Stretched out on his bed, Harry watched the shadows play on the ceiling of his room. This day had been truly bizarre…but come to think of it, what was a normal day supposed to be like?

Voldemort attacking, Snape flirting with death, Dumbledore announcing a new catastrophe, and himself in the midst of it all, trying to cope.

All in the space of twenty-four hours. Snape was now sleeping in his room on the other side of the hallway, and Harry was fairly certain that he had to be experiencing the soundest of sleeps, if only because of the sleep potion that Dumbledore had poured into the professor's cup.

To Harry's surprise, Snape hadn't protested. He'd given him a long, thoughtful look, to which the boy had responded with a smile, affirming that, for his part, he intended to sleep non-stop through the last two days of the hols.

He didn't really believe that, but he'd had the sudden intuition that Snape wouldn't agree to rest as long as Harry didn't feel safe.

Which he did, he supposed. He'd even managed to not grit his teeth when Dumbledore had offered to keep guard while they rested.

All right, he really wanted to believe that the Headmaster didn't actually mean him any harm, but to fall asleep there, Snape out of commission in his room, with Dumbledore just a few feet away, reading in the sitting room?

Not a chance. Not after what'd happened. An illusion, certainly, but a very realistic and painful one. He wasn't ready yet.

He'd managed, though, to put on a good face, good enough at least to convince Snape to swallow the potion down in a single gulp and close himself up in his room, with the promise he'd be awakened for the slightest problem. And if the long, pointed look he'd received were any indication, the Potions master was thinking more of a likely Potter crisis than a Death Eater attack.

But no, he certainly wasn't going to let Snape stay up because of him. Merlin, one look at the professor was enough to realize that he was at the end of himself, not only physically, but mentally. Those circles under his eyes….

Harry felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He was the only one responsible for those…and not only because Snape had tried to defend him; Harry'd outright drained the man of his strength, willingly, without scruples, without taking time to question what he was doing.

And despite it all, Snape had tried to protect Harry by sacrificing himself. His strength and his magic…two things that were most likely as precious to the professor as his very life.

Harry felt his heart constrict, but in a less unpleasant way than he'd've expected. A bit of guilt, yes, but especially…an undeniable and comforting warmth that made him want to curl up in the duvet despite the heat.

He felt good. Comfortable. It was totally absurd, people were dead and…oh. The Dursleys.

All of a sudden nervous, he went to the window to look out at the park. Would he end up imagining he saw them too, in the street, somewhere, maybe in a Muggle store? Or watching the telly….

The setting seemed right, but the faces were blurred. He'd seen them just a few days ago, though, but it felt like years had gone by since then. Forget them? Was that possible? He didn't even have a photo of them…  Anyway, why would he've wanted one?

Vernon was a horrible pig, yes, and he'd enjoyed putting Harry in his place, or rather the one he'd picked out for him. As for Petunia, she'd probably sold out to Voldemort, indifferent to his fate, like she had been when Vernon lit into him.

And Dudley…oh, Dudley was Dudley.

But they'd not asked for anything, and certainly not for Harry in their lives, and now, they were dead because of him. He couldn't even manage to be sad, not really, not like he should've been. Was it really so horrible for him to feel relieved?

No more cupboard. No more Privet Drive. No more lashes with the belt, or scoldings, or disgusted looks…not from them anyway. His family. The only one he would have, if he didn't count the Weasleys. They'd been there for him, of course, and he'd felt more accepted by them than he'd ever felt at the Dursleys'.

But the Weasleys made up a complete family, which had grown and taken shape over the course of years and births, and despite all the affection they could show him, Harry would always remain a sort of adopted cousin in a family that was already full to overflowing.

One day, perhaps, he'd start his own…but for now, that idea was especially scary and far off. Merlin, he still couldn't see to his own protection!

Outside, the wind was playing in the trees, and Harry was seized by a sudden whim to transform into the cat and climb up to the highest branch, up to the sky, up toward the sun.

Harry winced. No, what he wanted was to stay in the dungeon, away from the light, there where nothing could happen to him…nothing worse, anyway.

He was so tired…he'd've gladly been in Snape's place, snoring peacefully in his bed.

Hmmm, was it really possible that Snape snored? There was something about the idea that was strangely bizarre, but with a nose like that…oh all right, that was probably a bit disrespectful on his part.

Whatever the case, snoring or not, he'd have been more likely to sleep, with Snape beside him. It was probably childish, but the notion of the professor not being there to reassure him if he had a nightmare made him anxious.

It wasn't as if Snape had coming running each and every time he'd had a bad dream, but Harry still had this impression of a protective and caring presence that'd he'd just recently begun to associate with the professor.

And with all that he'd been through…he didn't have the courage yet to face a restless, sleepless night. Of course he needed sleep, and Snape did too, but he was fairly certain that the Potions master wouldn't be cross with him if…hmmm. Maybe he would, on second thought. He was taking a risk, but he'd face the consequences after he was rested and had a clear enough mind to figure out an excuse.

