When he'd first learned that he would have to spend the remaining weeks of summer in Snape's quarters, Harry had imagined the time stretching out into eternity; an endless succession of dreary days, punctuated by Snape's infuriating jeers and insults.

Instead, the last fortnight before school began flew by as if the days had wings. And it was not entirely unpleasant. He still grieved for Sirius; he still suffered from nightmares whenever he slept, and if he let himself remember Voldemort and the Death Eaters, he still a felt a clammy terror that caused him to break out in a cold sweat.

But Ron and Hermione, and sometimes Ginny, came every afternoon to see him. They finished their summer assignments, played games, and talked for hours, mostly about inconsequential matters as the others were respecting Harry's wishes not to discuss recent upsetting events.

The most popular topic of conversation was who would make up the new Gryffindor Quidditch team, now that several of the old members had completed their education.

"You'll be Seeker, I'm sure, Harry," Ginny remarked one afternoon. "And Ron will make Keeper again." She shot her brother a mischievous grin. "Probably. Unless I decide to go out for it."

Ron apparently decided the mature response to Ginny was to ignore her teasing, although Harry couldn't help but think that it might just be because he couldn't think up a good enough comeback. But about playing Seeker again...

"You know, I'm not sure I'm going to play Quidditch again this year," Harry told them. "So you try out for Seeker if you want, Ginny. You'd be a great one."

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all stared at him with disbelieving faces. It would have been comical if Harry had felt like laughing.

Ginny recovered first. "But, Harry, you're much better than I am."

"Not play Quidditch?" Ron demanded. "Harry, I think you've been taking too many potions lately. You're not thinking clearly."

"Leave him alone, Ron," Hermione said firmly. "If Harry doesn't want to play, that's his business."

"But you love Quidditch, Harry," Ron was studying him intently. "At least you used to. I just thought that Quidditch might be something that...well, that might cheer you up a bit, after everything that's happened."

"Maybe that's the problem. After everything that's happened, Quidditch just doesn't seem very important anymore." Harry shrugged morosely. "I probably won't even be well enough by tryouts anyway. Snape told me last night that I'll definitely have to miss the first few weeks of classes."

"Oh, no." Hermione looked more concerned about that news than Harry not wanting to play Quidditch. "Harry, that's terrible. You must be really upset."

Ron snorted and hastily changed it into a cough when Hermione turned to glare at him. "Yeah, Harry, that's devastating news. I'll think of you lounging in bed while I'm slaving away at Transfiguration next week."

"Well, I'm not going to be doing too much lounging," Harry remarked. "Snape said he'd charm all my books and quills to respond to voice commands so I can study on my own down here."

"We'll come down and see you after classes, too," Hermione assured him. "And I'll bring my notes for you to read, so you shouldn't have any trouble keeping up." She sighed. "We still don't know which classes we're going to be eligible to take yet, though. And we need to get our things from Diagon Alley this week."

"It's safe enough for you all to go there?" Harry asked.

"A bunch of Aurors are going to go with us," Ginny explained.

"I wish I could go." Harry tried not to sound self-pitying, but it was hard. "I won't be able to go on Hogsmeade weekends, either, I bet."

"If you can't, then we'll stay here with you." Ron promised, and Hermione nodded. Harry felt deeply touched. Hogsmeade weekends were a big treat and all the students looked forward to them. He really did have the best friends anyone could hope for.

"Thanks," Harry told them, knowing that it was woefully inadequate to express his feelings for them, but also knowing that they understood. To change the subject, he said, "I wonder who Dumbledore's found to be the Defense professor this year?"

"No idea," Ginny said. "But whoever it is, they'd have to be a huge improvement on Umbridge."

"I wish Remus could do it again," Harry murmured. "He was by far the best Defense teacher we've had. And I haven't seen him in forever."

"Remus is on some kind of mission for the Order," Ron told them. "Mum and Dad were asking about him when Dumbledore first came back and Dumbledore said Remus had started a very important mission, and would be unavailable for a long time."

"Guess he's not going to be Defense teacher then." Harry tried not to feel disappointed. He'd known all along that Remus wasn't likely to be at Hogwarts again so there was no reason to feel let down. It was just that he hadn't seen him in so long.

Why was it that every time he let himself depend, even a little bit, on an adult, they ended up leaving him?

But he was not going to feel sorry for himself. There was a war going on, and if Remus could do something that might save innocent people or help to defeat Voldemort, then that was much more important than sitting around holding Harry's hand. He couldn't help but feel that fleeting longing for someone of his own, but it just wasn't meant to be for him, and he had to accept it and be grateful for what he did have.

