the chant but he thought that they were somehow translating in his brain, not in words but in ideas.  He felt calm first.  Then stronger feelings followed; promises of safety and of constancy.  He had never felt so safe before.  The whole situation seemed to disappear in his mind and was replaced with certain knowledge that he would never be left alone again; that there would always be someone there to watch over him.  It felt so good after all the pain and fear that he didn't even think about the fact that the chanted thoughts were coming from Snape and allowed himself to just bask in them. 

Severus was struggling now.  Potter's weight bore down on him as though it were the weight of the world.  His own head was starting to feel lighter, as though it were floating in a cloud, and he knew that he lost a lot of blood.  All he wanted to do was lay down and sleep. 

But he could hear distant yells.  The rest of them were coming now.  No doubt they had called in reinforcements.  Perhaps the Dark Lord himself was on his way.  That thought alone spurred him on.  He was in no condition to stand against anyone and neither was Potter.

Just when he thought he'd never make it, he saw the clearing ahead from which he'd be able to Disapparate.  He could only chant haltingly as he struggled to breath, but he kept it up because the tempo of the words helped to set the tempo of his flight. 

Finally, painfully, he stumbled into the clearing.  He ceased his spell so he could Apparate and felt the boy squirm in disappointment from the end of his healing chant.  Gathering up what he was sure was very nearly the last of his strength, he turned and Disapparated.  His last sight as he was being compressed in Apparation was of the Dark Lord's face as he broke through the tree line.

The moment Severus Apparated to the path leading to Hogwarts, he fell to his knees.  He barely managed to stop Potter from falling off his shoulders, instead settling for controlling the fall and making it as gentle as he could.  Blood loss, the retreat of adrenaline, the exertion of the battle and the long distance, double Apparation were making him weak. 

Before he could muster up the energy to move again though, Potter suddenly screamed and clawed at his forehead.  Severus lurched forward, grabbing the boy's hands before they clawed through his skull.  The boy's eyes were screwed shut and Severus knew that it was the Dark Lord's anger at their escape that was disabling Potter.  Without further thought, he reached out and forced Potter's eyelids open and stared into the boy's frantic eyes.

Harry didn't know what Snape was doing at first.  His head hurt so badly that all he wanted was to rip his forehead completely off.  When Snape looked into his eyes, he pleaded silently with his eyes for the man to help him but only managed to whisper "Professor."  And while Snape's black eyes stared at his green ones, Harry felt the other's mind brush against his own. 

Snape didn't delve into his mind or look for memories; he merely brushed against the surface.  Harry knew that the mind couldn't be described in physical terms but if he had to describe what was happening to someone, he would say that if the mind were a sphere, then Snape was a wind rushing across the surface of it.  And as Snape blew across that surface, Harry felt the connection with Voldemort recede, slowly at first, then more quickly.  In the analogy, Harry would say that at each part of the surface of his mind that Snape crossed, the surface grew stronger. 

He knew instantly when Snape reached that part of his mind that was connected to Voldemort, because he could feel a sort of pressure as Snape began to push against Voldemort's anger, forcing it away from Harry altogether.  He felt a surge of relief the moment that Snape severed the connection and he slumped into the man's arms, his pain receding, but his mind and body now exhausted. 

Severus was exhausted too.  It was a strange form of Legilimency that he had just performed.  He had used it mildly, to touch the surface of Potter's mind and had then brought forth his skills in Occlumency, forming his own mind into a barrier.  He had found the connection, and while it hadn't seemed to be a conscious invasion, it had still been strong.  As fascinating as all this was though, he was too exhausted to give it more thought.

He could hear footsteps from a distance and pulling himself back together, he raised his wand toward the sounds.  He could see the people now.  Dumbledore, Remus and two other Order members were running toward them from the school's gates.  Severus lowered his wand and pulled Potter into his arms and stood, swaying slightly at first and then righting himself.  With Potter once more weighing him down, he began walking forward.  He had allies here, but it was of the utmost importance that they get Potter back to Hogwarts where the wards could protect them. 

Potter's head rolled over and onto his shoulder.  The teen was clearly struggling to stay conscious.  Severus leaned his head down and spoke, but with a great deal of difficulty, as he now had a significant shortness of breathe.  "Potter, stay awake!  You must keep conscious.  Open your eyes!" 

Harry did open his eyes.  He looked up at Snape, whose eyes were now facing forward.  They were moving in the direction that Snape was looking and Harry could hear others approaching.  Snape did not seem worried so Harry assumed that help had arrived.  The act of holding his own head up became too hard and he let it rest on Snape's shoulder but kept his eyes open wide, hoping that the mere act of seeing would keep him from passing out.  He just needed a moment to recover from the connection with Voldemort.  His side, which was pressed into Snape's chest, was growing moist, and he realized with a start that Snape must have been bleeding pretty badly. 

Remus ran the last few steps to the two figures, one struggling with the task of walking with the weight of a teenaged boy in his arms, and the other with eyes wide, pressed into Snape's chest as though it were a lifeline.  He reached out to Harry the second he reached him, needing to feel him to know that this was real, that Harry was really ok. 

Harry's head rolled over on the shoulder and the boy looked at him blankly before recognition lit his eyes. 

"Hi Remus." 

It was weak, but it was enough to make Remus smile. 

Albus reached them only seconds later and put his hands on each of their shoulders.  "Severus, Harry!  I'm so relieved to see you," he exclaimed.  And that relief shone in his eyes.  They were slightly moist and there were dark circles under them, as if he had not slept in weeks. 

Severus felt a lump in his throat.  He too was relieved.  He was growing weaker by the moment though and didn't think there was time for hysterics, so he let a lot of responses pass by before he chose the right one. 

"Headmaster, we must get back to the school."  He could hardly hold Potter's weight any longer and he swayed after these words for a moment.  Remus reached out to take Harry, but Harry finally seemed to be gaining back his faculties. 

"I...I think I can walk now sir."  He had felt Snape sway and realized suddenly that Snape was hurt worse than he had thought. 

For his part, Severus was grateful.  He let the boy down as gently as he could.  As Potter's feet touched the ground though, Severus stumbled and lurched forward.  Albus and Remus rushed forward to steady them both. 

Then Severus heard Lupin gasp.  "Harry!  Is that blood yours?"

His eyes snapped to Potter's body, searching for injuries.  Harry looked down at his side and gasped himself when he saw that his whole shirt was covered in blood.  He looked up at Snape and saw the man swaying under Dumbledore's grasp.  His black robes were torn badly and they looked wet.  Snape seemed very pale under the moonlight and his eyes were looking glassy. 

Harry shook his head.  "No.  The blood is Professor Snape's.  I think he's hurt badly.  We should get back quick."

Albus and Remus looked at Snape swaying, and as if to prove Potter's words correct, he took a small step forward and then crumpled to the ground.  Albus' arms around him kept him from harming himself in the fall.  Snape's eyes were still open though, and he rolled away from Albus' arms to stare at the waxing moon.  Albus knelt next to him while Remus steadied Harry with a shoulder under his arm.  It took a moment, but Snape seemed to recover slightly and Albus helped him sit up.

"I'll conjure a stretcher Severus," Albus said, but Snape was already pushing to his feet, looking determined. 

He pulled out his wand, and pointing it to his chest, chanted in a singsong voice, sealing the gashes and stopping the blood flow.  He had already lost quite a bit of blood, but he was conscious for now and felt his earlier urgency return.  Stumbling forward, each step an internal battle of his will, he called out, "Hurry!" 

The Headmaster rushed to his side and walked beside him ready to catch him if he fell.  Remus, Harry and the others were making faster progress and caught up with them.  The gates loomed above them and the Headmaster waved his wand to open them.  The group stumbled through the gates and they locked behind them.  Harry could see that others were approaching now.  Madam Pomfrey, McGonagall and Hagrid were running down the sloping lawn. 

The group continued at a brisk pace for several meters but when Snape stopped abruptly, the others stopped and eyed him with varying levels of concern.

Severus had been proud and relieved to make it to the school under his own volition, but now that they were safe behind the gates, he realized that he could no longer go on.  He saw Madam Pomfrey rushing over and he closed his eyes in relief and stopped.  She would heal Potter and himself.  His duty was done and he wanted nothing more than to sink into oblivion. 

He would not be able to make it to his dungeons to get to his potions without help and that thought filled him with no small amount of frustration.  He could feel his companion's eyes on him, watching him for weaknesses.  It was dangerous to show weakness. 

Then he opened his eyes and remembered where he was and who was with him.  No, it was safe here; relatively.  They would not exploit his injuries but heal them.  He had earned it from them tonight.

He searched out the boy's eyes.  He just wanted to assure himself that he had indeed gotten the boy here alive.  Everything was starting to take on a dreamlike quality to him, and he was having trouble recalling whether he had been successful or not. 

But Potter was standing against Lupin's side, taking the weight off his hastily healed ankle. 

Harry met his professor's eyes and, for once, felt the urge to smile in the other man's presence.  But looking at the man's face, he realized just how far gone Snape was.  He had looked sort of confused for a moment, but when he looked at Harry, he gave what Harry could only describe as a sigh of relief and closed his eyes again.

Severus closed his eyes, relieved that he hadn't imagined the escape.  Lord!  Everything seemed cloudy in his mind.  He couldn't concentrate at all.  He hoped that closing his eyes would help but it only made him sway more.  The thought of lying down on the cool grass was starting to seem more and more inviting to him.  And why was he so light headed?

Before he could decide what he wanted to do though, his arm erupted in pain.  Hissing, he grabbed his forearm.  The mark was burning with a vengeance.  The pain, on top of everything else was crippling.  He felt someone reach out and touch his shoulder and he stepped away quickly to avoid the touch. 

It was too much.  His evasion of the hand knocked him over.  He crashed to ground, groaning and clawing at his arm.  The pain was reaching for a crescendo, sending waves of radiating pain up his arm and into his chest.  He felt he would explode if he let the pain continue to climb in intensity.  Before it could crash down on him, he finally gave up and let the dark and painlessness of sleep take him. 

Harry stepped forward and fell on his knees gracelessly by Snape's side.  "Professor?  Professor!"  He reached out and shook the man's shoulder.  The Headmaster was at Snape's other side, looking horrified but feeling for a pulse. 

Madam Pomfrey had finally reached them and she began waving her wand over Snape's body.  "He's lost quite a bit of blood.  We need to get him to the hospital." 

Albus reached out to tuck some of Severus' hair behind an ear, noticing for the first time that his hands were bloodied from touching Severus.  He stepped back to allow Madam Pomfrey to conjure a stretcher for Severus. 

Albus couldn't stop staring at Severus' blood; his Severus' blood.  He had seen Severus injured before of course, but rarely as bad as he was now.  Severus had always made it to the school without passing out before and had always been himself through the pain, sarcastic humor and all.  Albus, not for the first time, realized how much he cared for the younger man, not that that had ever stopped him from sending the man into danger.  If he had ever had a son, he would have been honored for that son to be like Severus. 

Those thoughts drove him and in the next second, he snapped into action.  After all these years, he was not going to fail Severus now.

McGonagall was torn between going to Harry's or Severus' side, but since Harry was still kneeling by Snape, she was able to do both.  Putting her hand on Harry's shoulder, she knelt down and placed her other hand on Severus' arm. 

"Harry, come with me.  We need to get you both to the hospital," she said softly.  Harry just stared silently down at Snape as the Headmaster levitated him onto the stretcher.  "Harry?" she tried again. 

He finally looked up and nodded.  She could see how exhausted he was.  He had bruises and cuts too, but they seemed to be at least partially healed.  He rose unsteadily to his feet with her help.  She could tell that he was experiencing some mild form of shock. 

"Harry, let me conjure a stretcher for you.  You're in no condition to be walking."  He seemed about to protest but was interrupted by Hagrid.

Hagrid was practically weeping.  Great large tears were leaking down his cheeks but he was smiling widely at Harry.  "Harry, I knew the Professor would find you."  He looked like he wanted to hug Harry but was too afraid of hurting him. 

Harry tried to smile back but it turned into a grimace as he placed some weight on his injured ankle. 

"Harry, you're hurt!  You shouldna be walking." 

Before Harry could get a word out, Hagrid reached out and pulled him up into his arms.  Whatever Harry would have said died on his lips.  He was too tired to argue and too comfortable being carried to care.  Everyone started walking silently up to the castle.  Harry looked up at Hagrid, his first friend ever, and smiled. 

"Hagrid?" he said. 

"Yeah, Harry?" 

"Thanks." 

Hagrid beamed down at him and Harry felt his heart warm.  He was more happy than he ever thought possible.  Hours before he had known that he was going to die.  Now here he was, safe at Hogwarts and with his friends.  For the first time since Sirius had died, he felt that he might be the luckiest boy in the world.  And while he knew that that feeling might not last ‘til the morn, he was happy to let it wash over him now.  The gentle motion of Hagrid's strides lulled him into a light sleep as they made their way to the hospital wing and the soft murmurs of conversation between the nurse and the other professors washed over him. 

He had only fallen into a light doze, so he woke up immediately when he was placed on the hospital bed.  Remus took up a spot standing at the foot of his bed, looking as though he wanted a task but not knowing what to do.  Hagrid stood back with a concerned expression.  The rest of the inhabitants seemed to be milling around Snape's bed, following the nurse's orders as she barked them out.

"Alrigh' Harry?" Hagrid asked, causing Harry to turn his attention from the occupant of the other bed. 

"Yeah, I think so."  He was sore and his whole body was shivering slightly.  But he didn't want to worry Hagrid, so he asked after Hedwig. 

"Hagrid?  Do you know if Hedwig showed up here?  I'm worried about her.  I let her out at the Dursley's and I don't know if she went back." 

Hagrid's face lit up.  "I don't know Harry, but I'll go look for yeh."  He seemed delighted to have a job to do, especially one that meant so much to Harry. 

Harry gave him a large smile.  "Thanks, Hagrid!" 

"No problem Harry," he called over his shoulder as he set off for the owlery. 

Harry looked up to see Remus watching Hagrid go with an envious expression.  Harry almost smiled.  If he weren't too far off, he'd say that Remus wanted to do something as well.  Remus looked back down to Harry and smiled when their eyes met. 

"Harry, I'm so happy to see you again.  I've missed you.  I was so worried when we found out you'd been taken, but I should have known that you'd find some way to get away," he chuckled. 

Harry smiled sheepishly.  "Well, I didn't really do anything you know?  Snape was the one who got us out." 

"Professor Snape, Harry," Remus smiled.  Then his smile dropped as he looked over to the bed next to theirs, where Albus and Poppy were cleaning wounds and pouring potions down a sleeping man's throat carefully. 

Harry felt guilty all of a sudden for not using Snape's title.  He'd never felt bad about it before, but now he felt that perhaps the man deserved much more of his respect than he'd given him.  But he'd think about that later, when he wasn't so dead tired.  Instead, he asked Remus about his trunk. 

"Remus, my wand was in my trunk and I left it outside of the Dursley's house.  I bet they already burned everything though," Harry said with no small amount of bitterness.  Now that he said it, he believed it.  His wand, his books, everything he owned was in that trunk.  He couldn't help the stricken look on his face at that.  Most of those things could be replaced, but not his wand. 

Remus saw this and had a sudden smile on his face.  "We found your trunk outside your relatives' house.  It's at Headquarters right now." 

Seeing Harry's face lighten at that news, Remus couldn't resist the urge to be doing something to make Harry happy.  "I'll just go and bring it to you, if you want."  He wanted to stay by Harry's side but there was nothing he could do in the hospital wing to help and he was restless now that Harry had been found.  He was relieved and delighted at Harry's sudden smile. 

"Thanks Remus!" he exclaimed. 

Remus felt his heart soar.  Harry could still smile after all that had happened to him.  Everything was going to be okay.  He gave Harry a quick hug and spoke with Albus before leaving to get Harry's trunk. 

After Remus left, Harry didn't have long to wait until the Headmaster and Madam Pomfrey were at his bedside.  The nurse scowled when she found out that his trembling was caused by curses.  She gave him potions for that and his bones.  She was surprised that Harry seemed half healed already, but neither she nor Albus pushed for more information when they saw Harry glancing sheepishly at Professor Snape's still form. 

The Headmaster smiled at him knowingly though.  "Well Harry, you should be resting now," he said as Madam Pomfrey finished with him and moved off to clean off the medical trays and put away potions.  "Try to get some sleep and we'll talk in the morning." 

Harry was watching Snape's chest rise and fall.  The man was very pale and if it weren't for that motion, Harry might have thought he was dead. 

The Headmaster seemed to know what Harry was thinking.  "Your Professor will be fine by the morning Harry.  He has lived through worse," he continued at Harry's disbelieving look. 

Harry finally did look up at him then.  "Worse, sir?" he croaked out.

Chuckling lightly, as much to put Harry at ease as himself, he said, "Don't worry Harry.  It would take a lot more than what happened tonight to kill Professor Snape.  He's too stubborn, you know.  He's just lost a good deal of blood, but Madam Pomfrey has him on the mend now." 

Harry smiled a little at that.  It seemed like a good assessment of his potions professor. 

Albus still wanted to sit by Severus' side.  He believed what he had told Harry, but he still would have felt better by lingering.  He did not, however, want to worry Harry by doing so, so after Harry told him the abridged story of what had happened until Snape arrived, he bid Harry goodnight with instructions to sleep and left. 

Madam Pomfrey fussed over his bedding for a little while before turning down the lights and leaving herself.  She did stop to check Snape's condition one last time though.

The hospital wing was dark and silent now.  Harry couldn't even hear his Professor breathing.  He was exhausted but for some reason, he couldn't get to sleep.  His mind just wouldn't stop pestering him.  He hadn't been able to take any sleeping potions because of the other potions he'd been given.  His body was a lot less sore than it had been.  He could feel the potions working on his rib and ankle, but it was nowhere near as bad as the time he had had to take Skelegrow because of Lockhart.  His trembling had stopped because of another potion, designed for the after effects of the Cruciatus.  The cuts and bruises on his body were covered with a balm.  If he moved, he could feel them pulling tight, but it was not painful.  He had come to the hospital wing a bit better off than he had been when he left Voldemort's stronghold.  That turned his thoughts again back to the quiet form in the bed directly to his left.

Snape had healed him, first with potions in the dungeons and then with some sort of chant during their escape.  And then later, when they had been on the path leading to the gates of Hogwarts, Snape had pushed Voldemort out of his mind.  And he had done all of that for Harry as he slowly bled nearly to death.  Harry turned his thoughts to the potions that he had just taken.  Had Snape made them too?  He was the school's only potion's master.  Of course, Madam Pomfrey probably knew quite a bit about healing potions, but could she create the more complicated ones?  She was very skilled, but she was a nurse, not a fully trained Healer.  Was Snape also responsible for the potions healing his body now? 

Harry felt a twinge of guilt go through him.  He had been sure that Snape was a traitor.  He had even secretly wished that he could hex the man unconscious at many points during his capture.  Even before his capture, he had hated Snape, blaming him at least in part, for Sirius' death.  Then Snape had rushed into the dungeons and battled their way to safety.  He had come through for Harry when Harry had been defenseless, in pain and without hope.  And it wasn't the first time that Snape had tried to save his life.

Harry's couldn't help but remember the strange chant that Snape had been speaking as he had carried Harry through the woods to safety.  It had been more than just a healing spell.  It had made Harry feel safe and watched out for.  But that must have been the nature of the spell, because even if Snape was always saving him, he certainly didn't think Snape liked him enough to care about whether he felt safe and cared for or not. 

But that made Harry stop.  The spell had come from Snape and it had felt at the time as though it had been Snape himself that those thoughts had come from.  These confusing thoughts were swirling around Harry's mind as he finally fell asleep. 

He was running through a forest, spells flying overhead as he stumbled through the thick undergrowth.  He was frantic to escape but no matter how fast he ran, the spell lights just came closer, until he was hit and fell to the ground.  Looking up, he could make out the dark figure of Professor Snape walking toward him.  The professor knelt over Harry's body and pulled him into his arms.  Snape was covered in blood and seemed badly injured but he was holding Harry's body close and chanting softly.  Whatever Snape was doing was taking away all of his pain and fear and confusion.  Harry didn't know why he did what he did next, but he couldn't stop himself no matter how hard he tried.  He raised his wand and pointed it at Snape.  Snape stopped chanting and looked at him with black eyes rimmed with red.  As Harry spoke the words that would kill his Professor, someone nearby screamed.  Looking around his dead professor he saw...himself.  "What are you doing?" his other self screamed.  It was too late though.  He had killed Professor Snape.  His other self pointed his finger at him accusingly.  "You've done it now.  Who will save you?  You're going to die and now no one will care about it."  The accusing alter ego disappeared and Harry sank to his knees crying, surrounded by a blinding fog.  "What have I done?  What have I done?" 

Then, out of the fog, a hand rested on his shoulder and he looked up into the eyes of his professor, still covered in blood.  "Potter, wake up," he said, but Harry didn't understand.  He had killed Snape.  Was he dead now too?  "Potter, wake up!" Snape yelled at him as he continued to rock back and forth screaming, "What have I done?"

Severus had been sleeping.  For once he had had no dreams or nightmares.  It was the sleep of the deeply exhausted.  He had been revived at one point long enough to swallow some blood replenishing potions, but he had fallen back asleep immediately afterwards, only slightly aware of the figures around him applying a balm to his cuts.  At first, he didn't know what had woken him in the early hours of the morning.  Then he heard another whimper. 

He tried hard for several minutes to crack his tired eyes open and then to make sense of where he was.  Another whimper broke the silence of the night.  And then he remembered what had happened; he must be in the hospital wing. 

He felt no pain from his cuts and he was no longer lightheaded from blood loss, but he was exhausted.  After several attempts at sitting up, he finally convinced his sluggish body to respond.  He could barely see anything in the darkness of the hospital wing.  Soft moonlight broke through several windows, but his eyes were still adjusting to the scant light.  Another whimper off to his right pulled his attention that way. 

After several seconds of blinking, he realized that someone was in that bed.  Reaching out to the bedside table, he found his wand.  Then, after several seconds of gathering his energy, he stood.  At first, he swayed from the sleep that still clouded his mind, but he regained his equilibrium as his blood circulated through his body. 

That's a nice feeling, he thought.  Having enough blood to stand.  Stepping toward the whimpering form, he heard Harry Potter's voice break the silence yet again. 

"What have I done?" it whispered. 

So.  Potter was having a nightmare.  As Snape stepped closer, he raised his wand and its tip flared with light.  Blinking away from the brightness, he moved closer to Potter.  The teen was shaking and tears were streaking down his cheeks.  As Snape drew closer, the boy started chanting softly, "What have I done?" over and over again.  His body was shaking worse now and the tears were soaking the pillow beneath him. 

Sighing, he reached out and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.  "Potter, wake up," he whispered. 

The boy stopped speaking, but he was shaking even worse now.  Putting both of his hands on Potter's shoulders, he shook the boy a little.  "Potter, wake up!" he said with more force. 

Harry's eyes flew open.  At first, he was unaware of where he was.  Then he saw Snape still holding his shoulders and he bolted upright.  As Snape made to pull away from him, Harry's arms darted out and grabbed the professor's arms. 

"You're alive!" he cried, with no small amount of relief on his face. 

Severus was surprised at first and a little taken aback by being grabbed, but the look on the boy's face was strange.  Tears were still falling down the boy's cheeks and he looked desperate for Severus to say something.  He was more than a little surprised by the concern that crept into the boy's eyes as he stood there motionless and silent for several long seconds.  Then Potter let out a sob that was followed by the most pitiful and pleading look Snape had ever seen on the boy's face. 

"Professor?" Harry cried in desperation. 

Why wasn't the man speaking?  He had to speak.  The dream was still so fresh in his mind.  He wanted; no he needed to know that the professor was real and alive, that he hadn't killed him. 

Potter still had a firm grip around his arms.  Severus was exhausted and didn't know how to respond.  He just wanted to sleep.  He could easily break the grip around his arms, but something in the boy's eyes stopped him.  Too exhausted to stay standing crouched over the bed; he sat on the edge.  Potter moved even closer, looking half crazed. 

Pulling himself together, Severus said, "Potter, kindly loosen your grip.  It is uncivilized to grab people in the middle of the night." 

It had been intended as a barb, but it came out with much less force than Severus had been intending.  The boy just looked too desperate.  Something like relief flashed in the boy's eyes and he loosened his grip, but did not let go entirely. 

"Professor Snape," the boy said softly, as if that qualified as an entire sentence.  His body was still shaking but his tears had stopped.  Severus could not comprehend what had upset the boy so much.  Upon further consideration though, he remembered how horrible his own nightmares had been at certain times in his life and thought that he might just understand.  The boy was obviously trying to regain a sense of reality. 

"Potter, you were having a nightmare.  You're awake now.  This is reality." 

It seemed that his words had the desired effect, for the boy loosened his grip until his hands were just resting on Severus' forearms and his shoulders slumped a little, releasing some tension. 

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and put his head down, but the professor reached out and lightly grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up.  Snape had a concerned expression on his face now. 

"Was it the Dark Lord?" he asked, searching Harry's eyes for the truth. 

Harry shook his head slightly.  "No, just a nightmare," he said in a whisper, now embarrassed by his actions.  He let his arms drop completely away and looked down again.

Snape watched closely for a moment more, debating whether he should do something more.  There didn't seem to be anything to say though, so he slowly stood. 

"Go back to sleep, Potter," he said.  He started to turn away, but the boy reached out again and touched his arm lightly. 

Severus turned back, fully prepared to yell at the little brat to go back to bed, but Potter was already speaking. 

"I'm sorry Professor.  I...I just wanted to make sure.  You're ok now?" 

Several rude comments passed through Snape's mind, but the boy just looked so pitiful.  It usually wouldn't bother him at all, but perhaps tonight, he was just too tired to be himself.  He settled for staring sternly at the boy until he looked away.  Finally he said, "Go. To. Bed. Potter." 

Harry looked up again and before Snape turned, he said, "I just wanted to say thank you sir.  For everything." 

He almost said it too softly to hear, but Snape did hear it and just stared at him.  Finally Harry looked down again. 

After another moment of silence, Snape said, "Goodnight, Mr. Potter," and walked away. 

Behind him, Harry said, "Goodnight, Professor." 

Neither of them said another word as they settled down for sleep again.  After a short time, Snape could hear Potter's breathing even out in sleep and finally he closed his own eyes and sank back into his own blessedly dreamless oblivion.

The very next day, Harry was surprised to see his potions professor rise early, although rather stiffly, and make his way to the infirmary doors without Pomfrey's leave. Harry knew that the professor had been injured pretty badly and was rather impressed to find that the man was bearing that pain with barely any outward sign, just as he had during the escape.  But his history with the man forestalled any comments he might have made on the subject otherwise.

Snape's escape was short-lived however, because just as he got to the doors, Dumbledore walked in requesting to speak with him.

"Ah Severus, I'm surprised to see you up so soon.  But then I always am."

"Headmaster," was the only reply that the Headmaster got, along with a curt nod.

"I wonder if I might have a word Severus."

Here both parties turned to look at Harry who was feigning sleep.

Harry heard Snape sigh and then say in a tone that clearly implied he had better things to be doing, "Very well Headmaster. What may I do for you?"

The Headmaster chuckled at Snape's manner.  "Well Severus, I know that you spend a great deal of your summers here preparing the school's potions and doing research. I'd hoped that I could convince you to spend your entire summer here this year. I believe it would be safest for you, but I admit, I have two ulterior motives." Here, Dumbledore paused to gauge the darker man's reaction, but as always, it was like trying to read a blank page.

For Severus' part, experience had taught him that people's actions and words very often had more than one motive behind them and he was always glad for a chance to have them clarified right away rather than having to dig for them. Not that he wouldn't consider other possible motives, but experience had also taught him that with Albus, it was always clear when information was being withheld from him or not.

Albus continued, "I have spoken with Harry's relatives and I believe that the situation cannot be ...remedied. The other alternatives for Harry's summer residency are all either unsafe or unpleasant, which is why I feel that it would be best for him to stay here at Hogwarts.  And I believe you equal to the task of ensuring his safety."

Seeing that Severus was about to protest, Albus continued without a pause. "It is not only this reason though. Since my reinstatement in the Wizengamot and the Ministry's acknowledgement of Voldemort's return, I find that I will have very little time to be here myself, unlike other years. I had planned to arrange for two or three Order members to be here at all times to keep the school safe so that it can be reopened."

"However," he spoke over Snape's attempt to speak again, "in light of recent events, I thought the better plan would be to request that you stay here. I believe you are equal to the work of two or three Order members in this matter and truly, there is no one I trust to keep this school safe as much as I trust in your ability to do so. I do not mean to curtail your activities Severus. I just hoped that you would agree to make this school your residence for the summer"

Harry was astonished at the great compliment the Headmaster had bestowed on Snape. Harry was even more than astonished to hear such a long winded and almost pleading and reasoning speech come from the Headmaster to one of his employees. But turning his eyes to the potions professor, he didn't doubt that it was necessary.

Severus Snape did not glare; he never had to. The spark of independence and defiance that had been there since he was a student at Hogwarts had never left him, even when he became Albus' employee. Harry had never observed this before, but was oddly amused by it now. He silently laughed at the poor Headmaster. Good luck, he thought.  You'd have more luck teaching a frog to juggle without magic than you would convincing Snape to do something he didn't want to do. Especially stay here all year with me.

Harry could not have guessed more correctly at the exchange he was seeing. Regarding the school and the students, Severus had always deferred to Dumbledore's judgment, even though he was quick to make his opinion known. But outside of school, he always did exactly as he wanted to do.

Of course, no one besides Severus and Albus himself knew this. After all, he attended Order meetings and appeared to follow Dumbledore's instructions without argument. But few noticed that Dumbledore never gave an outright order but would say instead, "Please see if you can," or "Severus, do you think...?" to the spy. And more often than not, the two met in private before Order meetings when they could to set the tone for the meeting. This appearance of complete obedience was an act for the Order, but it was not meant to cover any hostility toward the cause. Rather, it was easier for the others to at least trust his information if they believed that Albus had him firmly in control. 

But Albus and Severus had come to an agreement years ago. They used each other to achieve the same goals. It was true, Severus more often than not deferred to the Headmaster's judgment.  But as a spy, he often found himself in situations that fell outside of the realm of the Order and its unspoken rules.  There was of course, the small matter of his fond disregard for authority as well. 

But they had developed a relationship of sorts over the years beyond the war.  Albus had come to care about Severus a great deal, because, although Severus rarely opened up about things more personal than the dunderheads he had to teach or his opinion of the woefully incompetent potions journal articles, Albus suspected the magnitude of Severus' sacrifices and respected his dignity and strength, not to mention his sharp wit. And although Severus never revealed his true feelings, Albus suspected that Severus enjoyed his company as well. After all, with no one else did Severus relax or make jokes that were not always sarcastic and caustic.

This, of course, did not mean they didn't have their arguments.  But at least they both respected the other enough to have them in private.

Albus had expected an argument, especially in regard to watching Harry, so when he didn't get one he was rather surprised.

"Very well Headmaster, I find that that plan is consistent with my own...needs. However, a few ground rules."

Albus recovered quickly and motioning him to continue, said, "Well then, let's hear them."

"First, I will be solely in charge of the protection over the summer.  You know I work better if I do not have to check the shoddy work of others. And I will expect to receive any support I deem necessary from the Order, within reason. Second, from time to time, I will need to go out. In those cases I will sometimes require Order members to fill in, although I will rarely be gone long enough for that to be necessary. Lastly, I am not a babysitter nor am I a nurturing person. Mr. Potter will agree to be respectful, obedient and productive."

It was useless to feign sleep any longer as the two were not all that far away nor trying to be quiet, so Harry sat up fully when he heard his name. He was slightly embarrassed to see that Professor Snape was not surprised to see that he was awake and had addressed the last condition while staring directly at him.

The Headmaster, blue eyes ever bright, turned to Harry and said, "Well Harry, what do you say?"

Harry wanted to say, "Are you mad? He'll kill me," but wisely held his tongue, realizing how stupid that was in light of recent and even not so recent events. It was just so hard to reconcile Snape's words to his actions. Instead he settled for the ever handy, "That's fine, sir."

Dumbledore clapped his hands together and smiled genuinely. "Well, that settles it. I'll leave you two to your healing. And ah, here comes Madam Pomfrey now to see you back to your bed Severus."

By now, Snape was scowling, but Dumbledore was already beating a quick retreat. Unfortunately for Severus and Harry, he stopped before reaching the door to address one last issue.

"Oh, I almost forgot," although the twinkle in his eye clearly gave evidence to the lie that he had ‘forgotten' anything.

"As Harry here will be in your care in this large castle, I suppose I shall have his things sent to your guestrooms Severus?  I'm sure that this will make reacting to any situations of security that may arise much easier."

And with that, Dumbledore made a hasty retreat and unless Harry and Severus were both imagining it, they would have sworn that the Headmaster had run out the door like a child running from a spanking. And, indeed, if the look on Snape's face was any indication, that might nearly have been the case.

Scowling still, Snape turned only to see that Pomfrey was indeed hurrying his way. Moving quickly, he almost made it to the door before Poppy called out, "Just one minute Severus."

Snape stiffened almost imperceptibly and turned to see the annoyingly persistent nurse, who would most likely try to get him to stay here until he was nearly bored to death.  Another little lesson that experience had so kindly taught him.

"Surely you're not planning to leave so soon Severus. It's only been six hours since you've lost so much blood and I've barely healed all your chest and shoulder muscles. I don't think..."

But here Snape cut her off. "As always, Madam, your skillful ministrations have left me in better health faster than I could have imagined and I am grateful that your talents have allowed for me to return to my work so quickly. To show my gratitude, I will begin immediately restoring your potions supply."

Another lesson by that great mentor, experience, had taught him that flattery was an easy way to get what you wanted. But in his case, flattery was a double-edged weapon. In most cases, being nice occasionally made some people appreciative, but in his case, it more often astonished people, and he found that in situations like these it acted as a sort of sneak attack.

With those words, he left quickly, but not before hearing the ‘astonished' nurse try to stammer a response and not before meeting Potter's eyes and seeing the boy try to contain a laugh. Oddly enough, Harry could have sworn he saw the professor smile before firmly exiting, and indeed, he was correct. After all, every successful battle deserved a smile, no matter how small the stakes. And he had just battled the formidable Hogwarts nurse monster yet again.

Madam Pomfrey did recover quickly but not quickly enough to catch the Potions Master. She threw her arms up in the air in defeat. Muttering to herself, she made her way across the room to check on Harry's condition.

"...Always the same, every time he gets in here. Too damn often! One of these days I'm going to tie him to his bed and keep him for three weeks straight. No!  For the rest of his life.  Only way to keep the man healthy." Stopping at the bed, her voice rose a little.

"Well, Mr. Potter.  I suppose you'll be trying to escape as well. And what, pray, is so funny?"

"Nothing ma'am."

In truth, he found the situation hilarious and was having trouble keeping his laughter subdued. He knew the school nurse was always keeping patients longer than they liked although admittedly, probably no longer than they needed, but he had never seen anyone escape her clutches so easily before. And he had certainly never seen anyone bring her to swearing. But he knew better than to share his source of amusement with her. He was probably in as good a shape to leave as Snape, but he wouldn't risk her ire and have her keep him in the wing longer to make up for losing her other patient.

"Well, Mr. Potter, if you can promise to rest for a few more hours, I'll release you for lunch."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Very well, lay back down," and with that she stalked away muttering about stubborn wizards who didn't take proper care of themselves and who ended up in the hospital too often for their own good. At first, he thought she was referring to him as she had often threatened to set up a bed just for his use since he was in there so often. But then he saw her stop and stare at the bed that Snape had just left.

"Yes, a plaque I think. Perhaps I could just move him in," and then she continued into her office.

Was Snape in here that often?  And why? And most importantly, what was that spell he was chanting last night while they had been running from the Death Eaters?

 Harry needed questions answered. He was tired of always being in the dark, but now more than ever, he was tired of not understanding his Potions Master. Their mutual animosity had caused Harry too many problems, problems that might have been avoided had he trusted Snape. And he truly had no doubt after last night that he could trust that Snape was completely against Voldemort. He just didn't know how far that trust could be extended. And it was time to find out.

Willing to risk Pomfrey's displeasure and hoping to stop the Headmaster before he left for the day, Harry quietly got dressed and left the infirmary.  There were no people in the corridors as he moved stiffly toward the Headmaster's office.  He still felt sore everywhere but it was a far cry from the pain he had been in all of yesterday.

He found the Headmaster in his office.  After only a few guesses, the gargoyles finally sprang aside to ‘lemon taffy.'

"Ah, Harry, nice to see you.  I'm surprised Madam Pomfrey let you out so soon. Please have a seat. Lemon drop?"

"No, thank you, sir." Harry fought off his discomfort at having disobeyed Pomfrey's orders. After all, he had questions and he intended to get answers.

Seeing resolve creep into the boy's face, Albus folded his hands across his chest and said, "Well Harry, you look like you have something on your mind. What can I help you with?"

And so now, there he was, before the Headmaster, to ask a question that he had heard several others ask and heard Dumbledore’s response to several times. Harry knew that, when asked whether he trusted Snape, Dumbledore never hesitated, never wavered in his trust of the man. When asked why though, Dumbledore would only say that the reasons were between he and Snape, but that it left him with no doubt of the man’s loyalties. The difference here was that Harry finally realized that he trusted Snape too, at least in the way the others questioned.

The problem was that Harry had become resolved since hearing the prophecy. He needed allies and answers and training and after last night, he grudgingly admitted that Snape would make a powerful ally in those regards, although a slightly unpleasant one. But in order to gauge what he could expect from Snape, he had to know more about the man. And since Snape hated him, he was determined to get his answers from Dumbledore. He also thought that he should know more about the man that he would be living with for the rest of the summer.

But how to phrase the question to get anything from the Headmaster, that was the question? He didn’t have a right to any of this information. This would have to be done diplomatically, something Harry had minimal experience in. But necessity had always served him before.

Well, here goes, he thought.

"Professor, I wanted to talk to you about a few things actually. I think that the second will interest you, but I won’t discuss that before I have answers to the first issue."

There, he thought, chew on that. I can be Slytherin too.

Before the Headmaster could interrupt, he continued. "I've heard the others ask you why you trust...Professor Snape." He reasoned it was best to show respect so he wasn't misunderstood, which is why he paused to add Snape’s title.

"I’m beginning to understand why too. I...I trust that he’s on our side now. Maybe I should have before, but I could never get past his words, the way he treats me and just look at his actions. I think that's the problem everyone has. My trouble is, I know he's on the right side. I...just don't know what to expect."

Here he was interrupted, "Harry, perhaps you should speak to Professor Snape about this."

"Professor Snape hates me, sir."

"Harry, I don't think..."

"You will please at least concede that from where I sit, him hating me is a fair assessment." On this, he refused to budge. And he sent a silent thanks to Hermione for that turn of phrase. So far; so good.

Dumbledore looked thoughtful but did not respond, so Harry continued.

"You told me about the prophecy. So now, I've been trying to live with it so I can, well, live. I've thought about it and I realized that I have a lot to learn and I need allies. I don't like it, but after last night, I think that Professor Snape could really help me, if he wanted to. I mean, he knows more about the Death Eaters than anyone else. And...I saw him fighting last night sir. It was...incredible, and I think...I think I need to learn how to do that, at least some of that. But I don't know anything about him and I know he won't tell me.”

He looked down at his lap as he said the next part. “Something happened last year, and well…anyway, I really messed up and I don't think he would ever willingly talk to me. But then something happened last night that I don't understand and I think if I knew more about Professor Snape, well I'd understand it better."

He knew that he had rambled that last part out, but he had not exactly planned what he was going to say, which in hindsight, was probably not very clever at all. And the reminder of the pensieve incident, along with Snape’s thoroughly unsettling spell last night, made him feel slightly embarrassed and unsure of himself.

"What happened last night Harry?" Dumbledore asked kindly.

"That was the second thing I wanted to talk to you about sir and I think I'd rather address one issue at a time."

Dumbledore was surprised to say the least. Harry was expressing himself rather well this morning. He didn't really know how to respond. But he believed that Harry had to be answered. There were only two people that Albus trusted completely and believed wholly in their abilities and they were Harry and Severus. He thought about how this war might go if the two of them worked together. Albus truly believed that Harry could find some way to defeat Voldemort and he also had no doubt that Severus would not only keep Harry safe until then, but could also be invaluable in helping Harry find answers. And it wasn't like he was keeping any secrets for the man any longer, now that he was no longer a spy.

"Harry, what you have to understand is that your Professor is a very private person. He has rarely spoken about his past or his motivations. All I have learned about him I have learned by observing the results of his actions, which are almost always good. I don't think he has ever shared those things with anyone. I can tell you quite a bit about what he has done for this war, this school and even yourself. As for his motivations though, that is something that you will have to speak with him about yourself."

Harry was surprised but simply motioned with a nod for the Headmaster to continue. He was finally getting answers and he didn't want to interrupt.

"First of all, Harry, I find it very hard to believe that Professor Snape hates you, despite how it seems to you. He has watched over you more than you realize I think. He may not always go about protecting you in a conventional manner, but I assure you that from where I sit, he has always appeared to be motivated by, if not your happiness, at least your safety. In fact," and here the Headmaster smiled a little, "he and I have argued about you on more than one occasion but maybe not quite about what you would expect."

"What do you mean, sir, ‘not quite what I'd expect?'"

"I mean that you both seem to agree that you needed more information over the years, although I imagine he had slightly different reasons. He seemed to think that if you had more of the facts, that you would put more effort into staying safe and going to adults for help instead of doing things by yourself. I now regret not listening to him more."

Harry was slightly taken aback at first, but after some more thought it made sense. Professor Snape didn't seem like the type of man to spare someone's feelings, even a child's, if there was more benefit to be gained by not doing so. He had sure never worried about sparing Harry's feelings in the past. And the Headmaster was right; the arguments were not quite what Harry would have expected. In fact, he wouldn't have been surprised to hear that Snape had argued for his expulsion on a daily basis. There was definitely a lot about Snape that he didn't understand at all.

The Headmaster was continuing though. "I have kept Professor Snape's secrets for a long time. In fact, the whole Order has. But I believe that even they do not fully realize the magnitude of his services to this war. I have hoped for a long time that he would get the recognition that he deserved for all of his hard work. And I am relieved beyond expression that he no longer has to spy. The tactician in me mourns the loss. I have always valued his information. Indeed, at times, it was often the deciding factor of survival for many people and that information will be sorely missed. But I have often thought that it came at too great a price for Severus."

"Headmaster?" Harry interrupted. "Why did Professor Snape join Voldemort? And why did he change sides?" That was what he really wanted to know.

The Headmaster got a stern look on his face then. "Harry, what you are asking about is most likely deeply personal for Severus." The stern look faded though, to be replaced by a thoughtful look. "In all honesty Harry, I do not even know the circumstances of these decisions. Indeed, him coming to us, the Order that is, probably happened in a manner most unlike what many would imagine."

He knew a little more than he had implied perhaps, but not much more. Indeed, most of what he did know was speculation. There were several issues (and people) that Severus refused to discuss.

When it appeared that the Headmaster would not go on, Harry asked, "Well, how did he come to be in the Order sir?"

Albus sighed then. The truth was that he wanted Harry to know. He wanted the boy to respect Severus like the man deserved and he thought that Severus deserved understanding. Indeed, he looked forward to the day when the war was over and he could proclaim to the world how brave and good Severus Snape was. He had had his doubts long ago, but over the years, they had left him and in their place had been born a trust that rarely even existed between families.

He took a moment to decide though. He would never betray Severus' trust. But he didn't believe telling Harry a little about Severus would be a betrayal, although the man would certainly not appreciate it. Still, Harry was here, and he was sincerely curious about his Professor. If ever there was a time to change Harry's perception of Severus, now was it. The boy seemed to want Severus Snape redeemed in fact, and Albus believed that he could do just that.

"But where to begin?" he mumbled out loud and Harry knew that he would be getting answers.

Albus peered at Harry over his cup of tea, sighed and then began to speak. "This was a long time ago, just after your parents were married, in fact. I hadn't seen Severus since graduation, but I had little hope then, that he would have turned down being a Death Eater."

The Headmaster had a look on his face as though he were clearly remembering those long ago days. “Of course, I had never really gotten to know him then and I doubt that many people had beyond, his friends in Slytherin.

“I saw him sometimes at school for encounters with your father and his friends and whenever I saw him elsewhere, he was surrounded by other Slytherins, especially the ones that I suspected of having ambitions of becoming Death Eaters. The few times I talked to Severus though, he was as sarcastic and closed off as ever and I began to despair that he'd ever turn away from some dark path. I was especially grieved because I had at times thought that I observed some goodness in him quite unequalled by many children his age.”

The Headmaster paused and Harry found himself wondering what he could have seen in Snape back then that made him think that. Maybe he was just confusing what he knew about Snape now with how he had thought of him at the time?

“I'll never forget his graduation,” the Headmaster continued. “Everyone was excited, except Severus. I tried to talk to him; asked him what his plans were. He told me that nothing was concrete. I told him that I hoped to hear from him from time to time and strangely, unexpectedly, he replied that he expected I would hear from him. Then he walked away from me and from the castle. It was nearly a year later that I understood those cryptic words of his. Indeed, it was nearly a year before I saw Severus again, but I had been unknowingly hearing from him for some months."

The Headmaster stopped for a moment. Harry watched him curiously. It was obvious that this story was one that the Headmaster had wanted to tell for some time. He even told it like a story, as if he had examined the details more than once, and his next words proved that to be the case.

"I have thought a lot about those days Harry. I try to do what I think is best for all of my students and I have analyzed over and over again whether I could have done more for Severus, but the truth that I've learned from this over analysis is that Severus Snape does exactly what he wants to do. And truthfully, I can be nothing but grateful for that fact. I do not know why your Professor joined Voldemort, Harry, but I have suspected for quite some time that he was not loyal to him for very long. But I am getting ahead of myself. Perhaps if I tell you the story, you will find some other explanation."

Harry was now quite in suspense. He could hardly believe that Dumbledore was telling him any of this. "I'd like to hear about it sir," was all he said though.

Dumbledore nodded once and then took a sip of his tea and continued his story.

"The Order was working hard in those days, just as they are now. Your Mother, Father and Sirius joined the Order right out of school. Remus joined months later. Peter never did join and for that I am grateful." Both Dumbledore and Harry had stern looks on their faces just thinking about Pettigrew and all the damage he had done.

"The beginning of that summer was quiet though. Voldemort seemed to be biding his time, for what I will most likely never know. But two months into the summer, Mundungus Fletcher, of all people, came to an Order meeting out of breath claiming that he had just gotten a warning from a concealed man that there was going to be an attack on the Kane family. They were not Order members but they had spoken publicly against Voldemort. We questioned him about the man and argued about the information well into the night. We finally decided that it must have been a trap, but resolved that we would send an owl to warn the Kane family just in case. I'll never regret anything more than that. That very night, hours after the meeting, Fletcher returned to Headquarters with two very young children and a letter from the man that had both warned him earlier and delivered the children to him later. I read it the next night at the Order meeting. I've always kept it in fact."

Here, Dumbledore took something from his desk drawer and handed it to Harry. It was the letter, written in an elegant scrawl.

"Go ahead and read it Harry," the Headmaster said.

Harry held the letter reverently in his hands, wondering what it could possibly say to have affected the Headmaster so much. He turned it over and began reading.

Dear Headmaster,

For I have no doubt that this is who is reading this letter. Last night I warned what I believed to be a member of your ‘Order’ about a planned attack by Death Eaters on the Kane family. I had hoped that I would be able, finally, to rely on others to help stop the success of the Dark Lord's campaign.

Perhaps it is my fault though. I can only think of two possible reasons why you would not help or even warn this family. One; that you do not care and I do not believe that this is true. Two, that you believed my information to be insincere; a trap as it were. I should not have been, but was, surprised to show up at the Kane residence last night to find the family all assembled and quite unaware of the danger to them.

Why, you might ask, did I not inform the family myself? It is for a very simple reason. I have in the past relied on only my self to deal with these situations as they arise. My failures have become quite clear to me over time though, and I resolved to seek out help. I cannot both help the Dark Lord's victims and maintain my source of information in these matters. Therefore I set about researching my best options. I have met you, Headmaster, and while I have not always trusted you, I have always believed your intentions to be good. It was with this in mind that I concluded that it was to you that I would pass on my information. In the end, it seemed safer to send information to you, who can respond in force if needed, rather than placing myself in the position of possibly being seen delivering warnings. Forgive me my secrecy and do not ask me my name. You will either trust me in time or not, but I cannot be more forthcoming without destroying all that I have worked for.

As for these children that have hopefully been delivered to you without further harm, they were the only ones I was able to save. I will not lie and tell you that there was no possible way that I could have saved these children's parents. Nor will I apologize to you, for it is not your forgiveness that I would require. I will say only that, I made a choice of value long ago concerning these matters and the result is that some will live and some will die, but hopefully less than would were it not for my presence. And so I send these children to you as orphans. Do not fear by their dormant state that they are dead. They have merely been given a small dose of the Draught of Living Death.

By handing these children to you rather than sending them to a distant orphanage, I have entrusted my very life to you, for I have no doubt that if it were discovered that they were still alive, I would have much explaining to do. I have taken this risk in the belief that you will allow me to demonstrate in the future the sincerity of my warnings. I realize the position that this may put you in and apologize in advance for the manner in which I must communicate with you.