Without making a sound, he opened the door to his room. No one in sight…  Dumbledore must be keeping guard in the sitting room at the end of the hallway. Harry softly closed the door behind him, and an instant later, a black cat crossed the hallway and jumped agilely at the doorknob of the door opposite. With a bump of his head, he pushed the door far enough open to slip into the room. He pushed it shut behind him, applying all of his weight against it.

The door shut with a little click. He held his breath, listening for the slightest sound. Nothing stirred. The potion that Snape had drunk was apparently will working. Harry was pretty sure that at any other time the spy would've jumped up, wand in hand, the very instant he'd crossed the threshold.

He waited for a moment, while his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, then crept stealthily forward. No, Snape wasn't snoring… He wasn't sleeping in a night cap either, or a brocaded night shirt, nothing that would allow him to blackmail the professor at Hogwarts. Actually, the sight the professor made was rather frightening. Clearly, one could count on Snape to be impressive even while sleeping.

Harry couldn't decide if the potion had acted too quickly or if it was Snape's custom to sleep fully clothed. Whichever it was, the man was completely stretched out, still wearing the clothes he'd had on when he'd come up to his room, his robes spread out on the bed, his hand still clenching his wand. He hadn't even taken the time to take off his boots, Harry realized.

His face was pale and fixed, his posture stiff…the cat felt his heart skip a beat. Was he dead? What if exhaustion had finally got the best of the Potions master? What if Dumbledore's potion had poisoned him?

With a single leap, he was onto the bed and stealthily crept up to the professor, almost touching the man's face with his nose. He waited a moment, his muscles tensed…before relaxing with a sigh of relief: yes, Snape was breathing, nothing remarkable like the snoring he'd hoped for, but his chest was rhythmically rising and falling slowly, breath after breath.

Reassured, Shadow sat to look around him. So what could the terrible Potions master's lair look like? But a quick glance was enough to disappoint him. In contrast to the laboratory overburdened with shelves, books, and sundry ingredients, Snape's room was nearly empty, almost monastic. A simple bed without curtains stood facing the door, a nightstand where two books lay, a wardrobe, a chest in a corner…and no windows.

Rather sinister, Harry thought… Another door at the side surely led to a bathroom, but the only light in the room was coming in from underneath the door that opened into the hallway.

Did Snape like confined spaces this much? No decorative touches ornamented the room's walls, which wasn't at all surprising, given the rest of the Manor. It would seem the professor wasn't a domestic man.

Harry would've probably pondered the implications of this discovery a bit more, but Shadow himself found that he couldn't care less. He'd found his Man in Black again, safe and sound, and the Manor's decor wasn't important at all. He was there, and the wave of tenderness that washed over him as he placed a paw on the man's shoulder didn't raise a single question or protest in the depths of his consciousness.

The Man in Black belonged to him, like Shadow belonged to the wizard. Nothing was simpler. He wouldn't let anyone harm his human, and he knew the man would defend him the same way.

What else did he possibly need to know?

When the next meal was, perhaps….

Curling up against the wizard's shoulder, the cat fell soundly to sleep, a slight purring in his throat.

 ***

It wasn't hunger that awakened Shadow, but a change in the rhythm of the Man in Black's heart. He felt him take a deep breath, his muscles suddenly regaining control of his body, and an instant afterward, the wizard was sitting up on the bed, with his wand in his hand.

Shadow pulled away and went to sit on the edge of the bed, then yawned widely.

He'd really slept well; he wondered what time it could be now, hard to know with no windows…

His eyes met the Man in Black's, and the yawn died in his throat.

Hmmm, it would appear that the wizard didn't appreciate his intrusion. The dark look he bestowed upon the cat was laced with irritation and menace.

"I suppose the hopes of maintaining a minimum of privacy in my own Manor would be too much to ask?"

Shadow flattened himself out on the mattress, his heart racing.

"That's quite enough, Potter, outside, now!"

The cat didn't budge, but contented itself with staring at him, its pupils dilated.

With a hiss of anger, Snape got up in a flash and threw the door open wide. "Out-side!"

Without delay, the chat jumped from the bed and bolted into the hallway, without as much as a by-your-leave.

With a sigh of ill-temper, Snape slammed the door. He hadn’t even noticed that the brat had come into his room. Merlin, was he going to be forced to lock his door? He should've never agreed to that potion; anything could've happened! What good was it to forego windows if the door remained wide open? Obviously, access was usually restricted by protective wards, but he'd truly been too exhausted to think of them the night before.

And Dumbledore was supposed to be keeping watch. Merlin, he hoped the Headmaster hadn't deserted his post during the night; was that why Harry had come to him?

Come to think of it, Severus suspected just the opposite… He sighed. They'd won a battle, as much against Voldemort as for the boy's healing, but they'd not won the war.

At the very least, this night's rest had done him a great deal of good; he could feel the ache in the muscles of his back, and his magic still seemed weakened, but he felt able to cut a good figure.

