Aug. 26

Wow, any preconceived notions I had that he would go easier on my work because now he's my guardian just went flying out the window. Last night before dinner, he gave me back my summer work with a horrible sneer, and all my essays were covered in red ink, in that messy scrawl of his. And, I guess I shouldn't have expected him to say, "Excellent job there, Harry. Keep up the good work . . ." But wow. I'd forgotten how horrible he can get.

Part of the problem, I think, was that I wasn't in the best mind set when I was doing my summer work. He crossed out huge sections of my Transfiguration essay, for one thing, where I'd basically written the same sentence (about Charms!) seven or eight times in a row. So I guess it's a good thing he went over it all. I can't imagine what McGonagall would have had to say about the work if he hadn't.

At least now I have something productive to do with my time for the next couple days.

And so . . . I may have been a bit angry during our dueling time this morning. I couldn't block for shit, but I certainly threw a mean Furnunculus. I hope he has a potion for that.

---

"How are your essays coming along?"

Looking up from the travesty of a Transfiguration essay, trying to figure out if he could salvage anything from it at all, Harry turned to Snape, who was reading in his chair near the fireplace. Harry had tried to work by the fire, too, but his gaze kept wandering to the flames and an hour would go by between words he read or wrote, so Snape had made him come over to the writing desk instead.

"I don't know."

"No? Which one are you working on?"

"Transfiguration."

"Mm." Snape put a marker in his book and rose from his seat. "I seem to recall that one being a bit . . ."

"Horrifying?"

"I was going to say a bit of a challenge to get through. But yes, it could be classified as such."

"Thanks." Snape lifted an eyebrow, and Harry's face heated. "Sorry."

Snape waved away the apology, but he came to stand over Harry, next to the desk. "What seems to be giving you trouble?"

Harry shrugged, but when Snape kept staring at him, he said, "I'm having a hard time focusing."

"Any particular reason?"

"I . . ." With a sigh, Harry decided he might as well say what was on his mind, otherwise Snape would haunt him for hours. Days. "I'm kind of nervous about school starting again."

"Mm-hm. What about it makes you nervous?"

"I'm not used to other people yet . . . all those people . . ."

"Have you spoken to your Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley yet? I assume they would be willing to run interference for you."

"No . . . I haven't heard from them. Not since the end of school. Do you . . . do you think they don't want to be friends with me anymore?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Why would you think that?"

"'Cause they usually write. I mean, I didn't hear from them after first year, 'cause Dobby was stopping my letters, but all the other times, they have. I just thought . . . I mean, do you think they know?"

For a moment, Snape was quiet, as if deciding something, and then he shook his head. "As I have told you, the only ones who are aware of what happened at Topsham are myself, Madam Pomfrey and, to a lesser extent, the Headmaster."

"To a greater extent, now." Like he'd told Snape, he had pushed all of his memories of Topsham through that weird link to Dumbledore. The Headmaster probably knew more about what had occurred there than anyone else.

"Well, yes."

"So why haven't they written?"

Snape's mouth twisted, like he tasted something sour. "I cannot speak for Miss Granger, but as you know, Mr. Weasley's parents are members of the Order, and so they know you were captured, at least. When we escaped, the Headmaster asked that no one 'bother' you with correspondence. It did not occur to me before, but I imagine that request has been ongoing."

"Dumbledore is holding my mail?" Harry hated the squawk like sound that had come from his mouth, but really! It was his mail!

"Only until such time as he determined you were up to receiving it. I'll see him about that, shall I?"

Somewhat mollified, Harry said, "Yes, please. Thank you, sir."

"What other concerns do you have about classes?"

Harry's hands formed into fists, and he put them into his lap, instead of leaving them on the desk. "You know . . . what we talked about before. With . . . with the kids who've got . . ." He swallowed hard, unable to continue for a moment, but he was a Gryffindor, right? With Gryffindor courage. So he pushed the words out before he could think about them too much. "The students with Death Eater parents. They'll know," he said harshly. "And they'll never let me forget it, especially . . . especially Malfoy."

Snape was quiet for a long time, though his gaze never left Harry's face. It was like he was searching for something, or waiting for Harry to say more. But Harry didn't have anything more to say. Finally, Snape ran a hand over his face and sighed. "It will be a challenge for you," he said softly.

"Was 'challenge' on your word-a-day calendar or something?"

"What?"