I can only end this letter by stating that I will, in the future, attempt to send information to you in the safest possible manner, both to myself and to your friends. What you then do with that information will be up to you. I will not, however, make the mistake again, of relying on the trust of others to help me in my endeavors.

Good luck Headmaster.

Sincerely

When Harry finished reading the letter, he didn't know what to say. The words were as elegant and touching as the handwriting had been. He wondered how long Snape had worked on penning that letter.

Harry knew that it had been Professor Snape who had written those words. Who else could it have been? The Headmaster was telling the story of how Snape had become a part of the Order after all. But was it Snape that had written these words? Could it be that Snape had worked against Voldemort alone before he decided that help was necessary?

Harry had always imagined something different. He had thought that perhaps Snape had had a change of heart and come crawling to the Headmaster or that he had been caught somehow and decided to exchange information for freedom. Nothing could have prepared him for the idea that Snape had operated against Voldemort alone and without help, in his very ranks. By Merlin, he must have been surrounded by Death Eaters everyday and had to face Voldemort time and again. And what assurance would he have had if caught by Aurors that his true intentions would be revealed as not those of a Death Eater? Harry knew how trials had progressed during those terrible years. His own Godfather had been convicted without a trial at all.

And Harry thought about those children. He had always known that he was not the only orphan of war. For a moment, Harry was angry that Snape had not tried to save the parents as well, but the anger vanished as he read the letter again.

There it was. "I will not lie and tell you that there was no possible way that I could have saved these children's parents. Nor will I apologize to you, for it is not your forgiveness that I would require. I will say only that, I made a choice of value long ago concerning these matters and the result is that some will live and some will die, but hopefully less than would were it not for my presence."

Snape had readily admitted to his choice. And although he did not ask for forgiveness, it was clear that in some way, Snape did feel the guilt of those deaths, even though he had saved the children. What if he had saved the parents that night? How many more would have died because he was no longer privy to the Dark Lord's plans? Was that the "choice of value" that he had made? The choice to save as many lives as he could but not every life. How hard must that have been?

There had been a day, not long ago at all, that Harry would have said that Snape would have no qualms about such things, but that day was not today, nor would there likely ever be a day in the future. Every second in the Headmaster's office seemed to bring new revelations to Harry about Snape, but he still dearly wanted to know why Snape had chosen that path in the first place. Had he changed his mind before or after joining Voldemort? Why had he changed his mind? And how had he become known to the Order?

Harry handed the letter carefully back to Dumbledore, who took it gently and placed it back in the drawer where it obviously had it's own spot.

"You saw how he signed it?" Dumbledore continued. "Sincerely is what he wrote; just a word that meant more than I even realized the night I first read it. I was ashamed when I looked at those poor children. We, the Order that is, decided that we would act on ‘Sincere's' warnings in the future but that we would proceed cautiously. We called him Sincere back in those days, because we had no other name for him. Perhaps it was also our hope that he was Sincere that made us refer to him in that way. I did not know whom to suspect back then. If I had thought of Severus at all in those days, it was with a sense of sadness that I had not heard from him at all. I had no hope that he could be our mysterious Sincere.

Over the next few months, we received several warnings that saved lives and were never a trap. With these warnings were always suggested courses of action so as not to give Sincere's involvement away. Just as often, we would receive refugees without any prior warnings. They were always under the draught of living death and upon waking would be unable to say what had happened to them. They were all sent into hiding, both for their safety and Sincere's. That year was our most successful. Fewer lives were lost and Voldemort was becoming more desperate.

We had tried in the past to place spies in Voldemort's camps before of course, but I regret to say that all of these brave men and women eventually met their end. We were more than grateful for Sincere's information and awed by his care. It was amazing that he should be able to achieve what no others before him had. Of course, our curiosity was great indeed. I should say that only the very inner core of the Order was even aware of Sincere's involvement."

Dumbledore got a wry smile on his face at this point. "Of course, Sincere is Professor Snape as you have no doubt guessed, although we had not yet discovered that at the time. I am sure you can imagine that your Professor's unique brand of dark humor often made itself known to us in the Order. Indeed, although we were grateful for his information, there were those in the Order that found his messages to be quite offensive at times. I'll never forget when he sent a message directly to Alastor Moody that said to remember ‘constant vigilance.'"

Albus chuckled at the memory and Harry could not help but to laugh as well. He could just imagine Mad-Eye reading his own words on paper sent by Snape as a scolding.

"The rest of the Order got a good laugh but as you can imagine, Alastor didn't really appreciate having his own words thrown back into his face. How Sincere knew that about him, we did not know, but it was clear that he had done his homework quite well and discovered many of us. He scolded some of us on occasion for not being careful. And having been on the receiving end of Severus' rebukes yourself, you cannot doubt how acidic these words were. No matter how fair, they were met by anger. Finally, the Order demanded that we discover the identity of Sincere. I was curious too, so against my better judgment, I set in motion the events that led to Severus' identity being revealed. I drank Polyjuice for a week and sat in all of Mundungus' usual haunts with select Order members concealed in the crowd. And one night, he came.

“A man dressed in a black cloak with the hood concealing his face moved towards my table. It was exactly the type of place where this type of behavior was common and Fletcher was exactly the type of person to be meeting a man like that for some silly illegal reason. In short, it was perfect.

“He sat at my table and said not a word for nearly two full minutes. When he did finally speak, he took me quite by surprise. He asked me, "Where is Fletcher?" Not only did he see through my disguise, but I instantly knew that voice. It was unforgettable. Here was Severus.

“I somehow managed to hold back from exclaiming his name and said that Fletcher was indisposed. He called it for the lie it was of course. I was quite ready to apologize but before I could say a word, he said something along the lines of, "Well, it would seem to be too late for secrecy now. I don't suppose your guard would appreciate me Obliviating you." I, of course, agreed and asked him if we could talk. He said nothing for another minute. At length, he stood from the table and I feared that I would lose him, but instead of leaving, he leaned towards me and said to meet him outside Hogsmeade in 20 minutes.

“I cannot believe how foolish we were. We could have lost our best source of information by betraying his trust like that. He had only asked for one thing in that letter and that was for us to not ask him his name. Yet, there I was, acting like a young fool. I could not let the mystery be and simply accept his help. I was lucky that night. We all were."

The Headmaster's voice took on a more conversational tone at this point. "Well, we met him. He was as unpleasant to the others as always. Sometimes I think that they forget what he's done for us. They will say that once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater and I believe they say this merely because they find Severus' conversation unpalatable. But I have never found out from Severus how this all began and I respect his silence on this score. He has never given me a reason to doubt him. And I will not attempt to deny that I care for him a great deal Harry."

The Headmaster paused as if to reflect. Harry was silent for several moments. The Headmaster had just divulged a great deal of information about Snape after all. Finally, Harry found his voice. "Thank you Professor. I still have some questions though."

"I'll try to answer them as best as I can Harry."

"What happened to bring him to Hogwarts?"

"Ahh, well, my previous Potions Master retired and Voldemort himself suggested that Severus become a spy. We had to be very careful that he seem mistrusted because the children of Death Eaters were here, watching too. I think it was harder for Severus to be a double agent. I believe the Dark Lord required even more frequent evidence of his loyalty, but I have never heard him complain, at least about that," Dumbledore finished with a sad expression.

"And what happened after, you know, after the night Voldemort disappeared?"

"Severus and I both suspected that we hadn't seen the last of Voldemort, so we settled on watching and waiting. In the interim, Severus maintained his contacts with the other escaped Death Eaters. You can imagine that Voldemort was not the only Dark Wizard out there; he was merely the worst. There are those who think that Severus only helped to get out of Azkaban, but he never once asked for my protection. He did go to Azkaban you know? He was there for nearly ten months before I could get him out. I did it because I believed in him and because I knew we'd need him."

They were both silent for several minutes. Harry didn't know what to say. Finally, Dumbledore said, "I hope Harry, that you will respect your Professor's privacy. I shared this with you today because I believed that you would appreciate all that he has done and because I would like to see the two of you work together. Severus has a lot to offer, as you have realized yourself. And despite how he has treated you in the past, he has always been one of the first to respond when you or any student in this school is in danger."

Harry nodded. "Thank you sir. I do respect his privacy, more than you know. And I will try, to work with him."

The Headmaster peered at him intently and Harry kept the eye contact, willing the Headmaster to believe him. Finally, Dumbledore nodded.

"Now Harry, I believe there was something else you wished to discuss?"

"Now Harry, I believe there was something else you wished to discuss?"

Harry nodded. He wanted to ask about the spell that Snape had used on him, but all of a sudden, he was feeling rather sheepish about it. Still, if he wanted answers, he was only going to get them here. And the Headmaster had already placed a lot of trust in him. So he pulled himself together mentally and spit it out as best he could.

"Yes Professor. It's about last night. When we were running from the death eaters, I nearly passed out when Professor Snape was carrying me."

"Yes, your Professor has already reported to me this morning all that happened after he arrived. He seemed quite satisfied by your reaction to the situation as a matter of fact."

Harry couldn't help that his mouth was hanging wide open. "Quite satisfied?" he repeated.

Albus chuckled. "Yes Harry. Why coming from Severus, I dare say that he paid you a compliment. Oh now, don't look so surprised. If there is one thing that Severus appreciates, it's people who keep their head in danger and follow his orders without question."

Harry chuckled a little at this too. "Well, I think I might have been more scared to question him than meet Voldemort again sir. I wasn't sure what mood he was in."

They both laughed at that. It seemed to lighten the air quite a bit in fact. There were many constants in the universe. Most of them were relegated to the realm of ratios and were left to mathematicians, physicists, potioneers and arithmancers. Hogwarts, however, had her own constant. It was not to disturb one Severus Snape when he was in a foul mood. Which translated to: never disturb one Severus Snape.

When they both regained their composure, Dumbledore motioned for Harry to continue and Harry again had to swallow the urge to forget asking and fortified himself for the awkward conversation.

"Well, while he was, um, carrying me sir, I almost passed out. I was in a bit of pain you see, and couldn't breathe very well. But the Professor started chanting this strange spell while he was still running. It…well, I've never heard or felt anything like it. It must have been some kind of healing spell though, because I started to feel a lot better and I could breathe better too. But, I didn't even recognize the language. Do you know anything like it?"

"I know of a few spells that fit that description. They are all pretty powerful healing spells, although they fall far short of modern healing techniques. I would not be surprised to find that Severus knew any of them as he would appreciate a healing technique that could be used even without a wand. He is always telling me that it is unwise to place one’s entire defense in a weapon that can be taken away. What else can you tell me about it Harry?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. He didn't want to admit how vulnerable and confused that spell had made him feel afterwards, especially after the dream that he had had that night, but he needed answers.

"Well, um, it was, well, I felt something." Real smooth there, Harry.

Dumbledore gave an encouraging nod of his head as Harry paused. Harry decided to just plough right through it.

"Well, while I was starting to pass out, I thought I felt a sort of presence, I think; or maybe just a feeling that wasn't mine. I don't know. I felt - it made me feel - like I was protected and safe; like I would never be alone again. It was like," here he squirmed even more, trying to put the feeling into words. "It felt like someone or something was telling me that it would always be there for me, that it would stand between me and danger. That it would protect me. And I felt magic wrapping around my chest making it easier to breath and all my little pains kind of just went away. And I could hear Professor Snape chanting and it was like the words that he were chanting were what was telling me these things, even though I didn't really understand them, and," here his face turned bright red and in a breathless whisper he finished. "And it was like it was Professor Snape that was making me feel like that. Then, before I knew it, we Disapparated and the feelings were gone."

Dumbledore's expression was thoughtful for a moment and it was all Harry could do to not squirm some more, but he mastered himself. After all, he'd faced Voldemort. Surely he could handle this embarrassment. At least that was what he told himself.

Harry realized the moment that Dumbledore recognized the spell by the momentary look of surprise in the old man’s eyes.

"Well, it seems I'll never cease to be amazed. That spell is what some call an Intent Spell Harry. It is difficult to learn for several reasons. First of all, it is a difficult language to master, as there are no longer any native speakers. Of course, one need not learn the entire language to use the spell. But most important is the intent behind the spell. It is nearly forgotten because medi-wizards and witches cannot really use it; not because they do not intend to heal but because the intent is not personal enough. There are two things that one can do with a spell like that Harry: cause harm or heal wounds, both physically and mentally. It is said that very few can use it to cause harm because of the nature of the spell. You see, in order for it to work, the caster must have true, pure intentions to either cause harm or help on a very personal level. It is hard to cause harm with it because very few truly are that evil, but when it is used towards that aim, it can be worse than a Cruciatus because the person it's being used on not only feels the pain but also feels the casters intent. It must be very disconcerting, to feel another's hatred and pleasure at your pain, don’t you think?”

Harry nodded.

“The opposite is the healing spell, but it works much the same way. The caster must have purely good intentions on a personal level for it to work. It is more powerful than the other chanted healing spells but it is often impractical as very few have such pure intentions for any beyond their immediate family. I must say that I am surprised Severus bothered to learn this spell, but then he is quite good at research and has often found spells useful for his, um, line of work, in obscure volumes. But this does tell me one thing Harry. Professor Snape cannot hate you to have performed this spell. I do not know if he ‘likes' you, but it is obvious from his use of the spell that he does ‘intend' to keep you safe, as he has been attempting to do for years, I might add. Perhaps this will help you to speak to him this summer Harry?"

If Dumbledore was surprised, it was nothing to how Harry felt. He felt embarrassed, shy, vulnerable, surprised and confused.

“But, I mean, it doesn’t mean that he cares?” Harry said with something approaching panic. That would just take his worldview and turn it upside down.

“Why does that thought bother you Harry?” the Headmaster asked with concern.

“It doesn’t,” Harry said defensively. “I was just curious is all.”

The Headmaster nodded as though that made perfect sense. “It’s difficult to describe how the Intent Spell works Harry. Most people are only able to use it on people that they do care for a great deal – people they love - it’s true. But you did not describe feeling love. It is the very nature of the spell to reveal the caster’s intentions to the patient. You can tell me better what Professor Snape intended when he cast that spell I should think.”

Harry nodded. If that were true, then one thing was abundantly clear; Snape would not let anything hurt him if he could prevent it. But there had been no feelings approaching love or affection in there either. He wondered how one could feel so strongly about keeping a person safe without loving them. He needed to get out of there and be alone to think about all that he had just heard.

"Thank you Professor. I...thank you. I should be going now, I guess," Harry managed to say.

That did not surprise Albus. He could see all of Harry's emotions passing across his face and agreed that maybe Harry needed alone time to work through all that he had found out, so he had mercy.

"Of course Harry. I'm glad we had this talk. Perhaps you should take a walk. I always find that good weather helps one to heal."

"Thanks Professor. Bye," Harry called as he left. He was grateful to get out of there. He did decide to go outside. It seemed the best place to be alone and think.

The trouble was, what Dumbledore had told him had been the last thing that he had expected to hear. He didn't know how to take it. He knew people cared about him; his friends, the Weasleys, Remus and Dumbledore. And Remus and Dumbledore had made him feel safe, but never like last night. Never like he was watched over, never like he had a protector that would always be there for him and help him. Even Sirius had never made him feel like that; only Harry refused to admit that. It would feel like a betrayal to merely think it. The worse part was that it had been Professor Snape. He didn't want to believe that the intent behind the spell had been real. He had thought that Dumbledore would be able to write it off as the effect of the healing spell but that wasn't the case.

But it wasn't just the Intent Spell at all. A person could intend to do good all day long. They could speak words of comfort until they were blue in the face. They could promise they'd always be there when needed and even mean it. But that meant nothing. Those were just words, thoughts and feelings. But Snape never said those words. He never even gave those impressions. But when it came down to the wire and life and death were balanced over the precipice, he was there.

And not only was he there when needed, he was capable. He planned, he fought, he dealt out harsh punishments to the enemy and sustained injuries, but he delivered all the same. And Harry knew that last night's ordeal had been against the odds. Snape's intentions were hard to understand and shocking. His actions spoke very clearly. He didn't just intend to keep Harry safe; he did keep Harry safe.

But why would he do that if he doesn’t even like me?

Harry made his way down to the lake. He needed to think; he didn't want to but he couldn't help it.

Snape hated him, damn it! He was always mean to him, bullying him. He was always forcing him to obey rules; rules that would keep him safe.

Damn it!

First year, he remembered the incident on the broom. Snape had saved him. He had been the only one suspicious enough to know what was happening. And he had always been stalking the corridors, discouraging Harry from getting into trouble or running into Quirrel. Only Harry hadn't seen it like that before. Not that it worked, Harry thought ruefully.

Third year, Harry forced himself to look at what happened that year from another perspective, that of Snape's. Snape had looked at the map, seen that he and his friends were with a man whom Snape believed to be a killer out to get Harry. And he had seen that Remus, the same man's old friend was with him and hadn't taken the potion to prevent him from turning into a murderous creature on a full moon night. And Harry had to admit that that had been very foolish of Remus. Snape had rushed out to protect Harry and his friends. Oh, Harry believed that Snape's revenge on Sirius would have been sweet too, but it would have been easy enough to get reinforcements or dementors first, if that were the sole reason. No, Harry had to admit, Snape had rushed into danger for he and Hermione and Ron. And they had knocked him out and made him the bad guy in the whole affair.

In fourth year, Harry had seen Snape's face when he had left to return to Voldemort. Had he believed that he might be going to his death?

Fifth year. What a disaster! Had Snape really been trying to teach him Occlumency? Would he have learned better if he had actually been trying? And then, woe of all woes! The day he had gone to save Sirius, Snape had gone looking for he and his friends. Snape had warned the other Order members. Harry had been all set on blaming Snape at least partially for Sirius' death, but who else could he have warned? And was he so out of line, antagonizing Sirius? It was completely mutual after all.

And then last night. Damn it all! Why did Snape act like he hated Harry and then always save him?

Harry sat pondering these things as the sun arced across the sky and got lower. He didn't even notice that it was getting late until a soft and silky voice spoke up behind him.

"Mr. Potter. It is time for dinner and then you will see Madam Pomfrey."

Harry jumped up and spun around. His heart seemed lodged in his throat, along with his stomach. For a moment he couldn't speak. Then he regained his composure enough to respond, "Yes sir."

He knew he was blushing because the subject of his thoughts was standing directly before him. When the Professor began walking away, Harry hesitated and stopped.

"Professor?" he said quietly.

"What is it Potter?" said a slightly annoyed potions master.

"I just wanted to thank you sir, for everything you've done for me."

Harry hadn't even known what he was going to say until it was out. He was really blushing now, he knew it, but he kept his eyes on Snape all the same.

Severus paused for a moment, considering the boy before him. It was the second time that the boy had thanked him but for the life of him, he didn't know how to respond, which was unusual. Finally, as if nothing had happened, he turned and called over his shoulder, "Come Potter."

Harry followed quickly and silently.

Harry thought that they would be eating in the Great Hall, but he realized he was wrong as Snape led him down into the dungeons. They went past the potions classroom, made a right several meters later and entered the third door on their right. Harry followed silently, taking in his surroundings. So these were Snape's rooms.

It both seemed to suit the man and not. They were in the dungeons after all. The stone wall was covered in some places by three tasteful tapestries. One was of a fox surrounded by other animals in clothes and waving a red flag that read Renard. Another depicted a man with flaming red hair dressed like a Viking and smiling as another man shot an arrow at something that was not in the tapestry. The third and final tapestry depicted a monkey dressed in oriental clothing. Harry had no idea what they meant but he was too unsure of where he stood with Snape to ask about them.

The furniture was made of a fine, dark wood, but looked extremely sturdy. In fact, the furniture completely lacked decoration and seemed quite utilitarian yet comfortable. To the left of the room was a counter space that seemed to serve as a kitchen and near to that was a plain wooden table. On the other side of the room was a desk. The desk was strewn with papers and quills and inkbottles. Despite the amount of stuff cluttered on the desk, there was a spot cleared in the middle. The desk seemed serviceable enough and although it was full, it seemed to have an odd sense of organization to it. To the left of the desk was an opened door that appeared to be the bathroom.

The wall directly in front of the entrance had a fireplace in the middle of it and a closed door to each side. Between the fireplace and the doors on both sides, the walls were filled from top to bottom with shelves of books and a few instruments in odd places. Before the fireplace were two comfortable looking chairs and a small table between them.

Snape led him to the door to the right of the fireplace and opened it, stepping aside to let Harry pass. "This will be your room. The door on your right is your closet. The door on your left leads to my room. You are not to enter it unless there is an emergency. Do I need to explain what constitutes an emergency, Mr. Potter?"

"No, sir."

Snape eyed him but continued on anyway. "Lupin brought your trunk some time last night and I brought it down here," he said, pointing to the trunk at the foot of the bed. "Hagrid brought your owl's cage here this morning and wished me to inform you that she is safe in the owlery."

Harry smiled with relief. Snape rolled his eyes but continued. "Supper will be served in 15 minutes and you will present yourself at every meal. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

With that, Snape walked out the door and closed it behind him. Harry turned to the room. His trunk seemed untampered with. The first thing he did was retrieve his wand and sigh in relief as it's weight settled in his hand. He vowed to himself right then and there to never leave it again.

Taking a look around the room, he was pleasantly surprised. He admitted to himself that he had actually been expecting something damp and with torture instruments strewn about and laughed at himself for his imagination.

There was a serviceable desk to one side and an empty bookshelf to its left. The bed on the other side of the room was large but plain. It was comfortable though. The bedding was gray and at first seemed rather drab but upon further inspection, it had small designs of leaves on it and shone silver if the light hit it just right. It was very soft too. Harry was pleased with them. He thought they would be just warm enough for the dungeons. There were no pictures in the room or tapestries, but there was a rather thick and elaborately designed rug covering the center of the room. It was green in color and had gray and yellow leaves for the design.

Harry was quite satisfied with his quarters. They were plain but comfortable and the little decoration that there was, was very tasteful. He did wonder why Snape seemed to have so few personal possessions in the quarters that he lived in for most of the year. Three tapestries and some books could hardly be called very personal. It all seemed utilitarian with just a shot of taste.

But then, Harry thought, Snape couldn't have too much time for decoration. He had been a double agent, a teacher, a Potions Master responsible for stocking the school's and maybe even Voldemort's supplies. On top of his responsibility as the Head of Slytherin House and the personal knowledge Harry had of Snape's patrol duties at the school. All of a sudden, Harry wondered if Snape ever slept at all. Harry knew all too well what lack of sleep did to a person's mood and he was surprised to find sympathy within himself for Snape.

Here he was thinking about Snape again. Of course, he would be spending an entire summer with the man. But these thoughts were wasting time, so he bent down to put his books on the bookshelf. Then he placed his school supplies on the desk thinking that he'd put them away later. He figured that nearly 15 minutes had passed so he straightened his shirt and went out to meet Snape for dinner, slightly apprehensive.

Harry came out to see Snape preparing sandwiches from ingredients in the cupboards and an icebox in the kitchen area. He immediately wondered why the castle elves weren't serving them and although he never asked the question, Snape turned and spoke to him.

"The castle elves stay quite busy during the summer with repairs and other such jobs. Although they would be happy to serve dinner to any residents, it is just as easy to prepare our own meals and we will avoid being overfed. Now sit."

Harry wondered how the thin man before him could even worry about being overfed but wisely held his tongue. He felt like he was walking on eggshells. Snape was being curt but he hadn't said anything harsh or cruel yet. Perhaps he was just biding his time and waiting for Harry to give him a reason.

Harry was determined to not give him a reason though. It wasn't that Harry didn't think he could stand up for himself if something wasn't fair, but he truly didn't want to argue with the man or be disrespectful. And the more he found out about the Professor, either from being told or through observation, the more he wanted to understand the man and the more he respected him.

And there was no doubt in his mind now; he did respect Snape, for several reasons. For the way that Snape had battled the death eaters, for the control that Snape must have had to spy for so long and for the lives that he had saved because of his actions. That wasn't to mention the times that Snape had come to the rescue of the students here if the Headmaster was to be believed.

But then there were also the times that he was cruel and unfair, how he favored the Slytherins, letting them get away with everything. Harry was conflicted and nervous, sitting here in this room, alone with Snape. Would the man be nasty to him all summer long or would they reach some sort of truce? Harry sighed inwardly. He knew that Snape thought very little of him, so he would just have to make an extra effort to be courteous and respectful. After all, there was a lot that he could learn from the man.

Harry took a seat and ate quietly when Snape put the meal before him, being mindful of his manners. Snape ate across from him in silence. When they both finished, Harry waited patiently for Snape to speak.

At length, he did. "Mr. Potter, there will be rules here and I will expect them to be followed. You will find that unlike what you are used to, I will not turn a blind eye to any misbehavior. It is my responsibility to ensure your safety and see you healthy into the next school year. To that end, I will tell you exactly what I will expect from you and what you can expect from me."

Harry thought that that was very reasonable, especially for Snape. He was anxious to hear the expectations but found some measure of comfort in knowing that he would know exactly what he could expect from the adult he'd be staying with. In fact, he couldn't remember any time in his life when that had been the case. But this was Snape; a rock, implacable. And he believed that whether he liked what he was about to hear or not, Snape would take it seriously and keep his word, and there was a measure of comfort in that.

Snape was continuing. "Some ground rules then, Mr. Potter. You will not leave Hogwarts grounds nor enter the Forbidden Forest unless I am with you. The school and its grounds are open to you, but you will exercise caution. If at anytime you perceive anything that seems out of place or that could be a danger, you will inform me immediately, not deal with it yourself. Breakfast is at 8 AM, lunch at 1 PM and dinner at 6 PM. You will attend each one here and account for your day. There is no ‘bedtime,' but you are responsible for rising early enough to be presentable at breakfast. If I observe that you are incapable of setting yourself a proper bedtime though, I will do so for you. You will be in these quarters by 9 PM every night unless you have my permission to do otherwise. You may write to your friends but you may not tell them your whereabouts or anything that could lead them to conclude your whereabouts, nor will you tell them whom you are with. This school is safe, but there is no reason to invite danger should your owls be intercepted. As it is summertime, you will have much free time, but I demand that you spend at least a few hours each day in a productive manner. To this end, you may study any of the books that will open for you here or in the library. Should you feel you require a restricted book, you will tell me and I will decide whether you may have it or not. I will expect an account of what you have learned everyday at dinner. As for your free time, it is yours to decide. However, you will not fly on your broom without first asking permission.”

Snape paused. Harry had been wondering when he was going to pause, not that he had seemed that out of breath.

“As these rules are simple and not overly constrictive, they are not up for debate. Should you feel at anytime that you are above such rules, consider how unpleasant I can make your summer and possibly the rest of your school career.”

Oh yes, Harry believed him on that one.

“As for security, tomorrow morning after breakfast, I will discuss with you the measures I have taken and what is expected from you. Should you at any time entertain any foolish Gryffindor notion that you are so famous for that could result in any damage to this school, consider that these actions may result in the school's closure in the Fall. No matter how insignificant the consequences of your actions may seem to you, you will concede that I am far better equipped to assess such dangers. For tonight I will say only that I expect you to follow my orders without question, even if you yourself do not perceive any danger. You may expect that I will hold you to these rules Mr. Potter. If you break them, you will no doubt be wishing that you merely had to scrape cauldrons. I will put you to work Mr. Potter, if you cannot stay out of trouble."

Severus paused for a moment. The next part was the hardest to say but he had no doubt that it needed to be said. Potter had a right to know what he could expect from him. No matter how he felt about the boy, he was now his responsibility and Severus took that very seriously, so he ploughed on.

"You may rest assured that I will take my responsibility to you seriously. If you have any troubles, I will expect you to come to me immediately. If you are sick, I will heal you. If anything or anyone makes you uncomfortable, I will deal with it with you or for you. If you have any needs, you must tell me. If you have any questions, you come to me for answers. Now, is there any point that is still unclear to you Mr. Potter?"

"No sir, I understand."

Everything that Snape had said had been quite clear. Harry felt slightly insulted by some of Snape's words, but the man had said worse to him in the past. Although the words had been harsh and there seemed to be no room for compromise, Harry had to admit that they were fair and not overly constrictive. And that, from Snape, was nothing to argue with. Indeed, he'd have more freedom this summer than any other before.

And Snape's last words had been very reassuring. He could not remember ever having an adult tell him those things. They would say to contact them if he needed anything but Snape was demanding to be informed. It took the decision of whether to bother someone out of his hands and put it right where it belonged, in his guardian's hands. It seemed...right.

Snape nodded, pleased to have no argument. He was still tired from the events of the last two days and would not have been kind during an argument, no matter how necessary it was to assure the boy.

"Good. Now follow me to the infirmary. In the future, Potter, you will stay there until released or until I take you from there."

Harry recognized an order when he heard one. He was a little miffed that Snape could just walk out of the nurse's clutches but he couldn't. Wasn't he adult enough to know when he could leave or not? He really wanted to tell Snape this, but instead settled for imagining how the conversation would go. He rather thought that somehow Snape would win that argument so he didn't say a word. Instead he settled for asking Snape whether Madam Pomfrey and any other professors would be there over the summer.

"Madam Pomfrey will not be, but she will normally be available to return if necessary. And let us hope, Mr. Potter, that it will not be. Argus Filch lives here all year long. Professor Hagrid will be here off and on, but he has responsibilities that will take him away for large stretches of time. Professor Sprout may come occasionally to tend to her plants and Professor Firenze will be staying in his rooms and has asked to be undisturbed except in emergencies, which you will respect."

"Of course," Harry replied with no little indignation.

Snape really truly believed that he was that bad? Well, he had said as much before, but now it bothered Harry even more. He longed to explain all the situations that he had gotten into to Snape. They hadn't all been his fault. Why couldn't Snape ever give him the benefit of the doubt? Harry didn't quite understand why, but he wanted Snape to think better of him.

Snape continued after merely raising his eyebrows at Harry's interruption. "Trelawney's body will be in her tower and her mind will be in the clouds and both parts will remain there if we are lucky."

Harry snorted. Had Snape just cracked a joke?

"So only Professor Firenze, Mr. Filch and Trelawney will be here all summer, besides ourselves and occasionally the Headmaster. And Potter, do not, under any circumstances, do anything that would bring that...Trelawney, down from her tower. I am sure that that would greatly affect her inner eye and as we both already know that we are destined to die young and tragically, there is no reason to seek her wisdom further."

Harry burst out laughing. It really was too funny. He didn't know that his Professor had a sense of humor and even if he had given it thought, he never would have thought that Snape would let him hear it.

Snape rolled his eyes but had a smirk on his face nonetheless.

Harry couldn't help asking, "Sir, how often has she predicted your, um, grim future?"

Was that a smirk or a smile on Snape's face?

"Potter, it was a great shock to everyone that I made it through my first year as a teacher here. And I am grateful every year for my borrowed time. Now, get in there. I will wait outside here."

They were already at the infirmary. Harry groaned but promptly entered anyway. Unfortunately, Madam Pomfrey, who seemed to be used to the potions master's ways, stuck her head out the door and invited Snape in as well.

"Please rest for a moment Severus. I'm just going to have a look at Mr. Potter and then I'd like to make sure your back and chest are healing properly."

Harry was confused at her words. He didn't remember Snape's back being hurt last night. Perhaps there had been a previous wound? Snape sighed and sat on his bed.

That was when Harry saw the plaque.

When Madam Pomfrey turned back to Harry, she and Severus were startled to see the boy doubled over in laughter. "Potter, what is so funny?" Snape snapped.

Harry couldn't even talk so he just pointed to the head of Snape's bed. When Snape turned to look, Harry saw Madam Pomfrey smile wickedly and plant her hands on her hips. There on the headboard, a large bronze plate was attached with ‘Severus Snape' etched into it.

Turning back to Madam Pomfrey was a Snape with a sneer. She was nonplussed though.

"Well, I thought that, perhaps, if you felt more at home here, you might let me, for once, finish my job. And I wouldn't be laughing too hard Mr. Potter," she finished, pointing to the head of the bed right next door.

He looked and, true to her threat, there was his name on a plate too. Now it was his turn to scowl.

Pomfrey chuckled at the sight. These patients of hers were too much alike, not that she'd ever mention it. There was only so far she was willing to go to tease Severus in one day after all, lest he turn that razor sharp tongue on her.

Harry finally sat on his bed and it just figured that now Snape was smirking at him.

"Now, perhaps I will get some cooperation from the two of you," she said, glaring at each in turn.

Harry looked down sheepishly but Snape just turned on his trademark sneer, which Pomfrey decided to ignore.

"Now, lay back Mr. Potter." She began running her wand over him. When she was finished, she said, "Well, apart from a little muscle weakness, no doubt caused by your running off against my orders, you seem well recovered. Get plenty of sleep tonight and you should be fine."

Turning to Severus, she said, "Just in case he does have any soreness, he'll need to take your muscle relaxer. Now, let's see that back of yours. Off with your shirt."

If Harry didn't think it was highly unlikely, he could have sworn he heard Snape actually groan. Snape stood and stripped off his outer robes and his shirt. Harry nearly gasped in shock. He was covered in scars. They crisscrossed his chest, back and arms, shining pearly white in the lamplight. There were newer scars on his chest and shoulder from last night and these were still pink and raised. His back was one big bruise, as if he had been hit by something large and heavy or he had fallen a great distance. Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue at the bruises and scars but said nothing while she examined him.

Harry longed to ask where Snape had gotten all his scars but held his tongue. The nurse applied a balm to his back, chest and shoulders and when she finally finished bandaging his upper torso, she grabbed his arm and examined his dark mark.

Harry hadn't noticed at first, but the mark looked as though it had been recently branded into his arm. The skin was raised and red and looked blistered.

"Have the summonses stopped?" she asked Severus as she began bandaging his forearm.

"Yes. I suspect it was merely out of anger that he kept burning my mark. He will no doubt be moving onto other, more interesting plans of revenge now," Snape responded with a wry look.

"Oh," she gulped. "Well, how fortunate for us." She looked like she was thinking anything but that but let the subject drop.

Snape pulled his shirt back on quickly when she was done examining him. The nurse placed her hands on her hips and took to glaring at the both of them. "Now, I'll be leaving tonight, but if I find that either of you have been over-exerting yourselves, I will call for back-up and force you both to stay here. I expect you both to get plenty of sleep tonight and take it easy for a couple days. And Severus, don't forget to bandage that back and chest twice a day."

She took a moment longer to glare at the two of them. Severus looked mutinous as always, but she knew that he would at least change his bandages. Harry was looking at his lap, most likely pretending to feel chagrined.

She sighed. Why she had to be both blessed and cursed by the care of the two most difficult and frequently injured people in all of Britain was beyond her. There was one large benefit to it though. Over the years, she was certain that her medical skills had been put to the test and improved. She was even considering taking the tests to become a full-fledged medi-healer this year, although she would have to brush up on medical potions since Severus had been her crutch in that area.

Finally, she sighed. "Very well. Have a good summer you two. And do try to stay all in one piece, if not for your own sakes, then at least for mine."

Harry said "Goodnight." He was surprised to see Snape smiling a little when he said "Good night Madam."

With that she left to pack in her office, smiling at Severus' quirks. Snape enjoyed giving Pomfrey a hard time, but in the end, it was always her that seemed to find him out when he was injured and healed him. She had become something of a friend to him over the years, just as the previous school nurse had been when he was just a student. So in the end, he could hardly deny her a small smile as she left for the summer. Besides, it was not as though he could not smile or did not enjoy doing it. He just thought that it was hilarious that most people believed him incapable of it.

When Snape finished dressing, he walked out of the infirmary with a "Come Potter," thrown over his shoulder. Harry felt a little like a puppy taking orders like that, but again, felt that it would be best to keep that to himself.

They walked all the way to the dungeons in silence and when they reached their quarters, Snape pointed to Harry's door and said, "Bed, Potter, and do not miss breakfast. If you oversleep, you will not like my method of waking you." And with that, Snape went to his own room and closed the door behind him.

Well, thought Harry, this night could have gone much worse. In fact, it had actually gone pretty well. Harry hoped that the rest of the summer went as smoothly. And hopefully he wouldn't feel like he was walking on eggshells for the rest of it. But he doubted it. Even though his perception of Snape may have changed drastically, there was no hope that Snape's perception of him had changed. These thoughts occupied his mind as he readied for bed, but when his head hit the pillow, he fell asleep almost instantly. Perhaps he had been more tired than he had thought.

--

The next morning may have dawned bright, but neither Snape nor Harry would know as they were in the dungeons. It seemed that they were both early risers though, as they entered the common room at nearly the same time, Harry just a few minutes after Snape.

"Good morning sir," Harry said.

Snape was wondering what had gotten into Boy Wonder to make him so polite recently but replied anyway with a "Potter" and a nod of his head, which was more than most people got. Snape reasoned that since they would have to live together for the next three months, he might as well at least start the day out well.

Not for the first time since yesterday morning, he found himself wondering why he had ever agreed to take on the task of babysitting Potter. Each time he asked himself the question though, he came back with the same answer; because he didn't trust anyone else to do it properly. And every time he came back with that answer, he asked himself why he cared. His answer to that was that it would save him a lot of work running after the boy when he got himself into trouble, and he actually believed himself when he thought that.

Moving toward the kitchen, Snape started making the strongest tea he had available. Unlike Potter, he had not gone off to sleep immediately, despite being tired enough to do so. He had rolled from his bruised back to his slashed chest to his injured right shoulder and finally settled for the least painful position of sleeping on his left side. Sleep had still evaded him though, so he had gone to his potions closet to get a mild pain reliever.

As he had passed by Potter's door, he thought he had heard something so he stopped to check on him. Perhaps he had been worried that Potter was having another vision, but he couldn't remember even bothering to justify it to himself last night.

When he stepped into the room, he realized that he had simply heard Potter shifting in his sleep. He didn't appear to be having any trouble sleeping though. It had seemed odd to Severus actually, standing there in that room and watching the boy sleep. He looked entirely different; younger and more innocent.

Snape had snorted at his own idiocy. He might look that way when he was sleeping but when he was awake, trouble could find him in even the safest places. Sighing, he closed the door and went back to his own room, downing the potion as he went. It wouldn't do for him to take a sleeping potion with Potter in his care. The Headmaster had chosen him to watch over the boy for a reason. No matter that they were inside Hogwart's formidable wards and Snape's own private wards surrounding his rooms. Snape was paranoid enough that he wanted to be able to wake immediately if there was trouble, either from Potter or from some mutual enemy of theirs.

He sighed again before finally allowing sleep to claim him. His last thoughts were that this summer was going to be a very stressful one. He had said that Potter would have his own personal free time, but that did not mean that Snape didn't feel bound to keep tabs on him. Watching out for the boy had become as mandatory for Snape as breathing over the years and he would not stop now.

Harry had followed Snape over to the kitchen counter. "May I help with breakfast, sir?" he inquired politely.

Now Snape was scowling. "And what, Potter, do you know about cooking?"

"Actually, a lot sir," Harry said with pride. "I did quite a bit of the cooking and chores at my Aunt and Uncle's house."

Snape was only surprised for a moment. "Is that so? Very well, Mr. Potter. There are eggs in the cold box there and pans in that cupboard. I take mine hardboiled."

As they worked, Snape's mind drifted to thoughts of the boy standing near him. He recalled from their Occlumency lessons that Potter's home life seemed to consist of a great deal of misery, but since he hadn't seen any outright abuse, he had let it go. And he had investigated. No, Potter was unloved but untouched. And there was nothing to be done for him in that case. He knew from personal experience that children could survive much worse that what he had seen in Potter's memories.

Not that he approved of that sort of treatment, although there were quite a few people that would not believe that. He knew that there were many that thought that if given the chance, he would be an abusive guardian, but nothing could be further from the truth. He was not a parent to his students. He was their teacher and as such, thought there were many benefits to learning the harsher lessons in life, like how incompetence would get you nowhere. But his own childhood had taught him many lessons about how a guardian should and should not act towards their wards. He truly believed that being a guardian came with great responsibility that no one with any pride could take lightly.

And he could not abide outright child abuse. Indeed, throughout his years as a teacher, he had dealt with many abused children and their parents. As the ones he dealt with were almost entirely from his own house, he had often taken to dealing with the situation outside of the usual methods. He did, after all, have quite an unsavory reputation in Wizarding Britain, which he was not above using to his and his students' benefits. While he would have preferred to go through the usual lines of dealing with abused students, he was always very careful to keep his students' confidence. It wouldn't do to embarrass his Slytherin families when he could just as easily deal with the situation internally.

In fact, the only people that thought that Snape would be abusive were the people who didn't know how he treated his Slytherins. They were his responsibility for longer every year than they were their parents. And the general prejudice against Slytherins made his protection of them even fiercer. There was not one Slytherin that had graduated under his watchful eye that he had not supported in one way or another. Indeed, almost all of his Slytherins still contacted him and it was from some of these ex-students that Snape expected to hear information about Voldemort's movements.

To many in the world, Severus Snape was a man of questionable character. To his Slytherin students, he was their protector, teacher and sometimes father. If the rest of the school thought that he was unfair, he didn't care one bit. Whatever his serpents required him to be, he was. Perhaps it was his years as a spy that allowed him to slip from disciplinarian to comforter but whatever the inspiration, not one Slytherin doubted their Professor.

Although Severus was a little worried about the return of some of his serpents this year. Still, he knew them all even better than their own parents did and he would deal with them all when the time came. And if he had to, he would protect each and every one of them from the service that some of the parents would demand they enter; that of the Dark Lords.

Snape was now set with the strange task of deciding how to deal with Potter. The boy was his student but not one of his serpents and for the summer, he was also his ward. Although Potter was nearly 16, he was still of an age that he would require guidance and Snape didn't think for one second that Potter wouldn't need even more than most other children his age. Snape also didn't think for one second that he could ever be the paternal type all the time, at least not anymore, and certainly not to Potter. Their history alone would make that laughable.

But, he was no longer a spy. He had been thinking about his life ever since he had heard that Potter had been kidnapped and he had come to the realization that much of what he had previously lived for no longer had any meaning. Oh, he still had connections and would be able to bring back some valuable information from time to time, but there was no longer any point in subterfuge. He no longer had to report to a megalomaniac intent on making his minions prove their loyalty over and over.

Still, the question of how to act with Potter was weighing greatly on his mind. There was no doubt in his mind that things should change. There was also little doubt that things could perhaps change. His own instinctive reaction whenever Potter landed himself in danger was telling even to a man that had no basis to judge real relationships any longer.

Even though his whole life appeared to be a carefully constructed lie, there were some things that Severus Snape knew to be true about himself. After all, one had to know oneself in order to do what he had done for years. There were many, he knew, that would say that living a lie precedes believing a lie and that might be true for most people. But Snape had always been very careful of that. He had had to be. If he had ever once let his guard down, he knew that he would have been inviting darkness in. The things that he had seen and done would have made him a cruel man in reality instead of just in appearance if he had lost himself at any point.

And Snape knew that he could guide Potter, that he could protect him. And although he had done so reluctantly at first, he knew now that there was no other option for him any longer. As he had thought many times before in an attempt to justify his motives, one could not spend so much of one's life looking out for another person without caring at all what happened to that person. And that was the case with Potter, no matter how the boy irritated him.

This internal rant could only end in one conclusion for Snape. He was Potter's guardian now. He even admitted to himself that he had seen himself as such for a long time now. And even if Potter went to someone else at the end of the summer, nothing would change for Snape. Harry Potter had become his responsibility because a long time ago he had chosen to make him his responsibility and it was now time to take it to the next level and guide the boy into adulthood.

That was if he could. There was the little problem of their mutual dislike, although, for some reason, Snape thought that that wouldn't be such an issue. Potter was acting very strangely towards him, but it was a step in the right direction, not in the wrong one, so it would have to do as a basis. As for him, well, he was a master at acting.

Harry was unaware of Snape's thoughts while he cooked, but if he had been privy to that information he would have been pleasantly surprised. The truth was that Harry Potter was thinking some very similar thoughts, though from a very different perspective.

There had been no doubt in his mind two days ago that the Professor hated him. That had all changed yesterday. He could not stop thinking about the Intent Spell that Dumbledore had told him about. He had at first been embarrassed because if he was honest with himself, he had felt better during that spell than at any other time that he could remember. And that was saying a lot since that spell had been spoken during a wild flight for their lives from Voldemort. He did not believe for a second afterwards that Snape had actually meant any of that though, at least not consciously.

His dream that night in the hospital wing had shown him the lie that he was telling to himself though. He had wanted that feeling of being watched over to be real. He had wanted to feel protected and watched over because he was sick of always being afraid but having to act like he wasn't. He wanted to be able to rely on an adult with more experience and knowledge. He wanted to have someone that could tell him what to do when things got too crazy. And he realized with a shock that he had wanted his cruel professor, who had hated his father and all his friends, to be that man.

He could not at first understand it. And he certainly thought that he was betraying James Potter and Sirius and even Remus by even thinking it. But he couldn't help his thoughts from turning in that direction anyway, especially after his talk with the Headmaster. He realized during that talk that the man that he had never trusted had been the one man that had tried to save him over and over.

But it was more than that. He was the one man that had the abilities to do so. He was paranoid, attentive, intelligent and, Harry knew after their escape, ruthless. Harry also believed that he might be one of the bravest men he had ever met, especially after Dumbledore's tale last night. And all of these came together to make Harry believe that Snape would make a good guardian.

But there was the matter of how Snape treated him. When he had first heard that he'd be staying with Snape, he had been dreading it. When he had gone down to the lake yesterday and thought about it, he had been hesitantly looking forward to it. He wanted so badly to prove himself to Snape; to be worthy of the man's protection. He had no false hopes that Snape would ever come to care for him. He was even unwilling to admit that he wanted that. What would everyone think of him? He was actively trying to earn...what? Snape's respect? Snape's protection? Snape's...concern?

It all came back to that Intent Spell. Dumbledore had said that Snape must really intend to keep Harry safe if he had used that spell. There was no doubt in Harry's mind how pathetic he was for wanting this. He had done things that the other students here could only gossip about. And yet all he wanted was someone to rely on. Why not Remus or Mrs. Weasley or even Dumbledore? Why not someone who made it clear that they wanted him rather than someone who showed him only contempt? Was he really so needy that he had to have this man's affection too?

He could tell himself all he wanted that it was only a matter of preparing himself for battle that made him want to earn Snape's trust, but in the end, his mind would wander back to the feeling that had washed over him during the spell and he would dwell on his dream and he would analyze Dumbledore's story of Snape's services. And he wanted to groan from the futility of it all. Professor Snape didn't care about anyone, especially not the son of his childhood enemy.

Or did he? The Headmaster had made it clear to Harry yesterday that he thought of Snape as a father would a son. Madam Pomfrey was clearly concerned about Snape and even dared to tease him. And Snape had smiled at her as one would a friend. And yesterday, Snape had been completely...different. He hadn't insulted Harry. Well, not like he usually did. And he had even made jokes about Trelawney when it had only been Harry to hear him. These were not the actions of a man who cared about no one. And who could do what Snape had done for all those years if he cared for no one? He at least had to care about humanity in general to go through what he must have, didn’t he?

And last night, Snape had told him exactly what he expected from Harry and what Harry could expect from him. He had clearly stated that Harry could and should go to him with any problems. Maybe Snape was only saying that out of duty, but those words from Snape combined with the Intent Spell gave Harry a strange sense of hope that Snape really was on his side.

Harry and Snape both ate in silence for some time, until Snape broke it by saying, "Tell me Potter, are you capable of preparing other meals or does your knowledge not extend past boiling water?"

Harry gritted his teeth but tried to answer in a level tone. The man just could not be pleasant. That had to be it. Maybe he had been cursed into being such a bloody git.

"Yes sir. I can prepare many meals."

Snape nodded. "In that case, there may be days that I will expect you to cook meals when I am too busy to do so. It is best to keep all of one's skills honed, no matter how trivial."

"Yes sir."

Rising from the table, Snape spoke again. "I will be checking on the wards this morning. I will expect you in here at 10:30 to discuss the security plans."

He started to walk away but Harry called after him. "Sir, may I go with you? I, um, would like to see how the wards work."

Snape considered him for a moment. Harry didn't even know where that had come from. He was curious about the wards, but did he really want to spend more time with Snape? Yes and no.

Finally Snape answered. "Very well, Potter. These are skills you should learn."

With that he walked out with Harry on his heels. As they walked, Snape handed him a bracelet and began speaking. "The other three occupants of this castle have alarms installed in their quarters to alert them to danger, as do the castle elves. They have all been instructed to leave via portkey at any sign of danger. I have made a portkey for you as well, which you will wear at all times around your wrist, even in sleep. To activate it, you merely say ‘portus' while touching your wand to it. If I tell you to use it, or if you find yourself in danger, activate it immediately and without question. I have placed spells on it that will alert me if you have had to use it. It will take you to a small property that I own that is quite hidden and safe. There is food and floo powder there. If I do not arrive behind you within ten hours time, you will floo immediately to Grimmauld Place only and stay there. Also, it is imperative that we be able to communicate immediately in this castle. Therefore, you will always carry with you this hand mirror."

Snape handed Harry a small compact that opened to show a mirror. It was plain and did not look at all feminine, which Harry would have been grateful for had he not felt a lump rise in his throat at the sight of a mirror.

Sirius had given him a mirror that did the same thing as this one. If only he had used it, he could have contacted Sirius and he wouldn't be dead now. It hadn't even been that long ago. Hot tears of grief and guilt were threatening Harry's eyes. He took the compact but held his head down, willing Snape to look away, but the man didn't, nor did he start walking again.