And have a serious talk with Harry about the boundaries of his territory. Shaking his head, he opened the door to the bathroom. At least the boy hadn't checked out his brand of shampoo. In any case, he hoped he hadn't.

***

When Snape entered the sitting room, he felt a slight sense of déjà vu at the scene awaiting him. Dumbledore, his demeanor slightly piqued, was trying to coax the black cat out from under an armchair where it'd taken refuge; the cat didn't seem to have the slightest intention of leaving

"Severus, I'm pleased you're awake! It would seem that Harry's had a few small transformation difficulties this morning. Did you sleep well?"

"As I usually do with a potion," Snape replied dryly. "Potter, come out from there before becoming totally ridiculous. You already manage that quite well enough in normal circumstances."

The cat flicked an ear, but didn't make a move otherwise.

"Potter, you're aware that you're hiding under a chair, aren't you?"

The total absence of reaction in the cat awakened Snape's concern.

"Harry, come out," he said again more calmly, which only seemed to make the cat nervous.

"Hmmm. You tried to feed him, I assume?" he asked the Headmaster. With a contrite smile, the man handed him a bowlful of fish.

Snape groaned as he made half of it disappear, before placing the bowl at his feet. A second later, the cat crept cautiously toward him. With one last hesitation, it threw itself at the bowl, no longer bothering with the two wizards watching it.

Snape frowned. This was a typically Shadowesque way of doing things…but on the other hand, there hadn't been the slightest trace of Harry in the way the cat was acting since Snape'd awakened.

That really didn't sit well with him….

"Did something happen last night?" he asked the Headmaster.

"Absolutely not. Everything was very calm. I stayed here the entire night, and Harry joined me barely a quarter-hour ago, in his present form. He didn't seem happy to see me," he finished.

"Harry left his room last night."

"Oh, really?" asked Dumbledore innocently, a smile in his voice.

"You heard him, didn't you?" Snape growled. "And you let him, of course."

"It seemed to me that Shadow's…presence wouldn't disturb you," Dumbledore replied.

Severus grimaced when he heard the name. What right did he have….

"Severus, don't take this so badly," Dumbledore continued in a conciliatory tone. "It seemed to me that Harry was having trouble getting to sleep. I understand that his intrusion bothers you, but consider it for what it is: the actions of a child who didn't feel safe, alone in his room, after what he'd been through. This will pass once he's back on his feet, I'm certain of it."

And as soon as you're gone, Snape thought.

Hadn't Dumbledore appreciated the extent of the problem? He didn't know, but for once Snape hadn't the slightest desire to see the Headmaster meddle. Reporting a problem, waiting for Dumbledore to suggest a solution, and applying his orders to the letter to resolve it—Snape knew all too well how to do that. Carrying out his mission, not overly concerned with the details, playing his part without questioning the Headmaster's motives…and why not?

He knew his role in the war, and he was only a pawn, not an end unto himself, nor a knight in shining armor fighting for a better world. The most loyal mercenary in all of history, at the most.

But Harry? That was different. This time, it was his battle, and no one would take it from him…no one could, in truth.

"I don't think Voldemort will attempt to attack the Manor so soon. Thank you for watching over it, though," Snape said with a nod at the old wizard.

Catching the hint, Dumbledore gathered his robes and glanced one last time at the cat.

"Will you need potions? Poppy had a bag of them sent last night; I put it on the table in your laboratory."

"Nothing I can't make myself. I'll contact you if that proves necessary."

Dumbledore nodded, and with Snape at his side, headed for the dungeon.

"You'll keep me up to date, Severus?"

It was more an order than a question, the Potions master decided, but that barely bothered him. Albus had understood.

"I doubt there'll be much to tell. Harry needs to rest and regain his strength, and he's going to do just that. He's more than earned it."

"Certainly, certainly…and if I may, my boy, he's not the only one in that case," Dumbledore said.

For an instant, Snape was tempted to retort sharply, but the jolly little twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes stopped him

"I'll keep you informed of how things are going," he said at last, when they'd arrived in front of the fireplace. "Let me know if Voldemort spreads rumors about him in any way. Not that I'll be able to do much about it…"

"Take a rest, Severus," the Headmaster answered firmly, a hand on the professor's arm. "You've accomplished your mission, and well beyond. I can't express how grateful I am for your actions; without you, Harry would've probably been dead long ago…and our hopes along with him."

Snape couldn't hold back a snort of disgust. Their hopes, yes… He would've decidedly preferred that the Headmaster see a bit less hope and a lot more teenager in Harry. But this was Dumbledore. The only wizard truly capable of countering Voldemort, the only one possessing the courage to lead the war. What should he've expected?

Albus was hugely fond of Harry, probably more than the Headmaster himself would've liked. But that fact changed nothing concerning the war, nor of the boy's destiny.

And that, even Severus had to admit.

"I'll take care of him," he finally said.