Looking back up at the others, he realized that Hermione and Ron were fretting about their O.W.L.S. again. Or rather, that Hermione was fretting and Ron was reassuring her that she'd done fine on them.

As if on cue, Snape appeared in the doorway, holding three large square envelopes. "The headmaster asked me to deliver these to you three," he said dryly. "Apparently, he mistook me for an owl." He tossed the envelopes onto the bed, and headed off to his office, though Harry noticed he did not close the door.

"Thank you, sir," Hermione gasped, her eyes as big as saucers as she stared at the envelopes. She reached for the envelope with her name on it, but her hands were shaking so that she couldn't open it.

"Here, let me," Ginny offered, taking the envelope and slitting it open, then handing it back to Hermione.

"Well, might as well find out the worst, huh, Harry?" Ron opened Harry's envelope and handed the folded parchment inside to him before taking his own.

Harry carefully unfolded the parchment and stared at his results: He'd failed History of Magic, no surprise there given that he'd collapsed in the middle of the exam, but he'd done well in his other subjects. He'd gotten an ‘Acceptable' in Astronomy, and ‘Exceeds Expectations' or ‘Outstanding' in everything else. He'd even managed to get ‘Outstanding' in Potions. How in the world had he managed that?

He stared in dumbfounded amazement at the parchment for a time. He could still be an Auror, if he wanted. He had the required grades to pursue his N.E.W.T.S. Something akin to happiness washed over him, and he breathed a sigh of relief, before realizing that he didn't know how Ron and Hermione had done.

Hermione was hidden behind her raised parchment, but Ron had a look of astonished delight on his face.

"Didn't do so well in History of Magic, but look at everything else!" He waved his results before Harry's eyes so quickly that Harry could only glimpse a list of E's and O's.

"Even in Potions! Guess our plans are still on, huh?" Ron looked over at the open door to Snape's office, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Do you reckon Dumbledore had anything to do with us getting O's in Potions?"

Harry shook his head in amusement. "How do you know I got an O in Potions?"

Ron shrugged. "Well, I figured if I managed it, then you did for sure. You did, didn't you?"

Harry nodded and added back in a low voice, "And I don't think Dumbledore had anything to do with it. Remember we all thought the Potions exam wasn't nearly as bad as some of Snape's assignments. I think a lot of people did better than they expected to." He looked over at his other best friend. "Hermione? How about you?"

Hermione looked up, her face flushed with joy. "What, Harry? Oh, how did you and Ron do?"

"We did fine," Ron was grinning happily. "No need to ask you, we can tell by your face. You got all O's, didn't you?"

Hermione's expression changed to one of faint embarrassment. "Well, yes, actually."

Ron patted her shoulder. "That's great, Hermione, really great. You worked hard for those results."

Hermione smiled at him, and Harry raised his eyebrows at watching the two of them.

"Congratulations, all of you," Ginny said. "Wish I had mine over with."

"I can't wait to show Mum and Dad," Ron stood up. "If you're all right, Harry, I guess I'll go and find them. They've been wanting to see my results, too, and now we can plan a trip to Diagon Alley."

"Make us a list, Harry, and we'll get your things, too." Hermione left, practically floating out of the room, she was still so transparently happy. Ginny waved and followed her.

Ron hesitated at the door. "Harry, about Quidditch...Katie Bell is the captain this year, and you know she'd hold off tryouts until you're well, if you wanted to play. You should think about it. Sirius wouldn't want you to give up something you really enjoy." He was gone before Harry could reply.

***

Snape himself was the other reason that staying in his quarters wasn't so bad. Harry would have never believed it possible, but he and Snape were actually getting along. The Potions professor disappeared whenever the other kids were around, but in the mornings and evenings, he'd started spending time with Harry.

They mostly played chess, or read in silence. Their conversations were sometimes a bit awkward and stilted, as if they both wanted to be on friendlier terms, but weren't entirely sure how to go about it. Still, Harry often found himself smiling at Snape's dry humor, which could be quite amusing if it wasn't directed against him, and appreciating the time they spent together.

Snape allowed Harry to get up now for brief times, and they had begun eating meals at the dining table. The same evening that he'd gotten his O.W.L. results, as they finished their grilled chicken and vegetables, Snape looked over at Harry with a slight smirk.

"Did my ears deceive me, or am I correct that I shall have the pleasure of your company in my N.E.W.T. class this year?"

"I thought you were listening," Harry murmured. He studied Snape, trying to see a clue about the man's feelings. Snape didn't seem displeased at the news that Harry and his friends would be taking Potions. He had been friendlier than Harry could have ever imagined the past few days, and he even comforted him when Harry cried in the night. But memories of the past five years were hard to shake off, too. Harry just didn't know exactly how Snape felt about him anymore.