Severus held the mirror out for Potter to take and was surprised to find the boy's hands shaking as he took it. What was even more odd was the fact that Potter kept his head down, where only moments before he had been paying close attention. The part of his face that Severus could see was all of a sudden pale and the boy's shoulders were stiff and still. What the hell was wrong with the boy now?

"Are you ill Mr. Potter?" he asked.

Without looking up, Harry shook his head, trying to dispel his grief and focus on the Professor's words. For a moment he thought that he wouldn't be able to speak without his voice cracking, but finally, he said, "I'm fine sir," without his voice shaking. He took a few more moments to crush his guilt and then finally raised his head when he thought that he was under control.

Snape was watching him intently and it made him very shy all of a sudden. He didn't want the man to see this weakness of his. He didn't want anyone to see his guilt.

Severus was not a fool, nor was Potter so difficult to read. Remus had told Albus about Black's mirror, who in turn had told Severus. Poor Potter had no secrets at all. Even if he hadn't known about the mirror, he would still have known that look anywhere; the look of guilt.

Guilt was a part of war, especially if you chose your role. For a man who disliked excuses so much, he recognized the necessity of excusing oneself from time to time, if only to maintain control and sanity. And on the positive side, mistakes led to lessons when they did not lead to death. After all, to err was human. But to err over and over again was just stupidity.

There was a part of Severus that recognized that Potter and Black's predicament was tragic and unjust, but there was an equally large part that saw that Potter and Black had made the same mistakes over and over and it was high time that Potter learned from them. This guilt that was apparent on Potter's face was good for him...for now. As long as it faded with time and was replaced by more mature rationality, Severus felt no need to extend himself to try and speak to Potter about it, not least because he was not really very sorry at all.

He had done his duty and had even gone beyond it by giving Black a perfectly good reason to stay away from the fight. Severus had to admit though, had he had any respect for Black to begin with, he would have lost it all if he hadn't gone to save his godson. He could not imagine not going to his own if Draco needed him. Beyond that, the Order could go hang itself if they thought he was going to mourn with them. For him it was enough to say that, yes, he did feel the gravity of the situation and, no, he was not celebrating Black's death. He could even admit to a sad sort of nostalgia, knowing that his childhood enemy had died. But he did not mourn. And the Order never mourned with him, not that they even knew he mourned. What would they think if they knew that he mourned the death of every enemy, even when he caused it? No, it was best to keep that quiet.

Harry was just now starting to think that maybe it was a mistake, coming out here with Snape. No matter what had happened in the last few days, nothing had really changed between them at all. Harry still felt just as uncomfortable in the man's presence as before, unable to ask questions or make any conversation at all. And he would have loved to change the subject just now. Now, with the reminder of Sirius' recent death and his own part in it, he wanted nothing more than to think up an excuse and escape to other parts of the castle to be alone.

But on a happier note, Snape completely ignored what Harry had thought was his very obvious anguish and turned away to continue onto the wards. Harry fell into step behind him and followed silently, hoping that Snape would say something in character to bring back a sense of normalcy. And at length, he did.

"Keep that mirror on you at all times Mr. Potter. If I am ever unable to reach you, I will assume the worse and call for backup. If you are unable to reach me, raise an alarm spell and then portkey away immediately and go straight to Grimmauld Place through the floo. Do not hesitate to do this; it is better to be safe than dead. The alarm will alert the others in the castle and you may rest assured that they will escape without hesitation as well." Snape stopped and turned to Harry abruptly then and Harry almost fell trying not to bump into him. A hand shot out to steady him and then just as quickly retreated. When Harry looked up, Snape was looking very serious, even more so than usual. "You must have your wand on you at all times Potter, is that clear?" Harry nodded his head adamantly. Oh yes, that was very clear to him after the last few days.

Snape knew that he had been clear, but knowing Potter, he would try doing something foolish or heroic. "Mr. Potter, in war, it is imperative that each person do their part. If you do not follow my directions, then I or others, yourself included, may be placed in danger. When there is a plan, you must trust that others are doing their part and act accordingly. No heroics Mr. Potter, I am warning you!"

"Well it's a lot easier to do when you know the plan," Harry mumbled. He was thinking of all last year when no one had told him anything. No matter how guilty he felt he still got angry over that. If Dumbledore or anyone had just told him what was going on, none of it would have happened!

Severus clenched his fist once, then let it go. Disrespectful tone aside, Potter was completely right. He probably didn't understand it from a more experienced viewpoint, having never really led disciplined men into battle, but he was right. Even if you didn't know the entire story, having a good idea of the plan and understanding the dangers was tantamount to success. And Severus congratulated himself on being right. Potter being able to say out loud, to him of all people, that what had happened in the last month was not entirely of his own making was progress. But it wouldn't make him forget his lapses in judgment and that would be a valuable lesson.

Harry recoiled slightly after having said that. He shouldn't forget that no matter what Snape had done for him, this was the same man that had lobbed a jar of cockroaches at his head. Although, to be fair, that was for an offence quite a bit more serious than just speaking his mind. Snape stared him in the eye for several tense seconds, seeming to look for something. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him, because he nodded once, turned on his heel and started walking again.

"Quite right Potter," he began speaking again. "Though a person must also prove themselves worthy of such knowledge. You will appreciate the danger of the situation now, I think. Make sure you act appropriately."

Harry nodded, though Snape didn't notice it. After several moments of walking in silence toward the gates, Snape pointed out toward the grounds and began speaking. He slipped easily into the role of teacher and lecturer.

"Wards are complicated magic and often require the use of several wizards and witches. Unlike shield spells, they have the benefit of being longer lasting and being able to be layered, one over the other. The wards here are some of the oldest and strongest, not to mention the rarity and number of them. Indeed, it rivals that of many magical institutions across the world. Their complexity makes their study quite laborious but the fruits of such labor are great. Wizarding families to the one employ wards and are constantly changing and improving them, even in times of relative peace."

Snape stopped and narrowed his eyes against the late morning sun. Harry watched him, marveling at how much he had to learn. Still looking into the sky, Snape spoke. "There is no one spell for good wards, rather a construct of the ward must be held in the minds of all casting it and held in detail while it is created. Its purpose must be fully understood, it's nature felt, before one can make it a reality." Snape looked back down at Harry. "You will appreciate how complicated that can be when more than one witch or wizard attempts to create a strong ward. Simpler wards can be constructed easily enough and there are defined spells for them. But just as easily, they can be breached. Still, no matter where you go, your first action should be to erect these wards. They give you time to make decisions and that can mean the difference between life and death."

Snape looked toward the gates, which stood directly before them, not ten meters away. Harry watched in confusion as Snape raised his arms and waved his hands in the air before him, a look of deep concentration on his face. After only a few seconds, his hands stilled and it looked like he was trying to grip the very air. He mumbled under his breath for a moment and then dropped his hands again and turned back to Harry.

"There are wards that encompass all of Hogwart's grounds. Many have been standing here since the school was founded. Others have been added with each new Headmaster or Headmistress. It lies within their purview to add or take down wards, but all the Heads of House may raise or strengthen them on his or her own as needed. If you are even capable of sensing the wards, you will immediately grasp how complex they are. There are many who have devoted several years of study to wards but that is not in our capabilities here. It will suffice for you to learn to recognize wards and their nature, and create small emergency wards. Even learning to strengthen wards that you have not created can take quite a long time, so we'll ignore that for now."

Harry nodded and then Snape gestured to the air around them. "Close your eyes and raise your hands Mr. Potter," he instructed and Harry did so at once. "What do you feel when you cast a spell? Think back on it. Do you feel a shock or a warm glow? That is how magic feels to you and that is what you are looking for now. All spells feel different and it matters who cast it as well. But that feeling in your hands when you cast a spell, that will be your guide to finding magical residue." Snape watched Harry wave his hands around quietly for a moment.

After several seconds of this, Harry sighed and dropped his arms. "I don't feel anything." Snape made a low sound in his throat then reached out and grabbed Harry's arm, bringing it back up. "Hold still Mr. Potter and listen to me carefully," he said. Harry nodded, eyes still closed. Snape reached forward and grabbed his hands between his own and then moved them further up, until Harry had to practically stand on his toes to reach.

"There is a chord just here Mr. Potter," Snape's voice came from right behind him. "Do you feel it? It is practically in your hands. It only waits on you to recognize it." Harry spread his fingers and then contracted them into a fist, thinking it was pointless. Then a shock of energy passed through his hands. He jumped back, eyes wide open and stumbled right into Snape, who let go and grunted. His head had smacked into Snape's jaw. Oops!

"I felt it!" Harry exclaimed. And then he turned around and his excitement left him as he saw Snape rubbing his jaw and looking quite displeased.

"What a thrill," Snape said in a very deadpan voice.

Harry cracked a smile then and turned back around, waving his hands around blindly in front of him. After a moment, he gripped a chord of energy and exclaimed again. "I've got it!"

Snape moved to his left side and crossed his arms. "Now hold it in your hands and your mind Potter, and then open your eyes."

Harry did so and what he saw took his breath away. There, before him, stretching in an arc over the castle behind him and plunging into the dirt below, were crisscrossing bands of energy, weaved together like a dense spider's web. "Woah!"

"Quite. Now pay attention," Snape said. And then he too raised his arms and took a strand into his hands. After a moment more, Harry's eyes widened.

"Something's happening. They feel stronger or something."

"So eloquent," Snape snorted. Then he dropped his hands and Harry followed suit. Immediately the wards disappeared from Harry's vision. "What you felt was me strengthening the wards, though they were in relatively good repair already. There are many more than just the ones you felt here."

Snape turned and started walking toward the forbidden forest. "There are two types of wards; personal and positional. Within these there are two subgroups; benign and malignant. Both serve good purposes and you will find both at Hogwarts. Benign wards are those that hide a place or person, disallow entrance and absorb outside spells. Care to guess, Mr. Potter, what malignant wards do?"

"Um, they zap intruders?" Harry asked.

Snape stopped and crossed his arms. He looked down at Harry over his nose as though he were an insignificant ant. "Oh, very well done Mr. Potter. Five years of magical training and essay writing and your best response is that malignant wards zap intruders." Snape uncrossed his arms and continued to walk, oblivious to Harry's red face or clenched fists. "At your age, Mr. Potter, you should be developing a larger vocabulary and more eloquent style. But then, after reading your essays, I am not surprised."

"Well then, what do they do?" Harry asked indignantly.

"Respect Potter!" Snape snapped. At the dark look on Snape's face, Harry shoved his hands in his pocket and muttered "Sorry Professor." It was still a little insolent but Snape ignored it.

Snape said nothing for several minutes. When he stopped walking, he reached up for another strand of the wards and muttered for a moment. Still holding the chord, he told Harry to take up a chord. Harry reached forward and felt for it. This time it didn't take a long time to find it. When he had it, he looked over to see Snape smirking at him. "You asked what malignant wards do Mr. Potter?"

Harry had only a second to fully appreciate his meaning before he felt a jolt in his hand and was thrown to his backside. He scowled and glared back up at Snape who was leaning over him, closer to laughing than Harry had ever seen him. "I should not have been harsh on you Potter. They can, in fact, zap."

Snape held his hand out but Harry just growled at it and pulled himself up. "Come Potter, you should know that experience teaches far better than any lecture," Snape said, smiling nastily. Then he turned and started walking back to the castle. Over his shoulder, he added, "Malignant wards, especially that last one, can do far more than ‘zap' intruders Mr. Potter. It can trap them, knock them unconscious, release toxins; in short, there is no end to the number of unpleasant things they can do if one is clever and powerful enough to create it. But the more damaging, the more difficult and illegal the ward becomes. You'll find many of these wards in very old ancestral homes and they are so powerful that only the sacrifice of blood could have created them."

Harry swallowed, trying to think what Snape meant by sacrifice. They walked in silence back to the castle. The shock hadn't really hurt, it had just surprised him, but still, he rubbed the place where it had hit him. Snape was right, experience was the best teacher. He wondered briefly how much of what Snape had learned had been by experience.

When they got back into the castle, Snape moved toward the dungeons and Harry started following. Just as they got to the top of the steps, Snape stopped and turned around. "Go do something constructive Potter. Lunch will be delayed by an hour today." Then without another word, he disappeared down the steps.

"Right," Harry mumbled to himself as he turned around to walk back outside. It was a nice day after all. When he slipped out the doors, he saw a figure hurrying up the path and fingered the mirror and his wand. Was someone here expecting company? He had his answer right away though as the man came closer and Harry recognized him as Remus Lupin.

"Remus!" Harry called as he set off down the path to intercept the man, who was walking fast. "How are you? What are you doing here?" he asked, as he got closer.

Remus smiled and waved back. When they got closer, Remus laid a hand on his shoulder. "You're feeling well then? I was surprised when the Headmaster told me you were already out of the hospital."

"Oh, it wasn't really bad. Just a few broken ribs."

"And a broken ankle from what I heard," Remus said with a frown.

Harry shrugged. "It's all better now. What are you doing here though? Not that I'm not happy to see you!" he rushed on. "I just hope nothing's wrong."

Remus laughed. "No Harry, nothing's wrong. I was just coming to see the Headmaster and Severus."

"Oh, well Snape's in the dungeons. I haven't seen the Headmaster."

Remus frowned again. "Harry, is Severus..." he stopped and seemed to think better of what he was going to say. Instead he asked, "How are you and Professor Snape getting along?"

Harry shrugged again. "Well enough I guess. He showed me the wards today."

Remus nodded and then took a deep breath. "Harry, a lot of the Order offered to take you in for the summer. I don't want you to think that we didn't want you. I offered straight away. And Molly, well she threw a fit, especially after Severus arrived and told her that you were staying with him."

"Oh...oh, well. That's all right. Thanks Remus."

Remus put his arm around Harry's shoulder and they walked back up to the castle. After a moment, Remus chuckled and looked down at Harry. "I've rarely seen Molly so angry and Severus so irritable. Well, perhaps I've seen Severus that irritable before," he said with a smile.

"Huh," Harry answered with a slight smile. Yes, it made sense that Professor Snape would be irritable. He probably didn't want Harry to be here with him ruining his summer breaks. Remus kept talking and it took Harry a minute to absorb what he was saying.

"He refused point blank to give up responsibility of you, even when it looked like the Headmaster might be willing to reconsider. He shot down everyone's offer for some reason or other and then, when Molly still insisted, he challenged her wards."

"Oh...oh! That couldn't have gone well."

Remus laughed outright then. "She took him up on it of course. We went straight to the Weasley's and waited inside. It only took him ten minutes to bring the wards down. Needless to say, Molly and Arthur and the rest of the Order have been busy beefing up their security."

Harry just shook his head. So Snape had refused to let anyone else watch over him. His initial reaction of anger was immediately replaced by something far more pleasant. Snape probably didn't like him still, but he at least cared enough to fight even the Order for his safety. While he would have liked to be in on the decision, he had to admit that he felt a lot better knowing that he was safe. He had had enough close calls in the last month and just wanted to relax.

But when did all this happen? "Wait! When did this happen?"

"Oh, yesterday afternoon. Severus told us you were still recovering in the hospital wing." So that meant that there had been an Order meeting right after he had talked to the Headmaster and before Snape had retrieved him from beside the lake. Snape was certainly a busy man.

Before they reached the castle, Remus stopped and looked at Harry seriously. "Harry, Severus is a good man. A brave, good man, but he can be very harsh. I'm sure he'll treat you just fine. But I just want you to know that I'm here for you. If you ever need to talk to me or something happens, you know you can come to me right?"

"Of course Remus," Harry answered, although he was confused by what Remus could mean. Did he think Snape was going to beat him or something? Remus just looked relieved and dropped the subject.

"I'll just run along and find the Headmaster. When I'm done, I'll be stopping by Severus' rooms. The full moon and all..." he trailed off.

"Is he making the Wolfsbane then?" Harry asked.

"Yes, though I can't imagine he's had time for it. It takes several hours to brew. I'll just stop in and see when I can pick it up. I still have a few days yet."

They parted ways at the stairs and Harry walked back down to the dungeons. He still had a good half hour before lunch, but he didn't know what he could do in that short time, so he made his way to his room and rearranged everything. Stepping back, something occurred to him as he looked at his stuff on the bookshelf and desk. This was the first time that he had ever been allowed to put his stuff out in his own room. Even in Gryffindor tower, he had kept his stuff in his trunk. It was strange that in this place, he would feel like he had his own personal home for the first time ever.

Harry came out of his room to see Snape seated at the kitchen table with his shirt off and bandages littering the table. The man seemed so frustrated with the wrappings that he didn't even acknowledge Harry's presence. Harry stood in the doorway trying to decide exactly what he should be doing in this situation.

Snape's back was still bruised but it was slowly fading and the cuts on his chest were less angry looking than they had been, though Harry could see that they still needed to be bandaged. He could hear Snape swearing under his breath as he twisted in his seat to wrap the bandage around his torso.

When Snape twisted the last of the bandage around himself, he caught sight of Potter standing in the door of his room watching him. He scowled at the boy, hoping that Potter would go away until dinner was ready. No such luck. Instead the boy moved into the room and towards the counter.

Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other when he got to the counter. By now, Snape had crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair. Now he was just watching him with something like curiosity.

"Potter," Snape snapped. Harry went still and watched the professor watching him. "What are you doing?"

"I um..." Harry cast around in his head for something to say. What had he been doing? He should have just gone back to his room. Instead he had briefly entertained the idea of offering to help Snape with his bandages, but had not gotten up the courage before Snape had finished himself. "I was going to offer to make dinner," he said in a rush.

Snape blinked, then stood in one smooth motion. "Very well, you know where everything is."

He started walking to his own room when Harry asked, "What would you like to eat sir?"

Without stopping Snape said, "Just make sure whatever it is, it is edible Potter."

He got to his door and started to open it when Harry remembered Remus was coming down. "Wait! Professor." Snape stopped with his hand on the doorknob and sighed irritably before turning back around and fixing Harry with a mild glare.

"What Potter?"

"I saw Remus a little bit ago. He said he was going to be stopping by later."

Yep, Harry knew that look. It was a cross between I'm going to kill something and why me? "And did he say why he was stopping by?" Snape managed to ask in a deceptively calm voice.

"I think it was about the Wolfsbane sir," Harry answered, hoping that Remus wouldn't get hexed. He knew now, or at least had an idea, why Snape hated Remus and his friends so much, but it was always something to see the look on Snape's face at the mention of them. It reminded Harry of how Sirius and Snape had argued last year and how cold and cruel Snape had been. Sirius would just get angrier and angrier, but Snape had always just sneered cruelly.

Harry didn't really have time to think more on the subject because before Snape could turn and stalk back into his room, there was a knock on the door. Harry made to walk to the door and answer it but stopped when Snape snapped at him to stay put and get his wand out. Then Snape was pulling his own wand out and stalking to the door. When he got closer, he waved his wand and part of the door became clear. Harry could see that along with Remus, Albus Dumbledore was standing behind the door smiling. Snape scowled, pocketed his wand and wrenched the door open.

"Yes," he snapped. The Headmaster seemed unconcerned by his tone but Remus flinched just the slightest bit.

"Ah Severus, may we come in?" Snape moved away and let them enter, then slammed the door shut behind them. Harry smiled and waved at the two men before Snape snapped at him to get busy on dinner. Then Snape crossed his arms and stared at the two men.

"May we sit Severus?" Albus asked politely.

"Be my guest," Snape said with a sneer, watching Remus the whole time.

Remus, meanwhile, was watching Harry get the cooking supplies out but turned his attention back to Snape when the Headmaster spoke again.

"I see your wounds are healing Severus. I hope you're feeling better." Remus' eyes landed on Snape and he realized for the first time that Snape was only wearing pants, boots and a white bandage around his torso. He drew in a breath at the number of scars that crisscrossed Severus' body. They rivaled the number on his own!

Snape crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "They are improving. To what do I owe the pleasure Headmaster?" Snape had slipped back into what for him passed as polite it seemed and Harry turned his attention fully back to the cooking, but kept an ear out for their conversation anyway.

"Remus and I were just discussing the new wards on the Order safe houses before we came down here," Albus answered. Snape finally pushed off the wall and settled himself in a chair facing the other two. He took his wand out and flicked it and a shirt flew from his room and into his hands. After he had put it over his head, he leaned back in his chair, put his fingertips together and raised an eyebrow.

"And I assume that that is going well?" he asked.

It was Remus that answered. "It was Molly and Arthur that were most concerned. They moved their two youngest into Grimmauld Place while they were fixing the wards."

Albus chuckled. "I have to say, Molly was in a state of shock when you brought her wards down. She's been going on and on about how you could have managed it."

"How did you bring them down so quickly Severus?" Remus asked.

Harry turned his head slightly to get a better view of Snape as he cut the potatoes into slices.

"Ah that. It is something the death eaters will surely know how to do."

"Blood sacrifice?" Albus asked.

Snape nodded curtly and Harry's knife slipped. "OW!"

Remus' head shot up to see Harry clutching his hand where he had sliced deeply into his finger. Snape jumped up and stalked over to him. Harry didn't move away as Snape grabbed his hand from him roughly and examined the wound. With a wave of his wand, Harry's wound closed and then Snape stalked to the table and threw the bandages at him. Harry's skills as a seeker were the only things that kept him from being smacked in the face by the bandages.

"Thanks," Harry called.

Snape only grunted as he sat back down and resumed his position. Remus, he noticed, was frowning at Snape, but if Snape noticed, he completely ignored it. Albus was smiling at Harry.

"I gave up using knives to cook a long time ago. Nearly cut off my thumb once." The Headmaster held up this thumb and Harry saw a thin scar wrapping around it.

"Right," Harry said, but he was frowning in Snape's direction and hardly paying attention. Blood sacrifice? Just to prove a point? What did it mean?

Albus gave one last look to Harry, cleared his throat and spoke to Snape. "So you spilled your own blood to drop the wards?" Harry's shoulders slumped. The Headmaster must have known what he was thinking. He was relieved to have it clarified all the same.

Snape looked back and forth between the Headmaster and Harry for a moment and then with a sneer said, "I don't know what you're talking about. I sacrificed a virgin, of course."

Harry gaped, the Headmaster burst out laughing and Remus chuckled behind his hand. Snape was completely deadpan. And then Harry got it. It was a joke. He shook his head and finished bandaging his finger before going back to the potatoes.

"Of course, of course. Far more clever of you," Albus said, smiling widely. "So, how are you and Harry getting along down here Severus?" Albus changed the subject. Snape just blinked at him in astonishment.

"What do you mean Headmaster?" he asked.

"Oh I was just wondering if you were both settling in well. It's been an exciting start to the summer after all." Harry snorted from the kitchen counter. Exciting didn't even come close. Terrifying was closer. Snape must have been thinking the same thing.

"Yes, very exciting Headmaster. Like an amusement park."

"And you Harry? You're feeling well?"

"I'm fine Headmaster."

"Remus was telling me that Severus was showing you the wards today." Snape scowled and stood up.

"Go sit down Potter. I'll finish this up." Harry narrowed his eyes slightly. He knew that Snape was just using it as an excuse to escape the conversation but he couldn't blame him. Harry moved over to the seat he had just vacated and sat down.

"Yeah. It was real interesting," Harry answered when he had sat down.

"Good. Very good."

Harry and the two visitors chatted amicably until dinner was finished. Snape looked beyond pissed when he set the table and invited the other two to stay for dinner since the Headmaster didn't look like he was going anywhere. At least Remus looked just as uncomfortable as Snape as Harry started serving up the plates. The Headmaster continued to chat throughout dinner, dragging everyone into the conversation except Snape, who sat stonily, chewing his food until it was done. Then he crossed his arms, leaned back and stared at a knot in the table.

It wasn't until a lull in the conversation that Snape spoke. "I will have your Wolfsbane ready by late tomorrow evening Lupin."

Remus startled and looked up. "Thank you Severus. I'm very grateful for it. If there is anything I can do for you..."

Snape waved away Remus' words. "Then I shall let you know."

Remus nodded and Dumbledore struck up a conversation with Remus and Harry about how the Weasleys were doing.

"Sir? Have you heard from Hermione? I was going to write her but I haven't gotten around to it yet."

"Oh yes. Ms. Granger is quite all right now. She and her parents are still on vacation in Southern Italy but I believe she's planning on going to the Weasley's at the end of the month when she gets back for a few weeks."

Snape interrupted again. "Headmaster, is Hagrid back yet?"

"He wrote me just this morning. I expect he'll be back sometime in the next few days. Did you want to see him?"

"I'll stop by when he gets back in," Snape said, putting his napkin down by his plate and rising from the table.

"If you'll all excuse me, I have some work to start." He didn't wait for them to say anything and stalked off for the door.

After he had left, the Headmaster sighed and rose from his seat. "I should be off as well. No matter how many stars I wish on, the work never does do itself." Harry and Remus laughed and waved goodbye. When it was just they two, Remus became serious again and Harry was starting to become concerned that it was becoming a permanent thing.

"Harry? How are things really? He's not putting you to work like a house elf is he?" Harry just stared at him. What the hell was this about? Remus took his silence for agreement. "Damn it. He's too harsh. Albus promised me that he would treat you well, but this is ridiculous!"

Harry realized that he'd have to put a stop to this. He had to admit to himself that he was starting to get angry with Remus as well. If he thought that Snape was so bad, why wasn't he taking Harry out of here?

"He's fine! I'm fine too. Is this about me making dinner?"

Remus looked taken aback. "I thought..."

"You thought Snape was beating me?" Harry said between clenched teeth. "Well in case you haven't noticed, Snape just saved me from a really painful death."

"Yes Harry, but that's no reason to excuse bad treatment."

"What bad treatment?"

"Forcing you to cook. Throwing bandages at your face."

"He didn't force me to cook. I offered. He's hurt if you didn't notice."

Remus took a deep breath and looked down for a second. When he looked back up, he looked very apologetic. "I'm sorry Harry. I was wrong to assume the worst. I've just been worried about you."

Harry took a deep breath too. "It's ok Remus. I'm sorry for yelling." He was sorry, for yelling, but he was still angry.

It was then that the door opened up and Snape stood in the doorway looking furious. "Out!" he hissed, pointing at the door and staring at Remus. Harry knew it was ridiculous to think that Snape hadn't heard what had just happened. Now he knew how Snape dealt with accusations of child abuse, he supposed.

"Severus," Remus said in a placating way. "I apologize. I just wanted to make sure Harry was ok."

Snape's eyes flicked to Harry's then back. "Now that you know, get out," he said in a quiet but dangerous voice.

Remus moved toward the door shakily. "I'll see you tomorrow then," he said in a placating voice.

Snape said nothing but slammed the door when he had gone through. For several seconds, Harry watched Snape clench and unclench his fists. Finally, he snapped, "Dishes Potter!" Harry jumped toward the table and started gathering the dishes immediately. When he looked back, Snape seemed much calmer.

"Just leave them on the counter. I'll take care of them later." Harry nodded and when he finished moving the dishes, got out a rag to wipe the table. Snape stalked over to his bedroom door, yanked it open and disappeared inside.

When Harry finished with the table, he sat on the couch and rested his head in his hands. Tonight had been a disaster. He knew why Remus had acted like that. Snape had never made it a secret that he disliked him. And as the last of his father's best friends, Remus must be feeling like it was his responsibility to watch over him. But, Harry thought with growing anger, if he was so worried about him, why didn't he just take him with?

He got up to pace the floor, an inner rant running through his head. I mean it's not like I wouldn't want to stay with Remus! And why did he have to talk so loud? Now Snape is going to be pissed! We had been getting along all right until that. And if he actually thought I was being abused, why didn't he just take me straight away? Snape wouldn't have stood for that!"

Harry stopped his pacing with a gasp and sat down in shock. Where the hell had that come from? Was it even true?

Just then, Snape's bedroom door flew open again and Snape marched out with a clipboard and one dragon hide vest on and another, smaller one in his hands. "Here, put this on," he said, thrusting the vest at Harry, who took it without a word. Snape seemed to be back to normal, which was to say, he was mildly irritated at the world and impatient.

"Come with me. You're going to help me with the Wolfsbane." Harry's jaw dropped as he donned the vest and followed Snape out the door.

When they made it to a door several meters away, Snape waved his wand and Harry heard a lock click and the door opened. Inside was a huge laboratory that Harry had never seen before. "Wow," Harry breathed.

Snape ignored him and started setting up a chopping board. Then he moved to a cauldron sitting over low heat and said, "Grab the bicorn and nightshade. Put those gloves on and follow the instructions on page 406 of that book there for preparation."

When Harry had gotten the ingredients, he opened the book. He had been expecting to see instructions for the Wolfsbane potion, but instead, the book was just a compendium of preparation techniques for various ingredients. He flipped a few pages either way and noticed that there were various ways to prepare each ingredient. Snape cleared his throat and Harry flipped back to page 406 and put the gloves on, and then started to prepare the ingredients as it said.

An hour later, Harry took his gloves off and stood back to see his handiwork. He had been extra careful to make good work of it. Snape was just setting the ladle aside. When he came over to see Harry's work, Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and waited for his judgment. Snape said nothing about the ingredients though. He scooped them up with his gloves and put them into two containers and then said over his shoulder, "Go wash up and then you can go. Remember to be back in the rooms by nine."

"Yes sir," Harry said. As he washed up, he watched Snape put the nightshade into the potion and stir it for several seconds. Nightshade? That was a poison wasn't it? Although it was used in several innocuous potions that Harry knew of. Still, a bit of doubt and worry wormed its way into Harry's head. Snape wouldn't poison Remus would he? It wasn't the first time Harry had thought this and he had been wrong then. Just before he walked out of the room, he got up the courage to say something.

"Sir?"

"Hmm?" Snape said, attention completely on the simmering potion.

"About Remus sir. I'm sorry about all that. I'm sure he didn't mean that about you. He's probably just under a lot of stress."

Snape looked up at him, but there was nothing in his expression that gave his thoughts away. "Don't worry Potter. I'm not going to poison your precious werewolf."

Harry bristled at that. "I didn't think you would," he said indignantly, but his cheeks were flushed.

"If you say so Potter." Snape went back to stirring the potion.

Harry stood in the doorway unmoving and after a moment, Snape looked back up. "Is there a reason you haven't done as I've told you Potter?" Snape said quietly.

"No sir. I just wanted to say that...um, really professor, I know Remus thinks well of you. He must just be upset about something. He didn't really think that, I'm sure."

Snape set his ladle down and walked forward until Harry had to crane his neck up to see his eyes. "You believe that Potter, if it makes you feel better."

"But I'm sure it's true sir. I mean you're a teacher. No one would think you would do that."

Snape barked out an unpleasant laugh. "No Mr. Potter. I'm sure no one would think that a death eater and a spy would ever hurt a child. Why, it could never even occur to them."

"But you're not a death eater!" Harry protested.

"Am I not?" Snape said with a glare. "Why don't you go ask your friends in the Order their opinion on the matter then Potter. Now get out and let me work."

Snape turned back to his cauldron and after a moment more, Harry sighed and returned to his room. He kicked his trunk as he sat down on the bed and once more buried his head in his hands. Ask the Order. Well Dumbledore certainly wouldn't agree. But the rest of them? Harry was sure Remus didn't hate Snape. Even if he was angry with Remus, he knew that the man only had his best interests at heart. And Remus had said that Snape was good and brave. He just didn't think Snape should be watching over Harry. Harry had to admit that there were a few reasons to think that. But hadn't the man just risked his life to rescue him? Harry was grateful for more than just his life. The worst part about having been caught hadn't been the pain. It had been the fear and the loss of hope. Snape hadn't just saved his life; he had saved his hope.

Harry stayed in his room when he heard Snape coming in to the apartment. After a few minutes, he heard Snape's bedroom door close. It was nine thirty already.

Harry decided he'd write to Ron and Hermione tomorrow morning and got himself ready for bed. His last thought before he fell asleep was to remind himself to say hi when Hagrid got back.

"What Strange Conditions Everywhere"

My god has forsaken me and disappeared,

My goddess has failed me and keeps at a distance.

The benevolent angel who walked beside me has departed,

My protecting spirit has taken to flight, and is seeking someone else.

My strength is gone; my appearance has become gloomy;

My dignity has flown away, my protection made off....

The king, the flesh of the gods, the sun of his peoples,

His heart is enraged with me, and cannot be appeased.

The courtiers plot hostile action against me,

They assemble themselves and give utterance to impious words....

They combine against me in slander and lies.

My lordly mouth have they held as with reins,

So that I, whose lips used to prate, have become like a mute.

My sonorous shout is reduced to silence,

My lofty head is bowed down to the ground,

Dread has enfeebled my robust heart....

If I walk the street, ears are pricked;

If I enter the palace, eyes blink.

My city frowns on me as an enemy;

Indeed my land is savage and hostile.

My friend has become foe,

My companion has become a wretch and a devil....

As I turn round, it is terrible, it is terrible;

My ill luck has increased, and I do not find the right.

I called to my god, but he did not show his face,

I prayed to my goddess, but she did not raise her head.

The diviner with his inspection has not got to the root of the matter,

Nor has the dream priest with his libation elucidated my case.

I sought the favour of the zaqiqu-spirit, but he did not enlighten me;

And the incantation priest with his ritual did not appease the divine wrath against me.

What strange conditions everywhere!

When I look behind, there is persecution, trouble.

Harry stared at the parchment before him. It was written in Snape's scrawling handwriting. At first, he thought he was looking at something that Snape had written himself and he felt a deep well of sadness. But then he noticed a clay tablet on the desk and some other scraps of parchment and realized that Snape had been translating the tablet.

The tablet was inscribed with wedge like symbols and Harry seemed to recall a night when Hermione had shown him a page from her runes text. The word cuneiform came to mind. He moved the papers on the table, glancing nervously at the door.

When he had woken, Snape had already been gone and there had been a note on the counter telling him to eat the cold meal that had been left out and then get out and do something with his day until lunch. Harry had taken his time eating and then had seen a mess of papers sitting on Snape's desk that hadn't been there the night before. A voice in the back of his mind had told him to leave it alone but he had caught the words on the first page and couldn't stop himself from reading it. Harry had felt like that all last year, as though the whole world were against him. After last night when he had been forced to remember that the Order didn't think well of Snape, he had immediately thought that Snape had written the poem.

He didn't know why he was relieved to see that it was a translation instead. There was just something very disturbing about the thought that Snape might actually care about what others thought of him, because if he did, then he must be very sad indeed. And Harry couldn't imagine Snape being sad. He was just too...too strong. Harry didn't mean to keep looking, but there was something familiar about the symbols on the tablet. It must just be from Hermione's texts, though for some reason, he didn't think that was it.

The door opened and he jumped back, upsetting some of the papers and his heart hammering in his chest. Snape stood in the doorway, looking between him and the desk. "So...SO!"

When had Harry heard this before? The image of a jar of cockroaches flashed through his memory and he stepped backward slowly, right up until his back hit the wall. Snape swept forward, the sound of each step pounding in Harry's ears. He wished now he had never seen Snape duel, because now he was remembering bodies thrown with the casual flick of a wrist, landing in pretzel configuration. Did Remus have good reason to fear for him? Harry's mouth went dry.

Snape grabbed the paper that Harry had been looking at and lifted it off the desk, eyes roaming over the desk, making sure nothing was missing. Then he turned on Harry and Harry felt the full force of Snape's glare.

"Going through my things again Potter? Hoping to prove all of your friends right about me?" Harry didn't for a second think that Snape's quiet tone meant that he was out of danger.

"I...I didn't. No!" Harry protested.

That seemed to make Snape even angrier and he moved forward in one smooth motion and grabbed Harry's shoulder. His fingers were surprisingly strong and Harry thought that if he gripped any harder, it would leave bruises.

"You didn't what Potter? Don't lie to me!"

Ah, that was it wasn't it? Snape always thought he was lying or up to no good. Harry put his hands between them in the air. "I did. I did look at the papers. But I wasn't..."

Snape grabbed his other shoulder and pushed him out from the wall toward his room. "Your room Potter! I don't want to see or hear you until I get you out for lunch!"

Harry tripped on the edge of the carpet and ended up sprawled at Snape's feet. This was definitely not the best position to be in. Snape was looking angrier and angrier.

"I'm sorry. I really am!" Harry said with feeling as he got to his feet. "I wasn't looking for anything. I was just reading that poem because I saw it sitting there and...and," he lost his steam as Snape's eyes got darker.

"And you think my papers are your business. You just can't help yourself can you Potter? You think everyone's life is your business?" Snape knew that normally, this wouldn't have made him quite so mad. But after the incident with the pensieve last year and then with Lupin last night, he found his rage just simmering below the surface. The little brat had no respect for his privacy. He should know...he should damn well know to stay away from his desk!

"I'm sorry. I really am! I shouldn't have looked. I...it's none of my business. I really am sorry!"

Snape reached down and hauled him up roughly by his wrist. Harry could feel his fingers digging into his wrists and winced, but he didn't want to say anything. Snape started hauling him to his bedroom door as he spat out words. "That's the smartest thing you've said Potter. But despite how sorry you always are, it never stops you."

Harry was afraid to interrupt, which, in some small part of his brain that wasn't occupied by fear, he thought was rather funny. He had faced Voldemort for Merlin's sake! But he was even more afraid to not say anything. He needed someone to understand. He needed Snape to understand. He had never even apologized for the pensieve incident and now seemed better than never.

"I...I know that it seems that way." Snape's glare got even harder so he rushed on, the whole time dragging his feet across the carpet. "I really am sorry. I messed up when I looked in your pensieve. I'm so sorry!" he cried. Now he was nearly desperate for Snape to stop and listen to him. "I do respect your privacy!" he yelled. "I...I never breathed a word about it to anyone. And it had the opposite effect on me than you thought it did. Oh God, I'm really sorry!" he cried as they crossed the threshold of his room. Harry knew he was rambling but Snape was fearsome in his anger and Harry really was sorry.

Although Snape was furious, he had years of practice controlling himself, and Potter could hardly utter a lie in his presence without him knowing. The boy was sincere, but...

Snape spun Harry around to face him. "What do you mean ‘opposite effect', Potter?" His grip dug even more painfully into Harry's wrist, and Harry was astonished by the man's strength. Snape didn't even seem to realize it was hurting him until he winced. Then the grip loosened considerably and Harry drew in a breath, but Snape was still glaring at him so he ploughed on.

"I didn't like what I saw. You were wrong. I don't think my father was amusing. I...I don't think I'm like that. I don't think that's right, two on one and unprovoked. I...it was wrong." His last sentence was said like a judge pronouncing judgment and he noted with astonishment that it was the first time he'd been able to say out loud that his father had been wrong without making excuses, and he felt better for some reason. He realized a second later how hard it had been to live up to the perfect name of Potter.

Snape leaned forward until he was inches from Harry's face. "So now you pity me Potter?"

What!? Warning bells were going off in Harry's head. He had never thought that! And now more than ever, how could he ever dare to pity Snape? He had to say something. "NO! I don't pity you," he said with equal parts shock and sincerity. "I respect you!"

Wow, he hadn't meant to say that. But now that it was out, he knew it was true. He still didn't like how Snape had treated him over the years, but he had to respect the man after everything he had seen and heard. And the scars on Snape's back that he had been so curious about? They had to have come from battle. No, he could pity a lesser man, but never Snape. He was just too damn strong to pity in any form.

Snape stared at him for several heartbeats after that and then, abruptly, dropped his wrist as though he had been stung. He stepped backward one step, never taking his eyes off of Harry and Harry had the impression that Snape was searching for the truth in his mind, so he returned the eye contact and let him.

Just as abruptly as Snape had dropped his wrist, the man turned on his heel and left Harry standing in his doorway staring after him. He went to the door of the bathroom and Harry heard him rummaging around in the cabinet. After a minute he returned. Harry had not moved at all. When Snape reached out and grabbed his wrist this time, Harry didn't flinch at all. He didn't know how he could tell, but he knew that Snape wasn't going to hurt him. He had even known it before, although Snape had dug a little too hard on his wrist.

Snape was holding a jar of some sort of salve and it took Harry a full minute to comprehend that Snape was applying it to his wrists where he had dug his fingers in. Before he pocketed the jar again, Snape ran a finger over his wrists and turned them this way, then that, looking for the bruises that weren't even forming.

Then, as if nothing had happened at all, Snape strode out saying, "It's lunch time. Have a seat."

Harry was stunned and chagrined. He followed Snape out to the table and sat quietly while Snape prepared sandwiches. Had he said the right thing? Had Snape forgiven him? Did Snape ever forgive anything?

Snape was just stunned. Respect? From a Potter? He saw the truth in Potter's eyes. No one, besides Dumbledore, had ever recognized the good that he had done, at least not aloud. If they ever had any respect for him, they kept silent about it and treated it like it was his penance or some such nonsense like that. As if any of them understood what he had done or how he felt. He had his fair share of guilt, it was true, but he knew what they thought on the matter and they couldn't be further from the truth. His guilt had all to do with what he had failed to accomplish and with his former friends in the Dark Lord's army and not much to do with his having been a death eater. He had made the best decisions that he could have at the time.

In the moment that Potter had uttered those three words, ‘I respect you', all of his anger had blown away and been replaced by...he didn't know what. Gratitude? Relief? More likely surprise. How pathetic really, he snorted to himself. After all this time, someone finally recognizes all of his hard work and he feels gratitude? But his allies had hated him for so long without giving a damn about his work or the truth of his past, that he had just never realized how good it could feel to have someone say it.

Potter. Potter was sorry. Potter admitted his father was wrong. He had seen gratitude in Potter's eyes since the rescue. And now respect. Severus Snape, with all of his command of the spoken language, was speechless. And just like that, Potter was forgiven.

Huh.

During lunch, they ate in complete silence, although neither of them seemed to notice it. They both finished at the same time and Snape rose stiffly from his seat and announced that he would be in the lab until dinner finishing the Wolfsbane. Then he left.

Harry, remembering what Snape had said about doing something constructive each day and giving an account each night at dinner, determined he would make peace by finding a book and studying something. He went through all of Snape's books and finally pulled down a dog-eared book about defense against the dark arts. The first thing he noticed when he opened the book was how all of the margins were taken up by cramped writing, which Harry immediately recognized as Snape's. He started reading the first chapter, but his eyes were nearly always running off to the side to read what Snape had written about the passage.

The book read, "When meeting a werewolf, one should always be prepared to conjure silver ropes. Though this almost always ends up in the death of the werewolf, the law clearly states..."

To the side of the passage, Snape had written, "If one is so inclined to kill the creature, you might as well use an Avada and make it painless. But that would be unforgivable."

Another passage read, "When faced with a Dark Witch or Wizard, you should never try to duel them alone. Instead, seek assistance, preferably from a ministry auror." To the side, Snape had replied, "Or you could use a good blasting charm and survive the encounter." Harry snorted. The book was full of these little quips and Harry realized that what would have been another boring and useless defense book was rendered interesting by Snape's margin scrawls.

Before Harry even knew it, he was looking up at the clock and he realized that dinnertime had started fifteen minutes ago. But Snape hadn't come back at all. He replaced the book on the shelf and stared at the door for a few seconds before deciding to just make dinner himself. Snape was probably in the middle of a potion and just couldn't get away.

A half hour later, he placed the salad and the meat pies on the table and still, Snape hadn't shown up. Harry decided to go and see if Snape was coming. The potions lab was close, and looking through the door, Harry saw Snape leaning over a cauldron, stirring, while several others were brewing on their own. Harry watched for several moments as Snape worked among them all with ease and confidence. Harry and his classmates, even Hermione and Malfoy from time to time, had trouble with just one cauldron. But Snape looked like he could probably handle a few more. It was impressive how he moved among them, stopping to stir here and there, or turn down the heat, or pour a potion out. Snape seemed to be moving with an inner rhythm. Harry wouldn't have minded watching him work for a little while but he didn't want to make him angry and dinner was getting cold, so he knocked on the doorframe and said "Sir? I've made dinner. Shall I keep it warm for later?"

Snape rose from his cauldron and replied without looking up. "I will join you when I've poured the last of the potions. It should only take a half hour."

Harry stepped in further. "Can I help?"

Snape almost said no, but on second thought, instructed Potter to carefully pour two of the potions into several bottles and seal and label them. The boy had made it through five years of potions after all.

When they finished fifteen minutes later, Snape locked up the potions lab and they walked back to their rooms. They had been silent up ‘til then but Snape spoke before reaching the door. "Mr. Potter, I have learned to expect very little good in this world, but I still expect a good dinner."

Harry noticed the slight gleam in Snape's eyes and wondered if he was being serious or joking. Harry cracked a slight grin and said, "Well in that case, I think you'll be pleased. It's a gourmet dinner."

Snape snorted when he saw the meat pies and salad on the table. But it was good. He himself had rarely had time to cook anything more complicated than sandwiches and had often just gone without if he was too busy or tired.

Feeling in a better mood for all the good food that he had just consumed, Snape sat back and linked his fingers over his stomach. "Maybe I'll keep you around Potter. I believe I've gained weight in the last few days."

Harry smiled at the compliment and silently agreed that Snape should eat more. He had seen the man's ribs last night. He didn't understand why Snape ate so little though. The only thing he could think was that Snape was too busy, because this castle was full of good food.

True to his word, Snape expected an accounting of his day over dinner. Harry left out the part about the translation on the desk since they both knew about it and instead, talked about the book he had read part of. "And the notes in the margin really helped sir."

Snape nodded as Harry got up to bring him the book. When he had it in his hand, he said, "Ah, yes. This was a ridiculous book, I recall. But then most defense books are woefully inadequate."

Harry agreed wholeheartedly. "I know. But your notes really helped. You should write a book sir."

Snape's head snapped up at that and he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Then his eyes slipped over to a drawer in his desk for a second before looking back at Potter. Harry just stared at him in astonishment. In a moment of clarity, he realized that Snape must have done so, or at least started one.

"You've already written one haven't you?" Harry asked. Any danger at asking Snape a personal question was forgotten in his own excitement. He wanted to read that book, badly.

Snape stiffened slightly, then in the space of a breath relaxed. He nodded curtly and after another pause, got up and moved toward his desk.

No way! Harry thought. No way is Snape going to show me!

But Snape pulled open a drawer and withdrew a large stack of parchment from it. As if that stack hadn't been large enough, he then withdrew an equally large stack from another drawer. When he came back to the table, he dropped the combined stack on the table with a thud.

Harry leaned forward excitedly as Snape took a seat directly next to Harry's. He pulled the stack toward him and separated it into two neat piles. On the top of one, Harry saw the title, "Practical Battle Techniques" in Snape's handwriting. On the other, the title read, "Compendium of Battle Spells and Their Counters: Both Light and Dark."

"Oh. My. God," Harry breathed. "This is awesome. You wrote all of this? Can I read them?"

Snape sat back with a slight smile on his face. "I did write these, in between the wars. The Compendium was finished in your second year. The other I finished years before that."

Harry frowned up at him. "But why haven't you published them?"

Snape shrugged, which was a very un-Snapeish thing to do, Harry thought. In an off hand tone, he said, "It seems that no publishers wish to carry my books."

Harry's frown only grew. "Can I read them?"

Snape stood from the table and reached for two cups, one he filled with tea and the other with coffee. "You may," he answered as he handed the cup of tea to Harry.

At Harry's look of delight, he sat back down and leaned forward to speak, making sure that Potter was paying attention. "But! You may not take them out of these rooms and you may not tell any of your little friends about them. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." He didn't really, but he'd keep to the deal anyway.

"Very well," Snape said as he rose from the table, went to his desk and started working on the parchment that had sparked their argument earlier. Harry was already reaching for the stack on "Practical Battle Techniques".

They worked in solitude and quiet for over an hour. Snape looked up from time to time to see Potter leaning over the parchment until his nose was practically touching it at times. At others, Potter would be practicing wand movements quietly. The last time he had watched Potter for nearly a full minute as he excitedly turned the pages. Potter was even taking time to study the illustrations that he had included.

He couldn't help but feel elated that a student was finally reading his book and enjoying it. He had been disappointed time and again that no one was willing to publish a book on defense by a potions master. Only one publisher had deigned to read it and he had said straight out that it was very good, but it wasn't what was selling now days. Apparently, the only defense books that were making any kind of money were the ones that were personal accounts like Lockhart's books. He hadn't even bothered to mention that they would make good books for Hogwarts children. Each defense teacher picked their own book and syllabi and Snape couldn't hope to get his book on the roster. As far as writing about personal accounts went, Snape could have written several personal accounts for every chapter in that book. But he didn't fancy going to jail.

Harry was totally engrossed in the book. He had forgotten two minutes into reading it that he was even in the same room with anyone. The Battle Techniques book was well written and could almost read like a story, except it had no actual personal accounts. The first few chapters dealt with preparation and training, both of the mind and the body. Strategy took up the largest part of the book. The reigning theme in the book seemed to be proper training and preparation, practicing until defensiveness was a reflex, and taking initiative, though several chapters were dedicated to specific cases, like proper duels or sabotage. There was even a rather large section on stealth. Harry devoured the first few chapters, recalling to his mind each time he had seen action himself and comparing how he had acted to how the book's author would have. It was clear to him now more than ever, even though he had said it before during the DA, that he had survived almost entirely on luck and the help of others. Preparation and strategy had had very little to do with it at all.