"I don't doubt it," Dumbledore agreed. "In that case, I'll see you in two days."

"Perhaps," Snape said thoughtfully. "Probably."

With a last incline of his head and an understanding smile, the Headmaster disappeared into the flames of the Floo powder.

Snape chased away the irritation that'd plagued him so often nowadays when he was with the Headmaster, and focused his thoughts on Harry. He had to get to the truth of the matter, but he strongly suspected that a new problem was looming on the horizon. And speaking of the cat…

Snape turned around, and was unsurprised when he noticed the animal hesitating at the doorway to the laboratory. "Enter."

The cat trotted happily to him, his eyes a bit uncertain.

"Harry?" he asked, when the cat was seated in front of him. "If you understand me, I'd like you to resume your human form."

For a few long moments, the cat and wizard observed each other without anything happening. Snape let out a long, annoyed sigh.

"Harry? Do you hear me?"

The cat flicked a questioning ear, but its cat eyes only reflected incomprehension.

An instant later, a disoriented teenager stood before him, trying to regain his balance. Obviously troubled, Harry glanced around the room, then turned his attention to Snape.

"Um…Dumbledore's gone?" he asked.

"Professor Dumbledore. Yes, he's gone back to Hogwarts."

"Oh. Good."

Harry started to feel ill-at-ease under Snape's assessing eyes. Clearly, it would've perhaps helped if he could've remembered how he'd got there…in his cat form, it appeared, but he wasn't entirely sure about that.

"Might I know why you didn't answer me, a moment ago?" Snape asked.

Harry tried in vain to wrack his memory, but he couldn't even remember the professor speaking to him since…since…

"I'm sorry. Did you want something?" he said at last.

"Yes, to know what's wrong. Harry, is there a problem with your transformations?"

"Excuse me?" the boy asked, stunned. What transformation? "Oh, I bothered you, then?" he said, with sudden realization as his last memory came back to him. Night had just fallen when he'd slipped out of his room…what time could it be now? It was broad daylight, anyway.

"That's a discussion for later, but indeed, I hardly appreciate the intrusion into my rooms. However, for this time, I believe I can understand. But that's not the issue at hand. What's the last thing you remember?"

"Hmm…leaving my room, with the idea of going to yours," Harry confessed, feeling the blood rise into his cheeks. He really had to grow up…what was he thinking?

"And afterward?" Snape asked, indifferent to the boy's embarrassment.

"I changed forms, but the rest is rather hazy. I think that I, um, got up on your bed. I'm really sorry, Professor, I couldn't get to sleep and I was afraid of…well…"

"That's not important," Snape interrupted in irritation. "Concentrate. What do you remember from when you were in your cat form?"

"Not much, actually," Harry answered. "Meeting up with you again. Seeing Dumbledore…Professor Dumbledore, later, and following you here. It's a bit confused," he apologized as he shook his head.

"Indeed," Snape said. "Is this normal? Up until now, it seems to me that you were perfectly aware of everything, whichever form you took."

"Hmm," Harry agreed thoughtfully.

In truth, the few memories he had of his last time as Shadow were more than confused. It was if he'd once again forgotten that he really wasn't a cat, and that Shadow had a way of seeing things that was completely personal. The few impressions he'd managed to recapture were of an intense feeling of security, of belonging, and of deep affection…and a total absence of anxiety.

He'd felt so good, frankly. And now, back in his true form, he no longer remembered how such a miracle could've occurred.

"Harry?" Snape prodded.

The boy hesitated; the professor's frown and the worry in his eyes were the reason for his reticence. "Well, I didn't have this problem before, not since Grimmauld Place. This time, it's like I forgot that I could be anyone else but Shadow…"

"Harry, despite this ridiculous name I've given you—"

"It's not ridiculous!" the boy protested.

"No matter," Snape said, annoyed. "Despite this name, you are but one and the same person, whatever your form. There is no reason to dissociate them."

"I know," Harry answered thoughtfully, "but I didn't know that at the beginning, when I first came here. And the way things turned out, all that's happened in the meantime, I don't remember the rest anymore. That changed everything, you understand. When I take my cat form, I experience things differently, so it's not surprising I feel different as well. And…good," he huffed out in an audible breath.

"Good?" Snape continued.

"Better, anyway," Harry sighed. "Last night, I wasn't thinking anymore about everything that's happened, and all that's yet to come; all that mattered was the here and now. That I remember, at least. And it was nice, really, and restful."

"You couldn't get to sleep last evening?" the professor asked.

"No. Too many things to think about."

"You could've taken a potion. Those I left in your room are intact."

"With Dumbledore nearby? No, I don't think so," Harry replied. Then, regretting his words, he added, "Listen, I know it wasn't true, that he didn't really do all that to me. But for now, it's just too…recent, concrete. It's hard to take all those things into consideration when I still hurt everywhere."

Seeming slightly guilty, Severus headed for the table and opened the bag of potions that Pomfrey had had sent to them.