For that matter, he didn't know exactly how he felt about Snape, either.

He didn't hate the professor now. He knew that. He actually enjoyed Snape's company, surreal as that seemed. Snape was clever and funny and even sympathetic when Harry was upset. Occasionally, there were moments such as at Harry's birthday party, when he realized that he and Snape might not be so very different after all, and he would think that maybe they could be friends.

But then, he would remember some particularly cruel jeer Snape had made at him, and he would see Snape's face in his mind, cold and sneering, and the old hurt and anger would well up. Even worse, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe all this ‘niceness' was just because Harry was ill, and it was in Snape's interests to help him get better. What would happen once Harry was well again? What would Snape be like in Potions class this year?

Because if Snape turned back into his old self, taunting Harry at every turn...well, it would hurt. It would hurt a lot more than it ever had before, because before Harry had always known that Snape hated him. He'd known what to expect. But now,...now he'd begun to hope for more, whether it was wise or not. Harry kept trying to remind himself that he needed to keep some emotional distance between them, but another part of his heart longed for Snape's friendship.

"Harry?" Snape prompted him.

Harry took a breath and said tentatively. "Um, yeah, I mean, yes sir. I got an ‘O' in Potions."

"Congratulations," Snape said easily. "You are quite intelligent when you choose to apply yourself. I must admit, I was surprised to hear Mr. Weasley's score, but perhaps he just needs proper motivation."

"Perhaps we both do better with someone who isn't trying to make us fail," Harry responded, then stopped, horrified at himself. He hadn't meant to say that aloud, and he tensed, sure that he had ruined everything. Snape would fly into a towering rage now and go back to hating him. But maybe it was better to lose Snape now, before Harry could care more.

Sure enough, anger flashed in Snape's eyes. But when he spoke, he just said, "Relax, Potter. I am not going to hit you, even if you are being frightfully rude and disrespectful."

So it was back to ‘Potter' again.

Harry bowed his head and swallowed hard. He'd known this was coming. So why did it still hurt so much?

"I'm sorry, sir. I'll go back to bed and leave you alone."

"Potter, did I ask you to leave?"

"No, but you're calling me ‘Potter' again, instead of ‘Harry'."

Snape sighed. "That means a lot to you, doesn't it? Very well, Harry. There's no reason for you to go running off. Do you run away every time you and Weasley and Granger exchange a cross word?"

"Well , no," Harry risked looking back up at him again. "But that's different. I know---" He stopped abruptly.

"You know what?" Snape pressed.

But Harry wasn't going to finish that sentence. "I'm sorry I was rude, sir. You've been really nice to me lately, really great. And I do appreciate it."

There was a long silence. Then Snape said, in such a low voice that Harry could hardly hear him. "Perhaps you're right."

Harry blinked at him. "About what, sir?"

Snape heaved a weary sigh. "Obviously, you and Weasley did perform better for the O.W.L. examiner than you ever have in class. Students usually do, which I have always attributed to the fact that I teach according to extremely high standards. The assignments we do in class are more difficult than anything you will encounter on a general exam. Any student who completes a N.E.W.T. course under me should have no trouble being accepted into a higher Potions Mastery course after Hogwarts, if they so desire."

He was quite a moment before admitting, "But perhaps you have a point as well. I was never trained to teach, Harry. Being a professor was not my life's goal. It has become a necessity, but I admit I do not always relate well to children."

Not always? Harry couldn't help but think. How about ‘never'!

But Snape was going on. "I suppose I have fallen back on the way I was treated as a child, that if a person is treated as a failure it will build strength and fuel a desire to succeed."

Another long silence followed the professor's words. Harry had been looking down at his own clasped hands as Snape spoke, but he looked up into his face when he realized that Snape had trusted him with confidential information about himself; that he, too, had been treated harshly as a child.

They stared into one another's eyes for a minute, each acknowledging a similar pain in the other, before both of them dropped their gazes.

"Perhaps it is not the best way to teach," Snape conceded softly.

"My aunt and uncle have always been mean to me, too," Harry said suddenly. He had never, never meant to admit this to Snape, but the words just came out on their own. "They never wanted me. I'm just a burden to them."

He felt Snape's hand on his shoulder, and the professor said gently, "I was wrong about you, Harry. I wish I had gotten to know you sooner."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, me, too," he whispered.

Snape carefully placed an arm around Harry's shoulders, and Harry let himself lean ever so slightly against him.