The book spoke of several specific spells of course. But it didn't waste precious space going into detail about each one. It gave an abbreviated explanation of its effects and how to accomplish it and then referred the reader to the exact page in the Compendium where it would be found. Harry found himself going back and forth between the books several times, practicing the wand movements and paying close attention to the pronunciation guide. Each spell in the compendium had an essay length description that included a brief history, examples of best usage, and detailed explanations of its effects. At the end, references were given for further reading. Then a list of similar spells, counter spells and potions with similar effects was given, each with its own page number. Harry could have picked a page, read a spell and randomly followed the path of similar and counter spells and never gotten bored or lost sight of its relevance.

He was so engrossed in the book that he was completely taken off guard when there was a knock on the door. He looked up and blinked his eyes a few times and watched as Snape stalked toward the door with his wand out. The door went clear as Snape approached it. Remus.

Snape yanked the door open and stepped aside, a glower on his face the whole time.

"Good evening Severus. Hi Harry," Remus waved. Harry stood up nervously and smiled back, but he watched Snape out of the corner of his eye.

"Hi Remus. How...how are you?"

"Fine, thank you." Remus however, was watching Snape too.

The door slammed shut and after the ‘pleasantries' Snape pointed to the spot of floor that Remus was standing on and said, "Stay here. I'll bring you the potion."

"Thank you Severus," Remus called out to Snape's retreating back. When he had gone into his room and shut the door, Remus turned worried eyes to Harry.

"Is he very angry?" he whispered. Harry only had time to nod in the affirmative before Snape came back out carrying a steaming goblet. Harry hadn't even known Snape had brought the potion into the apartments.

The goblet was thrust into Remus' hands and Snape crossed his arms. "Well?" he snapped.

Remus sucked in a breath and threw his head back, followed by the potion. When he finished drinking it, Remus' face was twisted as though he had just eaten something rancid. Snape on the other hand, was smirking nastily as he took back the goblet.

Harry felt his own lips twist into a smile and quickly schooled his features. It was kind of funny to see Remus making such an awful face though.

"Will that be all...Lupin?" Snape dragged his last name out sarcastically.

"Actually, no Severus," Remus said in his most polite tones. Harry just stared at him open jawed. Remus had better have a good excuse to stay after what had happened last night.

Snape's eyebrows rose into his hairline. "Indeed?" he asked quietly. Harry could tell he was irritated and so could Remus.

"Yes, I saw the Headmaster and he wanted to talk to both of us in his office."

Snape stalked to the door, pulled it open and looked back to Remus, who hurried out, waving goodbye to Harry. Before Snape left, he turned back to Harry, made eye contact for a beat and then walked out. Harry just sat down at the table, at a loss. He really wanted to know what was going on.

Unfortunately, when Snape came back a half hour later, he said nothing at all to Harry as he went to his room and shut the door behind him. Harry took that as a sign that it was bedtime and moved Snape's books to the side table, then went to his own room to try and sleep. At least it was cool in the dungeons.

Harry woke up the next morning with only five minutes to go until breakfast. Breathing a sigh of relief (he didn't fancy finding out what Snape thought of as an unpleasant way to be woken up), he grabbed a stack of Dudley's old clothes and ran for the bathroom. After a two-minute shower, he jumped out, got dressed and made his way to the table. Snape was already sitting there with a breakfast of eggs, toast and orange juice on the table. Unlike with the Weasleys, meals were simple affairs with Snape.

"Good morning," Harry said as he sat down before his plate. Snape just nodded. After a few minutes though, Snape looked back up and gave Harry a once over.

"What is that you're wearing Potter?"

Harry looked down and he knew his face was turning red. "My clothes sir."

"And where did you get these clothes? This is not some new fashion." It wasn't a question and Harry reminded himself that it was likely, based on Snape's memories, that his father had been a muggle. He probably knew a lot about how muggles lived.

"They were my cousins, sir."

One of Snape's eyebrows rose, but he said nothing and after a moment, went back to eating.

After a few minutes of eating in silence, Harry began to think up ways to ask Snape what the meeting with the Headmaster last night had been about, but he couldn't think of any to phrase it that wouldn't end in Snape telling him to mind his own business.

He was surprised then, when Snape himself brought the subject up.

"Potter, the matter that the Headmaster discussed with me last night will mean I must leave for the day."

"What was it about?" Harry asked quickly. Maybe Snape would answer.

And surprisingly, he did. "One month ago, a former student of mine, and his family, declared themselves against the Dark Lord. Last week, his father, Mr. Sanasta, ran into a death eater and they dueled. Both escaped unharmed but this incident brought his family to the attention of the death eaters. Their home was attacked yesterday."

He said the next part quickly. "Their youngest son, who had not even started school yet, was caught in the cross fire and killed."

Snape paused for a moment, and although his face did not betray anything but indifference, there was something about the pause that gave Harry the impression that Snape had known this family and might even be affected by this child's death.

"I'll be meeting with the Sanasta family this morning to offer condolences and assist in rebuilding their wards."

It was only then that Harry noticed that while Snape was still wearing black, it was of a nicer quality than his everyday wear. The buttons gleamed just a little brighter and the cut was just a little more formal. He looked all set for a funeral.

"The Headmaster will be out most of the day but arrangements have been made for Lupin and Moody to remain in the castle until my return."

"I'm sorry sir. About the boy," Harry said and meant it. He didn't really know what else there was to say.

Snape only nodded and stood up. "I'll be meeting Lupin and Moody at the gates in..." here he stopped to look at his pocket watch, "in ten minutes. If you wish to accompany me, I suggest you finish your meal and get your shoes on."

"Ok," Harry said as he shoveled the rest of his eggs into his mouth. When he had finished getting his trainers on, Snape was standing at the door waiting for him. They left straight away and Snape didn't speak again until they made it to the entrance hall.

"I've reset the wards on our quarters so that only you and the Headmaster may enter it. I had had them set so that others could enter with an invitation from one of us, but I do not want Moody in my rooms when I am not here. Understood?"

"Yes sir. What about Remus?"

"It would be rude to allow one and not the other, don't you think Mr. Potter?"

Harry could tell by his look and tone that he didn't want Lupin in there either but he supposed he understood. "So, I'm to stay out for the day?" he asked.

Snape's eyebrow rose. "You may come and go as you like Potter. Only take care not to invite any but the Headmaster into the rooms. And Potter?" Snape stopped to look him in the eye.

"Yeah?"

"This should not be an issue," Snape began in a tone that clearly stated that if it was, someone was going to be very sorry. "But just in case, no matter what any one tells you to do, do not leave Hogwart's grounds or enter the Forbidden Forest."

"What if it's the Headmaster?"

Snape cocked his head and resumed walking. "Albus would not remove you from the castle without informing me unless it was an emergency and then he would ask you to use your portkey. That," he stressed, "is the only safe way to leave. Got it?"

"Got it." Although he did wonder how much danger he was really in.

By now, they were approaching the gates and Harry could see two figures standing just outside, waiting to be let in. When Snape was within hailing distance, he called out to them, his wand pointing between the two of them the entire time.

"Who are you?" Snape called out.

Harry looked at Snape in confusion as he tossed out a blue spell that settled around Remus and MadEye in a sort of mist. They didn't seem surprised by it though.

"I am Remus John Lupin, a member of the Order of the Phoenix and I had pheasant with orange sauce last night for dinner," Remus called back.

"Moody. Ex-auror, member of the Order and I can't stand the sight of your face Snape," Moody called back.

Harry's eyes widened and he shot a look up to Snape's face to see if Snape was preparing to kill him. Snape was smirking nastily, but he didn't look homicidal. He flicked his wand and the blue mist disappeared and the gates swung open.

"I can't say I like your face either MadEye, at least the parts that aren't missing."

Moody grunted in response and limped his way, beside Remus, to where Harry and Snape stood. When they were close enough to speak to, Snape said, "You've gotten a tan MadEye. Making up for your time in the bottom of a trunk?"

"I seem to recall you did a lot of the same after they let you out of Azkaban Snape."

"There was a lot of work to catch up on. I did have to reset the wards around my house after all. You remember those wards, don't you Moody?"

"Oh aye. And I think there are still a few in the auror office that would like to...talk to you about them."

"They know where to find me," Snape said, gesturing to the castle behind him. His words came out like a challenge.

It was then that Remus cleared his throat and broke up the pissing contest. "You must be in a hurry to leave Severus. Please extend my condolences to the Sanasta family will you?"

The nasty smile on Snape's face disappeared as if it had been slapped off and was replaced by an absolutely blank look. "I'll do that," he said stiffly.

"Sad business that," Moody said. "Burying a son that young."

"Yes," Snape said gruffly. "If you'll excuse me," and he took off down the slope and left through the gates. The others watched until he Disapparated.

When he was gone, they started walking back toward the castle. "I feel sorry for Severus. I get the impression that he takes the death of any of his Slytherin families personally," Remus said with a sad shake of his head.

"What gives you that impression?" Moody asked. Harry tuned in, wondering the same thing.

"Well, mostly it's just what Albus told me after Severus left last night. But can't you tell? He always has something to say on every subject, but mention a Slytherin that's died and he just comes out with one liners."

"Tight knit little buggers, the lot of them. Least these days," Moody said with a scowl.

They had made it back to the castle by now and were just passing the door to the Great Hall. "Um, did you two want to get something to eat? I bet the kitchen elves wouldn't mind if we nipped down there," Harry said. He didn't know if he was supposed to be playing host or not.

"Sounds like a great idea Harry," Remus said. But Moody had other ideas.

"I hear you're staying with Snape, Potter." Harry nodded. "Can't imagine that would be fun."

"Um, it's all right so far," Harry answered, feeling uncomfortable by where he thought Moody was going with this.

"Well, why don't we nip down there instead and have a spot of tea. I wouldn't mind seeing how Snape's got himself set up now."

Harry knew his face was flushed. What was he supposed to do, come up with a lie? Harry felt a little anger at Snape for putting him in this position. Why should he be the one making up excuses when Snape was the one that didn't want them in?

But Harry's frustration disappeared in a moment of insight about Snape. Snape probably didn't give a damn whether the other two knew why they weren't invited in. He probably thought Harry would just tell them the truth and leave it at that. It seemed like a Snape thing to do.

"Well about that. You see, Professor Snape's reset the wards so you two can't go in there even if I invite you. Um...sorry about that."

But neither man looked surprised. "Reset his wards you say?" Moody said. "Bet he's got a nasty little surprise for us if we do try too. I've heard of his wards."

"You don't say?" Remus asked with a chuckle, already moving off down the hall toward the kitchens.

"What did you hear about Snape's wards?" Harry asked. Snape had taunted Moody with them earlier and Harry was curious what Snape could have done.

"Ah that. You knew Snape was in Azkaban I hope? ‘Cause if you didn't, I reckon you know now." Moody had the decency to look chagrined by his slip earlier.

"Alastor," Remus began in a chiding voice, but Harry interrupted him.

"Yeah, I'd heard. But what about his wards?"

"He set some pretty nasty ones around his house when he got out of Azkaban. He knew aurors would be checking up on him for a few months you see."

"Alastor!" Remus admonished. "You'll give him ideas if you leave it like that." Then he turned his head to speak to Harry. "Look Harry, they weren't vicious. Just a few pranks is all."

"Nasty pranks if you ask me," Moody muttered, but Remus ignored him.

"What kind of pranks then?" Harry asked.

"Oh let's see. One auror got transported to a swamp."

"Three meters above the swamp you mean. Came back smelling ripe, he did," Moody interjected.

"Then of course there was that Terence guy."

"Timmons," Moody interrupted.

"Oh right, Timmons," Remus continued. "How long did he have those boils on the end of his nose?"

"Three days. Wouldn't stop whining the entire time. Tried to get a warrant for Snape's arrest right after that." Despite what Moody had said about the pranks being nasty, both he and Remus were chuckling now. Harry couldn't help grinning either.

"My favorite," Moody said, getting into the tale, "was Blackley. You remember Amanda Blackley?" he asked Remus.

"Didn't she move to Tahiti a few years back?"

"Some place like that. Now that one Potter, she was a real piece of work. Little know-it-all. You couldn't walk into a room without her reciting some law or other at you."

"What did Snape do to her?" Harry asked.

Remus and Moody burst out laughing and Harry bristled, dying to know what had happened. "What? What'd he do?"

"Nothing!" Moody exclaimed. "Absolutely nothing." The two of them burst out in another round of laughter.

"I don't get it," Harry said, looking back and forth between the two of them.

"He didn't do anything to her Harry," Remus said with a chuckle. "But she was so paranoid that he did, she called off work for two months and didn't come out of her apartment, even when everyone assured her she was jinx free."

"That was the most peaceful two months we had in that office," Moody said nostalgically. "Reckon there were a few aurors that would have shaken Snape's hand for that one. Especially that Joel fellow. She had a crush on him and he couldn't get her to leave him alone, see?"

Harry laughed until his sides hurt. "Those don't sound that nasty," he said when he got his breath back.

Moody shrugged. "Most of ‘em were just shocks. You had to stand outside his house yelling for a good five minutes before he'd deign to come let you in. He was a rotten parolee."

The conversation turned to more mundane matters until they reached the kitchens.

The house elves were more than happy to serve them everything their hearts desired. It wasn't long before they were stuffed. Afterwards, they sat outside for several hours, talking about anything that came to mind. Moody amused Harry with tales of the auror service for quite a long time and Remus even told him some funny stories from when he had been in school with Harry's father. He left out any story that contained Snape in it for some reason though. Harry didn't mind. Remus was one of the few people that included his mother in his stories from time to time.

Harry managed to find out what the blue mist Snape had cast on them had been; a precursor to a binding spell. If Snape had decided to really bind them based on their answers, it would have been nearly impossible to block with the mist surrounding them.

"Cool," Harry exclaimed of that spell.

As the day wore on and afternoon approached, the Headmaster found them all sitting by the lake. "Good evening!" he called cheerily.

They returned his greeting and it wasn't long before they found themselves in the Great Hall, stuffing themselves again. Harry was beginning to wonder when Snape was due back though. It was already late in the afternoon. Before dessert, he leaned toward the Headmaster and voiced his concerns.

"Severus should be along any moment now Harry. I know he wanted to stay for the funeral and Mr. and Mrs. Sanasta were happy to have his help with their wards this morning."

"Is he an expert on wards then sir?" Harry asked. It was starting to sound like it at any rate.

"He's not an expert, no. He has had lots of practice though, being of a rather paranoid nature. But no, he's no expert on wards. I have to say though, he is very creative with them, to be sure," the Headmaster said with a knowing smile. Harry wondered if he knew about all those aurors Snape had pranked. "The Sanasta's called a few of their friends and family together to create stronger wards. The more the merrier they say!" Albus explained of his being asked to help.

It wasn't until halfway through dessert that Snape returned.

"Severus!" Albus said jovially. "Come sit and eat. The elves would be more than happy to bring something up for you, I'm sure."

"Thank you Headmaster but that won't be necessary. Mrs. Sanasta and her sisters were kind enough to provide dinner for all of the guests."

"And how are they Severus?" the Headmaster asked in a decidedly more sober tone.

Harry watched Snape carefully. He was determined to find proof of grief in Snape's features. The man might be a good actor, but surely, if he were upset, he would let something slip. And there it was. He swallowed deeply before answering. It was hardly noticeably, but Harry saw his Adam's apple bob just before he spoke. There was more too. Harry noticed that his eyes were slightly more hooded than usual and his voice, when he spoke, was low and contained not an ounce of his usual venom or energy.

"They are as well as they can be Headmaster. Their son, their only son now, is taking it a little harder than the rest. Samuel used to follow Nathan around everywhere on the holidays."

It seemed uncharacteristic that Snape would mention that, or even remember such an insignificant little bit of trivia from someone else's life, but there it was.

Dumbledore nodded sadly while Remus stared at his plate of dessert. No doubt, just like Harry, his appetite was ruined by the thought of an eight year old dying. Moody stopped eating but said nothing at all. He just sat back quietly and watched Snape with a frown on his face.

"If there was nothing else?" Snape asked the Headmaster.

"Just, how did the warding go?"

"Very well. I believe they'll be safe there, though I don't know how long they'll stay in that house. Frances was beside herself with grief at walking by Samuel's rooms everyday."

"Do let us know if there's anything we can do to help them Severus," Albus said.

"Thank you Headmaster." Snape bowed slightly and then finally looked at Harry for the first time that night for just an instant but said nothing. He ignored the other two occupants as he turned on his heel and made his way out of the Great Hall.

The rest of the dessert passed with everyone in a much more subdued mood. Even the Headmaster left a few bites of his lemon pie on the plate. When the conversation lagged and even the Headmaster seemed unable to lift the mood, Remus and Moody said goodnight and took their leave.

Harry walked to the dungeons in a pensive mood. It seemed so unfair that such a young kid should get caught up in all of this. Hit in the crossfire, that's what Snape had called it. But Harry couldn't see it as anything other than murder. What else was it called when a family's home was attacked while the children were still in it? He didn't even know the family but his heart went out to them. How much longer could this war last? How many more would die before it was all said and done?

Harry couldn't help but think back to the prophecy he had heard a month ago. Not a day went by really, where he didn't think about it at least once. What was he supposed to do? Sure, he had done some neat things and lived to tell the tale. But none of that would help him defeat Voldemort. And what if he couldn't be defeated? What if he really was immortal just like he had said in that graveyard?

Harry shuddered. He didn't want to think about that right now. He never wanted to think about that actually, but he knew someday he would have to. Pushing the thoughts of Voldemort from his mind, he latched onto the next topic that was occupying his mind; Snape's mood. Would he be worse now because of all of this?

But when he got to the rooms, Snape wasn't there. Harry knocked on his bedroom door but there was no answer. He didn't think Snape would ignore his knock, even if he were in a bad mood. Not knowing what to do and having several hours until dinner, he sat down at the table with the books that Snape had written and read a few more chapters.

Two hours later, Snape still wasn't back and Harry was finding it harder and harder to concentrate. Snape was probably in his potions lab as usual, or working on something in the library. It was probably nothing. There was no reason, no reason at all, to think that Snape was overly upset. And even if he was, there was certainly no reason to think that Snape would want or need anyone to be there with him. And, most importantly, Harry was the last person that should do so. What did he care if Snape was upset about something? It wasn't like they were friends. Snape was just watching over him this summer because no one else could do it.

Right. But, even as the thought crossed his mind, he recognized it for the lie it was. Snape was keeping him here and keeping him safe because, for some reason that Harry didn't understand, Snape wanted to.

Harry went back to reading the text and even got into it. Snape's book was good. Actually, it was great, Harry thought. He'd love to show this to the DA. Snape's book should be on the syllabus. Some of it was pretty racy, compared to the defense books out there now. But it gave a pretty good idea of what the enemy was up to. It wasn't like it was teaching dark spells or anything. It just explained what they could do and what to listen and watch for. Harry had even seen some of the stuff described in there being used by actual death eaters.

Hell, Snape should teach DADA!

Harry groaned. He had managed to get through two more chapters, although the going had been slow, when he realized that he was staring at the same page and thinking about Snape again. What a way to spend an evening. He wasn't worried about Snape per se. He was just very curious about what he could be up to.

Harry's head snapped up as he remembered that he had the marauder's map tucked away under his bed. He ran to his bedroom door with a smile on his face. That map was one of the best things he owned. Silently thanking the Weasley twins, he pulled it out from under his bed and unrolled it.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." His grin grew a little bigger.

He had to scan the map for two full minutes before he found the dot labeled Severus Snape. When he saw it, he smacked himself on the head. He hadn't expected Snape to be in the dungeons anywhere. If anything, he had expected to see him moving around on the grounds. Instead, Snape was in a room several corridors away from their own, but on the same level. And the room was huge.

It had no label on it like most of the rooms did. Of course, that wasn't so rare in the dungeons, Harry noted as he scanned the rest of the sublevel maps. Maybe the map didn't give a name to rooms that were unused? But what was Snape doing in that room?

At first, Harry had thought he was pacing, but when he looked closer, the dot almost made it look like Snape was dancing around the room. Well that was just ridiculous. Harry watched it for a few more minutes. In that time, Snape had only stopped once, and only then for a few seconds. Maybe Snape wasn't ok. Maybe he had lost his mind.

Harry was walking for the door before he had even consciously made the decision to go and see what Snape was doing. He entertained the notion that he might get in trouble for this for all of a few seconds. But Snape had said he could go anywhere in the castle. And it wasn't curfew yet. He couldn't get that mad could he?

Of course this was Snape. Harry shrugged, decision already made and walked down the hall to find him. Besides, if he was honest with himself, he was worried about Snape. But only a little.

The trip wasn't long and in no time he was standing outside the door Snape was behind. Should he knock? He was reaching up to do just that, trying to think of what he'd say when Snape opened the door, when he heard a crash and the door shook. His hand stilled inches from the door and he sucked in a breath. His eyes darted to the map in his hand and sure enough, Snape was alone behind that door. Still...

Harry pocketed the map and slipped his wand into his hand. This time, he reached for the door a little more gingerly, as if afraid it would slam open and hit him. He grabbed hold of the doorknob and it clicked and turned. That was surprising. Cracking the door open just a bit, careful to keep his wand out in front, he peered around the doorjamb.

And just about dropped his wand in shock.

Snape was wearing nothing but a white cotton undershirt, his pants and his boots and his hair was pulled back to the nape of his neck. That was strange enough for a man that hardly ever went out of his bedroom without covering himself from neck to ankle. But Harry hardly even noticed what Snape was wearing.

Snape stood, or rather moved around, in the middle of the large room under a vaulted ceiling. Around him stood an array of dummies, each one spinning and zigzagging across the room. Snape seemed to dance in the center, firing off curse after curse at the dummies. Each time he hit a dummy, it was disabled for several seconds, then seemed to reset itself and join the fray. In the midst of these dummies were three or four red painted dummies. These moved slower but were almost always behind the other dummies that seemed to move in a protective formation around them. The red dummies occasionally shot bright sparks of red towards Snape, but he managed to dodge them all as Harry watched.

So that was why Snape had seemed to dance across the room. He was dodging the red streaks and running through the moving dummies, attempting to get shots off at the red ones. And then Harry noticed the red dummies that were already littering the floor. There must have been a good six or seven of them lying around in various states of disarray. One had a hole blown clean through it while another was reduced to a charred husk.

The door slipped open further and further as Harry's grip loosened on it. He didn't even notice when the door finally opened all the way and he was just standing in the doorway, in plain sight. But he did notice when Snape caught sight of him.

It was something to catch Snape off guard. His eyes widened slightly and he stopped moving completely. A breath later, Harry cringed as one of the red spells connected with Snape's chest and sent him back a few meters.

He didn't fall though. With teeth bared, he turned on the dummy that had hit him and blasted right through the white dummies protecting it. They smoked as they were thrown away from the path of his spell. Then with a snarl and a flick of his wrist, the red dummy blew up right in its spot and fell to the floor with a dull thud.

Snape snapped his wand a few more times and then did some complicated motion with it and the dummies stilled and then dropped to the floor softly. Then he turned in his spot and stared at Harry.

And said absolutely nothing.

Samuel Sanasta had worshiped his older brother, Nathan. Sammy had only been one when Nathan had gone off to school, but every time Nathan had written home, he had included a line or a drawing for his little brother. He had been so proud to be a big brother. And when Sammy had been old enough, he had started to draw pictures for Nathan in every letter.

That first year, Nate's dorm mates had joked with him about the drawings that he attached to the lid of his trunk, but Severus had ensured that it never got mean-spirited.

Severus had met Sammy a few times. Nathan had been on the Slytherin gobstones team and his parents had come to the games as often as they could, bringing Sammy with them. Nathan had regaled his little brother with tales of Hogwarts and Slytherin House and Severus had been amused that Sammy was excited to meet Professor Snape. Severus had been sure he had scared the child the first time he met him because the boy had hid behind his mother's skirts at just the sight of him. So he had been surprised when Nathan had handed him a drawing by Sammy of himself standing over a cauldron.

He still had that drawing, though it had taken him nearly fifteen minutes to find it in his filing cabinets. He didn't know why he kept all this useless stuff, but it wasn't like he had much else to store in these rooms. Samuel Sanasta was supposed to be sorted into his house in a few short years, just like his brother had been. Now, all Severus would ever see of the shy boy's works was a drawing that now hung in a place of honor on his bedroom wall. That, instead of tears, had been his tribute.

Severus didn't always enjoy teaching. But over the years, he had become accustomed to being the Head of Slytherin House. His constant presence there had started out as a means to keep the little demons in line. He had been one of the youngest professors to ever start at Hogwarts and certainly the youngest Head of House. It had been important, in those first years, to be stern if he wanted to have any hope of keeping students not much younger than he in line. What he hadn't counted on was how much time they would require of him every year since.

The other houses didn't operate like this. He knew that for a fact. His involvement in his house had started from a combination of needing to keep the most unruly of houses in line and because the last war had hit his Slytherin families the hardest psychologically. Their families had not only dealt with death, but guilt and prejudice as well. It was inexcusable when an eleven year old not only had to hear his father had been killed, but also that he deserved to die, whether it was true or not.

The younger students had nightmares and missed home. They needed an adult presence in their lives to give them a sense of security. The middle years preferred to do everything alone until they ended up in over their head. Then they needed an adult to come to the rescue and restore order and stability to their lives. And the older students, they had so many varying issues that sometimes Severus wanted to yank his hair out in frustration. Those who had already graduated wrote to him about job recommendations or advice on any number of things. Even when they were gone, he was never free of them. But if he was honest with himself, by that time, he was proud of their accomplishments and honored to have his opinion asked. In the end, it fell to him to be mentor, counselor, disciplinarian and surrogate father to a hundred or more students every year. Sometimes it was tiring.

And it was things like this war and this family's tragedy that made him curse the fact that he had ever agreed to come to Hogwarts. He was now so tied up in all of their lives that he couldn't help but be affected when something happened to one of them. Love was certainly going too far, but he felt protective of these children. They were his ten months out of every year and he'd be damned if he let anyone hurt what was his.

Which made the current state of affairs very difficult for him. Not only were his Slytherins in as difficult a situation as the rest of wizarding Britain, if not worse, but he had Harry Potter to protect. That alone seemed a job made for an army of trained witches and wizards.

When the frustration of it all got to him, he came to this room and blasted holes in things until he was too exhausted to think of anything but the essentials, which, until the last week, had been his duties as a spy. He was grateful that Albus had helped him enchant the dummies three years ago. Teaching hadn't made him lazy or weak, but it was a different type of battle from the kind he would need to be prepared for in the Dark Lord's service. When the Dark Lord's rebirth had seemed inevitable, he had begun to prepare his mind and body again. He was now stronger than he had been even when he had been twenty and leading men into battle against ministry aurors.

Harry was relatively sure that he had stopped breathing. That had to be it. Why else would he be feeling so light headed and shaky? And why was Snape just staring at him?

As if Snape could read his thoughts (a novel idea, Harry thought with a mental snort), he raised his arm and beckoned Harry further into the room. Leg's shaking, Harry obeyed, taking several steps in and stopping when Snape held his hand up again. When Harry stopped, Snape began picking his way through the debris littering the room, seemingly with no destination in mind, but his eyes remained fixed on Harry.

The room was filled with silence and Harry twisted his hands in his jumper. Snape was probably working himself up into a screaming fit right now. At best, Harry would be dissecting frogs for the rest of the summer. And for what? he asked himself. I'm not doing anything wrong. And I'll tell him that. He was just starting to open his mouth for a preemptive defense, when Snape cut through his thoughts by speaking.

"The trouble with war," Snape began in a conversational tone that startled Harry, "is that it brings death to all of us, even the very young. It is a forceful reminder of mortality, making exceptions for no one. It might be humans that fight wars, but it's something far more sinister that drives it." He stopped walking and turned back to face Harry. "Do you know what that is Potter?"

"No," he answered shakily. He really hated it when Snape became unpredictable on him. Every time he thought he had the man figured out, he'd throw a curve ball.

"Fear. Fear drives war. Hate helps to fuel it, yes. But fear drives it. When people fear for their lives or the lives of their loved ones, when they find that their way of life is being threatened, that is when their minds turn to war."

Snape fixed Harry with an intense gaze. His black eyes seemed to bore into his own, but it wasn't from the use of Legilimency. Snape seemed to be trying to impart a message with his eyes alone. When he spoke, his voice was softer, but it carried across the room to Harry, who listened with his full attention.

"Your enemies are humans. And they're scared too. Just like you and your friends and allies, they're scared to die. They're scared to lose themselves in a new world that doesn't seem to need them any longer. And that fear drives them just as surely as those who they meet on the battlefield. Even the Dark Lord, whose very name strikes fear into the hearts of others; even he fears death."

Snape looked down at his hands for a moment. "Those death eaters that attacked the Sanastas. They were afraid too. But they didn't know how to process that fear. They never have. It sank into their souls long ago and turned them into killers. What wouldn't they do to keep their way of life? The violence and the bloodshed pushes them further and further until, one day, they can justify the death of a child. They can turn their hearts from the grief of an entire family slaughtered before their eyes. They can torture people into insanity and laugh at their deed."

Snape looked back up and considered Harry for a moment. "But you know what they're capable of don't you?" Snape took a deep breath but his expression remained unchanged as he went on.

"Samuel Sanasta never had a chance. He didn't even have a wand. He didn't understand why his family was being attacked. He just woke up in the middle of the night because he heard noises and wanted to find his brother. But you, Potter, you have a chance. You have a wand. You are beginning to understand war and it's consequences. You can live."

Harry took a cautious step forward. It didn't escape his notice that Snape's hand was still clenched around his wand. "I want to survive," Harry whispered back. "But they're too strong. They know so much more than me. I never know how much longer my luck is going to last."

Snape cocked his head and examined Harry. "They are strong. And they know far more than you about the art of warfare. But, you have something they don't."

"What's that?" Harry asked. If Snape was trying to make him feel better, he'd have to do better than that. Not that Snape would do something like that.

Snape smirked and gave a curt bow of his head. "Me."

Harry felt himself grinning back. He had Snape on his side. There was a time when that would have sounded absurd to say; a time when he wouldn't even have appreciated it. There had always been the Order of the Phoenix and Ron and Hermione. Even before that, he had had Sirius. But even during the battle at the department of mysteries, none of them had impressed him like Snape had during their escape. Although he did have to admit, that bitch, Bellatrix Lestrange, had been fearsome to behold.

"Do you know what the prophecy said sir?" Harry asked. He wanted to hear Snape's opinion on it. Maybe he could think of a weapon that Voldemort wouldn't know about.

Snape's smirk disappeared and he crossed his arms. "The prophecy," Snape repeated, a frown forming on his face. Albus had finally told him the whole of the prophecy when Potter and he had returned from the Dark Lord's compound. It had, like every time the subject came up, sparked a mild disagreement. Their only grounds for agreement was their understanding that the Dark Lord's belief in it put Potter at great risk.

"I know the full prophecy, yes," he confirmed.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He would have felt awkward having to repeat it. "Do you...do you think?"

"Do I think it means anything?" Snape interrupted.

"Yeah, that."

"Yes. It means the Dark Lord is your enemy whether you want to fight him or not."

Harry blinked. "But you don't think...I mean, you don't believe in it? You don't think I have to be the one to kill him?" Harry cringed. Surely Snape would accuse him of being arrogant now.

But Snape didn't do that. "Damn it Albus," he swore under his breath. "I don't give credit to most prophecies, especially ones made by that charlatan, Trelawney."

"But she made another one that came true. About Pettigrew going back to Vol..."

"Do not finish that name Potter!" Snape snapped.

"But why not? You're not spying anymore. And you can't be that scared of him. Not after everything you've seen and done."

"I don't want to hear his name! That's why Potter. Obey me and don't ask questions."

Harry nodded slowly. Clearly, there was something more behind that. But Snape wouldn't say and Harry realized that in this case, it might be best to just let the subject drop and say You-Know-Who. Maybe in another twenty years, he could win an argument with Snape.

"Sorry. But Trelawney predicted that Pettigrew would go back to him. She was right about that. What if she's right this time? What if I can't live if he's still alive! And what's the weapon he doesn't know about? I don't have anything, except this wand and I seriously doubt it will do much good. He'll kill me!" Harry's voice broke at the end and he realized that he had started to pace.

"Potter!" Snape snapped. "Control yourself immediately." When Harry stopped, he spoke in a softer, but still firm voice. "Breath Potter. And unclench your hands. Stand up straight."

Harry followed his instructions one by one, cursing himself for a fool for losing it in front of Snape.

"Open your eyes Potter," Snape said in a wry tone. When Potter had obeyed, he continued.

"You are alive now Potter, yes?"

Harry nodded slowly, unsure what point Snape was trying to make.

"Well then, proof enough that you can live while the Dark Lord does. Furthermore, the best weapon is the well-trained soldier. Beyond that, yes, you do have to worry about dying, just like everyone else during this war. Welcome to the human race Mr. Potter. It's noted for its sensitivity to poisons, curses, old age and Dark Lords. So sorry if that's an inconvenience for you," he added sarcastically. "Now Mr. Potter, I believe your next issue is whether it has to be you that kills him and how, yes?"

Harry nodded. When everything was put that way, it kind of put everything into perspective.

"Maybe you'll be the one that kills him, maybe you won't. That is a matter of chance, skill and luck. Don't make the mistake for one second of thinking that you're the only soldier fighting on this side of the battle line though."

"No, I don't think that."

"But the prophecy makes you feel like you're the only one that can end it yes?"

"Well, it did sound like that."

"I won't pretend to understand prophecies Potter, and if anyone tells you that they do, recognize them for the liar or fool that they are. Most of the time they only make sense after the fact." Snape took a step closer and smirked a little. "But I'll tell you what Potter. I'll make a wager with you."

Harry cocked his head in curiosity. "I'll race you for the honor of being the one to dispose of the Dark Lord."

Harry smiled despite himself. It wasn't a game, but it felt good to see it like that, if only for a moment. "And what does the winner get?" Harry asked.

"If I win, I'll give you my autograph," Snape said dryly.

"Fine," Harry answered with a smile. "And if I win, I'll sign a chocolate frog card for you."

Snape rolled his eyes, but there was the ghost of a smile on his face.

"So, how do I become a ‘well-trained soldier'?" Harry asked, silently praying that Snape would offer to teach him.

"Practice, experience and in your case Mr. Potter, the benefit of my infinite wisdom."

Harry snorted and his grin grew wider. That is, until Snape cuffed him on the back of the head lightly. "Hey!" he exclaimed, but Snape ignored him to deal with the dummies still littering the floor.

When the dummies were all piled against one of the walls and the room's floor was cleared, Snape turned his attention back to Harry, who was trying to pat his hair back down. "Save yourself the trouble and shave your head Potter."

"Why don't you shave your head," Harry shot back. Right after the words left his mouth, he gasped and his hand shot up to his mouth. "Oh no," he muttered behind his hand.

Snape smirked nastily at Harry's terrified look. It was nice to know he could still inspire terror in his students. In a moment of semi-cruel inspiration, he flicked his wand at Potter, who flinched and then looked at him in confusion.

Harry hadn't felt a thing so he had no idea what Snape had just done, or why he was smiling so nastily.

"If you want to become a soldier Potter, you cannot have any distractions." Snape's eyes flicked up to Harry's head.

No. No no no no no. He wouldn't have! Harry thought as his hand went back towards his head. That greasy git! "Oh my God! You've shaved my head!"

"Get over it Potter!" Snape snapped.

Harry glared but said nothing. At least it would grow back. And it was all evenly cut. Bloody Snape just shaved my head!

"If you want to survive, you'll have to learn to keep your mouth shut, your thoughts hidden and your mind calm." Snape gave him an assessing glance. "You were hopeless at Occlumency when last I tried to teach you."

"How would that help me fight?" Harry asked. He left out the part about how he thought Snape had been a horrid teacher of that subject - and the part about him not really trying.

"The Dark Lord is not the only one that can attack minds. Occlumency can protect you from many things Potter, not just Legilimency." At Potter's puzzled expression, he elaborated. "Master Occlumency and you have mastered your mind. That will keep you going when everything else has failed. Learn to hide yourself, and you can protect yourself from insanity if you're tortured under the Cruciatus. Learn to subdue your emotions, and you remain focused in battle. That is your first lesson."

Harry didn't much like how that sounded - ‘subdue your emotions.' Did that mean you didn't have any? No, no, Snape felt emotions. Harry was sure of that. He was just better than everyone at hiding or ignoring them. That was what Snape meant.

"Are we going to be doing Occlumency lessons?" Harry asked, already dreading the answer. Whether or not it would help, he didn't fancy spending hours on his backside in front of a frustrated potions master. He deliberately left off the ‘sir' in retaliation for his hair though.

"And waste my time again? I think not Potter. If you want to learn Occlumency from me, you must prove that you're willing to work at it this time."

"Well how do I do that?"

"We'll see how you do with the rest of my lessons. If I am satisfied, I will teach you Occlumency."

Harry nodded. That seemed fair. And it would mean delaying those particular lessons.

"And now let's see how you do with lesson two Potter."

"What's that?"

"Defend yourself." Snape raised his wand with a grin on his face.

Damn! Harry struggled to get his wand out from his sleeve and just got to it when Snape's wrist snapped and he felt a sting on his calf that made him jump. "Ouch!"

Snape's grin grew wider as he sent out another curse. "Protego!" Harry shouted just in time. "Expelliarmus!"

Snape flicked his wrist almost lazily before Harry had even finished the spell and Harry's spell was blocked. Another flick of his wrist sent Harry crashing onto his back. He looked up just in time to see Snape cast another silent spell. "Protego!" The curse hit his shield and his arm shook with the strain of holding it. That had been a pretty powerful spell!

"Stupefy" Harry yelled as he rolled back up onto his feet. Snape just sidestepped the spell and it hurtled past and hit the wall behind him. In mid-stride, his wand arm darted forward again and Harry threw up a shield, but nothing happened. No spell crashed into his shield at all. He lowered his wand in confusion and that's when the dummy crashed into him from behind, entangling his limbs. He fell with a muttered oath.

Snape wasn't even sweating, and he even gave Harry time to get up between each spell. This was not going well. Harry gripped his wand tighter and jumped back up from the floor, a spell already on his tongue.

"Bombarda!"

Snape moved his wrist as though he were swatting a fly. "You'll have to do better than that Potter," he called out. Another flick of his wrist and Harry's shoes were stuck to the floor.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry tried again in desperation.

"Oh ho! Potter," Snape said with a tight grip on his wand. "Falling back on your staple spell?" He pushed his wand in front of him as though he were pushing something away from him and Harry fell backwards right onto his bum as though from a powerful shove. On the bright side, he was out of his stuck shoes.

"Expelliarmus! Bombarda! Stupefy! Petrificus Totalis!" Harry yelled out in quick succession. Snape blocked the first three, but he had to dodge the fourth.

"Better Potter, but not good enough. Silencio!" Harry had only a moment to smile at Snape's surprised compliment before the next spell hit him. He opened his mouth to yell a spell...and nothing came out.

"What's the matter Potter?" Snape said, lowering his wand only an inch. "Cat got your tongue?"

Harry raised his wand and tried to yell out another spell but still, nothing happened. Damn!

Harry looked up into Snape's eyes and didn't like what he saw. All of a sudden, there was something very predatory in Snape's look. His eyes seemed darker and hooded; his face was set in harsh lines. He held his body rigidly as his wand was raised oh so slowly. It unnerved Harry.

"And now Potter, it's time to learn your third lesson."

The words that came out of Snape's mouth next shocked him so thoroughly, he couldn't move.

"Avada Kedavra."

"And now Potter, it's time to learn your third lesson."

The words that came out of Snape's mouth next shocked him so thoroughly, he couldn't move.

"Avada Kedavra."

In that instant, Harry was convinced, beyond any doubt at all, that Snape had finally cracked and he, Harry, was going to die. Harry's mind went completely blank.

It was amazing what being faced with imminent death made one's mind latch onto because in the very next moment, he wondered whether Snape would be proud that he had finally managed to clear his mind.

His eyes were closed, waiting for the curse to hit. He expected to be dead any second and all he could think was how stupid he felt for being so very wrong about Snape.

Seconds ticked by. Harry wondered if he was already dead or if time just seemed to slow down when death was imminent. If he opened his eyes, would he still see the curse hurtling toward him? Or would he see the afterlife, whatever that looked like.

He was afraid to open his eyes but even more afraid not to. What if he were dead? What if he never got to see Ron and Hermione again? Who would take care of Hedwig? Who would warn the Order about Snape's mental health? What if he saw his parents and Sirius?

His eyes shot open. There was no bright light. There were no ghosts come to welcome him. There was no green spell hurtling toward him. There was only Snape.

Potter's mouth opened and closed several times. Severus thought he looked like a fish out of water trying to draw in air. His own arms were crossed and he knew there was a frown on his face. He glanced idly at the wall far above Potter's head where the spell had landed - quite on purpose. There was no mark at all on the wall from the curse, but Severus hadn't expected there to be. That curse was meant for the living only. His eyes moved back down to rest on Potter. Potter had not reacted well at all. He allowed for the fact that that particular curse from him would be shocking. But really, after the curse had been spoken, he had expected Potter to do...something. Not just stand there in shock and then close his damned eyes and stand there for nearly ten more seconds.

"The third lesson Potter, is to move," he spat, letting Potter hear his disappointment.

Oh. That wasn't very good. Harry stared at Snape for a few heartbeats, trying to wrap his mind around his meaning. Move. Right. Harry's head dropped and he stared at his shoes in frustration. Of all the stupid things to do! He had known that. Why did his common sense leave when it was Snape of all people? The second, the very second that he had heard the curse uttered, he had believed it was coming for him. But there had been time to dodge or duck. He had done it before in other situations with other curses. He didn't make any excuses for himself though. When he had heard Snape say the very first syllable of that curse, his mind had screamed at him that this was a hostile situation and he should react accordingly. But he had been too stuck in the notion that he couldn't speak to cast a spell that he had just taken it.

His mind turned to one of the other times someone had tried to use the killing curse on him. This night wasn't the first time he had ever thought of the night Cedric had died and Voldemort had risen again, but it was the first night that he allowed himself to think of it objectively. Every other time, he had been too preoccupied with wishing he hadn't grabbed that portkey, or he had been filled disgust and guilt at how easily Pettigrew had killed Cedric, or with how amazing it was that part of his parent's essences had come out of Voldemort's wand. But he had never before judged his performance in that duel. He had just been grateful to live. Now he forced himself to judge his actions and what he found left him wanting in the way of skills.

The killing curse had no block. But when Voldemort had yelled it at him, he had yelled Expelliarmus back and stood his ground. If those wands hadn't connected...Harry shuddered. He forced himself to analyze what he should have done. What had Snape done when he dodged the fourth spell Harry had cast in succession during their last duel? He must have felt that he couldn't hold the shield so he had side stepped. But even moving, he had thrown a curse back.

Harry abruptly raised his face to Snape's, his eyes widening in understanding. That was a very important lesson. He wondered if Snape knew how important and illuminating that lesson had been and then promptly waved that aside. Of course Snape knew. He probably had even better an idea why that lesson was so important. Harry had the distinct impression that Snape was no raw recruit when it came to battle.

"So Potter. Your natural inclination when you hear that curse is to freeze?"

"No," he answered sulkily, but in his mind, he was going over every time that he had heard those words being uttered. Snape would not leave him alone though. He seemed to know what he was thinking.

"You're thinking about it aren't you? Every time you've ever heard that spell. How could you not? I remember every time anyone has ever yelled that curse at me. So tell me Potter, tell me what you did each time that green light sped toward you. Were you just lucky or did you actually move?"

"I was just lucky I guess," Harry answered, shuffling his feet and shoving his hands in his pockets.

"No Potter! Do this right. Force yourself to examine your reactions. Learn to despise those that are second-class. From the beginning Potter."

"I don't remember the first time, not really," Harry said quietly, thinking of the night his parents had died. "I suppose the next time I heard it was when that man was killed in my dreams."

"What man?" Snape asked.

"His name was Frank Bryce. Vol..." Snape's glare intensified and he instead said, "He, You-Know-Who, killed him in my dreams. Only it wasn't a dream."

"And when was this?" Snape asked him quietly, but Harry didn't miss the anger in his voice.

"In my fourth year; actually, the summer before. But I thought it was a dream!" Harry said when Snape's arms uncrossed and the man's hands clenched.

"And did you tell anyone about this dream Potter?"

Ooh, Harry didn't like this at all. "I told Sirius," he whispered. "And Ron and Hermione."

Snape's eyes closed for a brief moment. That stupid mutt, he thought. When he opened them again, his face was completely blank. "Very well," he said curtly. "And the next time?"

"When Pettigrew killed Cedric." Harry was embarrassed by how his voice cracked at the end. But if he expected Snape to have any mercy, he might as well be waiting for Voldemort to declare himself reformed and ready to hand himself over to the ministry.

"And the next?" This time, Snape seemed impatient. It was clear to Harry that Snape didn't want to hear about other people being killed. He wanted to hear how Harry had reacted to the spell.

"When He made me duel him in the graveyard, after he had...um, come out of the cauldron thing." Snape nodded for him to go on. "He used that curse."

"And you did what?"

"I messed up and got lucky," Harry said, dropping his head again.

"Indeed?"

"I tried to disarm him but I didn't move out of the way. The only thing that saved me was our wands connecting."

Snape nodded and Harry remembered that Snape had heard what had happened. He was just making Harry repeat it all with a different emphasis.

"And then," Harry continued, this time not even waiting for Snape to encourage him, "last month at the department of mysteries." Harry had to stop at the reminder of how soon all of that had been. Had it only been a month since he had led his friends to what could have been their deaths? A month since Sirius had died? A few days since Snape had rescued him? Harry felt a lump in his throat but swallowed it back down and focused.

"One of the Death Eaters tried to kill Hermione with it but I tackled him."

"Is that all?"

"No," Harry said in a strangled voice. He really didn't want further proof that he was incompetent. "He used it on me there."

"Did he?" Snape asked quietly. Harry glanced up and noted that Snape had resumed his crossed arm stance. But where before, he had seemed completely relaxed, this time his hands were clenched around the fabric of his sleeves.

Harry nodded.

"And what did you do?"

"I completely froze."

"Yet you live. Tell me. Are you immune to the curse? Is that why you just stand there?"

"No." Harry shook his head and swallowed another lump in his throat. Now that he was forced to remember it, he realized that of the two times that he had been in the line of that curse and able to appreciate it and respond, he had froze both times. "No, the Headmaster blocked it with one of the statues from the atrium."

There was silence for several seconds. Harry felt dejected and weak. The cold from the floor had crept through his socks and now he realized that his feet were numb with cold. He shifted from foot to foot, hoping to restore feeling. But his mind was too occupied to focus on that. Was this part of training then? Going back through every battle and being forced to see his own stupidity time and again?

"Get your shoes on Potter."

Harry nodded jerkily and obeyed, not once looking at Snape. He really didn't want to see Snape's disgust. He sat on the floor and pulled his shoes on. His mind was so preoccupied by his own failures that he made a mess of his trainer's ribbons and only belatedly realized that he had tied them both into ugly knots.

"That's enough Potter. Get off the floor." Snape didn't sound upset or taunting, but Harry was so upset with himself that he imagined what he thought he deserved to hear in that voice. It was easy when Snape's tone was almost always close to sniping anyway.

"Look at me Potter," Snape said when Harry was standing again.

Harry raised his eyes slowly. He expected to see scorn on Snape's face. Instead, Snape was watching him with the same kind of concentration he had with particularly difficult experimental potions.

"You freeze when you hear the killing curse directed at yourself." Harry's eyes widened slightly at the lack of accusation in that voice and he nodded in agreement. "Now that we know, we'll fix it. Is that understood?"

Harry nodded, something very close to hope forming in his chest. Hope that Snape could help him and hope that Snape didn't think he was completely weak because of it. In that very moment, he wanted nothing more than to prove to Snape that he wasn't weak; that he could learn and get better.

Snape started walking for the door and held it open for Harry. "I believe dinner time has come and gone Mr. Potter."

Harry hadn't even realized before, but at the mention of food, his stomach gave a loud growl and he looked up sheepishly.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Come Potter. Let's go eat."

Harry noticed within the first minute of trailing Snape that they weren't heading back to the apartments. "Where are we going?" he asked.

Snape put a hand to his brow and rubbed his forehead absentmindedly for a moment. Harry wondered if the man had a headache and winced in sympathy. He knew he would if he had had the day Snape had. The man had just gotten back from a funeral a few hours ago.

And then dueled him with ease and taught him a few lessons besides. Wasn't the man ever off his game?

"We'll eat in the kitchens tonight," Snape answered.

Harry perked up a little. Maybe Dobby was in tonight. But did he really want Snape seeing Dobby and he interact? Harry did the equivalent of a mental shrug. There wasn't much he could do about that if it happened.

It wasn't until they had made it to the hallway with the painting of the ticklish pear that Snape spoke again. He peered out of the corner of his eye down at Harry and frowned. "Did you need something tonight Potter?"

"What?" He had taken Harry completely off guard and he didn't know what Snape meant.

"When you came to the training room. Were you looking for me for some reason?" Snape sounded impatient with having to explain himself.

"Oh!" Uh oh, Harry thought. "No, well kind of. I didn't need anything. I was just wondering where you were so I went for a walk and heard you."

Harry knew he wasn't good at lying, but it was pretty close to the truth. And luckily Snape wasn't looking directly at him. He seemed preoccupied actually.

"Hmm. How were Moody and Lupin today then?"