"No need to suffer in silence, Harry. There are potions for that. Drink," he said as he handed him several phials.

The boy took the potions and swallowed them without a word, while Snape took some for himself. He didn't feel that bad, really; he'd known worse. The situation bothered him much more than the diffuse pain in his muscles.

"Harry, it's normal for you to have trouble keeping your thoughts straight, after all that's just happened," Snape said, as if he'd read his mind. "I'm certainly not going to scold you for having appropriately reacted to a potion that I myself designed and made. It will take some time before you'll be able to gain some perspective on all of that, of which I'm perfectly aware. You have the time. The only thing you should concern yourself with now is feeling the best you can, in your mind and in your transformations, as well as with your powers. The rest of it isn't important right now."

"But Voldemort..." Harry began.

"Is out of commission, thanks to you. Not definitely, I'll grant you, but enough to give you a serious reprieve. I'm not claiming that you're out of danger, or that nothing else can happen, but the chances of that are limited for now, and I ask you to leave the responsibility for that to me. Do you think you can do that?"

The boy shot him a perplexed look. "Protect me? I think you've already done that…and then some."

"What I've done is one thing. What I'd like to know, Harry, is if you trust me to keep you safe?" the Potions master calmly asked.

"Seems clear to me," the boy retorted. When Snape continued to stare at him, he started to think for a moment. Maybe the professor was right after all. Maybe he didn't trust him completely. "Listen…it's not like that." He sighed. "I trust you, all right? Really. You managed to save me, several times, you've defended me, and what you did yesterday was…no one's ever done such a thing for me. Besides my mother, obviously, but…that's the problem, you know? I'm not used to that. The people I grew up with didn't really bother about my safety."

He felt a new wave of bitterness wash over him. He didn't have the right to speak ill of the Dursleys, not now that they were dead. "And the ones who wanted to protect me are dead. My mother, my father, Sirius. So I suppose, given all that, I prefer to take care of myself," he said with a shrug.

"Understandable," Snape agreed.

"But I trust you," Harry added. "That much is clear. Shadow wouldn't allow me to think otherwise," he offered with a smile.

But Snape frowned at what he said. "Harry, I insist that you don't differentiate between your two forms, anymore than you already have. I understand you feel the need to do that, but it would be an escape and a weakness. Do you understand?"

"I'm not a coward!" Harry exclaimed. "I didn’t' try to do it, it just happened! And rather a good thing, I'd say, I'd never have come here if I'd remembered…."

He fell silent, avoiding the professor's eyes. Since when had he been afraid of hurting Snape? And since when had he been ashamed to admit that he'd hated him? It wasn't as if he'd been responsible for their dislike of each other this summer…

"Far be it from me to treat you like a coward," Snape replied calmly. "I understand completely that you don't have any direct control over your Animagus form and the way you experience it; my remark was only a warning. I can protect you from Death Eaters, Harry, but not from yourself."

Harry nodded, troubled. The professor wasn't wrong, but he couldn't bring himself to meet his eyes just now.

"By the way, I apologize for not being there for you last night," Snape continued, in what Harry recognized as his 'Shadow' voice. "I suspected that you weren't comfortable with the arrangements that the Headmaster and I'd made, but I was too worn-out to reasonably guarantee the Manor's safekeeping. Taking that potion was in hindsight an error, and I regret it."

This time, Harry couldn't help but look the professor in the eyes. Snape was apologizing? To him?

"Of course not," he said as he shook his head. "I have no excuse for going into your room, Professor. I apologize. I was worried about sleeping, after all that'd just happened, and…I suppose that you have proof now that I trust you. I knew that I'd feel safer if you were close by."

He thought he saw a little gleam of satisfaction in Snape's eyes as he said the words.

"All right, it would seem we're both sorry. Just as good a way as any to get off to a new start, I assume," the professor said with a slight smile.

Yeah, Harry thought bitterly, as good a way as any. It'd almost been easy to hide in Snape's arms, and to beg him not to leave when he'd been exhausted and despairing. But now that they were here in the dungeon, talking about him taking his time, and apologizing…everything seemed more difficult.

But that wasn't Shadow's opinion, of course…and Shadow was never far off. He gave the Potions master a smile.

"Are you hungry?" Snape asked.

Harry was about to answer when his stomach spoke for him.

"Apparently, yes," he said, with a little embarrassed laugh. "Do you want me to fix something?"

"Two will make that go more quickly," Snape said as he turned toward the hallway. "I believe we've both earned the biggest lunch in the history of wizardom…and the nap that goes with it."

"Are you still tired?" Harry asked worriedly, with a frown.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," the professor replied calmly. "But I suppose you didn’t have a chance to look in the mirror this morning?"

"A mirror?" Harry asked. "Do I look as bad as all that?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary there either."

"Oh, thanks," the boy grimaced.

He really wanted to believe Snape. Despite the good night he'd spent, he felt achy and exhausted. And if Harry felt that way after absorbing energy and powers, the professor certainly had to feel worn-out.