"Sorry," Harry said. "Muggle thing." He forced his hands to relax, and pushed his essay away, deliberately looking away from Snape's penetrating gaze. "How'm I going to face them?"

"The same way you have faced everything, I presume . . ." He paused, then drew another chair closer to the desk, and sat down. His voice was faintly chiding when he continued, "Although with a tad less violence, I hope. Those children are not responsible for the sins of their parents."

"No . . . but if they revel in my pain, am I allowed to cause them some?"

Snape's breath came out in a soft exclamation. Harry couldn't tell if it was a laugh or not; he hadn't meant to be funny. "Do you really want to?"

He did, especially if they mocked him and humiliated him to the whole school, but . . . but it was only a gut thing, and he knew he wouldn't really try and hurt them, not unless his life was in danger. He just wasn't cut out for the revenge thing. He'd learned that with what happened in Diagon Alley, and with Dumbledore. He could do it, he supposed, but he would feel really, really bad about it later. He put his head in his hands and rested both on the desk. "No, not really."

Snape's hand came down on his shoulder, lightly, and Harry flinched, but not as bad as he would have a few weeks ago. "I'm glad to hear that. You will get through this, Harry. I swear it."

"Thanks." This time, there was no sarcasm coloring his tone. Harry closed his eyes for a minute, and Snape left his hand on his shoulder; it was warm and . . . comforting. "What do I call you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Harry peered at him through the fringe of hair covering his eyes. "Now that you're my Guardian. Do I still just call you Professor, or what?"

"In class, certainly, you should continue to call me Professor, as well around other students and faculty. As for when we're here . . . a modicum of leniency can be extended."

"In English?"

A tiny twitch of the lip was followed by, "You may call me Severus."

Harry grinned. "Not Sev?"

"Certainly not!"

Snape's horrified look was so complete that Harry had to laugh. "Sorry!" he said when Snape scowled even more. "But you looked . . ." Helplessly, he laughed again, and shrugged. "It was funny."

"I assure you, there is nothing amusing about that appellation."

"Uh huh."

"You are cheeky."

"Yes, sir. Will you help me with my homework?"

"I will look it over for you when you have completed it. Again. If you have specific questions, I will endeavor to assist you in finding the answers."

Harry sighed. "Fine. Can I have my letters from Hermione and Ron?"

"When you have finished your work."

"Don't you think I'd be more motivated to do well on it and not rush through, if I had them first, and was . . . less stressed out?"

Snape's eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in the chair. "I shall allow you one letter from each, my little Slytherin. And then you will finish your essays."

"I hope that was meant to be a compliment," Harry said.

The one eyebrow went up. "Indeed."

---

Aug. 1st

Dear Harry,

I don't have much time, as my parents are waiting in the courtyard downstairs, but I wanted to let you know that the book I sent to you on your birthday should have included the index, which I am enclosing now. It's a supplemental, and I'm sorry I didn't include it to begin with. I assume that's why you sent it back?

Hope you had a great birthday! I'll see you when I get back from Greece, all right?

Love, Hermione

---

Hey Harry,

I hope you're okay. Mum and Dad have been worried, and at the same time telling us all not to be. It's mental, you know? Ginny says hi, and that she's sent you her own letter, but you might not have gotten it. We haven't seen Hedwig all summer. Is she okay, mate? Your birthday presents came back without being delivered, but when I asked Mum why, she said you were probably someplace unplottable.

Hope you can come to the Burrow before school starts. Hermione's going to be here from mid-August. We could do shopping together if you're up for it. Have you gotten your OWLS yet? I haven't. Not sure I want to, actually.

Have you see the latest on the Cannons? Unbelievable, huh? I am going to go to a game this year if it kills me.

Write back soon,

Ron

Harry put down the two letters Snape let him have, and tried not to think about Hedwig, or the birthday he'd missed, or any of it. His chest felt like someone was sitting on it, and he swallowed a couple more times before folding the letters carefully and putting them to the side. Then, as he'd promised, he picked up his quill and started in on his school work again.

A couple hours later, his eyes were too tired to make out his own scratches on the parchment, never mind Snape's corrections. He cleaned up his work and capped the ink bottle, then went to the sitting area and flopped into the settee with a sigh.

"Lupin asked if you were willing to meet with him again."

Harry's head came up and he stared at Snape. "He did?"