"Fine, I guess. Moody wanted to go to your rooms." Harry glanced at Snape guiltily. He had thought at the time that Snape didn't care if Moody knew about the wards or not, but maybe he had been wrong. He hoped not.

"Yes, I expect he did," Snape said with a smirk.

Harry cleared his throat nervously and Snape shot him a suspicious look. "I, um, told him what you told me. About you not wanting him in your rooms."

Snape didn't look like he gave a damn. "And?"

"Oh, nothing. I just thought you'd want to know is all."

Snape nodded. By then they were standing in front of the door to the kitchens. Snape ran his finger along the pear and the door swung open.

Inside, the kitchens were much less busy than during the school year. There were only a handful of House Elves down there and half of them were just sitting on stools working on little projects like knitting or polishing spoons. One stood by a spotless oven, wiping it down. At the sight of their visitors, they jumped up in excitement though.

"Professor Snape!" they called out nearly in unison. Dobby didn't seem to be there but Winky was standing in the corner, watching Snape with an expression of fearful hope. She showed no sign whatsoever of recognizing Harry at first.

Snape's eyes swept over the House Elves standing before him, all of them eager to serve. His eyes stopped on Winky and she swept a low curtsy.

"We require a light dinner," he spoke directly to Winky. The rest of the House Elves' ears drooped and they went back to their tasks, occasionally looking back up as though they were just waiting for the two of them to need something else.

"As you wish Master Snape. Is there anything special Winky can be getting you?"

"Whatever was served for dinner tonight will suffice." Winky went to work immediately and Snape led Harry over to the table and gestured for him to take a seat.

Snape leaned back in his chair and watched Winky warm their dinner up. When she was done, she set it reverently before his place. "Will Master Snape be requiring anything else from Winky?" Snape shook his head and she practically skipped off to get Harry's dinner.

Harry watched in astonishment as Winky returned and placed the meal in front of him. She was respectful and Harry even saw recognition in her eyes finally, but she was nowhere near as worshipping of Harry as she was of Snape. "And Master Potter? Does he be needing anything else?"

"No, thank you Winky."

He was confused when she nodded almost as curtly as Snape usually did and went back to her work in the corner. It looked like she was...

"Is that your shirt she's mending?" Harry exclaimed.

Of course, it was possible that it was someone else's. But how many other of the castle's current occupants had black frock coats with so many buttons.

Snape glanced over and then back. "It is," he answered as he began to eat his meal.

Winky might have brought them leftovers, but it seemed no less delicious than every other meal that Hogwarts served. There was a roast that was drizzled with some kind of mushroom sauce, roast potatoes and Yorkshire pudding. On a side plate she had stuffed green beans, biscuits and some kind of cheese and beef casserole. Harry now knew why Snape had stressed the word ‘light'. No doubt if he hadn't, Winky would have brought them all the leftovers she could find and then made more food for good measure.

Harry looked up at Snape from time to time during the meal. The man finished the roast, ate two roast potatoes and half the green beans. When he made it to the Yorkshire pudding, he took three bites and then set down his cutlery and sat back with his hands resting on his abdomen. Harry had already finished off the roast, the pudding, his potatoes and he was making progress on his casserole. Though he was feeling a bit full.

Winky jumped up when she saw Snape had stopped and brought him a cup of coffee and took away his plates with only a nod from Snape. When Harry sat back a few minutes later, feeling stuffed, she took his plates and then reappeared with a tumbler of juice.

"Is Master Potter wanting dessert?"

Dessert? That actually sounded quite good, even if he was full. But before he could even ask what was on the menu, Snape spoke up.

"That will be all."

Winky bowed low. "Thank you Master Snape." Snape nodded and she went back to her mending looking very pleased with herself. The last time Harry had seen her, she'd been drunk and crying.

Harry didn't know what to make of it. Snape wasn't nice to her. He was curt, bossy and, well, Snape-like. And she seemed to worship him if her expression was anything to go by. Harry made a mental note to ask Dobby about that next time he saw him. This was just weird.

Snape took his time drinking his coffee and Harry made another mental note; Snape enjoyed coffee...a lot. The only time he was still and relaxed for more than seconds at a time was when he was drinking a cup of coffee. The closest he got otherwise was when he was brewing. Although Harry had to admit, Snape seemed equally comfortable doing anything else. But when he was enjoying a cup of coffee, it seemed like he was taking the time to really relax. Harry felt something like relief that Snape displayed even this small sign of being something other than soldier or scholar.

"So," Harry said, starting to feel uncomfortable with the silence. Though he supposed Snape was as happy saying nothing as he was speaking. "Um, Winky seems happier."

Snape glanced over to the corner where Winky was working. He made a noncommittal sound in his throat and went back to paying attention to his coffee.

Harry didn't try to speak again. It was clear Snape didn't feel like it and anything Harry had to say or ask wouldn't put him in a better mood. Harry had learned the hard way that personal questions were not welcome.

After five minutes, Snape set his cup down firmly and stood. Winky shot out of her chair and ran for the door, her bare little feet slapping loudly on the stone floor all the way. She said nothing as Snape left but bowed low. Harry followed behind, still wondering what Snape could have done to Winky to affect such a change.

When they made it back to their rooms, Snape told him to get to bed and took himself off. Harry went to his rooms and settled on his bed, thinking about all he had learned that day. He wondered what Ron and Hermione would say if they knew what Harry was doing with his summer. He could just imagine it. "What did you do this summer Harry?" "Oh, you know, the usual. Rabastan Lestrange caught me and Voldemort tried to break into my head. Then Snape rescued me and that was wicked. Then I spent the summer with Snape and we're like chums now." Harry snorted. Yeah right.

Then he slapped a hand to his head. He had never written Ron and Hermione! Snape said he could if he didn't say where he was or who he was staying with...or give any information that would help someone deduce his whereabouts. He wondered if Snape would want to read it first.

Harry was tired though; mentally and physically. His muscles were starting to ache from being thrown around by Snape in that duel, if you could call it that. And his head was starting to pound from all the emotional ups and downs of the day. He was sincerely surprised he hadn't died of shock when Snape had fooled him with that killing curse.

He'd just get up early and write Ron and Hermione before breakfast. Then he could ask Snape if he could send it while they ate. He was eager to hear back from them. He wondered what they were up to. Hermione was still in Italy according to the Headmaster. He'd wager she was having fun. And Ron was probably playing Quidditch with his brothers and sister if they were in.

Usually those thoughts filled him with jealousy. But right then, Harry didn't mind so much. Sure, he'd like to play Quidditch. But staying with Snape was turning out far more interesting than any other summer he had ever had. And it wasn't nearly as bad as he thought it would be. Snape wasn't easy to talk to and they had already had words, but really, this was far more than he had expected of Snape. The man even referred to this place as ‘our rooms'. The only other place that anyone had ever called ‘ours' had been the Gryffindor common rooms.

Yes, he would write Ron and Hermione tomorrow morning, maybe read some more of Snape's book during the day and see what Snape was up to. Maybe if he got lucky, Hagrid would be back tomorrow or the next day.

Harry thought about all that as he turned down the lamps and got ready for bed. He climbed under his covers stiffly, wincing as his muscles protested. He yawned as his head hit the pillow. This bed really was very comfortable. It was far better than his lumpy old mattress at the Dursleys. And the food here was better too, in quantity and quality; even if Snape didn't make a big deal out of meals like Molly Weasley did. His mind was drifting through these thoughts as he slipped closer and closer to a calm sleep.

And then he remembered, I used magic today. OH NO! It's the summer holidays. Harry groaned as he shot up in his bed. Was he going to be expelled or have to go to a trial now? He allowed the worry to work on him, turning the blood in his veins to ice. What would he do if he couldn't go to Hogwarts? That was just unthinkable. And whom would he stay with? Could he still stay with Snape even if he wasn't a student?

An image of Snape kneeling before him covered in blood, and chasing the Dark Lord out of his mind flashed through his head. Snape. Snape would take care of it. He wouldn't let Harry be expelled, not when he had offered to teach him. In the back of his mind was the thought that Snape wouldn't let it happen just because he cared about what happened to Harry, even if Snape didn't like him...yet. Intent Spells couldn't lie right? But he didn't latch onto that thought because if felt so slippery to him, as though if he grabbed it, he'd find out it wasn't true at all. For some reason, the very idea filled him with sadness.

He'd ask Snape in the morning, but just then, he felt much better about it. No matter what happened, Snape would figure something out in the morning. This time when Harry's head hit the pillow, he fell asleep within minutes.

Dear Ron,

How are you? Is your family all well? Have you heard from Hermione at all?

You'll never guess what happened to me this summer. If you haven't already heard, ask your Dad about it. I think he knows but I haven't seen any of your family. I can't say much in this letter except that I am fine. If your Dad tells you anything about what happened, please don't write it in a letter. I would get in so much trouble.

Please write soon and tell everyone I said hi.

Harry

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

Dear Hermione,

How's your vacation? It sounds like fun. I have a lot to tell you when I see you but I can't say any of it in this letter. I'm fine and safe right now.

I heard you're going to be staying with Ron later. I wish I could join you but I'm having a good summer where I am, surprisingly.

Write me soon.

Harry

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

Harry woke up early feeling very stiff and sore. He hadn't realized at the time just how hard he had fallen during his duel yesterday. He couldn't turn far enough to see it, but he'd bet galleons that he had a nice big bruise on his backside too.

He stuck his head out of his door and peeked into the dining room. Snape was either still in his own rooms or out already. His clock showed that he still had an hour until breakfast so he rushed through his letters to Ron and Hermione.

With a half hour to spare, he limped to the bathroom and stripped off his clothes. Turning on the tap as hot as he could stand it, he just stood under the water, letting the heat soothe his sore muscles. He stayed in there until his hands were pruney.

When he finally got out, Snape was already sitting at the table, a light breakfast for two spread before him. "Good morning sir," Harry said as he tucked in to his meal. As always, his only response was a curt nod.

When he was done, he remembered that he had used magic last night and a small spike of dread ran through his body.

"Professor?"

"What?" Snape asked without looking up from his newspaper.

"Will I get in trouble for using magic last night? Last summer, I almost got expelled because of that dementor attack and I really don't want to go to another trial."

Snape set his paper aside. "You will not," he said with finality. "The school is an acceptable place for all underage wizards to use magic and no tracers can reach inside the wards placed around the castle and its grounds. And Potter?"

"Yes sir?"

"Even if you are not at the school, if you are in any danger at all, do not hesitate to use magic. I don't care what the ministry has to say about the matter."

"But can't they expel if I do?"

"They can try," Snape said with a snort. "But since everyone knows that the Dark Lord is back now, it is highly unlikely that they would. If that happens Potter, the Headmaster or I will deal with it."

Harry sat back feeling immensely relieved; someone else would deal with it, Snape or the Headmaster. It almost felt like having parents. "I wrote Ron and Hermione," he said after a moment, interrupting Snape's perusal of the paper again.

Snape dropped the paper back on the counter and returned his attention to him. "You said nothing about your whereabouts or myself?"

"No. Here, there's not much in there at all," he said, fishing them out of his pockets. He passed them to Snape, who looked them over for a few seconds only.

"Acceptable. I'll send them later. We will refrain from using your owl...what was its name?"

"Hedwig."

"She is too conspicuous."

"Can I go with you to mail it? I‘d like to visit her."

"Fine," Snape waved his hand in the air as though he couldn't care less and went back to his paper again. After a minute of watching Snape concentrating on one particular article, he couldn't contain himself any longer. He hadn't even thought about what was in the news for days, but now he was dying to know.

"Um, sir? Can I see that when you're done?"

Snape ignored him for several seconds and Harry wondered if he had irritated the man. But when Snape finished reading the story he was on, he set the paper face up on the table, turned it to Harry, and pointed to a particular article at the bottom of the page. Harry ignored the headlines that screamed out the news that Voldemort was back and began reading what Snape had pointed him to.

The-Boy-Who-Lived...Chosen One or Not?

Sources in the ministry have disclosed that the incident of last month involving Harry Potter and the legendary but secretive Order of the Phoenix, when You-Know-Who's return was confirmed, was centered in and around the fabled Hall of Prophecies.

The rest of the article was speculation on whether the battle had been fought over a prophecy about himself and whether he was, in fact, the boy that would defeat the Dark Lord. Harry groaned. "Oh great! Last year they all thought I was nutters. Now they think I'm their ‘only hope'," he quoted from the article.

Snape snorted. "The public is fickle. Ignore them. Those who matter will fight on their own whether or not they believe this tripe." Then Snape pointed to another article and Harry pulled the paper back up.

Ongoing Investigations Into Rumors That Harry Potter Was Rescues From You-Know-Who

Rumors still abound in the community about the capture and subsequent rescue of Harry Potter, The-Boy Who-Lived. The questions everyone still want answered? Who rescued Harry Potter? And where is he now? Both Minister Fudge and Headmaster Dumbledore have remained silent on this score.

The Daily Prophet recently caught up with Harry Potter's muggle relatives. When asked about their nephew, the Dursley family declined to comment and told the reporter, "that boy is gone, you hear. We don't know where he is and you'd better leave us alone or we'll call the police." There are whispers that...

Harry looked up. "It doesn't say anything at all about you in there," he said with a frown.

"You might have noticed that the article doesn't say anything specific Potter. It is all rumors and conjectures about where you may be hiding."

"Oh. So, no one really knows where I am then?"

"Certainly not the Daily Prophet. Let's hope it stays that way."

"But Hogwarts is safe isn't it?"

Snape shrugged. "One thing you must learn in war Potter; no one is ever safe. If the enemy is determined enough, any fortress can be infiltrated. Pay attention to your surroundings no matter where you are."

Harry nodded. That was...not comforting. But then, he didn't expect Snape to be comforting. In the last few days, Harry had come to expect Snape to be brutally honest. At times, his blunt candor wasn't very encouraging, but at least he didn't lie or mislead him. . .which in itself was reassuring in a strange way.

"Are the Dursley's in any danger?" he asked. He felt only a little concerned and asked out of duty rather than actual fear.

"They have agreed to move. Beyond that, I can't say," Snape answered.

"There have been no attacks since the Sanasta's assault in there," Snape nodded toward the paper, after Harry picked it up to see what the rest of it said. "That means nothing of course. The Daily Prophet, despite what it claims, does not hear everything. Still, it is a good sign. The Dark Lord must still be recovering from his latest loss."

"You mean me? Why would he need to recover from that?"

Snape didn't answer but he had a very malicious smirk on his face. Harry didn't understand. Had he missed something? And then he remembered that explosion in Voldemort's compound.

"What was that explosion? When we were escaping, I heard one. Was that you?"

Snape's smirk grew. "My parting gift," he said in a very pleased voice. Harry had the impression that he was missing a very good joke.

"What gift?" Harry started to ask, but he was interrupted by a knock on the door. Snape repeated his usual ritual of brandishing his wand and turning the door clear from the inside before opening it to admit the Headmaster.

"Severus! Harry, my boy! How are you both?"

Snape ignored the question and sat back down, indicating that the Headmaster should sit as well.

"I'm fine sir, thank you," Harry answered.

The Headmaster sat and then proceeded to stare at Harry's head strangely. It took Harry a few seconds to remember that Snape had shaved it. His cheeks began to burn and he looked into his cup of tea.

"I must say," the Headmaster began, "that is an unusual style for you Harry." Harry noticed the Headmaster's eyes slip to the Potions Master, but Snape was finishing off his own eggs and completely ignored the Headmaster's statement. The Headmaster was not to be deterred though.

"Don't you think Severus?"

Snape looked entirely unconcerned as he set the paper down again and looked at Harry's head then at the Headmaster. "Really? I think it's sensible."

Harry glared at Snape and the Headmaster looked back and forth between the two; one glaring, the other inspecting his nails. "Well I suppose it is that," Albus said with evident confusion. Snape smirked.

"Well I think it's too breezy," Harry said hotly, crossing his arms. He wanted to say something meaner but held it back because when he had opened his mouth, Snape had turned a shrewd eye on him and he had lost his nerve. What a stupid thing to say though! Harry looked down at his arms.

"That's just the air blowing through your ears Potter," Snape sniped back.

"Now boys," Albus said, but he had a slight smile on his face. "I'm sure Severus could grow it back for you. There are potions for this sort of thing. Many people get haircuts they don't like after all."

"I'm sorry Headmaster, Mr. Potter," Snape said in what was obviously contrived distress, with a hand above his heart (if he in fact had one, Harry thought). "But I've run out of the necessary ingredients. I'm sure Mr. Potter will get used to it though. Won't you Potter?"

"Yeah. I just love it. It's so much better than having to wash my hair," he added sarcastically, looking at Snape's long black hair.

Snape only smirked cruelly at him.

The Headmaster smiled broadly. "Wonderful! Wonderful. It's settled then."

"Would you like some tea Headmaster?" Snape asked, remembering his manners.

"Do you still have that lemon grass tea? That was quite splendid."

Snape stood with a roll of his eyes and a nod. The Headmaster winked at Harry and he smiled back.

Harry wondered if the Headmaster often stopped by to visit with Snape. He certainly seemed relaxed in Snape's apartments. He didn't think many people could say that. He was just now starting to feel comfortable here himself. If Snape hadn't killed him in the last few days, he figured there was a good chance Snape wasn't homicidal towards him.

"I must say Severus, you do make very good tea. What do you put in this? It's not just lemongrass?"

"Nightshade actually. A lethal dose."

Harry's jaw dropped but the Headmaster just chuckled. "Ah, a secret ingredient then. Perhaps...love?" The Headmaster looked like he was trying desperately to stifle a laugh. Harry had no such restraint and laughed outright.

"Don't be disgusting," Snape said with a look of immense distaste. "I've just eaten."

"But truly, this is delicious. Would you like to try some Harry?" Dumbledore held his cup out.

"Oh, no thanks Professor. I have an allergy to Nightshade."

The Headmaster broke into a full out laugh. Harry looked at Snape and was surprised to note that one corner of his mouth was curved slightly upwards, almost in a smile.

"What can I do for you Headmaster?" Snape asked when Albus stopped chuckling.

"Oh, do I need an excuse to come and visit my favorite Potions Master?"

"Your only Potions Master," Snape said dryly.

Albus ignored him. "I just wanted to see how everything was."

"I do believe they are unchanged since the last time you asked Headmaster."

"Surely your injuries are better. Madam Pomfrey would be devastated if her treatments weren't working. I could always call her back," Dumbledore pulled on his beard as though considering it.

Harry hid a laugh behind his hand at the sight of Snape's widened eyes.

"Don't you dare," he hissed, leaning forward.

"But if you're not better..."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm quite all right," Snape interrupted hastily.

The Headmaster sighed. "You are difficult to tease in the morning Severus."

"One wonders why you keep trying then," Snape said dryly as he rose to take his dishes to the kitchen sink.

"I do so enjoy the challenge though. It's a mental exercise."

"Perhaps you require a less, ah, rigorous routine Headmaster."

"Not necessary Severus. I like to jump right in first thing in the morning. Now tell me, what do you have planned today?"

Snape sat back down and leaned back in his chair, looking quite comfortable in the Headmaster's presence. "Have you a job for me?"

"Not a job per se," the Headmaster said with a slight twinkle in his eye.

Snape actually groaned, much to Harry's amusement. "In that case, I'm very busy today."

"You haven't even heard what it is."

"And yet..." Snape let his sentence die.

Albus went on undeterred. "Molly has invited Harry, and you of course, to dinner tonight."

"Headmaster," Snape started.

"And before you interrupt, she'll be cooking at Grimmauld Place. Her children are anxious to see Harry again and I see no harm in it."

"And nor do I," Snape said, standing again. "Do give my apologies to Mrs. Weasley and have a splendid time Headmaster."

"Oh, but Severus. I can't make it."

"Then get the werewolf to bring him," Snape said in a chilly voice.

"Remus," Albus corrected him firmly, "will be running late this evening. You'll have to bring him Severus."

Harry sat forward in his chair. He really wanted to see the Weasleys again. He didn't want to upset Snape nor did he particularly care to go to Grimmauld Place, but he really wanted to see Ron. It would be worth it, if Snape would agree to go.

"What do you think Harry?" Albus asked as Snape's face became darker.

"I...I would be very grateful if you could take me sir," Harry said, looking at Snape.

Snape was silent for a moment, and Harry fancied he could see a vein throbbing in the man's head.

"What time?" he spoke through clenched teeth. Harry managed to keep his lower jaw united with his upper through force of will alone.

Dumbledore rose and clapped a hand on Snape's shoulder. "Six o'clock tonight. This is splendid. Molly's been ever so worried about Harry."

"I'm sure," Snape snarled dangerously.

The Headmaster, observant though he was, missed Snape's meaning, but Harry didn't. Did Mrs. Weasley think Snape was a bad choice to watch over him as well? He really hoped there was no argument tonight.

"Well, that's settled. Have you had any luck with the, ah, translations?" the Headmaster asked Snape cryptically.

Harry's ears perked up. Were those translations he read something to do with the war?

"I have...made some progress. But I already told you..."

"Yes," Albus nodded. "I am working on that."

"What's to work on? We need to go and get it."

"Too much could go wrong."

"Too much...? Headmaster, forgive me, but if this is even a possibility, too much could go wrong if we delay." Snape glanced at Harry and noted his interest, but didn't bother lowering his voice. "Until we have it, I cannot be sure of anything."

Dumbledore too glanced at Harry but he didn't ignore him. "I think we'll discuss this later Severus."

Harry looked at the Headmaster with disappointment. He noticed Snape too seemed disappointed and impatient for something. Whatever it was, he seemed to think it was important to have it now.

"Fine," Snape said. "Though we might as well not speak of it until you are willing to risk the venture. I can add nothing more than what I've already told you until we have it."

The Headmaster nodded. "I will work on it. You have my word. I am fully aware of the importance."

Snape said nothing, though he looked like he very much wanted to.

"And now, I'll be leaving. Do have a nice time tonight."

Snape growled low in his throat. "I'm sure it will be delightful."

"There's the spirit," the Headmaster said as he left. He didn't look back to see Snape scowling.

Harry stayed seated, watching Snape. "Um, thank you sir; for taking me tonight and all. We don't have to stay long. I mean, of course you knew that, but I mean, I'm ok with it, if we don't - that is. . ." He stopped when he realized he was rambling.

Snape sat back down and pulled his coffee to him. "There are rules to this outing Potter. I will expect you to follow them without question."

"Of course sir!" Harry exclaimed. Snape waved his hand to call for silence.

"We leave when I say we leave. No arguing. No appealing to any others." Snape stared at him intently and Harry nodded. "I want you in my sight at all times while we are there. No running off to play with your little friends unless I tell you that you may."

Harry nodded again but just had to ask, "Am I in danger sir?"

He was surprised when Snape seemed to lose his stride for a moment. "What kind of question is that Potter?"

"I thought Grimmauld Place was supposed to be safe is all."

"That house," Snape spat, "is not safe."

"But I thought...."

"You thought wrong then. When Black died, there was question as to who would inherit. Of course, Black left everything to you but..."

"Wait! He left me everything?" Harry asked wide-eyed.

"You mean you didn't know?" Snape asked incredulously.

"No," Harry said angrily. "No one tells me anything!"

Snape leaned forward and spoke in a slightly angry voice. "And just why do you think that is Potter?"

"I don't know. No good reason," Harry crossed his arms.

"Oh no you don't Potter!" Snape slammed his fist on the table and Harry jumped. "It's time you start acting your age and thinking. I won't excuse your mental laziness like the others. You know why no one tells you a thing. Why is it Potter?"

Harry sat back and uncrossed his arms. This was very like when Snape made him recount every time he had not dodged the killing curse. He looked everywhere but at Snape as he answered. "Because I don't know Occlumency."

"You're not the only Order member that doesn't. You'll have to do better than that Potter."

"Because He can read my mind."

"Not read Potter. I've told you, the mind is not a book that can be perused at one's leisure."

"But how do I stop him from getting in? He hasn't been in my mind for a month you know?"

"I've already told you how Potter. If you're too stupid..."

"I am not stupid!" Harry yelled, pushing his chair back and standing up. "If you had taught me anything..."

"I tried to teach you Potter!" Snape spat, now standing himself. "You didn't want to learn. You and you alone failed."

"How was telling me to clear my mind supposed to help me?" Harry yelled back.

"Don't tell me how to teach Potter. You want to know what it would do, why don't you try it and find out?"

"I can't! I don't know how! You never told me how! Or why!"

"I should think the why would be clear even to you Potter!"

"Well it's not! Why do I have to clear my mind to force someone out of it? It doesn't make sense."

Snape grabbed the edge of the table and leaned forward. "You want to know how it helps Potter?" he asked in a menacing voice.

Harry gulped and took a step back. All of a sudden, he wasn't all that curious to find out. "I can show you, if you want to know," Snape continued in a deceptively quiet voice.

Harry didn't want to know, but he found himself squaring his shoulders anyway and meeting Snape's eyes. "Yes," he said in a surprisingly steady voice. "I want to know."

Snape smiled slowly and pushed his sleeves up, not bothering to keep the Dark Mark hidden at all. "Come here," he said, gesturing for him to come forward with a crooked finger.

Harry moved slowly, part of his mind screaming at him to turn tail and run, the other needing to know what Snape meant.

When he got to Snape, Snape grabbed his shoulders by both hands and held him steady. "Look at me Potter."

Harry met his eyes and clamped down on his own uncertainty. This was a lesson. And like most lessons from Snape, it might not be pleasant, but it was probably important.

Nothing happened for a heartbeat, and then Snape spoke a word under his breath that Harry couldn't even hear. The room melted away from his vision.

The room melted away from his vision and was replaced by a cell. A tiny cell. And in the corner of the cell, a dementor was watching a prisoner. Harry took a step closer and the prisoner looked up. It was Snape!

Harry backed up until he hit something solid and warm. When he spun around, he saw that he had backed right into Snape. He whipped his head back to the prisoner and realized with a shock that this was a memory. Nothing good ever came from being inside Snape's memories.

Prisoner Snape was dirty and his hair was longer than Harry had ever seen it. Greasy didn't even begin to describe it. It was tangled and matted with blood and dirt. His left eye was swollen shut but the other eye was clear and...sane looking. Harry moved closer despite himself. What was a dementor doing in the cell with Snape? And why didn't Snape seem to be affected by it?

"It was a present from the guards." Snape's voice in the quiet made him jump and he turned back to watch his Snape, who was in turn watching the dementor. "They knew that Dumbledore was attempting to get me out. It made them...angry. So they stationed a dementor in my cell night and day."

Snape seemed oddly detached from this memory, as though it couldn't hurt him. And, Harry noticed, Memory-Snape seemed equally detached. He moved even closer and looked in Memory-Snape's good eye. Snape's eyes were a dark chocolate brown in this memory. "But your eyes are black!" he exclaimed in surprise.

Snape moved closer and looked down at himself. "They haven't always been," he said, looking at his former self's brown eyes with indifference.

"What happened?"

"That's not the point Potter."

Harry nodded but couldn't help but wonder when and how Snape's eyes had become black.

"This is what clearing your mind can do for you Potter: if you forget yourself, no one can hurt you. No one can see you if you do not see yourself; not even the dementors. When you clear your mind, you hide your identity. No emotions can hurt you. You and you alone can control what people see in you. Make your mind a blank slate and you can hide or project anything you wish." Snape spoke in low tones, reminiscent of Harry's very first potions class and Snape's speech about the power of potions.

Harry backed away from the prisoner and the dementor, though none of them were real. He did not like this. "I can't do that," he whispered.

"Then you will never learn Occlumency," Snape said in a harsh voice.

"I don't care. I'd rather die than give up who I am."

"Don't be ridiculous Potter! It's not permanent." But even Snape was frowning at his memory self as though he did not like what he was seeing. Despite the fact that Snape looked sane in the memory, there was still something very disturbing about him. Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it was there all the same. Something in Memory-Snape's eyes spoke of complete and utter indifference, as though he could watch loved ones be killed and not be hurt by it. Maybe he was, Harry thought with a shudder, remembering what dementors did to people.

Perhaps Snape noticed it too because he placed his hand on Harry's shoulder and pulled him back out of the memory.

When the room stopped spinning, Harry looked back up at Snape. "I can't do it," he whispered. "I know it's important but I can't do that." He did understand how it helped Snape. It had probably saved the man's life on more than one occasion. And it had brought Snape out of Azkaban sane, presumably. But Harry knew, deep down, that he could never ignore his emotions and he wondered if Snape was truly happy doing so. And if he weren't, would he even know? How could you live without emotions?

"Then the Dark Lord will steal your secrets," Snape said matter-of-factly.

Harry sat down, mulling over all that Snape had said. If he couldn't clear his mind, then no one would ever tell him anything. But...hadn't Voldemort already tried to steal his secrets when he had been caught? He jumped back up from the chair.

"No! Wait. Before you came to get me, he...he used Legilimency on me. It didn't work. I think he was trying to look for the prophecy, but I pushed him out." He was excited now.

Snape frowned but didn't call him a liar. "If that is true Potter, then why is it so easy for me to break into your mind?"

Harry stopped pacing. "I don't know Occlumency. Maybe...maybe this is different...maybe this has something to do with the connection between me and...me and him!"

"Sit down for a moment Potter," Snape said. He didn't look angry, despite their earlier argument or Harry's refusal to clear his mind to the extent that Snape could. Instead, he looked curious. When Harry sat, Snape knelt before him and leaned forward. "Let me see this memory Potter."

Harry sucked in a breath. He did not like how it felt to have his memories viewed but he wanted to know what Snape thought. If this was true, he was immune to Voldemort. Well, his mind was at least. But he didn't trust his own instincts in this matter. Snape would know if it were true.

"Ok," Harry agreed. "What do I need to do?"

"Nothing. I'll find it." Snape looked directly into his eyes, whispered "Legilimens," and Harry immediately began seeing random memories pop into his mind. For a moment, he tried to stop it, but Snape was unaffected by his attempts and he remembered that Snape needed to see this memory so he just tried to relax. Snape was shifting through them quickly. When he found one of himself carrying Harry away from Voldemort's compound, he slowed down and went backwards in the memory so fast that Harry saw only a blur of motion. When Snape stopped again, Harry saw himself being dragged from his cell and brought to Voldemort.

Snape watched the memory twice before exiting. When he did pull back, Harry caught his breath while watching the man. Snape was still kneeling on the floor before Harry, looking in his direction, but Harry could see that he wasn't looking at him at all but thinking about what he had seen.

"Well?" he asked, interrupting Snape's thoughts. Snape stood abruptly, grabbed a quill and a paper and drew a cuneiform symbol on the table.

"Have you ever seen this symbol Potter? In your dreams of the Dark Lord perhaps? Or in his compound? Anywhere?"

Harry stood up and glanced between Snape and the paper in confusion. What did this have to do with anything?

"I believe you're correct Potter. The Dark Lord will not enter your mind and find this. You seem to have found a way to stop him. Though I must question the method, it does seem to work. Now answer the question. Concentrate Potter. This is important."

Harry smiled in relief at Snape's assurance. There was one less thing to worry about. Now about the symbol...

It was definitely similar to the tablet that Snape had been trying to translate except it looked more like a drawing than a cuneiform word. "Does it translate?" he asked, tracing the symbol with his finger.

"No," Snape answered. "Though it may be a combination of words. I have considered it but I have found nothing that matches so far."

Harry stared at it for a moment longer. There was something...something familiar about it. But he just couldn't put his finger on it. Perhaps he had only seen it while looking through Snape's papers. "No," he said at last. "I don't think I've seen this."

Snape sank into the chair and rested his head on his hand. Harry sat down across from him. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Don't worry about it," Snape said.

"Is it very important?"

"I'm not sure."

"Is that what you and the Headmaster were talking about?"

Snape nodded, then looked up. "What were you thinking about when you pushed the Dark Lord out of your mind?"

"My friends. I was thinking about my friends."

"Your friends," Snape repeated, eyeing Harry as though he were a new entity all together.

"I don't think he appreciates friendship sir."

"No, he doesn't," but Snape was still looking at him oddly.

"I think...I think feeling love might hurt him."

"Love," Snape repeated with a sneer and a roll of his eyes. "Love is not a tool of the Occlumens."

"Well," said Harry, feeling indignant, "this isn't Occlumency then. It's a...Dark Lord thing maybe."

"Potter," Snape leaned forward. "I know Dark Wizards. They may not be impressed by love, but they are certainly not allergic to it."

"Well Voldemort is!"

"Don't say that name!" Snape roared, jumping to his feet.

Harry fell back into his chair. "Sorry sir." He really wanted to know what Snape's issue with Voldemort's name was. He was sure it wasn't fear.

Snape began to pace before him. "What else were you thinking about when he invaded your mind? Were you trying to block?"

"I couldn't. He was too strong. I'm telling you, it was love."

"It could have been any number of things Potter. Don't close your mind to the possibilities."

"You're the one with the narrow mind. Why can't it be love?"

Snape ignored him though. "Has this happened before?" Snape asked, stopping in front of him.

"Yes," Harry answered with a shaky voice. He really didn't want to speak about that night again.

"Well?"

Harry sighed. "At the Department of Mysteries."

"My, my. A lot seems to have happened at the Department of Mysteries. Tell me, did you force the Dark Lord out then too, or did the Headmaster throw a mental statue in the way of that as well?"

"No! You know, you can be really mean sometimes."

Snape crossed his arms and looked down at him as though he were stupid. And maybe he was, because for the life of him, he couldn't think how that would hurt Snape's feelings at all.

"How astute you are Potter. I'm mean. Need I remind you how very irrelevant that is to the topic at hand?"

"No more irrelevant than the...the mean things you say."

"Did he Potter? Did he save you? Are we basing all of our assumptions about your connection with the Dark Lord on one example?"

"No! I was thinking of Sirius!" he yelled. Images of Sirius falling through the veil with a look of surprise played in his mind. It had been his love for Sirius and his pain at the loss that had driven Voldemort out that time. Harry was breathing hard and his hands were shaking. He couldn't think about this; he just couldn't. It hurt too much. It was too new. Tears stung his eyes and he realized with horror that he was crying in front of Snape. What would the man think?

He ran for his room and didn't stop even when Snape called out "Potter!" He didn't stop until he was behind his door and lying under the covers. Then he sobbed into his pillow, a mixture of mortification and deep sadness making his chest ache.

"Sirius. Sirius," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

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.

The very second Harry entered the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place, Ron, Ginny and the twins shot out of their chairs and crowded around him. He smiled and laughed and everyone seemed to be speaking at the same time.

He was confused though, when a moment later, his friends backed off and fell silent. Then he turned to see what they were looking at.

He had forgotten after living with the man for a few days just how very intimidating Snape could be when he entered a room. He tried to see it from his friend's point of view. They hadn't seen Snape eating breakfast or working quietly. They hadn't read Snape's unpublished books. They hadn't dueled him. And they had certainly never talked about their feelings with him.

But Harry knew that Snape was intimidating. Even more so out of his home and around others. His face was set in a constant glower, as though he would love to be anywhere but here and with any other group of people, or preferably alone. His dark features and clothing contrasted so harshly with his pale skin and chiseled facial structure that he looked like a combination of demon and human, especially with his black eyes and hawk nose. And his fluid movements seemed to radiate the unspoken certainty that he could and would rip your heart out of your chest in a second if he felt like it. Not to mention his conversation, which, if he deigned to speak at all, was mocking, sarcastic and barbed.

Yeah, Snape had some real people problems.

===================================

"Evening Professor," the twins chimed in unison. Ron mumbled something under his breath that sounded like ‘hi' and Ginny smiled nervously at the Potions Master.

"Ah, Severus. So glad you could make it," Arthur Weasley said with a wide smile, though his eyes darted between his wife and Snape. He extended his hand to shake, which Snape actually took without a sneer.

"Care for some refreshment?" Arthur asked.

"Thank you, no" Snape answered.

Harry's friends gave him a look, and then rolled their eyes towards the ceiling, intimating that they should go upstairs and talk.

"Um, I can't," Harry whispered. Now that he thought about it, it was pretty mean of Snape to not let him leave the room. What could possibly go wrong? He'd been in this house plenty of times and had no problems.

"Why?" Ron whispered back, obviously confused.

Harry considered disobeying Snape's orders for a split second, but all it took was one look at Snape's foul mood to stop him from that line of thought.

Snape seemed to be paying attention to him too. He looked at Ron, then at the rest of the Weasley children in turn. He just barely managed to not make it look hostile.

"Harry! You've shaved your head." That was Mrs. Weasley.

When his eyes darted to Snape's, so too did Mrs. Weasley's. "Yeah, um, it was a mess you know. This is much easier," Harry said. Mrs. Weasley was still frowning at Snape, who stood with his arms crossed, saying nothing.

"Well," she said, "why don't you children go wash up and catch up?"

Harry's friends grabbed his arms to start dragging him out of the room, but Harry planted his feet, fully cognizant of the fact that Snape was watching him carefully.

"I've already washed up," he said to Mrs. Weasley. "I'll just wait here." Then he stomped over to the chair next to Snape's, sat down, crossed his arms and scowled at the tabletop. This was not fun at all.

"Nonsense," she pressed on. "I'm sure you'll want to catch up. You can go with them." Mrs. Weasley, Harry noticed, was turning her glare once more to Snape. Harry shrunk into his seat. They couldn't possibly start arguing this early in the night could they?

"You may go to the library down the hall," Snape said, surprising him so much that Harry jumped. "But nowhere else," he finished harshly.

Harry jumped out of his seat with a grateful smile and scampered off before Snape could change his mind. He ignored the confused looks on his friend's faces until they reached the library.

"What was that all about mate?" Ron asked.

"You knew I was staying with Snape right?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, but we didn't believe it! Snape for Merlin's sake!" Ron grumbled.

"We heard what happened Harry," Ginny said, giving Ron a small glare. "We're really glad you got out ok."

"Yeah me too," Harry said, taking a seat. All at once he was bombarded by questions of his capture, his escape and how many cauldrons he'd had to scrub since living with Snape. When they finally stopped firing off questions, he took a deep breath and launched into his tale.

Ron and the twins made a few disgusted noises at his mention of the fight with Dudley but they whooped when he told them how he had gotten a few good shots in. Ginny, Harry noticed was smiling at that point in the story and his heart gave a little lurch. She was really very pretty, he thought.

He glossed over the part about the Death Eaters cursing him. It had been the worse pain he had ever been in by far. The very thought of those Cruciatus' still made him cringe. The little he did say though, had the Weasleys up in arms over the evil Death Eaters and Moldy-Warts. Harry laughed with them at the moniker for Voldemort, but he couldn't help remembering how very not funny it had been to behold the man-creature. Voldemort's power and anger were still imprinted on his mind and he had to stop his tale for several seconds to take a few deep breaths. He took that time to recall the conversation he had had with Snape about defeating Voldemort. He knew he'd probably meet the wizard again, but Harry didn't think Snape would waste his time if he didn't think there was a possibility that Harry might win. And who would know better than Snape, who had spied on Voldemort for years? He had to cling to that fact because if he didn't, he felt that he would have a nervous breakdown.

He focused on the part about Snape rescuing him since that had been the most intense and positive part of his whole experience. He did leave out the part about the Intent Spell though. That seemed far too personal. The twins demanded to know what the explosion had been and Harry had been disappointed that he didn't know what had happened. He wished he had thought to ask Snape again. He did tell them the little Snape had said about the explosion and how he had called it a gift though.

"Wicked," Fred and George said in unison. Ginny had a sly little grin on her face and even Ron whistled. "I bet it was something really good too, knowing Snape," Ron said.

He wasn't surprised when his friends stopped him in the middle of the escape sequence to confirm that Snape had actually dueled several Death Eaters at once. "And he got injured," Harry added.

"But you were hurt too weren't you?" Ginny asked in concern.

"Well yeah. But Snape gave me some potions before hand and then used some spells while we were running..."

"What spells did he use? Those would be right handy to learn," Ron asked. "I bet the DA would want to know about them."

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I...I don't really know what they were. I could ask him..."

"Yeah! Well, I mean if you don't think he'll bite your head off if you do," Ginny said. "That could save lives if we teach the DA."

"You planning on bringing the DA back then?" Fred asked.

"Um, I'm not sure. I haven't really thought about it."

"I wonder who's going to be teaching DADA this year," Ginny said.

"Hey, couldn't you ask Dumbledore?" Ron asked excitedly. "I bet he already knows."

"I'll ask if I see him."

"It'd be cool if Remus could come back," Ginny said in a wistful voice.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Or if Snape could teach it."

He hadn't been expecting his friends to look at him like he had lost his mind after saying that. "What? You didn't see him with those Death Eaters. And he's taught me some things already. He'd be a real good defense teacher."

"Maybe mate. But a right unpleasant one too," Ron said.

"Yeah? Well, I bet it'd be a lot less pleasant to run into Death Eaters and not be prepared. Snape knows how they fight and he's no raw recruit!"

"No need to get defensive mate!"

"Well, I agree with Harry," Ginny said. "I'd rather have Remus, but I bet we'd learn loads from Snape."

"Thanks Ginny," Harry said with a huge smile. He really hoped his face wasn't turning red.

Ron rolled his eyes. "So finish telling your story," he begged.

Harry finished up and even added a few things about living with Snape. He left out the part where Snape had scared him with the killing curse and the part where Snape had talked to him about Sirius. He also kept his word about the Defense books Snape had written, though he wanted to tell them about them really badly. But the twins laughed until they turned red when he told them about Eric being the Order bird and Isa the Death Eater bird.

"He taught you how to send a Patronus message?" Ginny asked excitedly as he finished telling them about living with Snape.

"Well yeah. I just started today so I haven't got it right just yet."

"We've got to get the DA back up and running. We need to know these things," Ron exclaimed.

"Well, if we get a good defense teacher, we won't need to."

"Still, I think we should get together and practice," Ginny suggested. "It couldn't hurt. And you'll probably know a lot by the end of the summer."

"I'll think about it. We could just meet and have study sessions." Harry did think that the DA was worth starting up again. But he didn't know if he was ready for the responsibility. Most of the members of the DA would follow him into battle if he asked them to. He took little comfort from that sentiment now though. Snape had been right; he had put little effort into planning his foray into the Department of Ministries with his friends. It would have been his fault if they had been killed. He just wasn't ready for that yet.

"Oh! But I thought you did a great job teaching it. You should do it just the same this year," Ginny interrupted.

"I'll think about it," Harry repeated. "But really, I'd rather just do a study session."

"Well, I just hope we don't have another Umbridge," Ron said with a disgusted look on his face.

"Yeah," they all agreed.

They only talked for another hour before dinner was served and they had to go back to the kitchen. But in that time, Harry heard all about the twin's plans to open a shop in Diagon Alley and how they had joined the Order as junior members. Ginny and Ron had been practicing Quidditch everyday and they were sure that this year was going to be a good one. They had also, apparently, been trying to listen in on their parent's conversations with much less luck than the twins had always had. This, of course, amused the twins to no end, but they had very little to add that Harry didn't already know about. Except one thing.

The Weasleys did tell him about how mere days before he had been kidnapped, a bunch of kids had been found dead with werewolf injuries. The ministry suspected rogue werewolf packs working with Voldemort. The Order and the Weasley's knew that it was Greyback.

"How do you know for sure?" Harry asked.

"Well Snape told them, didn't he?" Ron asked as though he were stupid.

"Oh, right," Harry said with a frown. Why hadn't anyone told him? It wasn't necessary information, but he still wanted to know what was going on.

"Well I think Greyback should be killed!" Ginny said hotly, breaking through Harry's thoughts. He snapped his head around to stare at her in shock. To his dismay, the others all agreed.

"You don't know how bad it is mate. Real messy, that's what it was. Greyback's notorious. There's a lot of folks that want to hunt him down and kill him. Can't say I blame them."

"But Remus is a werewolf too. What if they blame them all?" Harry protested. Surely they weren't thinking werewolves in general were bad. But the others were quick to assure him that wasn't the case.

"A lot of werewolves have spoken up about Greyback actually," George said. "He's a serial killer, he is."

By the time they were done fully explaining the situation to him, he was in firm agreement. When they were called in to eat, he realized that he had lost his appetite completely, thinking about the things that Fenrir Greyback had been accused of, presumably by Snape.

Dinner was a grand affair. Molly Weasley had outdone herself in the preparations. The only one that didn't seem to enjoy himself was, unsurprisingly, Snape. He took part in no conversation of his own accord and only answered questions when they were directed at him. His eyes strayed to the door often as though he were expecting an attack and his alertness started to make Harry nervous himself. What was Snape waiting for?

They had just finished the soup when the door finally did open and Remus, Tonks and Moody came in. Harry spared a glance at Snape, and realized that Snape had been expecting them to show up. He couldn't think why Snape had been waiting for it though.

The three latecomers sat down and after some greetings, the meal commenced again. Snape ceased watching the door, but still took no part in the conversations. In contrast, Harry chatted with everyone. He hadn't realized just how much he missed them all.

It was a pleasant meal and when they were done, Harry was surprised that Snape didn't make them leave immediately. Instead, he told Harry that he could go to the library with his friends again. As Harry was leaving though, he noticed Snape pulling Remus aside and speaking in hushed tones. The two men actually followed Harry and his friends out the door but entered the den beside the library instead.

"I wonder what they're talking about," Ron said.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Snape can't stand Remus."

"It must be an Order matter then," Ginny said. She put her hands on her hips and stared at the twins much like their mother was capable of. "Do you two know anything about this?"

"Can't say we do," George answered.

"But we can find out," Fred said with a sly smile. He pulled a pair of extendable ears from his pocket and waved them in Ginny's face.

"Well don't wave them in front of me. Let's listen!" she scolded.

Harry smiled. She was unlike any girl he knew. She was strong and pretty and just as fun as Ron and the twins. Not to mention that she liked Quidditch just as much as he did.

"Move over." "Hurry up." "Shhh." Finally, the twins got the ears out the door and the five of them were jostling each other for positions.

Harry wormed his way between the twins and stuck his ear as close as he could get it. He could just make out voices.

He shouldn't be doing this. Snape would be royally pissed if he found out, and Harry was trying not to make the man angry. But he was curious about what Remus and Snape were talking about. And his friends were listening anyway. He may as well benefit from it. If anyone else in the Order found out, they wouldn't be all that mad. But Snape; well he just really hoped Snape didn't find out.

"What are they saying?" Ron whispered.

"Be quiet and maybe we'll be able to hear them," Ginny said in exasperation.

After a moment of silence, the ears seemed to tune in to the conversation down the hall.

"Why do you want me to find him?" That was unmistakably Remus' voice and he sounded surprised.

They couldn't make out what Snape said at all. They could only hear a low murmur.

"All right Severus. All right, I'll do it. This is about Greyback isn't it?" Remus answered.

Again, they couldn't hear Snape's response. His voice seemed muffled. Harry looked at the others. They had just been telling him about Greyback. Their eyes met his and he saw the question in their eyes, even if he wasn't a Legilimens. What was Snape planning with Greyback?

"What? What is it?" Remus was asking. But this time there was no answer.

Harry had only a moment of confusion as he saw the twins faces go slack with shock, before they started reeling the ear in as quickly as they could. Harry took a step back to give them room and finally, the ears came flying through the door. Harry dropped his head in relief.

Until the door slammed open and he saw Snape standing there with his arms crossed, glaring murderous daggers at the five of them - Harry especially.

None of Harry's friends said a word, but to the one, they all drew back to stand behind him, even the twins. This was so not fair!

"So," Snape said silkily.

Harry's heart stopped beating for a second. This was not good. Luckily, Remus came jogging up after Snape. He stopped when he saw the expression on Snape's face and turned instead to look at Harry and the Weasley kids.

"What's going on?" he asked, searching their faces for some answer.

Before Harry could defend himself, Snape was speaking. "It would seem our little junior detective league has been at it again."

As if things weren't bad enough, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Tonks and Moody decided to show up at that moment. Harry groaned. This was not going to end well.

"What's going on here?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking between Snape and the children as if unsure who she should be yelling at.

Snape ignored her and moved with deliberately menacing strides towards Harry. He grabbed his upper arm and hauled him toward the door. "Mr. Potter and I are leaving," he said through gritted teeth.

Mrs. Weasley didn't move from the doorway though. "What did he do?" she asked, growing angry.

"It's ok Molly. Severus was just leaving is all," Remus started to say, but Snape spoke over him.

"Potter and his little friends decided that they needed to spy on Order members again." With that, he started walking forward again, only to have Mrs. Weasley plant herself firmly in the doorway and cross her arms. Mr. Weasley placed a calming hand on her arm but she shook it off.

"That was very wrong of them, I'm sure. But that's no reason to manhandle Harry."

There was something very unpleasant about the look that Snape gave Mrs. Weasley.

"It's all right. Really," Harry said, hoping to avert a fight. Snape wouldn't attack Mrs. Weasley would he? For a moment - just a moment - he considered going to Mrs. Weasley and hiding behind her skirts. Angry Snape was a Snape he did not want to be around. But he shook that off. Snape might make his life hell, but he wouldn't hurt him.

"Is he hurting you?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking like she was about ready to wrestle him away from Snape's grasp. That would not go well for her, even with several Order members around; of that Harry was sure.

Snape's grip hadn't been hurting at all, but at her words, he tightened it until Harry had to hide a wince. And hide it he did. Mrs. Weasley only needed a reason and she would either attack or demand Snape give up custody. That, Harry could not allow. He was cultivating Snape as an ally. (And protector, his inner voice reminded him; don't forget he protects you. And teaches you. And he talked to you about Sirius. No one else has done that.) Snape's support was his best weapon in this war so far. He would not throw that away over a minor argument.