But that was going to change, Harry decided.  From now on, he was going to make sure Snape recovered as quickly as possible, starting with a good meal prepared with his own hands!

Famished and impatient, Harry got his hands on the bacon, and his stomach growling in anticipation, put it in the pan.

Before he had time to react, a black cloud escaped from the pan with a menacing sizzle, spreading through the room. Coughing, Harry threw the utensil away from him, his hand against his chest.

"Owww!" he yelped.

In the same instant, he heard Snape cast, "Aguamenti," and the acrid smoke started to dissipate.

"Did you burn yourself?" the wizard asked.

"Yes! I don't understand! I just cast the spell you taught me!" Harry said, annoyed, looking at the pan lying on the floor. The bottom seemed like it'd been dipped in acid, warped and almost eaten away.

"The same spell, but with different powers," Snape explained. "I should've warned you. It will probably take you some time to master them."

"In the meantime, the bacon's ruined, not to mention the pan," Harry said, bending down to inspect it. "It's rather frightening. That was just a simple cooking spell; what would it have been if I'd tried something more powerful?"

"That's why we'll begin to work on your powers after eating," Snape replied.

"And after naptime," the boy added.

"Your sense of priorities still astounds me, Potter," Snape said as he handed him a jar of salve for the burns.

"Don't call me that," Harry said, making a face. "You've saved my life. You could at least call me by my first name, even when I irritate you."

"If that were written in Hogwarts' rules, I would've had to call you by your given name since your first year," Snape said offhandedly.

Harry clenched his jaw a bit more, applying the salve to his hand. "You know very well what I mean. What you did yesterday…that was different."

"That seems to upset you," the professor observed.

"Yeah. I don't know. It's not like you only saved my life. You did the same thing as my mother…and you could've died."

Snape looked at him for a long moment, his arms crossed. "I don't intend to lose you now," Snape said at last.

"Me?" Harry asked brusquely. "Or the war?"

The question that had seemed so difficult to ask of Dumbledore had slipped out on its own to the Potions master.

"It's not just a war, Harry, it's a matter of the fate of thousands of people. It's about freedom and all the other values that it's right to fight for."

Snape saw the boy's shoulders slump. "But sometimes," he continued gently, "one can't help but think that the fate of a single person is more important than that of a thousand others. That spell yesterday wouldn't have had any effect if, at the time, I'd been thinking of your usefulness in the war."

He knew the boy wasn't about to transform into the cat, but he could see the attitude of his entire body change to the point of being hardly recognizable.  Could a simple phrase truly have so much of an effect?

The emotions running through him were clearly visible on the boy's face: gratitude, relief, happiness, and something Snape was having trouble putting his finger on. Harry blinked like Shadow did, and an instant afterward, it was finally a black cat who was watching him, seeming completely trusting and tranquil.

The same eyes, but such a different expression. Much too different….

"Harry?"

The cat craned its head forward, intrigued.

Snape shook his head. What was he supposed to do in this situation? But whatever he decided, he had no right to make a mistake. If he wanted to get to the bottom of things, he had to deal with this single problem, and what was the most difficult part, without hurting Harry.

The teenager wobbled for a moment before regaining his balance. "Oh."

"Yes, 'oh'. What's the problem, Harry? I don't have the feeling that this transformation was voluntary," Snape said.

"No…I suppose I'll need more practice. I didn't see that one coming…"

"One more time: this could be an effect of your new powers. More power, less mastery…" the professor stated. But he wasn't certain he believed it, not completely. And he was convinced that the boy was thinking the same thing as he was.

"Let's eat," he decided at last. Taking out another pan and some slices of bacon, he himself incanted the cooking spell.

A few minutes later, the table was overflowing with food, and the two wizards seemed determined to finish it all off.

Stomach full, Harry thought that things definitely seemed less melodramatic. Or maybe that was because of the potions Snape'd made him swallow. He was fairly sure that the purple potion had been a remedy for anxiety. He certainly wasn't going to complain about it. If he had to test his powers that afternoon, he was going to need a goodly dose of self-control. Merlin, what he'd done to that pan…and he'd only tried to gently fry the bacon!

"Ready, Harry?" Snape asked, seeming more alert after having swallowed a round of potions that would've made any other average wizard pass from life to death.

Definitely a Potions master, the boy thought. "Ready. But it'd be best for me to go outside if I have to test my powers. I don’t want the Manor to look like that pan."

"Precisely what I intended," Snape said.

"You don' think that could be dangerous?"

"Not anymore, no. The park is as protected as the Manor. Without the connection created by the potion, Voldemort would've never been able to come so close."

"Good thing," Harry agreed. "Maybe I could fly a bit, if everything goes all right?"

Severus shot him a scathing sideways look. "And risk accidentally leaving the boundaries of the property? Brilliant idea."

"I could stay right around the Manor," Harry protested, then, at the professor's dark look, he added, "…or not."