Snape did not look up from his book, but nodded, his dark hair a curtain that almost covered his face. "He seemed to think you worked out some of your issues the other day, and thought you might be interested in seeing him for tea or some such nonsense."

"Um, yeah, I guess. I . . . that would be all right."

"Then you may meet with him after dinner."

"Thank you, sir."

Snape nodded again and turned the page of his book. "How is your work coming along?"

"Fine." When Snape cleared his throat, he added quickly, "Better than before. I think I understand the Charms material now."

"A distinct advantage when you write out your essays."

Harry snickered softly. "Is it dinner now?"

Snape glanced at him then. "Are you actually hungry?"

"Yea . . . yes, sir. I think I actually am."

"Alert the presses!"

"Ha, very ha. So . . . food?"

Snape chuckled -- he seemed to be doing a bit more of that lately, and Harry wondered about it. Maybe he was more relaxed now that Harry was his ward? Or maybe because he didn't have to spy for Voldemort anymore? -- and rose to call up the House-elves. In minutes, they were at the dining table with shepherd's pie and hot buttered bread and pumpkin juice. Harry ate two servings of everything.

"Do you want me to walk you to Lupin's quarters?" Snape asked as they finished. "Assuming you still wish to grace him with your presence."

"Um . . . No. I think I'll be all right."

Snape held his gaze for a few moments, and then nodded. "Remember your breathing exercises, and the counting one, too, if your temper gets the better of you, all right? And come home early if you need to."

Harry smiled at Snape . . . Severus. It was possibly the first time he had ever been invited to think of this place as his home. "Okay, thanks."

"And be back before 11."

"Yes, sir."

"And don't forget--"

"To write? I'll only be a couple hours, Severus. I'll be fine."

"Hmmph. Go on then, go see your Werewolf."

With a frown at Snape's turn of humor, Harry watched him leave the room, then shrugged and headed for the door, and from there, up to the third floor and Remus' quarters.

Remus answered the door quickly when Harry knocked. His expression went from surprised to pleased in an instant, and Harry was glad he had come. "Harry! Good to see you. Come in, come in."

"Thanks, Remus." He sidled through the door, and looked around at the sitting room, so different from Snape's, with windows looking out at the Quidditch pitch, oddly bright ambient light, and throw pillows, of all things, on the wide couch. The room was done in cream and brown and gray, sort of like Remus himself.

"Have a seat, Harry. Would you care for tea?"

"No, thanks. I just had dinner. Maybe some cocoa?"

"That I can do." He summoned a House-elf and soon they had a pot of chocolate and small dainty cups. Remus poured out one serving and handed it to Harry, settling himself in an overstuffed chair next to the couch. "Severus tells me you've been sparring with him."

"Verbally? Or do you mean our dueling."

Remus laughed. "Well, I meant the dueling, but . . . have you been getting on all right?"

"Yeah, he's been great, honest."

"Good. I . . ." He shook his head. "Tell me about the dueling. Have you learned anything you might try with your Defense club?"

"Er, well . . . I'm not sure I'm going to run that this year."

"Whyever not? I heard it was a huge success."

"But . . . we only had it because Umbridge was a git."

"Have to agree with you there, cub, about the git part, anyway." He grinned and added, "Though you never heard me say it. I think you should continue the club, though. From what I can tell, the fifth years in the DA scored far higher than any who weren't, on their Defense OWLs, and even the seventh years did better on their NEWTs. As your Defense teacher, I could act as your sponsor, if you like."

Harry's mouth went dry. He wasn't sure he was up to attending class, never mind leading one, like he had done. He wasn't sure if he had that kind of courage anymore.

Remus' voice was softer as he continued, "Just think about it, Harry. You don't have to decide anything now."

"All right." Harry took a sip of chocolate, amazed -- as he was every time he had some -- that it made him feel better. "But yeah, I have learnt some new ones. Like Geminivisio. And Plures Proeliator."

With a nod, Remus said, "Both are good for confusing your enemies. Have you learned the counter . . . "

After a couple hours of visiting, with Remus giving him a few pointers for his essay, along with a tactic or three for his dueling and more hot chocolate than he could possibly metabolize before bedtime, Harry made his way back to the dungeons just before 11. He felt better than he had in a long time, almost like . . . almost like normal. Not scared or angry or like he wanted to curl up in a ball and die.

Maybe he could do this. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

He opened the door to the dungeon quarters and called out softly, "Hi, I'm home."