"I'm fine," he reassured her. It had come out a little impatient though. What exactly did she plan on doing here?

"Molly." Arthur attempted to placate his wife, steering her away from the door and the force of Snape's awesome glare.

"He doesn't need to be yelled at," Molly said, planting her feet firmly to stop her husband.

Everyone's eyebrows rose at that. Molly Weasley, the Queen of Yelling, had very little room to talk. Harry would have wondered why she was making such a big deal out of all this if it weren't common knowledge how much Snape hated him...or had hated him he told himself firmly.

"Do not presume to tell me how to discipline my student and charge," Snape said in a low voice. His grip did loosen considerably though.

"Really Molly, it's all right. Severus is just going to take him back to the school. You know he'll be fine," Arthur Weasley said.

"He'll yell at him and make his life miserable. He'll probably hit him!" Now Harry was starting to get mad. Why did everyone think he was so weak that he wouldn't tell someone if he were in danger?

Surprisingly, it was Remus that spoke in Snape's defense. "He won't hit Harry," he said firmly.

Harry's eyebrows rose. That wasn't what he had said a few days ago. Something must have changed his mind. Harry looked up to Snape's face. Oh yeah, the man was definitely furious. A few more comments like that and he would likely explode and Avada the whole lot of them.

"That is none of your concern," Snape said silkily. "I suggest you focus on disciplining your own unruly lot. Or need I remind you that all five of them were listening in on Order business?"

"It is my business," Mrs. Weasley said hotly. "That boy has had a hard enough time with his muggle family. He doesn't need to be pawned off on a man that despises him and his friends and family."

They were talking like he wasn't there. Now he was angrier than Snape. How dare she or anyone say anything about that at all! And to say that he was pawned off on Snape...well that just hurt.

Snape's hand changed position. All of a sudden, it seemed less like he was manhandling Harry and more like he was reassuring him. His grip landed on Harry's shoulder and he squeezed it for just a moment.

"Mr. Potter is right here and can speak for himself," Snape answered. Perhaps he was attempting to control himself too.

"You've probably already scared him half to death," Mrs. Weasley retorted.

And that did it. Now, Harry wasn't one to yell at people he loved, well not that he thought. And he did love Mrs. Weasley. She had been like a mother to him, but she could also be extremely irritating at times. Maybe that was what parents were supposed to be, but he wasn't used to it. When Sirius had been willing to tell him what was going on, it had been Mrs. Weasley that stopped him. And now she was airing his private life with the Dursleys in front of everyone. Mad-Eye and Tonks were leaning against the wall with interested expressions and he didn't even want to look behind him and see his friend's faces. Arthur Weasley was looking at his wife in shock. Remus was shrewdly watching Snape, who looked positively glacial. And she had just accused Harry of being a scared little boy! Enough was enough.

"I'm not scared of Snape!" he exclaimed. "And he doesn't hit me. I'm fine."

"Now Harry," Mrs. Weasley started in a softer tone. But Harry wasn't done.

"And I don't really appreciate everyone talking about me or my family as if I'm not here. It's my business," he yelled.

Snape squeezed his shoulder again and Harry looked up at the man. Snape shook his head just the slightest bit in warning and Harry turned back and glared at the wall.

"Harry," Mrs. Weasley tried again. "I'm sorry deary. I just don't want to see you get hurt. Professor Snape's made it no secret that he...dislikes you." Everyone could tell she had wanted to say ‘hate'. Snape's hand tightened almost imperceptibly.

"Well he doesn't hate me," Harry retorted. Of course, he wasn't really sure, especially now that Snape was mad at him for listening in on the conversation with Remus. But he hoped. He didn't look at Snape after that. He really didn't want to see Snape's expression if he were wrong.

"Indeed," Snape drawled. "Now if you'll excuse me, it is time for us to be leaving." This time when Snape walked for the door, Mrs. Weasley moved away.

Harry couldn't tell if it was what he had said, Mr. Weasley's hand on her arm, or Snape's glare that made her move. But he didn't give that any thought at all. Had Snape just agreed with him? Indeed? What did that mean?

"Bye Harry!" Ginny called out.

"Yeah. Sorry mate," Ron said.

Harry turned around and gave his friends a wry smile as he was hauled through the door. His poor friends looked like they didn't know what to think or whose side to take.

As Snape exited the door, Remus laid a hand on Harry's arm gently for just a second. "I'll see you later Harry. Goodbye Severus." Snape just nodded without even looking at him.

Moody nodded at Snape as they passed and Tonks smiled hesitantly at Snape and then more warmly at Harry. "Wotcher Harry."

"Bye," he called.

The second they left the front door, Snape spun on his heel, grabbed Harry and hauled him closer and then Apparated them both away. Harry rather felt like a puppet being moved around.

They landed in front of the gates of Hogwarts. Snape didn't waste any time hauling Harry into the gates and walking quickly until they were in the shadow of the trees. Only then did he slow down and look at Harry.

Harry expected to see anger there. Instead, Snape was looking at him as though he were a puzzle. Harry shifted nervously. He didn't like that look. It always preceded some uncomfortable discussion about his stupidity or his problems.

But Snape said nothing and continued to walk to the castle, only glancing back at Harry every now and then to ensure that he was following.

Harry had no way of knowing that Snape was angrier with Molly Weasley than he was with Potter at this point. On more than one occasion, he had been the recipient of her ire - but also of her compassion. She was the first to offer to feed him when he came to Order meetings, not that he ever accepted. She was also the first to run to his aid when he came in injured, not that he ever accepted that either. But she had always made it clear just what she thought of his harshness to children, not that he ever listened to her. He was torn between extreme dislike and gratitude for her kindness, unwanted though it was. More often than not, he settled for dislike. It was easier.

And so Potter had defended him, hmm? Not that he needed it, but it was an interesting development. He had actually considered Mrs. Weasley's words that Potter was scared of him until the boy had blown up about him not being hated. He could tell, even though he was sure the others hadn't, that Potter had felt insecure about that. Interesting.

And the boy had all but told Molly Weasley to butt out of his personal life. Severus had to suppress a smile at that. It was something he himself had had to say to various Order members, including Molly, on several occasions. He hadn't thought that Potter had it in him. His feelings about Mr. Potter raised a notch at that sentiment. The boy had better show him the utmost respect, but he was pleased to see that the boy had a spine when it came to the rest of the Order.

But disobedience and lack of respect would not go unpunished with Severus. He didn't give a damn if Potter knew every secret of the Order, but he could damn well get it without resorting to such amateurish methods. And doing it with the Weasley children? Severus might be willing to tell Potter more, simply because it was necessary to the boy's survival. But he sure as hell didn't think the rest of the junior league needed to know a damn thing. They hadn't earned it.

"We will discuss this Mr. Potter. Rest assured, you will be punished for your actions," he said as they reached the door to the castle.

"Yes sir. Sorry, sir." He had actually allowed himself to hope that Snape would be too upset with Mrs. Wealsey to remember the reason she had blown up. No such luck. Now he was nervous to find out what he'd have to do.

And Snape didn't seem to think there was a reason to withhold that information. "500 lines ought to do the trick, don't you think Potter?"

Harry's jaw dropped. "500," he repeated. That was just cruel "What do I have to write?" he asked, thinking Snape would make him write a lengthy declaration of guilt and remorse.

Snape smiled nastily and Harry prepared himself. "You will write: I am not a competent spy nor are my little friends qualified to protect military intelligence."

Harry stopped walking. "What?" He had been expecting a paragraph full of insults. Of course, this one wasn't nice per se, but it could have been much worse with Snape.

"I will write it for you once before you begin," Snape answered. "Now come, you will start tonight. We don't have time for these punishments, Mr. Potter," Snape finished sternly.

"Why not?" Harry asked (not that he didn't agree). Now it seemed Snape was pissed at him for wasting time on punishments too. Well, Snape was in control of that wasn't he? Harry ignored the voice in his head that was saying it was his fault as well for getting in trouble and he shouldn't expect to get off scot-free.

"You'll see," Snape said cryptically, leading them quickly through the corridors.

When they made it to the rooms, Snape instructed him to take a seat at the table, brandished a parchment and quill and wrote the line out.

I am not a competent spy nor are my little friends qualified to protect military intelligence.

"Get to work. I expect at least one hundred by the time you retire for the night."

Harry groaned as Snape went to his desk to do his own work. This really sucked.

I am not a competent spy nor are my little friends qualified to protect military intelligence.

I am not a competent spy nor are my little friends qualified to protect military intelligence.

I am not a competent spy nor are my little friends qualified to protect military intelligence.

I am not a competent spy nor are my little friends qualified to protect military intelligence.

I am not a competent spy nor are my little friends qualified to protect military intelligence.

I am not a competent spy nor are my little friends qualified to protect military intelligence.

Harry was angry at Snape's use of the phrase ‘little friends'. He was such a mean git. Fred and George were in the Order weren't they? Though Harry remembered that they were junior members. Still!

And hadn't he and his little friends proven themselves year after year? Well, Ron and Hermione at least.

I am not a competent spy nor are my little friends qualified to protect military intelligence.

I am not a competent spy nor are my little friends qualified to protect military intelligence.

I am not a competent spy nor are my little friends qualified to protect military intelligence.

I am not a competent spy nor are my little friends qualified to protect military intelligence.

Of course, he had to agree, he wasn't a competent spy. He always either got caught or misinterpreted what he heard. Snape was a spy; had been a spy, he corrected himself guiltily. No doubt he felt qualified to judge Harry's and his friend's skills in that area. Harry had to agree too, if Snape's survival meant anything.

But it wasn't like they'd been trying to spy on Voldemort. Well, not this time at least.

I am not a competent spy nor are my little friends qualified to protect military intelligence.

I am not a competent spy nor are my little friends qualified to protect military intelligence.

I am not a competent spy nor are my little friends qualified to protect military intelligence.

I am not a competent spy nor are my little friends qualified to protect military intelligence.

What did that mean; qualified to protect military intelligence? Unbidden, memories came to mind of Voldemort trying to get his secrets. And the Death Eaters knew all about torture didn't they? Harry had to suppress a shudder. His friends were strong; he knew that. And they would never give anything up willingly. But they, like him, didn't know the first thing about Occlumency. Nor did he like the thought that they could be tortured or given Veritaserum. It'd be bad enough if one of them got caught because someone thought they knew something. It'd be a right disaster if they did know something and the Death Eaters found it out.

I am not a competent spy nor are my little friends qualified to protect military intelligence.

I am not a competent spy nor are my little friends qualified to protect military intelligence.

I am not a competent spy nor are my little friends qualified to protect military intelligence.

Harry had reached line 45 before he stopped feeling angry and started feeling contrite. Maybe 500 lines weren't all that much. Maybe he was lucky that Snape hadn't gone Death Eater on him and offered to teach him what torture for information was like. It certainly seemed like a lesson that Snape would give.

He looked over to see Snape leaning over several parchments with a look of intense concentration. Occasionally the man would write something or shuffle through some papers looking for something. Harry shook his head. It was just like Snape to make him write something like this.

When he finally did finish his lines, his hand was cramped and he winced when he set the quill down. Snape heard the quill drop and spun around in his chair.

"You have finished the 100?"

"Yes sir."

"Very well." And then he got up and paced to the table. He didn't take a seat however, and instead loomed over Harry. He grabbed the pages up and scanned them, then nodded after he had counted. When he looked back, Harry knew he was in for a lecture.

"What have you learned?" Snape asked.

"W...what?"

"'What' is not an answer Mr. Potter. What have you learned from this?" He waved the parchment in the air, but Harry understood it to mean the whole incident.

"Oh!" Harry looked at his lap and thought hard. "Well, I guess I've learned that it's not wise to make you angry," he said after a second. He glanced up with a sheepish smile on his face.

Snape glared at him, but he didn't miss the twitch of Snape's lips. He had almost made the man smile.

"That is something you should have learned long ago. Perhaps I've been too lenient on you."

"No sir!" Harry was quick to correct him. "I knew that the moment I met you. Um, I guess I learned that I really am bad at spying."

Snape snorted. "To say the least Potter. Continue."

"And I figure you're right about my friends," he gestured to the lines Snape was still holding. "I wouldn't want them to get kidnapped and tortured because they knew too much."

Snape actually seemed impressed so Harry ploughed on with his last statement.

"And I guess I should ask you if I have any questions about the war since that would be loads easier and you know more about it anyway."

Snape narrowed his eyes at him for a moment. "Is that so?" he asked suspiciously.

"Yes sir."

"And you think I would tell you, why?"

"Well I didn't say you'd tell me sir," Harry said with disappointment. "Just that I should ask you instead."

Snape stared at him for several more moments before saying, "Remember that from now on. Now get to bed. You can finish 100 lines every night before bed until you are finished."

"Yes sir," Harry said with a sigh as he went to his room.

Just before he walked into his bedroom, he stopped and turned around. Snape was still watching him.

"Good night sir," he said. He couldn't think why he had wanted to say that, but he had thought it important nonetheless.

"Go to sleep Mr. Potter," Snape answered. It came out rather gentle though, at least for Snape. He hadn't even sounded that gentle the night he had woken him from the nightmare in the hospital wing. Harry smiled as he went into his room.

Maybe Snape didn't hate him.

The next morning, Harry found out exactly what Snape had meant last night when he had said they didn't have time for his punishments.

"Good morning sir," he said as he sat down to eat.

This time Snape did speak rather than just nod, but it wasn't to bid him a good day. "I am able to allocate precisely two hours of free time every day Potter. I have decided to devote those hours exclusively to your education."

Two hours? On what? "Oh. Um, what will I be studying then? Sir," he added hastily.

"Whatever I feel you need to learn. Today, we will work on your dodging skills. It will likely be an ongoing lesson."

"Dodging?" Harry scoffed.

Snape set his fork down with deliberate care and glared at him with disgust. But his glare quickly grew into a smile. Harry could practically see the wheels turning in Snape's head. Right. He'd just make sure to think before speaking.

"You'd be surprised how much you have to learn Potter. And did you not believe me when I told you that the best defense was not getting hit?"

"Well, yeah, I believed you. But I didn't think you could learn to dodge." Of course Harry hadn't forgotten their little talk about the killing curse. In fact, it hadn't been far from his mind at all these last days. But could Snape really teach him to dodge? Wasn't that just something you did or didn't do well?

"Necessity is a great teacher Potter," Snape said with a smug smile. "And reflexes can be learned." Harry groaned into his plate.

When breakfast was done, Snape got up and went to the door. "I will call for you when I am free. Stay out of trouble."

"Yes sir," Harry said.

When Snape had gone, Harry went back to his room and put his trainers on. He'd go to the lake and walk around. Maybe explore the castle for a little while. He ran his hand over Snape's book before leaving. He wouldn't mind taking that with him but at this point, Snape might kill him if he disobeyed him again. He'd been there little over a week and already he had gotten in trouble for looking through the man's papers, broke down in front of him over Sirius and got caught spying with his friends last night. Even he had to admit, from Snape's point of view, his conduct was probably...disappointing.

Instead, he took one of Snape's old defense books from the shelf and sat by the lake. He even took notes. But more often than not, he was noting the things Snape had written in the margins instead of the passages from the book itself.

A little over two hours had passed and his back was starting to get sore from sitting on the rock. After a quick stretch, he packed his books and made his way back to the castle. What to do now? He checked his watch. He should send Snape a message for practice.

Concentrating on his message (Can I help with anything?) he formed his Patronus and sent it off. He noted with pleasure that the edges were starting to look a little clearer.

He supposed he could go exploring or go back to his room. Maybe he could check out more of Snape's book. He certainly didn't expect Snape to want his help, but it would be more interesting than being alone.

He was starting to feel less vulnerable in Snape's presence. It was odd, he thought. The day after their escape, when the Headmaster had explained things to him, he had had so many conflicting emotions; he hadn't known what to do with them. Just being in Snape's presence had unnerved him, in more ways than one. And every time something personal had been brought up, he had cringed from it, believing that Snape would ridicule him.

Of course, Snape didn't go out of his way to make those things comfortable for him. But in some ways that was better than people skirting issues and giving him pitying looks; something his friends did all too often. It only ever put him in a bad mood. And then there were the people, like Molly Weasley, that were always saying things like, "Oh you poor dear." And then Remus would come along and put his hand on his shoulder and smile and say things like, "I've been worried about you. You know you can come talk to me any time right?" And he did know and appreciate it. But did they really expect him to just start blabbing about anything and everything under the sun to them?

And the Headmaster. Well, he was a different case altogether. He was always so nice and kind, with his lemon drops and his herbal teas. And when there was anything weighty to talk about, he would sit Harry down and explain it all in such a philosophical way. "You see Harry, I've forgotten what it was to be young." Had the man forgotten how to talk to the young as well? He was the Headmaster of a school after all. How removed from it could he be? But then, Harry didn't see him sitting down with many other students. He could be wrong, but it seemed that the Headmaster rarely talked to other students, outside the normal greetings in the hallways. And he only talked to Harry after something terrible had happened. He believed the Headmaster when he said he cared about him, he really did. He just got so fed up with the old wizard's long-winded explanations and his abstract, self-possessed air. After all the things that had happened to Harry at this school, he really expected the Headmaster to be more forthcoming about events. And certainly less long winded when Harry was tired after his every ordeal. The man must just wait for Harry to end up injured before he came to visit. No, that was not being fair. Still, he did feel that way sometimes.

And then there was McGonagall, of course. She was his Head of House and she had taken Harry's side in matters more than once. Of course, she had also ignored him and his friends when he'd gone to her for help. And her defense of him had almost always been in response to something that insulted her or her house. Like with Snape and his Slytherin favoritism or with Umbridge and her insults and interruptions during the career counseling. Harry wondered if she had really meant that about helping him become an Auror, or if she had just been saying it to spite Umbridge.

He found himself wondering what would have happened if he had gone to Snape that night in first year instead of McGonagall. Of course, at that time he had suspected Snape. But if he hadn't, how would Snape have dealt with the situation?

He let his mind wander down that road. Snape was paranoid enough that he would want to check it out. He probably would have put Harry and his friends somewhere out of the way until he had dealt with the situation. And he probably would have dealt with the situation just fine. After all, it had seemed to Harry that Snape was the only one willing to do anything about Quirrell in the first place. Of course, Snape would have returned eventually. And instead of rewarding him points, he probably would have given Harry and his friends detentions for the rest of the year for getting involved.

That wouldn't have been any fun at all. But it would have been a lot safer. It was easy to say now that he was glad he had done all that stuff. But he remembered how scared he had been at the time - he had only been eleven, for Merlin's sake! It had gone deeper than just wanting to foil a plot. He had believed that Voldemort would come back and kill him and his friends. He couldn't have just let that happen. And he had tried to get help - fat lot of good that had done.

But Snape was quite different from all the others. He didn't side step any issue. He didn't worry about hurting Harry's feelings. In the last week, he hadn't gone out of his way to do so either. At least, Harry realized that now, after the fact. Snape didn't ignore him, he didn't excuse him, he didn't give him pitying looks and he didn't go on and on about abstract notions and philosophical conjectures. And unlike Remus, who was probably the closest thing he would ever have to a father now, he didn't tell Harry that he could come talk to him with blanket statements of comfort. He just came right out and talked about whatever it was he thought needed to be dealt with when he thought it needed to be dealt with. And as far as comparing Mrs. Weasley with Snape went, it was like comparing apples and knives. Snape had never pulled his punches to be sure. But for some reason, her public statements of sympathy and anger with his family had hurt him more than any time Snape had said something nasty. It was expected of Snape after all. And at least Snape didn't treat him like some little child who was incapable of fending for himself.

Come to think of it, he was rather surprised that Snape hadn't gotten on him for yelling back at Grimmauld Place. Sure, he had been mad at Mrs. Weasley too, but why would he let Harry get away with anything? Harry didn't think for a second that Snape had forgotten his outburst. Nor did he think that Snape was storing it up. He seemed to prefer dealing with things as they happened. Case in point; he had interrupted his discussion with Remus to haul Harry out of there.

And what had they been talking about? Had been Remus been right when he had asked Snape whether what they were talking about had been Greyback? Harry wondered if Snape was doing something about Greyback. He hadn't really given much thought to what Snape would do for the Order since the capture. The man certainly couldn't spy anymore. But it would be a mistake to think that a man of Snape's talents would be consigned to babysitting alone.

Harry made a mental list. Snape went to Order meetings. He wondered what Snape said at those meetings. Did he sneer and glare or did he just sit at the table and stare at the door waiting to get away from people he didn't like. And why was he fighting for this side if he disliked them all so much?

Snape brewed potions, for the school and for the Order as well. And once a month, he brewed Wolfsbane for Remus. From what Harry knew, Snape didn't get any compensation for that. Perhaps Snape preferred to deal in favors. He couldn't imagine Snape helping Remus out of the kindness of his heart.

Snape was working on some translation. Harry had no idea what that was about but he did get the impression that it was important. He wondered if many other Order members knew of it.

And Snape was maybe doing something about Greyback.

And himself? He was just wondering around the castle and sitting by the lake.

That made at least four duties that Snape had, not including watching over Harry. At that realization, Harry stopped in his tracks on his way back to the dungeons. That just wasn't right. Why should Snape have to do so much? He didn't even like the people he was working to save. And they didn't really like him either.

Setting his jaw in determination, Harry squared his shoulders and set off for the potions lab, where he assumed Snape would be working. He would offer to help. He might as well. He could even learn some things. And it wouldn't hurt to get more involved in the war effort. In the back of his mind was the hope that if he did so, Snape might respect him more. He may even tell him what was going on if he earned it.

And that was enlightening, Harry thought as he stomped down the steps toward the much cooler dungeons. He had always felt that he had earned information from the Headmaster and Remus and Sirius just from what he had been through and the fact that their knowledge impacted him. And he certainly had earned the right to know about the prophecy. But as far as the specifics of the war effort went, well, that was the work of other people, whose very lives depended on secrecy. In this area, Harry realized, Snape had earned the right to knowledge more than Harry, a hundred or more times over. Perhaps even in comparison with some of the other Order members. He just couldn't imagine having to face Voldemort and lie to him and spy on Death Eaters. Being in their hidey-hole had brought that fact home to Harry. He didn't think he'd be capable of doing that. Gryffindor courage or not, he rather thought he would refuse to do that. Snape had also used the word soldier more than once in the last days. That implied that Snape saw the people fighting the war as fitting into a hierarchy of sorts. Maybe Harry was at the bottom of that hierarchy from Snape's point of view. He knew there were no real ranks in the Order, except that of the Headmaster being the leader and Snape having been the spy. But maybe Snape based that idea on his time with the Death Eaters. Of course, this was all conjecture on Harry's part, but it made sense with some of Snape's comments.

The door to the potions lab was shut. He started to raise his hand to knock but changed his mind and raised his wand instead. (May I come and help?) He told his Patronus to "go to Professor Snape" and watched it go through the door. Well, at least he was already in the right place.

He waited for a minute, hoping that his message hadn't come at the exact wrong time. That would be just his luck with Snape. Or perhaps his message hadn't been clear? He hadn't gotten a response from the last one. He was just starting to get worried and thinking about using his mirror when the door opened.

"Yes," Snape said. And then he turned around and went back into the room, leaving the door open for Harry.

It took Harry a second to remember that he had asked a yes or no question. Snape certainly didn't waste words when he was brewing. Harry hurried into the room and shut the door behind him.

"There are cauldrons over there that need to be cleaned." Harry almost groaned but Snape's next words made him perk up. "Just use a charm. You may have to use it more than once. And inspect it before you set it up," he warned. "When you're done with that, there are some ingredients over there that you can prepare," he pointed to a long table at the back of the room. The book that Harry had used the last time Snape let him help brew, was already sitting out and there were markers sticking out of several pages. "I've marked the pages you'll need."

Snape was already back to brewing. And what a job of it! Harry watched him out of the corner of his eye for a moment as he set his book and notes down and began pulling the dirty cauldrons onto the workbench in the front corner of the room. Snape had eight cauldrons in all, in various stages of brewing from what Harry could tell. Three of them seemed to need Snape's immediate attention. As Harry watched, Snape began setting up another cauldron. He moved back and forth between them all after he had gotten the new one set up. Harry didn't think anyone could help Snape with all of that without getting in the way. Harry had noticed before that Snape seemed to have some sort of rhythm when working with potions. He looked down at the dirty cauldrons. Could he ever do that?

"Scourgify."

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

He had been at the cauldrons for almost fifteen minutes when Snape finally spoke up. "You will need to learn silent incantation, if only to save me from having to listen to you drone on."

Harry had been casting Scourgify and Tergeo for a while now. He had to admit, he was getting sick of casting the spells. "Yeah," he agreed, pushing his sleeves up.

Wait. Harry's head snapped up. He would actually love to learn silent incantation. "Can you teach me?"

Harry got to add another expression of Snape's to his running list that afternoon. He had encountered disgust, anger, fury, irritation, smugness, assessing, slight surprise, mild amusement and of course, the blank expression. Now he had encountered taken aback, or perhaps it was offended.

"Can I teach you?" he asked incredulously. "Potter, what is it that you think I've been trying to do all these years but teach you? The question is not whether I can teach you but whether you can learn."

"All right," Harry said, trying hard to not show his impatience. "Will you teach me? Please."

Snape had apparently gotten to a stage in the brewing that required less attention. He eyed the potions for a moment, speaking over his shoulder. "I will. Attempt to do it now."

"What, with the cauldrons?"

"Yes, with the cauldrons Mr. Potter." Snape shook his head at Harry.

"Well how do I do it?" Harry asked, about ready to start glaring at Snape's back. Couldn't he give him some instruction?

Snape set his ladle down and turned to face Harry. He crossed his arms and leaned against the table. "Point your wand at the cauldron and cast the spell without opening your mouth."

Oh yeah, real great explanation, Harry thought. But he did it all the same. He concentrated on the word, Scourgify. Nothing happened. He looked up at Snape and just barely stopped himself from putting his hands on his hips.

Snape crossed the room and stood beside him, staring down into the cauldron. Yeah, it's still dirty, Harry thought at him.

"You were thinking the words of the spell, yes?" Snape asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Now this time, think about what you want to be done, not in words, but in actions. Visualize the result of your spell. Think about where you want the mess to go."

"Ok," Harry said, pointing his wand at the cauldron again. But he didn't try to cast the spell. "Um sir?"

If Snape were a normal person, he would have sighed. "What is it?" he snapped.

"Where do I want the mess to go?" Harry asked sheepishly.

"Perhaps the dustbin Mr. Potter?" Snape said dryly.

"Oh. Oh!" Harry had been thinking it was something like Scourgify and that the mess was just banished. Clearly nonverbal spells were different.

He steadied his wand and concentrated really hard on the mess lifting from the surface of the cauldron and landing in the rubbish bin. Now, he thought.

"Not bad for your first attempt Mr. Potter."

Harry blinked in astonishment and then his face was split with a wide grin. The mess was almost all gone. "That's wicked! Can you do that with every spell?"

"No, not every spell." Snape flicked his wand and two stools came flying over to them. "Take a seat," he instructed. They both sat and then Snape switched into what Harry had termed his lecture mode.

"Nonverbal spells came before verbal ones. However, nonverbal spells lacked a certain...finesse. In order to cast nonverbally, you must be able to clearly picture exactly what it is you want to happen. You know what happens when you banish an object don't you?"

"Yeah. It goes into nonbeing."

"Correct. Now visualize that and attempt to banish that cauldron." Snape pointed to the cauldron Harry had just cleared.

Harry raised his wand before he had even thought of what he was trying to do. And then he stopped and blinked in confusion. "Um, what does nonbeing look like sir?" Harry asked.

Snape's lips curled into an approximation of a smile. "Your guess is as good as mine Mr. Potter. And that is the limitation of nonverbal spells. Over time, witches and wizards realized these limitations. Each spell that you've learned was the result of rigorous study. You see, in order to do something that is difficult to visualize, you must study the phenomenon, much like a muggle scientist. When you fully understand the physical process, only then can you create a spell."

"But I don't understand," Harry said. "I mean, I get that once you've studied something, you'd be able to visualize it. But why would you create a spell instead of just doing it nonverbally?"

"Ah, but how can you really visualize complicated spells, especially things that deal with complex systems, like potions or the human body? You can't - so you must instead put all of your research and understanding into creating a word of power."

"How do you pick the word?" Harry asked in confusion. "And how could anyone else use it without knowing just as much?"

"It is not the sound of the word that unlocks the power of it. It is the creator. You'd get the same effect if you chose to create a spell in Japanese or even colloquial English, as you would in Latin. The words are chosen by the developer of the spell. The use of Latin became tradition - to prevent accidental use of a spell word in conversation."

"So, whoever first got the spell to work had to have a near perfect understanding of what it did. Then they named it," Harry summarized.

"Correct. Others are able to learn the spell simply by seeing the effects, being told a few important background facts and learning the proper incantation."

"But what if you just see a word in a book and you don't know what it does at all but you decide to try it anyway?" Harry asked.

"That would be monumentally stupid. Don't do it," Snape said with a glower.

"But what if someone did?" Harry persisted.

Snape crossed his arms but answered anyway. "The spell could work, though perhaps not as well as it would if you were versed in its purpose."

"So then, there has to be something special about the words themselves. I mean, there really are magic words, right? It's not all about intention."

Snape crossed his arms and frowned. "Here we delve into the realm of conjecture. There are a few theories, although only one has no known flaws. But yes, it would seem there are magic words."

"So, if you want to create a spell, do you have to find the magic words?"

"No. You must create the magic words. I've already told you, the creator chooses the word."

"How do you create magic words?" Harry asked. This was fascinating!

"That is exceedingly difficult to do. There's no single method. Some words become magical through constant use by many people over long periods of time. But extremely gifted witches and wizards created most spells in use today. They gave the word power because they themselves were powerful enough to do so. Once a word is given that power, magic users the world over may use it, if they do so correctly. Of course, this is all conjecture. The exact process is still unknown, even to the creators of spells."

"Have you ever created a spell?"

Snape went very still. Harry had been watching the man for days now and he still couldn't tell what this meant.

"I have," Snape said softly. Then he stood up and walked back to his cauldron.

Harry knew he wasn't going to get any information on those spells when Snape began lecturing again.

"There are many spells you have already learned that have nonverbal counterparts. Your ability to cast them is directly linked to your powers of concentration and visualization. But constant practice will enable you to perform them more easily. Over time, the spells you use most often will not require such a concerted effort. Sometimes, a nonverbal spell will require thinking about the process and effects differently than you would normally think of them while casting it using a word of power. You will have to explore each nonverbal spell until you find a way to visualize it that works for you. It is very similar to making your own spell lexicon, only with thoughts instead of words."

"I bet that's really hard to do with dueling spells," Harry thought out loud.

"You'd be surprised Potter. Dueling is an intense activity. Most people give it their complete attention while engaged in the activity."

Harry snorted. Imagine that, concentrating during a duel, he thought sarcastically.

Snape gave him a pointed glare and continued lecturing. "This enhanced concentration can aid in nonverbal casting. But it is best to practice as much as possible before a duel. Nonverbal spells can become reflexive, just like dodging, if you practice enough."

"Cool."

"Indeed."

"So, am I going to practice that with you too?" Harry asked.

"Among other things, yes."

Harry grinned, until he realized that that would require dueling Snape again. Maybe Snape would let him brew some bruise salve.

"That is enough for now. Attempt to perform all of your spells without words before you cast verbally from now on. Now get back to work Potter. There is still much to be done here."

Harry had finished scouring the cauldrons in little over a half hour using nonverbal spells. He was exceedingly proud of that, but he realized that he had a lot of practicing to do when he switched to preparing ingredients and tried to get them to chop themselves. He only managed to make a few frog livers make a squelching noise.

They worked for two hours in near silence. Harry only broke it to ask Snape a few questions about storing the prepared ingredients. Snape only broke it to criticize the quality of Harry's preparations.

Finally, Snape set aside the last cauldron he had been working on. There were a few that were still simmering, but he had already bottled and labeled seven cauldronfuls of potions.

"It is time for lunch. Go clean up and meet me in our rooms," Snape said, pulling off his gloves.

Harry went back to the rooms and realized with disgust that he was covered in nasty potions stuff. He had wanted to help, but this was probably the most inglorious job in the whole war effort. He wasn't even brewing anything!

By the time he had gotten cleaned up and changed, Snape already had a few sandwiches on the table. Harry pushed thoughts of frog guts away and dug in to his lunch.

"So, is learning to dodge going to require dueling?" Harry asked around a mouthful of sandwich.

Snape glared at him until he chewed. "Take a drink and swallow before speaking again. You have deplorable table manners."

Harry took a drink and swallowed. "Sorry sir. So are we? Going to have to duel, that is?"

"Eager for a rematch Potter?" Snape said with raised brow. His black eyes positively glittered with amusement.

"No! I was just wondering." He wanted to learn, but he could say with certainty that he was not eager for a rematch with Snape quite yet.

"If it's bruise salve you're worried about, I have plenty," Snape said with a smirk.

"I bet you do," Harry muttered before taking another bite. He really didn't like the smug smile on Snape's face - not at all.

Snape finished his meal first and sat back to read through some papers that he summoned from his desk. When he finished eating, Harry took the plates and mugs to the sink and silently cleaned them with the nonverbal spell he had learned. It was the most fun he'd ever had doing chores.

Harry started to move back to the table when there was a sharp rap on the door. This time, he followed Snape's lead and pulled his wand out too. Maybe paranoia's contagious, he thought as Snape checked the door.

It was the Headmaster. And he had a very grave look on his face.

"Headmaster?" Snape asked as he pulled the door open.

"Good afternoon Severus, Harry," he nodded.

"Will you have a seat?" Snape asked with, what for him, passed as politeness.

"I'm afraid I can't stay. I've just come to tell you that there will be an Order meeting tonight at seven."

"Has something happened?" Harry asked.

"I'm afraid so, I'm afraid so," he said, shaking his head. "There was another mass break out at Azkaban." He turned his eyes back to Snape, who had gone completely still.

In a voice that seemed almost too casual, Snape asked, "And Malfoy?"

Harry was surprised to see Albus' expression switch from assessing to sad in a few short heartbeats. "He is free."

Snape nodded stiffly. "Very well. I will be there, of course."

"Good, good. I assume Molly will be bringing her youngest two with her so you may as well bring Harry as well."

Another nod.

"I'll let you get back to your day then and I'll see you later."

"Thank you Headmaster," Snape said as he shut the door.

When it was just the two of them again, Harry thought he could cut the air with a knife. This was not good.

"Do you suppose they've all escaped sir?" Harry asked quietly.

"I do," Snape answered, retaking his seat.

Harry sat across from him. He wondered what they'd talk about at the meeting. Was there anything to be done about the escaped Death Eaters? He really wished they'd let him go to the meeting.

Of course, he could ask Snape if he could go - but he'd probably say no. And he doubted the other Order members would allow him either. Dumbledore, for all his talk of keeping Harry more informed, hadn't volunteered any new information since the prophecy except for what he had told him about Snape. But then, Harry hadn't tried the more direct route of just asking him what was going on. He wondered what would happen if he did.

He could just ask Snape like he had said he would last night. He was still in trouble over that though. Snape was never very keen on volunteering information. He might not tell him a thing just to punish him. But Snape didn't seem all that upset with him over what had happened last night, and he was already serving a punishment for that. Maybe he could ask Snape a few questions after the meeting. Yeah, he'd just wait until then. And he'd be sure not to give into eavesdropping at the meeting. He'd be on his best behavior.

Snape looked through his papers for a minute more before setting them back down on the table roughly. If Harry didn't know better, he'd almost say Snape was restless.

"We will meet in one hour by the lake for your lesson," Snape said as he moved for his bedroom door.

"Yes sir," Harry called out in answer, but Snape was already shutting the door behind him. With a sigh, he went to his own bedroom and lay down. He may as well get some rest before he got cursed into the ground.

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

Harry walked down to the lake alone since he had missed Snape leaving the rooms. Snape was already waiting for him down by the edge of the lake. When Harry got closer, Snape rose from his rock perch and snapped his wand out of his sleeve.

Harry had been expecting something like this and already had his wand out and ready. But Snape didn't go on the offensive. Instead, he carefully laid his wand on the rock beside him and stood back up.

Snape launched right into the lesson. "All spells move at much less than the speed of sound. This gives you time to plot the trajectory of the spell. You will cast one and I will demonstrate."

"Now?"

"Yes, now."

Harry shrugged and raised his wand. "Rictumsempra!" He'd love to see Snape fall to the ground laughing.

But Snape moved away from the spell light at the last second. He didn't jump out of the way though. He just stepped to the side and bent his head. The curse flew right past his ear.

"Were you watching?" Snape asked when he stepped back into place.

"Yes."

"Again. Two or three spells this time. And pay attention to what I am doing."

He did pay attention as he cast three spells in succession. Completely focused, Snape eyed each of them as they hurtled toward him. As each spell approached him, he moved as little as possible, making the movement look efficient. Harry had to admit, that would be right handy if you lost your wand or couldn't speak - two scenarios he was now painfully acquainted with.

"Now you will try." Snape picked up his wand.

From there, things went downhill for Harry.

Harry jumped out of the way of the approaching spells. That was fine for the first spell in each volley, but jumping made it really hard to pay attention to the next spell. Even when he was able to see the next spell coming for him, his jump put him off balance and he was unable to recover in time to avoid the next one. At least Snape's spells weren't painful. He was using some kind of color marker.

"That is why efficiency of movement is so important. You lose control when you are constantly jumping about. Remain calm. Watch the spell until the last possible second, then move as little as is necessary."

It took Harry another half-hour before he was able to dodge two spells in succession, though Snape still thought his movements too wild.

"You only need to leap when you're fighting in very close quarters. And in that case, it's better to leap toward your enemy and take him out with your bare hands. Otherwise, simply step away from the spell."

By the time their two hours were done, Harry had managed to sidestep one third of the spell volleys to Snape's satisfaction. He looked down and noted with wry amusement that he was covered in splashes of every color in the spectrum. He looked like he had jumped into a giant vat of rainbow paint.

"Better Potter. In the future, I will expect you to use this method when appropriate."

"How will I know if it's appropriate?"

"One spell no one has ever managed to cast nonverbally is the killing curse. When you hear that, move. Beyond that, it's up to you. It will often be to your benefit to dodge a curse and cast your own spell rather than hold a shield. Blocking may lose you the initiative. And initiative is one of the most deciding factors in a duel. Strike first. Strike hard. Remember that."

"Right. Strike first. Strike hard," Harry repeated the lesson.

"And if you ever meet a dangerous opponent, never waste time on silly little spells like Rictumsempra. If you cannot kill your opponent, blast him unconscious. This is especially important if you're fighting more than one opponent. If you bind him, it is an easy matter for his comrades to undo your work and then your efforts will have been wasted. Give your enemy no opportunity to rise against you again."

Just like Snape had done to the Death Eaters when they had been running, Harry thought. Don't slash at them to draw blood or bind them; put them down. It seemed cold, but after his stay with Voldemort and their escape, he had very few moral objections to what Snape was telling him.

"From now on, we will also be working on conditioning you to dodge a surprise attack."

"How are we going to do that?" Harry asked. But he thought he already knew.

"You will just have to watch your back when you step out of our rooms. From this point on, your only sanctuaries are the apartment and the potions lab. Walk out onto the grounds or through the castle and, if I find you, I might attack you." Snape was smiling just the slightest bit.

"Great," Harry said sarcastically.

"This is to your benefit, Mr. Potter. It is better to learn defense from an ally than from your enemies. Trust me Potter, surviving a surprise attack is almost always a painful experience. You will thank me when you are conditioned to be sensitive to your surroundings."

"I understand." And he did. But this was really going to suck. The idea of Snape stalking him through the halls didn't fill him with dread per se, but he wasn't very confident about it either. He didn't like his odds against Snape The Spy or Snape The Soldier. But if he had learned anything from his harrowing ordeal this summer, it was the importance of paying attention to his surroundings. If he had seen those Death Eaters before they had attacked on Privet Drive, none of this would have happened.

That thought made him frown though. He wouldn't go through any of that again for any amount of money or experience, but he had to admit, he was glad to be here instead of back with the Dursleys. At this point, he was almost certain he'd rather stay here with Snape than even stay with the Weasleys. He finally felt like he was accomplishing something; like he was part of something bigger and more important than himself.

"We are done for the day then. We leave in two hours for the meeting. And Potter?" Snape was giving him that calculating look again, but this time, Harry was too tired to worry about it.

"Yes sir?"

Severus briefly considered repeating the rules to Potter. If that boy did one more thing out of line, especially at a meeting of the Order where he himself would have to deal with the other members and their opinions, he might very well just take Potter over his knee and give those irritatingly nosy fools a reason to worry for Potter's health. But, Potter clearly knew and understood the rules already. What he lacked was the proper motivation to follow them. Severus was curious though, whether the lines he had assigned the boy had had the desired effect. Potter had seemed repentant and when asked what lessons he had learned, he had listed all the ones that he himself had meant for the boy to learn. Perhaps he would omit the standard lecture and see what Potter did when they got there.

The boy was still waiting for him to speak.

"Before we leave, I'll bring you more appropriate attire." It was the first thing that had popped into his head. There was no reason why Potter should be wearing those baggy clothes. It made movement more difficult and they could get snagged on something. That kind of thing could get Potter cursed if there were a sudden attack.

"Ok." Harry decided that he wasn't going to be embarrassed. He couldn't help that he had no better clothes. And frankly, if Snape had something better for him to wear, he'd welcome the opportunity to wear something that actually fit. He was unaware that his own mind was following a similar line of thought as Snape's, at that point. It had been his baggy clothing getting caught in that fence that had slowed him down when he had been caught. Maybe he would have gotten away, maybe he wouldn't have - but he didn't want to take chances again.

Harry had been holed up in his bedroom for the last hour and a half reading through Snape's book on defense and its accompanying spell compendium.  He had actually been so engrossed in what he was reading that he had completely forgotten about the upcoming Order meeting. 

He had just found the part in Snape's book that talked about initiative and reflex.  It was exactly the point Snape had been trying to hammer into his skull these last days, but it was written out here in far more detail.  There was a detailed description of the effects of injury on the body during battle.  Injury was to be avoided at all costs and Harry could see why (besides the obvious).  Injury wore you down, made you less alert and, according to the book, inevitably led to capture or death. 

Snape's book also defined the ‘reflexive warrior', a concept Snape had been describing to him not two hours ago.

Your body must respond to the demands of your mind instantly.  Before you ever identify what the threat is, your mind should process the fact that there is one.  This is what having good reflexes means.  It is important to learn to hit your target:  to learn a thousand spells:  to learn to plan:  to learn to watch your surroundings.  All of these are worthy pursuits.  But if you have slow reflexes, your body will not respond to your needs.  If you are not a reflexive warrior, all of your knowledge will be just as useful as throwing the book you dragged it out of at your enemy.

You will find no book or spell that can give you the reflexes of a soldier.  Even potions fall short of the mark.  They can make you more alert, but they cannot force you to respond instantly in an appropriate way to an attack.  If you fail in this, your opponent has already won the advantage. 

Rather, quick reflexes can only be learned through practice.  If hit often enough and encouraged to respond, the student will become a reflexive warrior in time.  Do not become discouraged that the responses will be sluggish at first.  All animals can develop learned reflexes.  Most are born with the instinctive urge to flinch, turn away or take flight when attacked.  The reflexive warrior instead learns to dodge and attack in concert.

Clearly, from Snape's perspective, this was an important skill in battle.  It kept popping up everywhere.  And, Harry thought wryly, so would Snape, just to teach these reflexes.  The idea did excite him though.  How cool would it be if he were attacked and he just instantly knew to dodge and fire?  He hoped Ginny were there to see it.

Where had that thought come from?  He shook his head and turned his attention back to the book.  He did not get much farther before there was a knock on his door.  His eyebrows rose.  Snape?  Knocking?  That was...nice.

"Come in," he called, closing the book and placing it on ‘his' desk. 

Snape came in carrying a handful of clothes, which Harry eyed with interest.  Please God, don't let them be Dungeon Bat brand clothes!  An image rose in his mind of himself wearing flowing black robes with far too many buttons, and he just about had a laughing fit.  It worked for Snape maybe, but he would just look ridiculous.

"These should be in your size," Snape said, laying the clothes on the bed.

"Where did they come from?" Harry asked, walking over and running his hand over the fabric.  They looked pretty normal for a teenage wizard.  There were a few jumpers, slacks in black, gray and brown and tee-shirts.  Harry moved a few from the top and noticed a few robes too. 

"These are what students have left behind over the years.  I took everything that was plain and in your size."

"Thanks," Harry said as he lifted up a robe to see the length.  They were perfect.

"You may as well throw out those clothes from your whale cousin."

Harry snorted.  "With pleasure."  He ran to his chest of drawers and pulled out all of his cousin's oversized clothes.  ""How about an Incendio?" he asked with an impish grin.

"How about an Avada?" Snape asked, eyeing the pile with distaste.

"Does that work on clothes?"

Snape heaved a dramatic sigh.  "Sadly no.  That curse does not work on inanimate objects.  Believe me, I've tried."

Harry couldn't help himself.  He had to laugh.  He just couldn't get the image of a pissed off Snape, sometime after potions class, trying to Avada Neville's potions essays. 

Even Snape, Harry noticed, was smirking in amusement.  "Get changed.  We leave in fifteen minutes," he said when Harry finally calmed down.

"Yes, sir!" Harry barked in imitation of a soldier, snapping his right hand to his forehead, palm out, in a military salute.

Snape started walking for the door, but turned back before he stepped through.  "I think an Incendio will do nicely."

Harry's grin grew larger.  "Incendio!"

As the fire consumed the clothes, he felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.  He was never going back to the Dursleys.  They didn't want him and he didn't give a damn.  Even if the Headmaster or the Minister of Magic himself came to tell him he'd have to go back, he would refuse.  Now he had nothing of the Dursleys at all and that was just fine with him.  

Severus left shaking his head.  But even he could not keep the smile from creeping onto his face at Potter's military salute and his happy grin when he had burned those awful clothes.  What a silly boy.

One thing was for sure; Potter was never going back to those relatives of his, if Severus had anything to say about it.  With the war escalating, the Muggles were entirely incapable of protecting Potter.  And they weren't fit to be guardians to even a blast-ended skrewt.

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

Snape ushered him from the gates of Hogwarts quickly, grabbed his arm and in seconds they were standing in front of the door of 12 Grimmauld Place.

"Quickly," Snape urged, pushing him toward the door.  He had his wand out and was scanning the street for movement. 

Harry didn't think there was any danger but he followed Snape's lead and held his own wand out as he approached the door.  He hadn't taken two steps onto the porch when the door was opened and Ron was beaming down at him. 

"Harry!  Hurry up.  The twins and Ginny are waiting for us.  We're going to play Exploding Snape." 

Harry laughed as Ron's face went red and he stared with horror at the Professor standing behind Harry with his arms now crossed. 

"I mean Snap," he practically yelled, voice cracking.  "Exploding Snap!"

"I believe you had it right the first time, Mr. Weasley," Snape said dangerously.

Ron looked like he was about to faint, so Harry grabbed his arm and dragged him into the house, throwing an apologetic smile over his shoulder at Snape as he disappeared into the house.  Snape rolled his eyes and followed them into the house. 

Molly Weasley, her four youngest children and several other Order members, met them in the kitchen. 

From their seats, the Headmaster and Remus tendered welcoming smiles but did not interrupt their discussion about the various benefits of the Austrian stance on werewolf regulations.  Molly Weasley rushed over to Harry before his friends could even get a word out.

"How are you deary?" she said, pulling Harry in for a hug. 

Harry really hoped his cheeks hadn't turned red as she held him at arm's length and looked him over with a shrewd eye.  Snape, he noticed, had already taken up a cross-armed stance in the corner, and was watching Mrs. Weasley's ministrations with ill concealed contempt.

"I'm fine," he said, hoping that it didn't come out as rude as he felt like being.  She was doing it again!  Couldn't she see he was fine? 

"Well you must be positively starving.  You look like you haven't eaten in days.  I'll get you something.  You just take a seat," she said, ushering him to the table.

"Oh yes," Snape said, sliding out from his corner.  "The boy must be starving.  When was the last time you ate Potter?" he asked sarcastically.

"Sometime last week sir," he answered as seriously as he could.  "Remember?  You let me have a bit of bread for scrubbing out the dungeons with a toothbrush."

"Huh," Snape said as though he were trying to recall that particular scene.  He moved for a chair himself then and Harry saw the small smile on his face as he sat and leaned toward the Headmaster to speak to him and Remus quietly.

Harry had thought their little impromptu act had been very clever, until he looked at Mrs. Weasley's face and saw how hurt she looked.  His humor left him immediately.  He hadn't wanted to hurt Mrs. Weasley's feelings by poking fun at her like that.  He ducked his head and studied the table for a second. 

But it wasn't like she was sparing Snape's feelings in the matter, he thought to himself.  Of course, there was always the possibility that Snape didn't have any feelings on the matter.  He always gave the impression that he didn't give a damn.  Harry wondered if that were true.  He himself had never liked people making assumptions about him. 

Mrs. Weasley may not be going about it the right way, but her concern for Harry was genuine.  He was angry with her, and he did think she had deserved the snub, but he really hadn't wanted her to feel hurt.  When he looked back up, she was moving around the kitchen, preparing his plate.  But he noticed that her movements seemed much jerkier than normal.  He felt so guilty!  He had to make this right.  Snape was already in discussion with the Headmaster and he didn't think he'd mind if he tried to smooth things over.