"Or not," Snape finished. "One thing at a time, Harry. Do you have your wand? Good. Never be without it; that would be a grave mistake."

"Hmm. Even in the Manor? That doesn't seem necessary. I mean, no one's going to attack me here. Not with the Fidelius charm."

"That's exactly what your father thought," the professor replied tersely. "With the result we both know."

Harry froze in place. "My father didn't have his wand on him?"

"Not the evening when Voldemort went to find you, no," Snape confirmed pointedly.

It was perhaps a hard lesson, but it was out of the question for the boy to become careless on this matter. Moody was perhaps an old paranoid fool, but at the very least, he was right about one thing: constant vigilance was required.

"But he fought him! I know it, I hear it when the Dementors are close by, I hear my father tell my mother that he's going to hold them back, just before…" He swallowed with difficulty. "Just before my mother dies."

"He was trying to buy time, Harry. For your mother and yourself. But he wasn't able to fight or defend himself. His wand was lying in another room."

"How do you know that?" Harry asked, subdued.

"I know it," Snape answered simply. And with a wave of his hand, he motioned him toward the hallway.

Mulling over what the Potions master had just told him, the boy headed for the dungeon stairway. James had believed himself safe in his house, and he'd been wrong. He'd done everything possible to protect his family, only to fail and end up dying defenseless.

Snape would've never made a mistake like that. However much he hadn't liked Harry, the man had protected him without fail, well beyond his limitations.

But that wasn't entirely correct. Snape had made a mistake by pushing him to present himself at the Ministry. And it probably wasn't true, either, to say that he didn't like Harry, because that's what he'd meant by what he'd said just before the meal, wasn't it? It wasn't only because of the war. It was him. He'd made that mistake while wanting to protect him, and he wanted to protect Harry himself, not because of what he stood for.

All of a sudden, Harry wanted to be out in the sun, out of doors, flying maybe, or simply feeling the wind and warmth on his skin.

As he navigated the stairs, Harry turned to Snape, a little smile on his face. "You never use the front door, isn't that so? That would be faster…"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Actually, I was planning on getting a few potions underway. But you're free to go out the front door, of course; I'll join you in a few minutes."

Harry shook his head. "No, I prefer to go out from down here too…It's weird, but I have this feeling that if I went out the front door, it wouldn't be the same place anymore."

The professor shot him a strange look, but didn't answer.

After grinding up a few ingredients, the two wizards exited the dungeon, leaving the cauldrons on the burners. The sun was at its highest, and it was hard to believe that only a few hours earlier, an icy fog had filled the park.

"Almost like nothing happened," Harry murmured to himself.

"That's always the way of things," Snape replied. "The world still goes on, whatever happens."

His tone was neutral, but Harry didn't doubt that the professor had a very precise thought in mind as he said the words.

He'd learnt so many things about Snape since the beginning of the hols, but it nevertheless remained true that he hardly knew the man. And the more time he spent with him, the more he wanted to know. Still, asking him questions about his life would've probably been premature.

"Why don't you start with a simple spell?" Snape suggested, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

Harry nodded. Taking off his glasses, he threw them into the grass, a few steps away, then raised his wand. "Accio glasses!"

They came to rest in his hands with a bit more force than he would've liked.

"Did you cast the spell more gently than usual?" Snape asked.

"Yes. I'm going to have to get used to decreasing the intensity of my incantations, but that wasn't anything like what happened in the kitchen."

Snape nodded thoughtfully. "A Diffindo now, at that tree," he said as he pointed to a large oak in front of them. "Being careful, of course."

Spotting the tree, Harry lifted his wand and spoke the incantation. For a second, he felt his hand sting intensely, as if under the effect of a slight electric charge, before taking a step backward, as he held his wand in two hands against the backlash. In front of him, the tree whipped about in a crashing of branches.

But not just split in two like he'd expected. No, the tree was literally chopped into pieces, in a bizarre and disorganized fashion that made him shudder.

"Here's something that could prove useful next winter," Snape stated. "Did you modify the spell like I asked you?"

"Yes," Harry murmured. "It should've only slashed the bark, the way I was picturing it…"

"Rather impressive. Did you feel anything in particular?"

"Hmm, yeah, it was like my hand got numb, right when I cast the spell. Do you think that's coming from the new powers?"

"Most likely," Snape agreed. "Or rather a conflict between your powers and the ones you've just acquired. The latter didn't exert any particular influence on a spell as neutral as Accio, but Diffindo is different, as it can be considered an offensive spell, and it's there that Voldemort's powers come into play. Not only in their power, but also in the way the spell is carried out. You're accustomed to using magic that's as white and light as possible, but such is not the case with the Dark Lord. He always exploited his powers in the most destructive manner possible, tainting them with his soul and his will to dominate. That's what is awakened when you cast a spell that could be offensive in nature…"

Harry had paled at these words. "But that's not my way of using my powers! He can't do that in spite of me, can he?"