When Mrs. Weasley placed his plate in front of him, he reached out a hand to stop her from retreating.  In the most sincere voice he could muster, he looked her in the eye and said, "Thank you Mrs. Weasley.  Really.  I really appreciate...everything, you know?  But I'm fine, really."

Molly Weasley knew all about teenage boys.  Lord knew she had received her fair share of smart-alecky comments from her own boys.  She had to admit to herself that the only reason the remarks had hurt her feelings, was because Severus and Harry had mutually mocked her motherly nagging. She hadn't expected Harry to be sarcastic - he had always been such a sweet boy.  But perhaps she had it coming.  If Harry were comfortable enough to joke with his Professor, things couldn't be quite as bad as she had assumed. 

Still, she was determined to keep an eye on the two of them.  One never knew what would happen when tensions were running high.  Severus was not the sort of man who should be put in charge of an impressionable young boy like Harry.  She appreciated his efforts for the war, she really did.  But that didn't change who he was and what he was capable of.  She was just relieved that Harry had walked in looking unhurt after the argument last night.

But Harry, the little dear, he looked so sincere; she just couldn't stay mad at him for long.  She reached an arm around his shoulder and gave him a small peck on the cheek.  "You're such a sweet child," she said as she stood back up and patted him on the shoulder. 

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as she walked away with a more normal gait.  Then he turned his attention to his friends, who had apparently been talking to him the whole time and rather loudly at that.

"Earth to Harry," Ginny laughed. 

"Sorry," he said with a smile.  "What did I miss?"

"We were asking if you got into a lot of trouble," Ron whispered to him.

"Oh!  Yeah, a little.  I have, like, a million lines to write."  By the look on his friend's faces, he knew that they believed him about the number of lines.  "I'm only kidding.  I've just got 500.  It's not that bad."

"Just 500?  Mate, your idea of bad is definitely skewed," Ron said knowledgably.

"Well, it could have been worse," George said with a meaningful look at Snape.

"Yeah, he could have had to scrub the whole dungeon with a tooth brush," Fred smiled.

"He didn't really make you do that did he?" Ron asked, shooting a glare at Snape's back.

"Of course he didn't Ron," Ginny said with a roll of her eyes.  "They were just joking.  Jeesh."

"Well, it is Snape we're talking about here," Ron said, careful that his voice didn't carry.  "And I can't believe you were joking with him.  You'll probably have to do a million lines for that."

"No, I won't," Harry said, laughing and shaking his head.  "It's fine.  Anyway, did you all get in trouble?"

Ron looked down guiltily but the twins smiled.  "Nah.  She was so upset at Snape that she didn't say a word to us except to get packed up to go back home.  Great thinking Harry."

"Right.  Well, you're welcome, I guess.  All in a day's work, ya know?"

Harry finished his meal and listened to the twins regale Ginny and Ron with tales of their pranks against Umbridge last year.  The old toad had positively inspired them, it seemed. 

It wasn't long until he had finished his meal and he, Ron and Ginny were ushered from the room.  Snape shot him a look and mouthed the word "library."  Harry nodded and dragged his friends to the library quickly.  All the way down the hallway they complained about not being able to stay.  But Harry knew better than to push his luck any further.  He shut the door firmly when they were all in there and sat down across from them. 

"So guys.  Wanna play a game or something?" he asked.

Ginny and Ron exchanged a smile.  Then Ron was digging into a rucksack he had been carrying.

"Look at this," he said, extracting a pair of extendable ears.

Harry could have groaned.  "I can't listen again!"

"I know," Ron said with a smile.  "We definitely don't want you to get in trouble again.  But the twins helped us improve these yesterday.  They pull back automatically now if there's someone coming."

"No, you don't understand," Harry started to protest, but Ginny interrupted him. 

"It's ok Harry.  We'll listen and then tell you everything.  You can sit there and look like you're reading or something.  Then if we do get caught..."

"Which we won't," Ron threw in.

"Right.  But if we do, you'll have, like, an alibi."

"Look guys," Harry said, eyeing Ron as he unrolled the extendable ears.  "I think we should just not do it all right?"

"But don't you want to know what's going on?" Ron asked.  He looked put out.

"Well, yeah, I do.  But look, let's just do what they want this time, ok?  Maybe the twins will tell us what happened."

"Yeah, maybe," Ginny said in evident disbelief.  "But I'd rather hear it for myself."

Ron was by now already standing at the door.  Harry had to think fast.  He did want to hear, he really did.  But there was no way, absolutely no way, that he was going to disappoint Snape again.  He got up and placed a hand on the door just before Ron went to open it.

"What's up mate?" Ron asked him in confusion.

"Look," he said, making his expression as stern as he could.  "We are not doing this.  All right?"

Ron pulled back from him and crossed his arms.  "Stop trying to channel Snape will you?  What'd he do, curse you to keep you from doing anything fun?"

"This is not fun," he said, crossing his own arms.  "This is war.  And Snape did not curse me.  You can't blame me for not wanting him to be mad again."

"Of course we don't blame you Harry.  But this could be important, whatever they're talking about," Ginny said.

"It is important.  But what would we do even if we did know what they were planning?  It's better not to know.  The fewer people that do, the less danger."

"What?  You know what's going on?" Ron asked.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked in confusion.  He only knew there was an Order meeting.

"He means, do you know why they called the meeting," Ginny clarified.

"Oh!  Well yeah.  Don't you?"  Surely they would have heard that there was a break out at Azkaban.

"NO!" Ron threw his arms into the air.  "Mum wouldn't say a word.  Dad was going to tell us but she gave him the look."

"She's being ridiculous," Ginny agreed. 

Harry agreed, but he didn't want to say so.  "Well, there was a break out from Azkaban; a mass break out."

"Oh," Ron said in shock.  He slid into a chair and shook his head.  "Reckon that foul git Malfoy's gotten out too?"

"Yeah, he did," Harry answered. 

"That's horrible!" Ginny cried.  "How many escaped, do you know?"

"No.  But Snape reckons all of the Death Eaters got out."

"Snape told you this?" Ron asked in awe. 

"Actually, I was just there when he found out, so no.  But he didn't try to keep it from me or anything.  Why would your mum do that?"

"She thinks if we don't know anything, we won't go anywhere or do anything dangerous.  I mean, what would we do even if we had known that the Death Eaters all escaped," Ron asked.

"I think I'd probably go hide in my room," Ginny said with a small smile. 

Harry laughed.  "Come on guys.  Let's play a game.  We'll ask the twins when they get out what happened."

He was relieved that they agreed.  He had briefly considered the very real possibility that he would have to argue with Ron over it.  What was he supposed to do then?  Go get Snape and tell on Ron and Ginny?  Not bloody likely!

-----------

The twins were the first ones out of the meeting.  They hadn't even been in there for more than an hour before they came out with heads bowed.

"What's up?" Ron asked them the second they sat down.

"Yeah, come on.  Tell us everything," Ginny begged.

"I don't think so," George said.

"Why not?" Ginny asked looking put out.

Harry crossed his arms.  He wouldn't have minded them saying anything.  It wouldn't be his fault then.  Of course, he wasn't going to needle them for information either.  He was trying really hard to do everything right.

"We can't say anything you know.  Top secret and all," Fred answered with a grin.

"That's ridiculous, that is," Ron shouted.

"Come on Ron," Harry said.  "It's none of our business."

"None of our..." Ron looked scandalized.  "Bloody hell Harry!  You're the Boy Who Lived.  How is this not your business?"

Exactly! Harry thought.  But then he remembered his thoughts from earlier that day.

"Look, there's a lot more going on than what affects me, ok?  We'll find out what's going on eventually."

"Yeah, but what if it's really important Harry?" Ginny asked. 

"If it's really important for us to know, then I reckon they'll tell us."  At least, he hoped someone would - though he didn't have too much faith in that.  By the looks on his friend's faces, he could tell they didn't believe that either.

"Right," Ron said.  He turned from Harry to keep working on his brothers.  Harry sighed and went back to watching the Weasley's argue.  None of them noticed the dark presence in the doorway.

"Look," George said, getting fed up.  "We can't tell you, so quit being a pest."

"Well, why not?" Ron asked again.

"Perhaps because they've already been warned by the Order once to keep their own counsel in matters of war," Snape said, gliding into the room and fixing Ron with a dark look.

Ron's eyes widened and he shrank back.  "Professor," he croaked.

The twins stood up and greeted Snape cheerily, but Harry was interested to note that they didn't meet the man's eyes.  He looked back and forth between Snape and the Weasley twins for a second until things clicked into place. 

Snape must have told the Order that they were helping them listen in on secrets.  It was the only thing that made sense.  Mrs. Weasley hadn't punished them and he had no doubt that Snape wouldn't just let them get away with something like that, being Order members and all.  In fact, he was probably the one that had issued the warning.

"Say goodbye to your little friends, Potter," Snape said, turning his glance to Harry, who was standing stiffly in the corner.  "We're leaving now."

"Yes, sir," Harry sighed.  Snape had better not blame him for Ron's needling was all he could think.  He walked over to Ginny and she gave him a quick hug.

"Write to us?" she asked.

"Of course." 

Ron and he patted each other on the back in a ‘manly' fashion.  "Reckon you'll get in trouble again?" Ron whispered.

Harry shook his head.  "Probably.  But it's no big deal."

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

He shook the twins' hands and George leaned in to whisper.  "We're going to be opening up a joke shop in Diagon Alley.  You should stop by, seeing as you're our partner and all."

"Yeah, I'll try to do that."

"Watch out for Snape," Fred said with a wink.  "He's in a right foul mood."

"Why?" Harry asked in a whisper, aware all the time of Snape's eyes boring holes in his back.

"Well, first he and Moody got on us for last night," Fred answered.

"Then he and mum argued for a few minutes," George continued.

Fred took it up again.  "And well, Snape's in a worse mood than usual is all."

"Thanks for the warning," Harry said with a sigh.  "See you guys later then."

He walked back over to the door where Snape was waiting with his arms crossed.  Right before he went out the doors, he turned back and waved goodbye again.

- - - - - - -

Severus had heard most of the conversation between Potter and his little friends and had been...surprised.  Perhaps his message had actually worked its way past Potter's thick skull.  The boy's obedience was, perhaps, the first thing since arriving at Grimmauld Place that hadn't thoroughly set his blood on fire.

First, there had been Molly Weasley's thinly veiled accusations.  He had never been so close to cursing that woman as he had been this night.  Her arguments in front of the rest of the Order were bad enough.  Her accusations of abuse really set his wand hand to itching though.  He wasn't hurt by it, but he was angry.  Of everyone in that damn room, every single one of them, he had done far more to keep Potter from harm than any of them.  Despite their protestations of love and concern, it was he that always chased after Potter. 

It wasn't like they weren't aware of it either.  When the Dark Lord had returned and the Order had been assembled, the Order had met for several hours.  Potter and his various exploits and the Dark Lord's interest in him had been a major topic of that meeting. 

He had come through the door that night, after his reunion with the Dark Lord, in pain and in a foul mood.  The entire Order meeting had seemed frivolous and unimportant, very much unlike the Dark Lord's meeting.  The Death Eaters' reunion with the Dark Lord had immediately focused on planning and organizing.  The difference between the two meetings had set his already frayed nerves on edge.  The Order should have been organizing their defenses that first hour!  Instead, they had spent far too much time on catching everyone up on the last four years of information, most of which he had gathered himself at the Headmaster's request. 

And he could well remember the dark looks he had gotten from many of them when Albus had asked him for his report.  He could have sworn he had heard Black growl like the dog that he was.  When Albus had described the various measures taken over the years to ensure Potter's safety, Severus' name had figured prominently in that conversation.  But none of the Order had shown the least bit of gratitude.  He hadn't expected it of course; that was not why he had done it.  But he had thought that after all that he had done for the boy, he would not have to be subjected to insinuations of child abuse against Potter.

And then this night had just gotten worse from there.  He had dealt with the issue of the Weasley twins and their flippant disregard for secrecy as it appeared no one else had been willing to do.  He had been surprised to find an ally in Moody though.  Still, that had sparked an argument with Molly over him being too harsh...again.  And again, his hand had been inching toward his wand.  He would never raise it against her to harm her of course.  But he had been considering a silencing charm.  And he could just imagine how well that would have gone over.  They would probably have had him arrested or some such nonsense. 

The Order could natter on all day about how wary they were of Severus and his true loyalties; but at the end of the day, he didn't trust them either.  They all thought that they were infallible; that their loyalties could never be called into question.  But he knew that for the lie it was.  The other members blathered incessantly about being loyal to the Order and to each other.  But he was a member of the Order after all, and they were not loyal to him.  If he were in danger, he couldn't count on any of them to come to his aid.  If he stepped out of line the tiniest bit, they would gladly see him go down. 

He smiled wryly to himself.  Let them try to bring me down.  If it's a Death Eater they want, it's a Death Eater they'll get.

But no, those thoughts were dangerous; to him and to the Order.  And it could possibly affect Potter's safety.  He didn't trust them with his own welfare because he believed they hated him.  He didn't trust them with Potter's welfare because they didn't know how to protect him. 

After the argument over the twins' indiscretion had been settled, Severus had been forcibly reminded of the rift between himself and the Order, when Moody had brought up Lucius Malfoy.

"Looks like your slippery friend's managed to escape again."

Friend.  Yes.

He had said something sarcastic back of course - he couldn't even remember what it was now.  The rest of the meeting had dissolved into speculation about the Dark Lord's plans.  Severus had been questioned as though he were a criminal.

Well, that was an exaggeration.  They wouldn't dare.  And he knew from experience how far removed from an actual interrogation that had been.  But he had still been in the spotlight.

Could he do anything to find out what was going on? 

Yes. 

They hadn't asked him if he would, of course.  Perhaps they had just assumed he would do what he'd always done.  Odd that they weren't curious about how he would accomplish it now that he was no longer privy to the Dark Lord's thoughts and schemes.  If anyone else had been asked to do that, there would have been an outpouring of concern.  But not for Snape the Spy. 

He hated them all.

That was, perhaps, not quite true.  He did not hate any of them, not really.  But he disliked them all intensely.  Only the Headmaster and Minerva were anything approaching what he might call a friend.  Moody...well, the old auror was irritating but was actually very useful.  It was uncanny how often they agreed on matters.  Lupin.  Even in his mind he spat the word.  Spineless, whining, weak little werewolf!  But grateful, at least.  And an ally from time to time.  The rest of them were useful in their own way, he supposed.  And he didn't wish any of them any real harm.  Perhaps a stubbed toe, but nothing too damaging. 

And now he had to find a way to bring in information about the Dark Lord's plans.  And keep Potter safe.  Oh and Severus?  Could you brew another batch of the Fire Protection Potion?  We ran out last week.

Oh yes, of course.  I'll pencil that in on my schedule right after being caught and tortured by the Dark Lord and right before being turned over to the ministry for being a Dark Wizard.  Will that be soon enough?

They were already halfway across the grounds of Hogwarts when he realized that Potter was practically running to keep up with him.  He slowed down a little to let him catch up and kept his pace slower. 

- - - - - - -

The twins had been right.  Snape was in a bad mood.  He hadn't said a word or looked at Harry the entire time they had been traveling.  His lips had been set in a constant frown and his hand had been clenching around his wand the entire walk up the drive.  Harry could hardly keep up with the man as he stalked across the grounds. 

This was the Snape that children ran from in the halls.

Snape couldn't be this pissed by anything Harry had done, could he?  Not that he had done anything wrong.  He didn't even entertain the idea of interrupting Snape's thoughts though.  Maybe later, when they were in their quarters.  Snape would have to talk to him during dinner wouldn't he?

When they did finally reach their rooms, Snape stalked to his door, walked in and slammed it behind him.  Harry stood in the doorway in awe.  Wow!  Snape was really pissed about something. 

But then the very next second, the door opened again and Snape seemed far more composed.  What had that been about?

"Dinner will be at the usual time.  Do not disturb me until then."

"Yes sir." 

And then Snape was walking back out of the rooms and down the dungeon hallway.  Harry watched for a moment in confusion as Snape passed the potions lab and kept right on walking.  Now where could he be going?  Harry hadn't missed the potions vial that Snape had been clutching either.

Harry ran to his room, shut the door and pulled out his map.  It only took him a second to find the dot labeled Snape.  He hadn't known that dots could do an impersonation of stalking but Snape's dot seemed to him to be doing just that.  Or maybe that was just because he could see Snape doing it in his own imagination.

He watched Snape cross through the Great Hall and walk outside without stopping.  And then finally, Snape's dot crossed a boundary in the Forbidden Forest and disappeared from the map.

"What the....?"  Harry looked from the map to his invisibility cloak and back again.

"No," he said to himself forcibly.  That would be a huge mistake, following Snape.  Even he knew that. 

"No," he said again, reinforcing it.

In the next moment, he laughed at himself.  Was he really that bad that he had to keep himself from doing stupid things like that by talking to himself?  He was reminded of the line in Snape's book about learned responses and he snorted.  All animals can develop learned reflexes.  He was learning how to not piss Snape off.  That had to go a long way toward survival instincts didn't it?

He put his map away and got up.  He had too much energy to just sit here.  For a moment, he considered getting his broom out, but if Snape came back and saw that, he really would be in trouble.

Instead, he decided to see if Dobby was in the kitchens.  He could just call him, he supposed, but he felt like walking anyway.  It felt nice to stretch his muscles.  He had spent two hours dodging Snape's spells this afternoon and his muscles were just a little sore.  But his aches were nowhere near as bad as they could have been if Snape hadn't been using marker spells only.

He pushed all thoughts of Snape, the Order meeting and the Azkaban break out from his mind as he walked.  Snape would be back for dinner (hopefully in a better mood) and maybe Harry would get some answers then.  Of course, maybe he wouldn't, but that wouldn't stop him from trying - carefully.

The Royal Oak Pub possessed no feature that would give validation to its claim of being royal in any fashion. But it did serve some of the best oak aged stout in Britain.

Petey Sandstone shuffled into the bar and took a seat not far from the door. He signaled for the bartender and ordered the stout as he always did.

Petey Sandstone actually looked identical to an old hermit that lived somewhere in the woods of Eastern Europe. The hermit wasn't even a wizard and his name was probably something like Alex or Nicholas. But Severus had met him during one of the man's infrequent forays into town while he himself had been doing research in the country. Of course, met was probably not the word to use. He had never actually talked to the man. The only reason the man had come to his attention at all was because he was so unremarkable looking. His hair was a sandy shade of brown, his skin was neither pale nor dark, but a nice medium tone. He looked like he could come have come from any European country. So Severus had taken it upon himself to lift some of the man's hairs as he passed him on the street.

And so Petey Sandstone had been borne. He was an infrequent visitor to the Royal Oak and was generally thought to be a harmless old drunk with a knack for entertaining any of his drinking partners with his tall tales.

"Oy Petey," the bartender, Samuel called. "The usual?"

"Aye! And keep em comin," Petey called back.

"What's the occasion?" Sam said as he crossed the room with the stout.

"Jus' in fer a bit o' company and good drink." He had on one occasion told the bartender that it was his birthday and bought the whole bar shots; a nice cover for getting his mark drunk. But as he looked around at the bar's clientele this night, he knew right away that he wouldn't find anyone with any concrete information here.

The Royal Oak was not seedy, but Sam had a ‘don't ask, don't tell' policy that suited the purposes of the bar's clientele. The pub shifted in and out of favor as the favorite of the Death Eaters to meet up socially when they felt like it. Right now, it appeared that it was out of favor.

Even as Severus cursed his bad luck, he also breathed a sigh of relief. It was difficult to draw information out of people who were as secretive as the Death Eaters. Legilimency would have been a requirement and that had its own problems. He was good, but there was always a possibility that the target would realize something was going on. And that would ruin Petey's excellent cover; something Severus was loath to do.

There were no known Death Eaters here tonight, but there were some potential informants that may know something useful. There were quite a few business men here, as was usual, and one could learn a lot about an organization from its spending habits.

He stood up with his stout in one hand and made his way over to a full table, swinging a chair around with him. Dodgy McDougal made room for him as he sat.

"Hey Petey. How's life treating you?"

Dodgy McDougal was a trader in the less than legal potions and artifacts world. Severus had done business with him as Snape on more than one occasion and he had been careful to develop a harmless little drinking relationship with the man as Petey. They rarely did business, as Petey liked to keep to himself, but they both enjoyed drinking like fish, which made them friends of a sort when they were both in the mood.

"Fortune, that bitch, ain't smiled on me in years. But life could be worse. How's business then?"

"Real great. Can't say as I'm upset with Fortune meself." And Severus could tell. The man was sporting ridiculously expensive clothes and jewelry.

"Ah, good fer you then. If you ever have need to trade in sheep, you let me know. I'm sick of the whole stinkin' lot of them. Knocked down me gate and just about trampled me poor dog."

Dodgy laughed far more than the story deserved. Clearly, the man was already well into his cups. "Aye, I'll let you know. But it's mostly potions these days."

Interesting.

"Brisk trade in that huh?" Petey asked, merely to be friendly.

"Aye, real brisk. I can't hardly keep up with the demand. Good for business that."

Severus played a few rounds of cards with Dodgy and his crowd. Over the course of an hour, he found out that the ‘brisk trade' was a bit more than just brisk. It was nearly manic. Twice, their game had been interrupted so Dodgy could go off into a backroom and conduct business. Now, Severus had expected there to be a rise in the amount of potion orders after his departure from the Dark Lord's fold. He hadn't been expecting this though. A little Legilimency told him that among the stock healing and interrogation potions were some pretty sinister exploding potions and poisons.

Very interesting.

When Petey finally left the bar, he was only stumbling a bit. Dodgy clapped him on the back and apologized profusely when Petey fell over from the force of the friendly clap and his own ‘inebriation'.

The Polyjuice wore off fifteen minutes later. Severus stepped out of Petey's robes and into his own, finally straightening to his impressive six foot-two inch height. He took a moment to enjoy the blessedly smoke free night breeze. He had learned very little actually, but what he had learned had given him more questions, not less. Was the Dark Lord simply restocking his stores or was he planning something else; something like an attack?

It was possible, of course, that the brisk trade in potions was just a coincidence. Death Eaters were not the only customers, nor did they go to Dodgy exclusively. Still...

Severus considered going to the next pub that sometimes catered to the crowd he was looking for, but he reminded himself that Potter was alone in the castle. And the dinner hour was approaching soon.

He had never before bothered to go home for dinner, preferring to finish all of his business when he needed to. But it would not do to miss dinner and have Potter try to contact him while he was in the middle of spying. And he thought his chances of finding concrete information this way were low.

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

Dobby practically tackled him the second he walked into the kitchen door.

"Harry Potter! What can Dobby be doing for you?"

It had taken no less than ten minutes to get Dobby to stop running from counter to stove to Harry and offering him every plate Hogwarts had ever served. But eventually, Harry had managed it without resorting to yelling in frustration.

"So if Harry Potter isn't hungry, what is Harry Potter wanting in the kitchens?" Dobby asked in confusion.

Harry managed not to wince from hearing his full name being said twice in one question. Dobby was sweet, but there was a limit to even how much sweetness he could take.

"I just came to see how you were doing actually."

Wrong thing to say of course. Dobby gushed all over again for nearly a full minute.

"Dobby. Dobby. Dobby!"

The elf went still.

"Ok Dobby, thanks. But it's no big deal, all right? No!" he held his hand out when Dobby would interrupt him. "It's NOT a big deal so lets just not talk about how great I am or anything, ok?"

"Oh Dobby is bothering Harry Potter sir," Dobby lamented.

He almost left right then and there. The only thing that stopped him was seeing Dobby about to bang his head on the wall for bothering him. Good God, either Dobby's gotten worse or I'm losing patience, he thought. Maybe it was contagious and he had contracted impatience from Snape.

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

The thing about spying was it required a great deal of patience sometimes.

Severus had been all set to Apparate back to Hogwarts and get some work done before dinner, when who should walk by his alley with a hood pulled down low, but Jadie Smithkin? This was just too good an opportunity to pass up.

Jadie was a mean, homely little witch. But she was also married to Walden McNair's cousin, Jake Smithkin. And Jake Smithkin had been attempting to worm his way into the Dark Lord's favor for months now. When Severus had last heard, the Dark Lord had been considering giving the man the Dark Mark.

Now Jadie and her husband had always been careful to appear as decent enough citizens, despite their unfortunate relations. Clearly, appearances could be deceiving. So the question begged to be asked, why was Jadie walking around down here in this seedy part of London attempting to conceal herself?

Severus followed her for two city blocks before she slipped into another bar, this one far more sinister than the Royal Oak Pub. He had then stood outside, watching her and her companions through the window for several moments before deciding that this was a conversation he couldn't afford to miss.

Unfortunately, Petey Sandstone would not be left alone in an establishment like this. He looked too harmless; too average, to fit in. So instead of transforming his identity again, which would take far too long at any rate, Severus simply pulled his hood up until it completely concealed his face and went inside. The moment he stepped in the door, his heart leapt into his throat. He hadn't been able to see who Jadie was meeting from his vantage point outside, but now it was clear. She was meeting her husband, Walden and Lucius effing Malfoy.

He veered off to the left at the last moment and sat himself at the bar, several tables and conversations away.

Lucius was in disguise of course. But Severus had seen most of his disguises over the years. One thing Lucius could never manage to disguise was his arrogant posture and calculating stare. Black hair, mustache and drab clothes or no, that was Lucius all right.

The trouble was, Lucius would know him too. He was a good actor of course and if he had taken the Polyjuice, he could probably have sat down at the table, shaken the man's hand and regaled him with a story and Lucius would never have figured it out. But he hadn't transformed and all it would take would be for his hood to slip just the slightest bit and he would be caught and forced to attack. When he slipped into a stool, he pulled the hood down even more over his face and cast a quick Notice-Me-Not spell. It would have to do.

Unfortunately, Lucius and his companions had also taken pains to not be noticed or heard. Severus could overcome the Notice-Me-Not charms simply because he had a purpose in looking for them, but he could not hear a word and Lucius' eyes were scanning the crowd too often for him to attempt lip reading.

And so he had had to be patient for the last half hour and just sit at the bar and sip his drink. And then be patient for another twenty minutes while a fourth companion had come in and reported...whatever it was he had to report.

When they had all finally stood up to leave, Severus had to force himself to remain seated by will power alone. And it had paid off. Lucius had indeed left behind a watcher to warn him if he were being followed. The watcher, wearing concealing hood and robes much like his own, had waited nearly two minutes before he had moved out of the shadows and left.

And only then had Severus gotten up to leave.

Lucius and his companions were gone but the watcher was just disappearing around a corner.

Now, he could walk and keep to the shadows, and hopefully the watcher wouldn't notice him. Or, he thought with a smirk, he could track him from on high.

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

Harry did eventually get Dobby to relax. It had taken a stern voice though and something very close to an order. When Dobby finally quieted down, Harry sat back with a sigh.

Now, he could re-ask his question about how Dobby had been doing lately and hope that Dobby would stay calm and composed. But then clearly, Dobby was nearly incapable of not gushing if Harry inquired about him at all. Or, he thought with a smirk, he could use this opportunity to get some answers.

"So, I noticed that Winky's been um...feeling better." He had meant to say that she was acting sober but he didn't want the other house elves to hear him say that about her - just in case.

Dobby's eyes widened in understanding. "Oh yes. She's feeling much better. She would be in trouble if she got sick again."

"She got in trouble? With who?"

"Master Snape caught her drinking and ruining his shirt. He yelled so loud and threatened to have her thrown out of the castle."

"Snape?" Harry exclaimed. "He yelled at her?"

Dobby's little head bobbed up and down. "Master Snape is very kind sir. He be putting Winky to work all the time now. She barely having time to sleep she is working so hard."

Kind? Snape...kind? For working Winky all the time? House elves are so strange.

"Is she ok? I mean, she's got to be upset about it. I know I would be."

"Oh no!" Dobby exclaimed. "Winky happy. Winky say she have master now. She doesn't take money from the Headmaster anymore. Can't buy drink."

"Snape is Winky's master?" Harry exclaimed. What the hell was going on here?

"No, Harry Potter sir. Winky want to be but Master Snape not be binding her. He saying she not worthy to be bound to him."

Unbelievable! Harry couldn't quite decide what to think about that. It was a good thing that Winky wasn't drinking any more and that she was happy. But Snape was using her and called her unworthy. Would he really bind her to him if she proved herself? Would she be happier that way?

Dobby seemed to think it was the greatest thing in the world, after ‘Harry Potter sir' that was. He wondered if Snape had known Winky would be happier or whether he had just wanted to punish her. Or maybe it had been a little bit of both.

"And she's really happy about all this?"

"She is! Winky is always talking about Master Snape. ‘Master Snape wants his shirt cleaned. Master Snape is not liking wine, he liking whiskey better. Master Snape is best Master.' But I is telling her Harry Potter sir is being better." Dobby kept talking but Harry paid barely any attention to him after that.

Huh. Hermione would have a fit, of course. Ron might think it was funny. Too bad he wasn't going to say a word about it to either of them. Snape liked whiskey?

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

He rarely drank, but he could use a shot of whiskey about now. This was just ridiculous.

It was, perhaps, the most boring bit of spying he had ever done. Lucius and the others were long gone. The watcher was now hidden in the shadows, supposedly unseen, watching the street.

Right. Unseen, he thought with a smirk.

Severus was crouched on a rooftop far above, watching the watcher watch the street. Neither of them had moved for several long minutes. Severus ran a mental map of the area through his head. He was now about a block from the main entrance of the Ministry. But as far as he knew, there was nothing of interest on this street, nor was there any other way to enter the Ministry but through the main entrance and the floo connections.

He could just go down there and deal with the watcher he supposed. It would be far easier and faster than sitting up here. And it certainly wasn't like he didn't have the tools at his disposal to interrogate the enemy. He had filled in as interrogator for both sides of this war on more than one occasion. Potions, Legilimency and ruthlessness went hand in hand with questioning prisoners; things that he had an abundance of skill in.

He made his decision and backed away from the edge of the roof slowly. It wouldn't do to alert his prey to his presence before he wanted to. He swung over the edge of the roof on the alley side of the building and dropped soundlessly to street level. Keeping to the shadows, he peered around the corner.

The watcher was still there, back turned to him. Smiling, he slipped out of the shadows of the alley and onto the sidewalk. He crossed the street under a lamp casually. If the watcher did turn, he might not think anything of Severus' crossing the street. But the watcher did not turn. He was staring down the other end of the street. As Severus crossed onto the walkway, he again slipped into the shadows and paused to look up and down the street. The watcher was only five meters from him. He could stun him now without the danger of missing and alerting his prey.

And he did just that. The watcher fell to the ground with a nearly inaudible thud. Smiling nastily, Snape strode forward and rolled the watcher onto his back with a vicious kick. The cloak fell from the... woman's face?

Damn!

"Nymphadora Tonks," he spat.

She was incapable of replying but her eyes said enough. Bastard.

He probably should have just freed her right then and there, but he hadn't survived this long by trusting only in his five senses. Instead, he reached down and dragged her bodily into a hidden alcove a few feet away. Silently, he tested her for disguises. And then just to be safe, he tested her for the use of Polyjuice.

It was official; he was now standing over an extremely irate Nymphadora Tonks.

Shit.

"Finite," he flicked his wand casually, freeing her from the petrification. She sprang up immediately, breathing hard and looking fearsome. Severus was not impressed.

"What the hell are you doing Snape?" she hissed.

"Watch yourself, Nymphadora. I'm not one of your little Auror Corps mates."

She at least had the decency to blush. "Don't call me that," she said grumpily.

Severus smirked but said nothing about that. "I do believe you should be explaining yourself to me. What are you waiting for here?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you. I'm on official Ministry business."

"Ah. Protecting this innocent looking patch of walkway? How... fitting of the Ministry. It's a relief to know that while we're all out fighting, the Ministry is ensuring that sidewalks everywhere are obeying the laws of gravity."

"I'm not..." Tonks started, but then his words hit her. "Ha ha. Very funny Snape. I'm not holding the sidewalk down. I was following the Smithkins if you must know. But I lost them."

"You were..." And then the danger of her statement hit him. "Damn. Come on. Move." He grabbed her arm and hauled her back out onto the sidewalk and started to pull her into an Apparation.

"What the hell Snape!" Tonks pulled back.

It was all he could do to keep from growling at her. If she was not the watcher, and he had no doubt that Lucius would have remembered to leave one behind, then he had just given away his position as well. "We have to go. Now!" He reached for her arm again, but it was already too late.

The only warning he had was the red light reflected in her slightly widened eyes, but it was enough for his battle-trained body. He pushed her back and ducked, spinning around and bringing his wand to bear.

Clearly, the true watcher had taken the time to call in backup. Five soldiers in black robes and white masks ran down the sidewalk toward them. He took the time to aim and yelled out, "Avada Kedavra."

He was not in the mood to take prisoners right now. The joke was on him and he did not find it funny.

The Death Eater dodged at the last second. "That you, Snape?" the man, Mulciber he realized, called out. "You're dead, traitor!"

It was as though Tonks wasn't even there. The second they realized that the traitor was in their midst, they focused their attack on him.

"Damn it." He was completely exposed in the middle of the street whereas his enemies were already taking cover. Their curses were coming in volleys that were becoming difficult to dodge. What the hell was that Tonks doing? He didn't take the time to look for or call to her though. This battle was taking all of his attention and then some.

Tonks had tripped over a crack in the walk when Snape pushed her and she had fallen right behind a dustbin. "Ow!" She sat up gingerly and peered around the corner. Snape was under heavy attack and he was completely exposed. Shit!

She needed to contact the Order and get them here fast. They were severely outnumbered at five to two. But she knew that there wouldn't be time for that. She could escape, but then Snape may be killed or worse; she could not abide that. She shot a few curses off from behind her cover, but just because the Death Eaters were not attacking her did not mean they had forgotten her. They blocked and dodged her attacks.

"Snape and I are under attack! Lead Moody back here!" Out of her wand shot her canine Patronus. It darted across the night sky and then she turned her attention back to the battle. Snape wasn't getting nearly as many curses out as the Death Eaters were getting on him, but so far, he remained un-hit. He wouldn't be able to keep that up indefinitely, though. And if he turned his back to Apparate for even a second, he would likely be killed on the spot. If only the Headmaster were here...

Tonks smiled as an idea formed in her head and she Apparated to a nearby alley. This they would not see coming.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Severus heard the crack of Apparation and he didn't know whether he should laugh or start killing everything in sight. That cowardly bitch! But what had he expected from an Order member?

The Death Eaters got a good laugh out of that too. "Looks like you're not the only traitor Snape!"

Yes, very funny. "Crucio!" Not laughing now are you?

= - = - = - = - = -

Harry didn't know whether he should laugh or groan from the futility of trying to calm Dobby's adoration. Finally, he just gave up all together and listened to Dobby do a blow-by-blow re-enactment of his being freed from the Malfoys and how great Harry Potter sir had been.

After several minutes of this, Harry realized that he'd rather just leave. After being forced to take a basket full of foodstuffs with him, he finally managed to escape out of the kitchens. He made a beeline for his room. The fact that Snape had left the castle completely had been bugging him for a little while now. When they had been in the infirmary that first day, the man had said that he might have to leave from time to time and that he would only require someone else to come in when it was expected to be a long absence. Still...

Snape had left angry about something. And it had been after an Order meeting. Could he have been given a job? Harry was dying to know where Snape had gone now. He almost wished he had followed him. But there was no rule against taking his map and going for a walk around the grounds. He wouldn't go into the forest; he'd just walk around the tree line. Snape couldn't yell at him if he just happened to be there when he came back could he?

Well, he could. And he might. But then, Harry might get lucky and see what Snape had been up to as well. It was worth the risk, he decided.

It only took him a minute to find his map and note that Snape had still not returned. Still, when he walked out the door again, he made sure to slip his wand out from his sleeve. He didn't think Snape could take him off guard while he had the map, but he wouldn't put it past the man and he had said to prepare for unexpected attacks, both from him and from the enemy.

There was a part of Harry too, that felt a little uneasy about being alone in the castle. He could see that the Headmaster wasn't there and he hadn't seen any of the other occupants all summer, not that they were much use to him. Without Snape there, he felt oddly exposed. Perhaps it was just something about being in a huge castle and the way that the hallways were so eerily silent. At any rate, he felt much safer with his wand out. His eyes darted toward every shadow as he walked and they scanned the map in his hand at regular intervals. Being here alone was like being in one of the scary movies that Dudley had watched from time to time.

= + = + = + = + = + = +

Fighting five Death Eaters alone was a nightmare. He had done something similar when rescuing Potter, but he had been too focused on his goal of getting Potter out alive to consider the foolishness of the move. At this point, he would have loved to have just Apparated away, but his opponents gave him no opportunities to concentrate on a destination. They seemed to know that since Tonks had Apparated, he had no reason to stay and they pressed their attack viciously.

He learned rather quickly that their goal was not to kill him when he finally did get hit. Clearly, the Dark Lord had ordered him brought back alive. That gave him no comfort though. They had no qualms about hurting him. And the curse that had broken through had hurt him. Aimed for his chest, it had hit his arm instead, as he had moved just a second too slow, and it had knocked him to his back.

Injury, in a battle like this, was a harbinger of death or capture. Where before his adrenaline had been keeping him on his toes and moving fast, now it made his stomach clench and his heart rate speed up painfully. But he had no time to recover. His old comrades were closing the distance between them.

The Dark Lord had, at one time, looked on him as a favorite. And Severus had benefited under his tutelage for a while. What he hadn't learned directly from the Dark Lord, he had learned from his example. What the Dark Lord studied, he had studied. What the Dark Lord knew, he had attempted to learn. He had been a good soldier.

And one thing he had learned from watching the Dark Lord fight was how magic could make the body stronger and capable of great feats. It wasn't necessarily dark when a wizard learned to fly without a broom, but it was the result of dark study; something Severus had devoted himself to many years ago.

And he had never been sorry for it.

He sprang from the ground despite his injuries and landed on his feet, wand already extended and a curse on his tongue. "Avada Kedavra!"

Mulciber fell and Severus was already weaving toward the alley in a serpentine pattern, firing off curse after curse over his shoulder. He just needed a moment - just one bloody moment of cover - to Apparate and escape. Like Tonks had done. Leaving you here to die, his mind supplied him.

He was almost to the alley when another curse broke through his defenses. It hit the back of his knee and he fell forward, ripping his robes. Growling, he rolled over onto his back and started firing off blasting curse after blasting curse as quickly as he could in the general direction of the Death Eaters. There would be no mercy and he was beyond caring about conserving energy.

Now the enemy had to take cover from him. He barely took the time to aim, settling instead for lighting the sky with spell fire. Accuracy by volume, he thought with a wry grin. There was a time for subtle and there was a time for all out warfare.

But he knew he couldn't keep it up indefinitely. Without backup or an opportunity to Apparate away, he would not live through this. He didn't expect backup.

So he was completely taken off guard when there was a shout from the other end of the street and he lifted his eyes to see the Death Eaters scrambling away from Albus Dumbledore himself.

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Being an Metamorphmagus did not immediately make one a good actor. Just because you could look like someone didn't mean you could act like them as well. But in battle, acting mattered very little. She wasn't tall enough to pull off Dumbledore, nor was she capable of transfiguring her clothes into such outlandish robes as the Headmaster's. But she settled for changing the color to a garish magenta and forcing her hair to become white and long and growing a long silver beard. She didn't bother changing her eye color. It wouldn't matter at the distance she was from the Death Eaters and Snape didn't have much time. All that mattered was taking them off guard long enough for Snape and she to get away, or for Moody to get there with back up.

"Enough!" she yelled, pitching her voice with a spell just enough that it would come out as a powerful man's voice.

It had the intended effect. The Death Eaters, who had moments before been scrambling for cover from Snape's impressive volley of spell fire, began to scramble again to find new cover for their newly exposed backs.

"Incarcerous!" A Death Eater dropped to the ground, bound in glowing ropes.

Come on Snape. Apparate!

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"Headmaster! Good evening sir." Harry had seen him coming on the map long before he left the front doors of the castle. He had seen it the moment that Dumbledore had appeared on the map at the front gates actually.

"Good evening Harry!" He seemed in a far cheerier mood than he had just that morning. "Out for a walk?" he inquired.

"Yes sir. I'm just waiting for Professor Snape to get back so we can eat. Do you know when he plans on returning sir?" Maybe the Headmaster would slip and say what Snape was up to. Instead though, the Headmaster frowned at him.

"Has he left then?"

Uh-oh. Was he not supposed to have? He did not immediately know why he said what he did next but it came out all the same.

"No. I mean he's around here somewhere. I thought he might have been with you is all. He's probably just in the lab, I suppose." Knowing Snape had risked his very life to keep him safe, he couldn't not be loyal to the man in turn. And there was something about the idea that Snape was the underdog in the Order that made him want to defend the man, even if Snape was nasty to them most of the time. Harry knew all about being the underdog after all.

The Headmaster smiled at him knowingly. "Perhaps. Though I wouldn't be surprised if he had run out for a few hours. There are always errands to run."

"Maybe," Harry said, staring at his shoes. "Anyway, I was just going for a walk, so I guess..."

"Ah, I'll come with you then. It's been so long since I've taken the time to truly enjoy the grounds here in the cool of the evening. Shall we?"

"Sure," Harry shrugged.

"How have you been, Harry? I've not had much time to speak with you, I'm afraid. Why, you've been here for well over a week I believe. Are you enjoying your summer so far?" the Headmaster began by way of making conversation.

"I...yes," Harry said, realizing with astonishment that it was true. "I mean, apart from the whole nearly being killed thing."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, I do believe that would be most unpalatable. I'm relieved it turned out as well as it did." After a short pause, he continued. "And how are things with your Professor? I understand there was quite an upset over something or other last night." Harry didn't miss how the Headmaster was watching his face.

"Oh," Harry ducked his head. The Headmaster must have heard about he and his friends spying on Snape's conversation. Had Snape mentioned it? It was probably Mrs. Weasley, he thought with a groan.

"Yeah, well that's all squared away now. Sir," he added as an afterthought.

"I'm glad to hear it. Molly Weasley was rather concerned over it."

"Oh?" Harry said in as cold a voice as he could muster.

The Headmaster was far too fond of chuckling at the oddest of times in Harry's opinion. "I assured her that everything was quite in hand of course. She is rather over-protective of you at times, though I daresay, she's not the only one."

"Believe me, I know." He stopped himself from crossing his arms as they walked. He'd rather just not talk about any of it, not least because he didn't enjoy talking about getting in trouble. In order to change the subject, he decided to take a more direct route to getting information.

"Sir, I was hoping you could tell me, do we know how many escaped from Azkaban? Was it every Death Eater or just a few? What do you think they're planning?"

The Headmaster stopped walking and looked down at him with a serious expression. "Those are very good questions Harry."

"But you know, don't you? At least some of it? Can't I know too?" Hadn't he proven himself trustworthy to the Headmaster? Why couldn't he know just a little bit?

"Yes Harry. I do believe..."

But whatever the Headmaster was about to say was cut off by a shout in the distance. They both turned with their wands drawn only to see Remus running up the hill towards them.

"Headmaster!" he called. "I've just had word from Alastor! It's Dora! She's under attack in London."

The Headmaster was already walking swiftly to meet Remus. Harry followed hot on his heels.

"Do we know precisely where and how many?" he asked as he met up with Remus and they both walked briskly to the gates, though Remus looked like he wanted to break into a run.

"Yes," Remus said, out of breath. "Five Death Eaters. On Bloom Street, near the Ministry entrance."

Five Death Eaters? Harry thought. Tonks might be an Auror, but even the best couldn't hope to stand against that!

The Headmaster nodded resolutely. "Harry, go back to your quarters and wait for Severus to arrive. Tell him what has happened immediately when he returns. We'll meet back at Headquarters."

"Yes sir," he answered. Snape! Snape would know what to do. Harry had no trouble with those orders. He was already considering trying to send Snape a Patronus, though he didn't know if it would work if Snape were far away.

Remus was following the Headmaster out of the gates. "No sir. From what I understand, Severus is already there. It's only Dora and Severus." Remus had a decidedly panicked look on his face, as though he were dying to get to the fight and help.

Harry stopped with every muscle tensed and turned around slowly, as though he were in shock. And that wasn't far from the truth. Snape- the man he was living with; the man that had committed to teaching Harry how to defend himself; the man that made defeating the Dark Lord a game between the two; the man that had saved him on more than one occasion - that Snape was under attack right now?

The Headmaster was already preparing to Apparate and spared him not a glance at all, though Harry noticed how strained the Headmaster's face was. "Then we had best hurry." And then he was gone with a crack.

Harry watched as Remus prepared himself to Apparate, also without sparing Harry a glance. It was just assumed that he would obey the Headmaster's orders. And he had been going to, honestly. But that news just changed everything.

It was almost as though it all happened in slow motion. Remus raised his wand and began to turn on his heel. Harry saw his own hand reaching for Remus' shoulder and felt his legs moving as if of their own volition. And then he felt the sickening feeling of Apparation as his hand landed on Remus' shoulder and he was sucked along with the man to wherever they were going.

Moody had no idea why or how Snape and Tonks had managed to get themselves in this situation, and together no less. Tonks was supposed to be doing the night shift for the Ministry, and Snape - well Snape was supposed to be doing whatever it was Snape did, he supposed. But if he had been asked where he thought Snape would have been, he would have guessed Hogwarts, watching over Potter or getting a jump on that Fire Protection Potion, not fighting Death Eaters a block away from the Ministry.

But he took that all in stride as he normally did. Order members had called for back up and back up was on the way. He took the time to send an alert out to a few more members and then Apparated as close to Bloom Street as he could, hoping to assess the situation first.

And what a situation.

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"Headmaster?" Severus whispered in surprise. How would the Headmaster have gotten here so quickly? Even if Tonks had alerted him, it should have taken longer than that.

But he knew instantly that it wasn't really Dumbledore when the figure masquerading as him shouted "Incarcerous" and began to move. He knew Dumbledore too well to be fooled by that disguise. And on the heels of that revelation came the realization that Tonks was impersonating the Headmaster. Even he had to smile at that burst of inspiration.

His volley of nonstop spell fire had been tiring, but there would be time enough to rest when the battle was won. He jumped to his feet and ran toward the only piece of cover on his side of the street - a parked car. Tonks had her own cover in the form of an alley. He considered Apparating away, but now that the tide of the battle had shifted, he was loath to give up this opportunity. One Death Eater was down for good and another was bound.

Not that bindings were permanent, he thought with a sneer. Always, the Aurors and the Order underestimated their opponents. This would have to be dealt with. The odds of three against the two of them needed to stay that way.

Darting from behind the car, he took aim at the bound man just as a Death Eater did the same with the hope of freeing him. The glowing ropes disappeared and the man jumped to his feet, only to be caught by a particularly nasty blasting curse - an improvement, in Severus' opinion, on the original blasting curse. The man flew a good three meters before falling back to the ground, unconscious.

Now these were odds that he liked.

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Tonks was aware of what was going on in the periphery of her vision as Snape thoroughly disabled her first target. But she had been far too busy pressing her own attack against the two that were now focusing their attack on her, to get involved or even feel badly that her Incarceration hadn't held. Bricks were flying around her head as the Death Eaters shot the wall in an attempt to get at her. One thing was for sure; these men were shooting to kill. A chunk of brick hit her cheek and drew blood.

"Damn it!" she hissed. Darting her wand around the corner, she attempted a Petrificus on the closest target. The man stumbled a bit but righted himself almost instantaneously. His friend, unfortunately, had even better ideas. With a crack, he disappeared from his position and reappeared right in front of her alley.

"Protego" she yelled as a jet of yellow light flew at her. It bounced harmlessly off her shield and slammed into the wall beside her. "Duro!" The Death Eater blocked.

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Snape peered carefully over his cover only to see one of the remaining three Apparate to Tonks' alley. She'd have to deal with that one herself then. But the second one looked quite ready to do the same as the first. He attempted to blast the man but the third shot a curse at him, causing his own spell to go wide. With a scowl on his face, he rounded on the Death Eater firing at him.

Ah, Alecto Carrow. She was impossible to miss even in a mask. Side stepping, he raised his wand and began flicking it from side to side quickly. Anyone watching would have thought a particularly nasty hive of bees was attacking him. Chanting, he let his enchantment fly; taking the time to make sure it hit its mark.

He'd never before used this particular enchantment in battle, but he'd always wanted to. It caused the victim to become uncontrollably defensive of the caster; a sort of on the spot draft as it were. And Alecto was just weak willed enough for it to work. With the odds set against them, they could use all the help they could get.

She grunted as the curse hit her chest and blinked, once...twice. "Snape?" she asked in confusion.

"Help me Carrow!" he yelled.

Grinning, he followed her as she ran off to attack her comrades. Perhaps her nasty little brother was here. This was going to be rich and the odds were getting better and better.

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Crack!

Tonks' head snapped around with her wand, looking for the next threat. Instead of another Death Eater though, Moody stepped out of his Apparation, wand already flying. His very first curse hit the second Death Eater that had been attempting to sneak up on her, but didn't take him out. She spared him a smile in gratitude and went back to her own duel. He had at first wondered how the Headmaster had beaten him there, but a second glance had told him whom he was dealing with. That really is an impressive talent, he thought.

"Am I late for the party?" he yelled.

"You're late for the grave Old Man!" the Death Eater snarled as he sent a particularly nasty slashing hex at him.

"Ha! Is that all you got?"

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Three on three then. Or more like four on two, Severus thought with a smirk as he followed Alecto to the other end of the street to join Tonks and Moody in their battle. His smirk disappeared quickly though. He had miscalculated again, he realized with a small shock, as Alecto instead took up a protective stance in front of him and rounded her attack on Moody. Ah yes, she would think I needed to be defended from the Aurors, he thought with an odd mixture of amusement and anger at himself.

He had been close on her heels though. He didn't bother raising his wand. Instead, his hand shot out and he backhanded her across the back of her head.

"Ow!" she shrieked as her curse ricocheted off the walls. Of course, that seemed to knock her out of her daze too. Severus would have chided himself for using an experimental curse if he had had the time.

Instead, he raised his wand, hoping to take her down before she could get a grasp on the situation, but just before he could incant the curse he heard a series of popping sounds. Thinking that his enemy had just called in backup, he turned his wand toward the sound. But it wasn't more Death Eaters. Albus Dumbledore - the real one - popped in, followed by Remus Lupin. With a breath of relief, he began to turn back to the battle. But just as he was preparing to attack again, he caught sight of a person that should not be here, holding on to Lupin's shoulder; a person that he had left safely at Hogwarts.

"Potter," he growled.

All thought of returning to engage the enemy flew out of his head as he saw Potter fall to the ground beside Lupin and scramble to get his wand out of his sleeve. Why the hell would the wolf bring Potter? his mind screamed in anger and surprise.

Before he could even begin to move toward the boy though, a jet of green light skimmed past his head, narrowly missing it by inches. He dropped into a crouch, wand already raised, to see Alecto bearing down on him angrily.

"Bombarda!" he heard someone yell, just as he himself sent a blasting curse at the woman. The two curses slammed into her chest simultaneously and sent her flying through the air to land unconscious several meters away.

His head snapped around, looking for the source of the other blasting curse and he saw Potter, pulling himself up from the ground, wand in his hand, eyes on Alecto. Even as his mind screamed in protest that Potter shouldn't be here, he felt a well of approval rise within him. Good boy.

Her comrade did not miss the proceedings though and he turned his attention toward Potter immediately. Before Severus could react, a curse was flying through the air toward Potter's head.

Something very close to terror worked its way from his gut into his throat and he lunged toward the man, snarling. But just as he was about to collide with the Death Eater, the man Apparated away.

Severus' eyes snapped back to track the curse now hurtling toward Potter. Dodge it, come on. Dodge! he thought frantically at Potter.

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Harry saw the curse hurtling toward him and for just a heart beat, his eyes met the Professors, then they snapped back up to watch the curse make its way toward his head. All of it seemed to happen so slowly; the red curse coming toward him, the Professor behind it, standing stock still, dark eyes on him, his heartbeat pounding against his rib cage, the sounds of the battle in the street.

He ducked and the curse flew past, right where his head had been. He whipped around and watched it slam into the brick wall behind him. A shower of bricks fell to the street, one clipping him on the side of the cheek with a sickening cracking sound, and he fell to the ground, blood dripping from his face. Even through the awesome pain that seemed to travel from his cheek through his head and then exploded in bright colors before his eyes, part of him gave a little cheer. He had dodged the curse. And the Professor had seen it.

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Severus let a long breath out that he hadn't even realized he was holding. But any relief he might have felt was overshadowed by the scream from the other end of the street.

"Alastor!" It was Tonks. He turned his attention to that battle and saw that she had her wand trained on a Death Eater who was now standing directly over the old Auror. Severus' thought processes came to an abrupt halt for a millisecond and the first question to register in his brain was, is he dead then?

The man that had fired at Potter Apparated back in beside Carrow with a crack. "Retreat!" he yelled as he grabbed her unconscious body and hauled it away with him to Disapparate. The curse from Severus' wand slammed into the wall behind where he had been. Too slow! Severus ground his teeth in frustration as they made their escape.

Two more cracks were heard as the remaining conscious Death Eater gathered up the last of his injured comrades and then all was oddly silent, just like after a storm.

Severus surveyed the street. The Headmaster and Lupin had hardly participated at all. Dumbledore was running toward Moody, where the old Auror lay face down in the street. Severus turned to see Lupin help Potter up from the ground and a low growl that started in his chest worked its way out of his mouth as he saw the blood dripping from Potter's face and the dazed look in his eyes.

His adrenaline had not yet retreated. If anything, it had increased. He was angry; at himself for giving his position away before he had discovered Tonks' identity and for his unsuccessful enchantment on Alecto; at the Death Eaters who had left his side and arm aching and then escaped; but most especially at Lupin for bringing Potter.

The anger he had felt toward Lupin ever since the shrieking shack incident had become nothing compared to his rage at the Dark Lord and others. Still, over the years, every time he had been forced into the man's company, he had felt some of the old anger return. It had become especially acute when Black had come back two years ago. Everyone protested that Lupin had had nothing whatsoever to do with that incident, but Severus had never believed it. Nor had he bothered with Legilimency to find out the truth of the matter. At Hogwarts he had observed his nemeses close friendship. Even if Lupin had not been in on it, he had forgiven his friends their cruelty, had probably laughed about it, and had certainly never paid for it. He had been the instrument of their attempted murder, and not one of them had suffered for it. Severus, on the other hand, still had two long claw marks down his shoulder to show for it all.

For a month, he had lived in fear of becoming a monster, despite everyone's assurances that he would not. It had put a rift in his friendship with the school nurse of the time as well. She had, much to his incredulity, cared about the both of them. He had felt her disappointment at his anger and refusal to "see reason" as she had put it, drive straight into his heart. She had been something like a mother in his mind and he had seen her care for the monster that had hurt him as a betrayal. Even after that first month, he had changed in ways. Always wary, especially when outside, always on alert during the full moon, he had slept so little those next few months that everything had seemed diminished. It wasn't an irrational fear of werewolves that kept him up most nights though. It was the knowledge that somewhere in the castle where he slept were four boys that wanted him dead. He was outnumbered and no one gave a damn.

The Headmaster had once told him that he had it completely wrong; that Remus Lupin was a sheep that wore wolf's clothing once a month, and not a beast as Severus had called him time and again. That image had made him hate Lupin all the more. What use was a monster if he didn't even have the strength to back up his convictions? What use was Lupin at all?

And now - now - after all these years of anger, Lupin had just brought Potter to a fight. He could not understand how Lupin could put the son of his late best friend in such danger, but the evidence was before his eyes.

Something inside him snapped.

The Potter child - teenager, he corrected himself - was in his care. Potter's safety had been entrusted to him. And the boy was not yet ready for battle - no one ever was - despite his unfortunate past with Voldemort and the Death Eaters. He had spilled blood for that boy's life on more than one occasion. It was unacceptable that anyone should handle a person under his protection so carelessly.

Lupin would pay for bringing Potter here.

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With all the speed and determination of an attacking Hippogriff, he moved toward the pair of them, his fists clenching at his side. But a shout from Albus slowed his progess.

"Severus! We need your potions. Quickly!"

He took one last look at Lupin helping Potter to stand and clapping him on the back. Of the two, Moody would need immediate attention. By force of will alone, he turned on his heel and walked to where the Headmaster and Tonks were kneeling over Moody's shaking body. The Headmaster was waving his wand over Moody and chanting under his breath. The Auror's good eye was open and his other was swiveling around wildly. Sweat was dripping down his shocked and pale face. He grunted as Tonks tried to move him over onto his side. When she finally got him turned, Severus saw the damage and even he had to suck in a breath.

Tonks fell back and made a few gagging noises. The Headmaster looked away quickly, then steeled himself and looked back. The man had taken a nasty curse to the side. Severus recognized this one; a Rupturing Curse. Blood and pus leaked from the brutal wound that slashed across Moody's side. Severus looked up and noted the blood making a small trail down Moody's chin from his mouth, indicating extreme internal damage to the stomach or intestines. It may already be too late.

Kneeling, he pulled out his bag of potions and started setting bottles on the walkway. "There's a good chance you won't survive this," he said in an even tone as he uncorked the numbing agent and the wound sealant.

"That's what they've always said," Moody wheezed right before he burst into a fit of coughing. Blood droplets sprayed out of his mouth as he coughed and wheezed. Perhaps there is damage to his lungs as well?

"Shhh, Alastor," Tonks said with a sniffle. "Don't hurt yourself any worse."

Moody only grunted in response.

Handing a bottle to Tonks, Severus gave instructions quickly. "He'll need to drink both of these; the green one first. Then pour this over his wound. I'd recommend St. Mungos after that if he's not already dead."

Moody reached out with a trembling hand and caught the red potion before Snape could pass it to Tonks. "I'll do it meself," he snarled, even as his hand shook. He still had his pride.

Severus raised his eyebrows as Moody brought it to his lips and drank. "By all means..." Moody's face contorted and he doubled over in pain. Tonks shot him a look that seemed to war between worry and accusation. "But you might have followed my directions and taken the pain killer first," he finished in a wry tone, pushing Moody's upper body back and emptying the green vial into Moody's unresisting mouth before the man clenched up and did further damage.

Almost immediately, Moody's body stilled and the man gave a great sigh. "Now pour that on his wound and get him to St. Mungos," Severus said, standing back up. He watched as Tonks followed his instructions and was about to turn away to deal with Potter and the wolf, when he heard Moody's low grunt.

"I still don't like you," the man whispered with a small smirk.

"I never doubted it, and the feeling's mutual," Severus said stiffly, but even he couldn't help the way his own lips twitched in response.

Tonks glared up at him as he turned away, but Moody, he heard, chuckled low in his throat, before he started coughing up blood again. Severus looked back once before stepping away. It would be...regrettable - that was the word he'd been looking for - if Alastor Moody died.

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Harry surveyed the destruction on the street with something like relief. All of the Death Eaters had escaped, all but the one that had yet to move from the ground, though there didn't appear to be a mark on him. Harry couldn't tell if the man was dead or not, but he felt nothing but relief that he wasn't a threat at the moment. The important thing was that none of the Order had died and only Moody had been injured badly enough to need assistance standing. Harry couldn't hear what was going on but he could see the old Auror moving a bit. Surely he'd be okay. It looked like Tonks was already getting him ready to transport so surely St. Mungos would be able to do something for him.

This could not have gone any better. And he believed that, right up until he looked up and saw Snape striding toward him. The man looked like a dark storm cloud on the horizon, moving at the speed of a tornado but with all the grim determination of a panther stalking prey.

Uh-oh!

"Professor!" he called in a cracking voice as Snape kept stalking toward him. In his mind bloomed the hope that he could head Snape off; maybe say something about how glad he was that everyone was ok. Not that that would stop Snape for long; or even at all. But he really didn't want to be yelled at in front of all these people and he had no doubt that Snape was gearing up for just that. To his shock though, Remus took a step forward to stand in front of him. Harry couldn't decide whether he thought that was brave or stupid as he watched the lack of effect that had had on Snape's progress toward them.

"Now Severus," Remus began in a placating tone. "We should get back to Headquarters. There's time enough to discuss this when we have Harry safe."

"We'll discuss this when I say we discuss this," Snape snarled as he strode the last few feet to the pair of them, stepping over the debris littering the street without appearing to notice it at all.

Harry's eyes widened as he saw the way Snape's eyes bled into unrestrained hatred when they turned on Remus. And then Harry had to clutch his head as the facial movement caused a sharp burst of pain to radiate from his cheek and shoot through his skull. A low moan escaped him.

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Severus could feel his control slipping away as he approached the werewolf. He was, by reputation, a cruel man. So much of that could be attributed to appearances and rumormongering. But almost every reputation had a basis in reality, if even a tenuous one. His past was a study of violence, as both the victim and the aggressor. And he could feel that violent energy that he always carried close to the surface surge within him as he looked on his would be murderer; the man that he had never been allowed to make pay for the pain he had caused. He could feel something deep inside him coiling and preparing to strike. He took great pleasure at the look in the wolf's eyes as he raised his wand and stared his enemy down. He took great pleasure as the energy within him rose to the surface and shone through his eyes. Something inside him licked its lips in anticipation as Lupin flinched away from him. Teach Lupin to fear crossing you and yours. Help him to understand.

And then he heard Potter moan. His concentration was immediately broken as he glanced at Potter standing behind Lupin. He blinked his eyes, once...twice.

And then he was shoving past Lupin without a second thought, and gripping Potter's shoulders. Had Potter been hit while he hadn't been looking? Was there something more wrong with the boy? Terror unlike any he had felt in a long time clutched at his chest. He had felt fear for himself many times over the years. He had felt fear over the possibility of failing an objective. But it had been many years since he had felt fear of this magnitude for another person, even Potter.

"Potter!" He restrained himself from shaking the boy. That would not help the situation.

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Harry winced as the professor's loud voice broke through his pain. He wanted to ask for a headache potion but his cheek was so sore right now, just the idea of speaking made him want to cringe. He realized he should have responded immediately when a second later, the Professor gathered him closer, pressed his face gently into his chest, took a second to say something to Remus that he couldn't hear, and then he was whisked away in Apparation.

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Remus stood on the pavement staring in shock at the spot Severus had just vacated.

He had not understood the hatred he had seen etched on Severus' face as he had approached, but it hadn't escaped him that Severus had been a heartbeat away from attacking him. He was no push over himself in a duel. But he realistically put his chances of coming out unscathed in a duel with Severus at 30 percent, if Severus had the flu.

He had almost been relieved when that look of uncontrolled rage had transferred into one of surprise and then, strangely, something very close to fear, as Harry had made a sound of distress. He himself knew that Harry only required something for his headache and a bone-healing potion for his cheek, but clearly Severus wasn't aware of that. There had been no break in his stride as he had rushed to Harry's side. When Harry had winced from the volume of his voice and not responded immediately, Remus had been amazed that for one of the first times since childhood, he had been able to read the progression of thoughts on Severus' face. The man clearly thought Harry was hurt much worse than he was and had no idea what the problem was.

Snape had pulled Harry's head into his chest, put a hand over his exposed ear and turned back to look at him with an expression that left no doubt in Remus' mind that whatever he was about to say was important. And what Severus said had thoroughly shocked Remus. There had been no question in Remus' mind that Severus had meant every word of it and nothing would stop him from his deadly promise if it came to pass.

"If he dies, you die."

And then they were gone.

It was raining when they Apparated to Grimmauld Place.  Harry looked around in confusion for a moment.  They were still in London, but he could not recall how far Grimmauld Place was from the Ministry.  He had not had time to notice whether the sky over the battle had been overcast as well.  It was strange indeed, to Apparate within the same city and observe such a change in the weather between positions.

The rain did not seem to faze Snape however.  He fixed eyes on Harry just long enough to keep him standing steady and then rushed them to the door of what was now, if Snape was to be believed, Harry's house by inheritance.  But thoughts of inheritance or even Sirius did not crowd Harry's mind as they ran into the house and out of the rain.  He was far more concerned with the pain in his head and the firm grip Snape had on his arm as he was propelled into the library and deposited onto the couch. 

There were no lights in the house and the dim, gray light filtering through the window did nothing to prepare him for the bright white light of Snape's wand tip as it flared to life.  He clenched his eyes shut and sucked in a breath with the pain.  But Snape was immediately coaxing his eyes open and moving the wand light in front of his eyes, checking for signs of concussion.  Harry endured as best he could.  He could see nothing beyond the light but dark shadows that refused to come into focus.  Snape himself seemed but a black silhouette in the shape of a man.

Behind the light, Snape's voice came out soft but urgent as he waved his wand over Harry's body and began to chant lightly under his breath.  After a moment of this chanting, which very nearly put Harry to sleep, Snape flicked his wand at the cold fire grate, and a cheerful fire sprang instantly to life.  Harry was left to blink again as the objects in the room finally began to come into focus.  His hand roamed to his glasses and he noted with wonder that they were actually still there, on his face, and had not taken any damage.

His attention quickly centered on Snape as the man leaned back on his heels and blew out a frustrated breath.  "I cannot find any evidence of a curse.  You must tell me, if you can, what you were hit with.  Do you remember anything about the curse?"

Snape spoke quietly and steadily, but Harry could hear the underlying tension in the voice.  Harry squinted in confusion.  He hadn't been hit by a curse, but Snape seemed to think he had been. 

"I'm ok," he tried to say.  But the pain in his cheek kept him from opening his mouth too widely and what came out sounded more like, "m'okree."  At seeing Snape's lips thin in what he could only assume was frustration, he took a deep breath and tried again, this time being careful to speak slowly and annunciate.

"I'm ok.  I was hit by a brick, not a curse."  He raised a hand and pointed to his cheek as he spoke, only now noting that he could see his own cheek out of the corner of his eye.  It was more swollen than he had thought.  

Snape narrowed his eyes for a moment, staring at the swollen cheek, and then within the space of another breath, he was rummaging in a sack that was tied around his waist under his frock coat.  Harry had never even noticed the sack before; it fit so snugly to the man's stomach.  Even through the pain, Harry realized that it must be some sort of wizard space, because Snape was pulling bottles out of it that surely would have shown as large lumps otherwise. 

Snape extracted a thin bottle with a swallow of some green potion and raised it to the light, squinting at it as the light hit it.  Then he thrust it at Harry. "Drink this quickly."

Harry took it and swallowed while Snape explained, "It's a pain reliever, quite strong, but I gave most of it to Moody.  That should do well enough for now.  Drink quickly," he urged as Harry made a face after one small sip.  It tasted like...well it tasted horrible and Harry was glad that he couldn't describe the taste because putting a name to it would surely make it even less palatable, if that were possible. 

The moment he handed the bottle back to Snape, he felt a rush of warmth flow from his belly out to all his limbs and then up through his chest and into his face.  He breathed a sigh of relief as the pain ebbed away, before remembering that Snape was still kneeling before him.  His eyes flew open as he felt his nervousness return.  Snape was not going to be pleased with him. 

But Snape wasn't scowling.  He was gazing at him with a quizzical brow.  He brought his hand up to feel the cheekbone and Harry went still as Snape began to prod the cheek.

"Does this hurt?"

"No."

"This?"

"No."

"And this?"

"Ow!  Yes!" he snapped in a cracking voice.

Snape sat back on his heels again with a raised brow and a smirk.  "Your cheekbone is fractured, I'd wager.  We'll have to wait until that numbing agent works through your system before I can give you a bone-healing potion.  You're in for a rough night Potter."

He'd heard those words before, in the hospital wing after Lockhart had made all the bones in his arm disappear.  The thought made him groan with painful reminder.

Snape's smirk only grew.  "Come now Mr. Potter," he said in a firm, unyielding voice, "you've engaged yourself in a man's battle.  You shall deal with your injuries as a man.  I will not listen to you groaning all night." 

Harry clenched his mouth shut tightly as Snape began to rummage in his sack once again.  Snape pulled out a small tub of some paste and uncapped it.  Turning back to Harry, he dipped his finger in the tub and began to rub it into his cheek.  Harry watched him as he worked.  Snape's smirk fell away to be replaced with something very close to a real smile as he worked. 

"I dare say, it could have been much worse Potter.  Had you allowed that curse to hit you for example, you would now be in more danger than Moody presently is."

Harry stared at Snape's face.  There had been something warm in the man's tone as he had said that.

"You did very well tonight, Mr. Potter," Snape said softly.  He did not meet Harry's shocked gaze, but continued to rub the salve onto the cheek as though he had not just said anything approaching praise.

Harry could not help but be shocked.  His mouth hung open in astonishment.  "I...I, really sir?"

Very well.  Harry might have crowed with delight if anyone in the Order had said that to him.  Or felt a warm glow in his chest if the Headmaster had said that.  It was something he only ever heard after a Quidditch match or sometimes the Headmaster would tell him he had done well after a run in with Death Eaters. 

But he had never heard Snape say it without reserve.  Before this summer, he had not expected to hear Snape ever say anything like it to him.  He had, at one time, wanted to prove to Snape that he wasn't weak or stupid; something he had failed to do so many times over the years that he had decided that the man's opinion didn't matter.  And it hadn't before, because the man had always been unfair and mean to him and always disliked him for things he couldn't help, much less understand.  In fact, he still didn't know what to think about all that.  As far as he was concerned, Snape might have been protecting him, but he hadn't deserved the man's apparent hatred and he thought Snape owed him an apology.  He wasn't going to hold his breath for it though.

But it had been just the two of them for nearly two weeks now.  Funny how much can change in such a short time.  Snape was, for the most part, not unpleasant to live with.  In fact, he was exciting to live with.  There was always something to do or learn, if he had the inclination to do so.  And Snape seemed...not different, but he did seem more relaxed in his personal quarters.  Maybe Snape was just acting that way to keep the peace, but Harry didn't think Snape would bother with that.  He was a confrontational man no matter where he was or whom he was with.  So Harry had latched onto the idea that Snape didn't mind him so much after all - at least not now.  And that had certainly looked like pride in Snape's eyes; pride for something Harry had done, not the son of James Potter.  Harry had lamented not having parents before, but he felt the loss again keenly.  It seemed like such a significant achievement to have earned those few words from Snape that he wished he had someone to write home to that would care that he had earned his professor's praise.  But he was alone in the world, so he instead settled for storing the memory of that meager, but significant praise away, to be enjoyed privately later.

Meanwhile, Snape's lips thinned again. "Close your mouth Potter."  Harry snapped his jaw shut, ignoring the slight pain that radiated up his face as he did so. "Do not assume, Mr. Potter, that just because you survived this encounter, you are fully prepared to face any and all foes.  You were saved as much by luck as by your own meager skill.  I will not have you become complacent."

"No sir."

Snape looked him hard in the eye and Harry willed him to see that he took his words seriously.  What he saw must have satisfied him, for he nodded once and stood back up to pace toward the fire.  "You should not have been there tonight."

Harry swallowed convulsively.  While he was in pain and while Snape had praised him, he had allowed himself to forget that he had come to the battle uninvited and unwelcome.  Now he was very sure that Snape would punish him for his rashness.  He tried to summon indignation.  He had done what he thought he should do, and nothing bad had come of it; nothing but a broken cheekbone.  But he could not.  He was coming to know the way Snape thought well enough to know that it would not be only the consequences of his actions that he would have to answer for.  Snape would demand to know what he was thinking when he had come along; what he had planned to do.  And he knew that the truth - that he had hoped to help in the fight - would not satisfy Snape.  He would be ridiculed for thinking that just showing up was a worthy plan.  He was too miserable and frightened of what Snape might think to be surprised by the shame that pinked his cheeks.  After Snape had complimented him, he really didn't want to see Snape's disappointment.  For some reason, the idea of that seemed worse than a punch to the gut.  He had spent all night trying to be good.  Hell, all summer he had been trying, really.  But he knew he shouldn't have gone with Remus.  It was the same mistake he'd made with Sirius all over again; acting before thinking.

"I'm sorry sir," he said miserably. 

But the venom in Snape's reply took him aback.  "You will not apologize for the actions of that fool wolf!" he spat.  In a calmer tone of voice, he continued, "It is not you that should be sorry Potter.  I will be...speaking with Mr. Lupin when next I see him."

Harry felt himself go cold at the tone of Snape's voice.  He did not immediately understand why Snape was speaking like that about Remus.  Of course, Snape didn't like the man.  But this was far more ill will than Harry had ever heard in his voice before.  He fancied that he could tell by the tone of voice that Snape was not intending to speak with Remus at all, but probably duel him instead. 

"Sir?" he questioned.  But Snape ignored him to pace the room. 

-----------

This day is over, Severus thought to himself as he rubbed a hand over his tired eyes.  To Hell with the Order, to hell with dealing with Lupin, this day is over.  I'm taking Potter back to Hogwarts, locking him into his room, and going to bed.  And if anyone so much as attempts to wake me, I'll just curse the bloody fool into oblivion. 

Nothing had gone well this day - starting with the Azkaban breakout this morning.  The only highlight of his day had been Potter's training.  That had at least been amusing and promising.  The boy had decent reflexes and was eager to learn.  But the Order meeting had been frustrating, his attempts to learn anything of the Dark Lord's plans had been almost completely fruitless, and the battle - his arm was so sore.  For a split second, a new surge of adrenaline ran through his body as he remembered that he had used an Unforgivable on Mulciber.

Mulciber.  He had never liked that man.  When he had first joined the Dark Lord, Mulciber had already been a Death Eater longer than Severus had been at school.  He was a sick, corrupt man.  Severus felt no guilt over his death, but he did wonder if he would have to deal with the consequences of having used the Killing curse on the man.  The Ministry had already given the Aurors free rein to use the Unforgivables, but that didn't extend to the general populace.  And there was the possibility that given his reputation, all it would take for him to have a warrant for his arrest would be for someone in the ministry to find out about it.  He wasn't worried about what the Order thought.  At most, they would ostracize him; something he was not unfamiliar with.  It hardly mattered. 

He turned his mind from those thoughts and began to plan what he would do about the Unforgivable.  He could always say that Mulciber had been caught in the crossfire of one of the Death Eater's curses.  Yes, that would do.  No one else had been there at that point and he didn't expect the Death Eaters to come forward and admit that it was he that had done it.  He reached a hand into his other pocket and ran a hand over his second wand, just in case the Aurors wanted to run a Priori Incantatem. 

But right now, he just wanted to sleep and deal with the consequences tomorrow.

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

After a moment, Snape looked back up and Harry could see the lines of exhaustion in his face.  Snape didn't look very healthy right now at all.  The man turned on his heel stiffly, smoothed his torn robes down as much as possible and started to walk toward the door. 

"On second thought Potter, we are leaving for Hogwarts," he said over his shoulder as he led the way to the door.

Harry had been watching with trepidation until his mind began to grasp Snape's process of thought from earlier.  He realized with a start that Snape believed Remus had brought him along to the fight.  For a moment - just a moment - he considered keeping his mouth shut.  He certainly didn't want Snape's anger to turn on him if he could help it.  And Snape would be even more angry now that he had thought to blame Remus, of that Harry was certain.  But his own sense of honor asserted itself painfully and demanded that he steel himself to the task of admitting his part.  Tense with nerves, he cleared his throat.

"Sir, I should tell you..."

Snape had spun to watch him when he cleared his throat, but the door opening and Dumbledore walking in had caught both of their attentions.  Behind him came Remus, looking nervously at Snape and gripping his wand tightly in his hand.  Harry could hear other voices in the hallway; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. 

His chance to tell Snape without witnesses had been lost.  If Remus hadn't been here, perhaps he could have waited again, but it could escape no one's attention that an argument was brewing.  Snape bowed his head respectfully as the Headmaster came through the door, but the very moment his eyes came to rest on Remus, his whole body stiffened, his face took on a mask of purest loathing, and his wand slid out from his sleeve into his hand. 

"Severus?" the Headmaster inquired sharply, noting the way Snape's hand clenched and unclenched around his wand.  To Harry's great astonishment, Snape ignored the Headmaster completely to stalk menacingly toward Remus, only stopping a few feet from him.  "You!" he spat. 

Remus had unconsciously shrunk into a corner, but he straightened himself immediately.  "Severus, I've no idea what..."

"Allow me to jog your memory."  Snape bared his teeth menacingly.  "You brought my charge into a battle unprepared, and against my wishes that he should remain safely at Hogwarts.  I demand satisfaction."

Harry watched as the Headmaster and Remus both stiffened at Snape's words.  Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had slipped into the room by then and they too turned surprised eyes on Snape and Remus.  Mrs. Weasley was so shocked she didn't even comment on the state of Harry's cheek.  Harry had never heard anyone say it so formally, but even he knew that Snape had just challenged Remus to a duel.  And it was his fault. 

"Sir," he started. 

But without even looking at him, Snape said, "You will keep silent Mr. Potter, or I will have you sent out."

Harry turned pleading eyes on the Headmaster instead.

"Severus," the Headmaster began in a grave tone.  "Perhaps we should discuss this first.  There may be an explanation."

"I assure you Headmaster, there is no explanation that will satisfy me."

Neither he nor Remus looked away from each other.  For his part, Remus was beginning to resign himself to the possibility that he would have to answer the duel.  He did not want to cause trouble for Harry with Severus, especially with the man wound up as much as he was.  Why Harry had not told Severus what had happened yet, he did not know, but if Harry was too frightened to say it, then he would not demand an explanation from his friend's son.  Not now anyway. 

"Severus, we are not so many that we can afford to lose one man to satisfy your anger," the Headmaster said with a hint of displeasure and disappointment in his voice.

"Nevertheless, I must insist.  Any injury inflicted on a person under my protection is a greater offense than if that injury had been done to myself, and it is my right to demand satisfaction.  Lupin may beg my pardon publicly, if he wishes to avoid a duel."  His tone of voice conveyed how very little he thought of that outcome. 

Lupin drew in a breath.  Severus had left him many outs in this duel, though none of them would allow him to keep his honor intact without fighting.  To apologize for something he did not do was unacceptable.  To surrender before even one curse was fired would be cowardly, especially as he had been given the opportunity to beg pardon.  But to duel Snape... if he could not gain the upper hand, he would at least have the advantage of being able to yield after taking damage.  To beat Snape in a one on one duel - it was something he had never been able to do in school.  And of the two of them, Snape had far more experience in combat and duels alike.  Had it been any other Order member, he would have entered into the duel with less nervousness.  He was one of the Order's best, excepting only the Aurors.  But there was always the part of him that reminded himself over and over that Snape was a former Death Eater who surely had an arsenal of brutal - even lethal - means of incapacitating his victims.

But the Headmaster would not be silenced so easily.  "That does not please me.  Not at all Severus.  I will hear an explanation before I allow you to continue."  He turned to Remus, who finally looked away from Severus to the Headmaster.  "Remus, have you any explanation?"

Remus glanced at Harry, swallowed past a dry throat, and said, "No sir."

Severus smiled viciously, even as his anger mounted.  He had been curious himself, and had realized belatedly that he should dearly like to hear the explanation, even though he could not imagine any thing that would satisfy him.  But Lupin did not have an explanation.  He was justified in his challenge after all.  His orders regarding Potter had been ignored and his charge placed in danger.  As he could not expect the Order to discipline their fighters when it was a volunteer service, he was forced, though not without satisfaction, to enforce discipline of a more brutal nature.

Exhaustion tugged at him viciously and his arm and side ached anew.  Lupin would have the advantage of him in that at least.  Werewolves were known for their endurance and heartiness when they were not suffering the ill effects of their transformations.  Still, he could rely on his experience and ruthlessness to see him through.  He would have to be quick about making Lupin yield if he wanted to keep that advantage.  Even in anger, he did not want to have to kill Lupin or even incapacitate him permanently.  The Headmaster was right; they could not afford the loss of even one man.  And he was not a murderer, capable though he was of killing his enemies when the opportunity presented itself.  His thoughts were interrupted by a shout from Potter though, and he turned on his heel to glare at the boy.

"Sir, that's not true!" Harry yelled in desperation.  What could Remus be thinking by lying for him?  Even if Snape were angry, he would not challenge Harry to a duel.  He'd rather deal with any punishment than see Remus hurt for his own stupidity.  And he didn't think that Snape would hurt him - he hoped, at least. 

"You have something to add Harry?" the Headmaster asked softly.  Harry didn't miss the look of approval in the Headmaster's eyes.  It helped him to square his shoulders and say what he had to say. 

His outburst had caught Snape's attention and while Snape did not let Remus fully out of his sight, he did turn his dark gaze to rest firmly on Harry, who took a deep breath and a step forward before confessing.  Severus would have gladly ignored Potter, if he hadn't perceived the guilty expression on the boy's face.  He closed his eyes for a brief moment in weary resignation.  So help me god, if that damned boy...

"Sir, Remus didn't bring me to the duel.  I grabbed his shoulder when he was Apparating."  He clenched his hands around the hem of his shirt as he watched Snape.  "I was ordered to go back to the castle and wait but I disobeyed."  The man's eyes were closed but his face looked pinched and weary.  When Snape finally opened his eyes, Harry dropped his own to the floor.

Silence met that declaration.  Remus was watching Snape, Albus was watching Snape, Harry was staring at his shoes again.  Snape, on the other hand closed his eyes for a brief second more while a vein in his head throbbed.  When he opened his eyes back up, his anger seemed diminished and in its place was a look of such exhaustion that Harry, when he chanced a look up, felt immensely guilty.

Snape ran a hand through his hair as he eyed the Headmaster and Remus in turn.  In a soft voice he inquired, "And would anyone like to tell me why Potter was standing outside the gates of Hogwarts?  Or have you found a way to Apparate from inside Hogwarts grounds?" he asked of Remus.

"He was ordered back inside before we left," Remus glanced at Harry almost apologetically.

Harry felt a wave of defensiveness rise within him.  "Actually, I was told to wait for you, sir," he spoke directly to Snape.  "But when I heard you were already there, I..." Harry lost his steam as Snape stared at him.  The man was listening and no doubt he would be expecting a very good reason for Harry to have left.

"You what?" Snape said dangerously.  "You decided you'd bring the news of the battle directly to me?"

"Well...no.  I just thought I could help," Harry finished lamely.

The only thing that stopped Severus from going off the deep-end and assigning Potter a million lines and hundreds of cauldrons to scrub, was the memory of Potter's Bombarda in defense of him and the certain knowledge that that was what everyone here expected him to do.  It never pleased him to do as the Order expected.  In fact, looking around at all the faces watching him with trepidation, he decided immediately that he would not satisfy them by snapping at Potter as they clearly expected him to.  Even through his own anger at the situation, he took immense pleasure in the knowledge that he was being contrary. 

The Headmaster looked back and forth, and decided to interject before his Potions Master could work up enough steam to get angry again. 

"I do believe that this was all a misunderstanding then.  Perhaps we should all shake hands and put this behind us."  Even he had to suppress a wince when he saw the expressions on everyone's faces. 

"Very well.  I withdraw my challenge," Snape said curtly.

"Have you nothing else to say to Remus, Severus?" the Headmaster inquired with a meaningful glance.  Severus restrained himself from glaring too harshly.  He knew what the Headmaster expected; an apology.  He scoffed at the very idea.  He would never offer an apology to Lupin this side of hell.

"Yes, I do, as a matter of fact," he answered harshly.

The Headmaster closed his own eyes in resignation.  He knew that tone of voice.

"You, sir," he said sarcastically to Remus, "should have ensured that Potter made it back into the gates safely before leaving."  He finished curtly and swept his gaze to include both Remus and the Headmaster at the end.  "Are we done here sir?" he asked of the Headmaster.

"We are, for now.  I assume your report can wait until the 'morrow," Albus answered in a tired voice.  If anyone was expecting Severus to be more apologetic toward Remus, they were thoroughly disappointed.  Clearly, in Severus' mind, the fact remained that Harry's safety had not been secured before Apparating away. 

Albus considered the very real possibility that Severus had reached his limit of patience.  He had not thought that Severus was doing badly, but perhaps he had miscalculated.  It was hard to tell what Severus was thinking on the best of days.  Since the war had begun again in earnest, it had become downright impossible to read the man.  Perhaps the issues between the Order, Severus and Harry had bothered the man more than he had let on.  He himself had felt it best to ignore the antipathy between them all but it was becoming more difficult, especially after tonight.  With Severus no longer completely focused on spying directly on the Dark Lord, it was entirely possible that the man was beginning to rethink his position in the Order.  It wouldn't be the first time.  He didn't fear betrayal.  He feared the loss of Severus for himself and Severus' skills for the Order.

"We are leaving then," Snape said.  For a brief second, he considered leaving Potter.  If the boy was so set on dying, let him.  But it was only a brief second and it passed with a wave of unease.  He was now quite incapable of allowing that to pass.

Molly Weasley had other ideas however.  She had finally fixed her motherly eye on Potter and was busy scolding him for going to the fight. 

"I can't imagine what you were thinking by leaving the castle, Harry."

"He did act rashly Molly.  But I believe he feels the weight of his error," the Headmaster said.

"I hope you'll be more careful in the future Harry," Remus said quietly from the corner.  "Grabbing me while Apparating could have splinched us both.  I'm disappointed in you."

Harry felt both ashamed by the knowledge that he had disappointed Snape and could have hurt Remus - and indignant at the scolding he was receiving from all quarters.  He was surprised though, that it should be Snape that came to his defense.

"You will all kindly refrain from disciplining my charge."  The last two words were practically roared.  Harry flinched as Snape came forward.  "Kindly unhand him, Mrs. Weasley.  It is not your place, nor within your rights to impugn Mr. Potter for his actions.  Perhaps if any of you had turned an eye to discipline and order on his behalf while he was under your watch, we might have avoided habits such as these."

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips but stepped back.  Snape moved easily into her place and put a hand to Harry's shoulder to steer him from the room.  But though she stepped back, Mrs. Weasley was not silenced.

"You look ill after your fight Professor.  Why not let Harry stay with us tonight so you can get some rest?"  She was transparent in her attempts to gain custody of Harry.  Snape would not hear a word of it.

"Your concern is kind Madam, but unnecessary, I assure you," he said coldly.  "I would not have you think I am incapacitated so far as to neglect my duty to see my charge safely back to Hogwarts.  Good evening, all."  He spun on his heel and stalked toward the door.  "Come Potter," he called over his shoulder as he went.

Harry followed Snape out of the room in silence.  Snape didn't even look at him as he grasped his arm to Apparate.  Harry had rarely felt so dejected.  Had his actions been that foolish?  Did the Professor feel that strongly about his safety?  He had not forgotten just how much the professor had done over the years to secure it.  But it had seemed that Snape had been putting effort into teaching him defense.  Why would he do that if he were not planning for Harry to fight?

They made the trip back to their rooms in silence.  Harry was too afraid to break it and Severus was too tired to rein in his anger if he did start in on Potter.  When they reached the rooms, Snape ordered him to his bedroom and stood stiffly as he watched him obey.  But Harry couldn't just leave it like that.  He turned with his hand still on the door.

"For what it's worth Professor, I'm real sorry I upset you."

Snape's eyes flashed, but he made no move.  "Your apologies are worth nothing to me Potter."

Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat.  "I was only worried.  I didn't mean to make you mad at Remus.  It's not his fault, it's mine."

"I'm well aware of whose fault it is.  Don't presume to tell me how I should feel."

"I'm not.  But I don't understand what I did that was so wrong.  I mean, all right, I shouldn't have been there..."

"You don't understand?"  Snape took a step forward.  It looked like he was trying very hard not to yell.  "Then I'll explain it to you, shall I?  Do you have any idea what the Order goes through to ensure your safety?"

Harry's cheeks flamed at that.  "No," he whispered.  "But I reckon I have an idea what you've done for me."

"Do you?  Then you are as ungrateful and selfish as I always thought you to be."

"It wasn't like that," Harry protested.  "I was worried."

"You cannot save everyone, Potter.  Lupin is a grown man.  He is capable of taking care of himself.  Simply showing up with him without any idea of what you're getting yourself into, is not an intelligent strategy."

"You don't understand..."

"It is you that does not understand Potter."

But at this point, Harry was willing to interrupt the man.  "No!  You don't!  I didn't do it for Remus!  I was worried about you!"

Snape stepped back as if stung.  Harry had the strong desire - once again - to just crawl under his bed and hide his face.  But Snape's eyes narrowed and Harry knew he'd better just stay and hear him out. 

"Even if that is the case Potter, you should know better than to repeat your mistakes.  I am wasting my time with you if you persist in placing your life in unnecessary danger.  Danger which you are ill-equipped to handle."

"But you're teaching me how to fight.  You said I did well.  I don't understand."

Snape took a step forward and loomed over him.  "No Potter, I am teaching you how to defend yourself, how to think and plan, how to survive.  Are you really so foolish as to not understand your position?"

"My position?"  Harry swallowed convulsively as he was reminded of the prophecy.  He had thought that Snape didn't give it any credit.  The very thought that Snape really did, brought the panic he felt whenever he thought of it back full force.  "You mean the prophecy sir?" he asked in a too high voice.

The sound of the panic in his voice brought Snape to a halt.  The man's eyes narrowed further and he took a deep breath.  "No, I do not mean the prophecy, idiot boy," Snape spat.

Harry dared to look back up in confusion then.  Snape rolled his eyes and gestured to the chairs at the table.  "Well -  sit, Potter!  I've not got all night," he snapped when Harry just stared at him dumbly.

"Oh," Harry said, and he made his way to the seat.  He resisted the urge to put his head in his hands and instead sat stiffly.  He was tired beyond belief but it had been his fool idea to approach Snape before he went to bed.  He would just have to bear it out.

But Snape ignored him for several minutes.  In that time, he pulled all of the bottles out of his sack and lined them one by one on the table.  When that was done, he stripped his coat and shirt off and Harry finally got to see the damage that Snape had taken in the battle.  There was no blood, but his shoulder and his side were both mottled with dark bruises just beginning to change color.  Harry cringed in sympathy as Snape took a bottle out of the cupboard and drank deeply from it.  He made a face when he finished and Harry realized when he set the bottle down that he was drinking whiskey. 

When Snape finally sat down himself, he was quiet and seemed lost in thought for a few moments.  Harry had no desire to interrupt him.  At length, Snape spoke.

"Your position is not an enviable one.  You did not choose it, and I begin to suspect that you don't approve of it.  But you will," - and here Snape surveyed him with cold, uncompassionate eyes - "accept the reality of your situation, whether you like it or not.  You are a symbol, Mr. Potter.  While the Dark Lord and his followers need no more symbol than their own ambition and hunger to continue their fight, your side - our side, Mr. Potter," he amended hastily - "does seem to require something more to keep going.  It may not make sense; indeed, it does not.  One would think avoidance of servitude and death would be motivation enough, but clearly it is not so.  You have no strategic value.  You are not trained enough to be useful in battle nor are you, at present, capable of leading others.  Still, your presence in a fight flips the objective onto its head."

"Flips the objective...what do you mean?"

"I mean Potter, that regardless of what is hoped to be gained in any fight - when you show up, all is forgotten in the mad rush to keep you safe.  The Order will risk life, limb, and any other goal, no matter how important, merely to bring you out of harm's way."

"But I don't want any of that!" Harry said, horrified at the thought, even though he saw the truth in the words.

Snape's hand slammed down hard on the table.  "It does not matter what you want Potter!"  He took another smaller sip from his bottle, settled back and went on in an even tone.  "I suppose you could ensure that isn't the case by giving everyone reason to dislike or distrust you.  But really Potter, that has it's own inherent dangers for everyone involved as well.  And besides, despite what you may think, you are still little more than a boy to the Order.  Even if you were not a symbol, attention would be paid to your safety as it is for all children.  That is as it should be.  Still, - you are no General, yet people will rally behind you as though you were.  You are not yet a soldier, though people will fight on your behalf.  So you must decide Potter; do you place your honor and desire to become involved above the objectives of those who fight the Dark Lord, or do you stop and think before storming into a battle?  Do you look to your principles alone, or do you use your head?  It is becoming abundantly clear to me that this matter will present itself time and again.  You have shown me repeatedly that you consult only your own feelings before acting, whether through some misplaced notion of nobility or through some panicked, half-formed decision to be everyone's hero.  I assure you that in my case, Mr. Potter, your concern and assistance is neither required nor wanted.  When I want a half-trained fool of a Gryffindor to come to my rescue, it will only be after I've been taken to the mental ward at St. Mungos - a consequence I foresee for myself, if I am forced to deal with your harebrained schemes and the combined meddling and henpecking of the Order of the Pigeon."

Harry's eyes widened as Snape's speech continued, but even though he was being insulted at every turn, he could not help but snort in amusement at Snape's name for the Order.  Snape went silent and stared at him balefully.  Harry realized with a start that a reply was required.

"Fine.  I understand.  But I will fight one day.  Maybe I am a symbol, and maybe it is selfish to...to consult my own feelings," he used Snape's own words, "but this is my fight as well."  On this, he would not budge.  Voldemort had taken everything from him and he was still trying to take more.  It was personal. 

He didn't expect Snape to like what he had to say, but to his never-ending astonishment, Snape smiled a slow, sly smile.  "But of course you will fight.  The Dark Lord's made it his business to take everything from you, hasn't he?  You must be very angry."

He had gone for the jugular there.  Harry didn't know where he would take this point, so all he could do was agree with a nod of his head. 

"I would think you very weak indeed, if you let him attack you and all that you care for again and again without wanting justice.  Or perhaps just revenge."  Snape leaned forward.  "But how do you propose to exact this punishment from him when you are dead.  Oh, make no mistake Potter - on your current course, that is where you will end up.  It's a mathematical certainty.  Do you suppose that your death will harm him; that he will perhaps fall to his knees in anguish when he realizes that he has caused the death of a mere slip of a boy?  That he will change his ways and die of shame?"

Harry's cheeks flamed.  "Of course not!"

"Then listen.  Learn.  And above all do not wade in over your head.  When you are prepared to fight, I will bring you to the battle myself."  Secretly, Severus could not imagine that day ever approaching.  Still, if anything he said would keep Potter from acting like such a bloody idiot every time someone he knew was in danger, that would have to suffice for success in his eyes.  The Order had already spoiled the boy and allowed him to think his foolishness should be rewarded as courage and greatness.  Though Severus recalled with a twinge how very like Potter he had been once.  But where Potter fought for those he loved, Severus had fought for a principle.  And he had been far more bloody-minded.  No, perhaps he had never been like Potter at all, he thought to himself with a snort, except in that he had never passed by an opportunity to join in battle. 

"When will that be?" Harry asked.  This was his fight too, no matter what anyone said, and he would join in with or without permission someday.  But he allowed that Snape was right about a great many things.  If he couldn't even get a curse in at Snape in their mock duels, how would he ever survive a full battle where the Death Eaters were trying to kill rather than capture him?  And he knew that what Snape said about his position was true too.  If he were not careful, he would lead the entire Order to their deaths, whether he wanted their help or not.  But if he could prove himself at least to Snape's satisfaction, he may be able to survive long enough to fight.

"So eager to kill your enemies Potter?"

"What?"

"Ah - perhaps you will join the Order in its mistaken notion that the enemy will allow itself to be taken alive."

"But loads of Death Eaters have been captured," Harry protested.

"Yes.  And where are they now?"

"Oh," Harry said in horror. 

"Oh indeed.  They are now free to commit more murder.  Perhaps they will kill one of your friends next.  Or a friend's family member.  They will certainly try to kill every Order member.  And why not?  It is a hassle for them, wouldn't you agree, to constantly be going back and forth between Azkaban and freedom?"

Harry clenched his teeth and turned his head.  He knew what Snape was doing, and he was too tired to argue, and too ashamed of his stupidity to disagree. 

Snape watched him for a few moments in contemplative silence.  Then, abruptly, he stood from the table, took a cup from the cupboard and poured two finger widths of whiskey into it.  "How is your cheek?" he inquired, setting the glass down just out of Harry's reach. 

"It hurts," Harry admitted sullenly.

"Hmm," Snape muttered as he picked out a sludgy brown potion from the line of potions he had set aside earlier.  Handing it to Harry and indicating that he should drink from it, he said in an offhand tone, "You will find that pain killers and sleeping potions react badly with bone healing potions.  Symptoms range from diarrhea to death.  I suppose either end of the spectrum is unpalatable to you?" he said with a raised brow. 

"Yes, sir," Harry said with a slight smile.  The potion hadn't tasted nearly as bad as the last. 

"But," Snape continued, "I've found that a glass of whiskey never reacts painfully with this particular potion," he held the brown one up as Harry passed it back to him.  "And whiskey has the added benefit of speeding sleep along."  He pushed the glass the few inches needed to put it into Harry's reach.  "Drink up Potter.  You'll thank me tomorrow."

"Yes sir!"  Harry took the glass and drank it like he'd seen others do, quickly and all at once.  He was coughing and sputtering before the glass even hit the table again. 

"Arggh!  That's awful!" 

Snape's eyes were bright with suppressed mirth.  "To bed Potter.  Now."

"Yes sir," Harry said with a sigh, still eyeing the bottle with distaste.  When he got to the door, he remembered his manners and turned back to thank Snape.

"Thanks sir.  For helping and everything..." his hand flew up to indicate that he meant thanks for helping with the cheek.  Instead of the curt nod he was expecting though, Snape's eyes went cold again and the man straightened himself up to his full height. 

"There is still the matter of your punishment, Mr. Potter.  On top of the lines you still owe me, which you will resume tomorrow evening, you will add an extra 250, to be divided equally over the next four nights."

"What should I write, sir?" Harry asked in resignation.  It was better than he had hoped for at least.

Snape walked to his desk and took up a piece of parchment and a quill.  After a moment of thought, he leant down and scribbled something on the piece of paper, then handed it to Harry.   Harry stared open jawed at the line on the piece of parchment before he couldn't contain it anymore and he snorted in amusement.

It read: Only fools Apparate without their wands in their hands and I will endeavor to make less of a fool of myself in the future.

"You find that amusing Potter?"

"No sir," Harry answered quickly.  He was tired, in pain, and found it hilarious actually, but he recognized from Snape's tone of voice that he'd better retreat before he was given 500 more lines, and he did so promptly.  "Goodnight sir."

Snape did not answer.

Harry's last thought before he fell asleep was not about the battle or about the things that Snape had said, but about how nice and warm the whiskey felt in his stomach.  It was a nice counter for the dull ache in his cheek and before he knew it, he was fast asleep and snoring.  But his dreams were full of shadows and when he awoke in the morning, he felt as though he had gotten no rest at all.