"First, I'm afraid so. But your own powers help to neutralize this aggressiveness, and of course that will not last forever. A period of adjustment will still be necessary."

"Not only in their power…" Harry murmured as he processed the information.

"No. You know that each wizard has a magical signature. It allows the creator of a spell to be identified, as well as a wizard who casts it. Magic is only a neutral energy; the way it works is changed by the one using it. If you'd absorbed all of Voldemort's powers, this assimilation would've been even more difficult…"

"Is that why you didn't want me to do that?" the boy asked.

"Partially. My first reason was equally legitimate."

"But what could this do, outside of a battle? I'm going to have to be careful about every spell I cast; I'd've never imagined that Diffindo could produce this type of result!"

"Indeed," Snape said. For an instant, he seemed to be thinking intently, his index finger tapping his cheek in a familiar gesture. "I'd like you to try a different spell on the tree to the side. Sectumsemptra," he said, demonstrating the wandwork in the air.

"Sectumsempra? I don't now that…"

Fixing the neighboring tree, Harry did his best to imitate he's professor's movements.

 The same stinging sent pins and needles into his hand, more intensely this time. A flash of light struck the tree, which fell to join the one already on the ground.

In comparison, Harry thought, the first tree could count itself fortunate. The second seemed to have been the victim of a mad axe-murderer, who'd swallowed down one Pepperup too many.

More and more ill-at-ease, he turned to Snape, who himself seemed more than ever lost in his thoughts.

"Professor?"

The wizard looked at him, clearly troubled. "This spell is not supposed to have an effect on plants or inanimate objects. Your new powers are more than impressive. You'll have to be very careful, Harry…and train yourself."

The boy made a face. "You don't need to tell me that. No hopes of taking up dueling again, or even Defense class right now. I don't like this, not at all…and I won't put anyone in danger!"

"Indeed, it would most likely be very easy for you to kill or torture, Harry. That's what the powers you've acquired are used to, and what they're going to try to do. But you'll be the one controlling them, and the one casting the spells. With a bit of training, everything will be fine."

"I don't know," the boy said. "It's a bit scary, I don't get much of a feeling I can control them, not when I see the result…."

"Don't be impatient. These powers will become accustomed to you, I assure you. You've gained considerable strength; consider it as an advantage, not a handicap! This could make all the difference on that day when you'll have to confront Voldemort."

"So long as they don't turn against me," Harry said somberly.

"Out of the question. The powers aren't self-aware…they are only influenced by their wizard. They fought, just as your own did, to return to their rightful owner, as long as the spell didn't intervene. They recognize you as their owner now. It's just a simple question of magical influence. Trust me."

Harry searched the professor's eyes for a long moment before nodding. "I'd be more reassured, though, if I didn't have to fight right away," he said.

"That would be preferable in any case. But there, too, it's best to know what to expect."

Lifting his wand, he began to murmur a group of spells in a low voice, before taking several steps backward.

"Try to disarm me."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Harry answered nervously.

"It's not really an offensive spell. My defenses are at their maximum. An effort, Mister Potter, I know you want to do it!"

"Don't call me that," the boy grumbled.

"If Gryffindors spent less time laying blame and looking for reasons not to fight, this war could've been over long ago. I don't have all night, Potter!"

Clenching his jaw, the boy reluctantly lifted his wand.

There wasn't actually a jolt of electricity in his hand this time, but he could feel the spell's power as his wind vibrated with the incantation.

The spell reached Snape, and despite his shields, Harry could see that the professor had to grip his wand with all of his might to keep from being disarmed. He staggered for an instant under the force of the shock.

"Perfect," he said approvingly. "Now, I'd like you to focus on blocking my attacks."

Harry felt the wand shake in his hand, but nothing more.

There again, nothing more than a far away, tickling sensation.

This time, absolutely nothing happened.

Snape lowered his wand and shook his head.

"Perhaps you should try something more…aggressive?" Harry suggested. "I didn't feel any effects from those."

"All the better," the professor replied, his voice strangely neutral. "That will be enough for today."

Intrigued, Harry shot him a questioning look. Since the beginning of the hols, Snape had seemed to relax his usual mask of impassivity, letting his emotions show distinctly in his face. But now, his expression was completely unreadable, and the boy sensed he was trying to hide something from him.

"Why?" he insisted. "I managed pretty well; I really think my defenses are more powerful! I'm not asking you for an Avada Kedavra, but something a bit more powerful, just to test it? I trust you to stick the pieces back together if I don't manage to block it," he said with a smile.

The professor's face remained fixed, but Harry was able to see a flash in his eyes.

"That will be enough for now. I suggest that your work on something else. Your transformations perhaps."

"But why?" Harry protested.

Snape turned to face him, and Harry thought for an instant that the wizard was going to answer his question. He opened his mouth, but then closed it.

"Do what I say."

But before he had the chance to turn away, Snape felt a familiar sensation invade him…someone was leafing through his thoughts, searching in his memory for… No!

Harry was using Legilimency on him, without even having lifted his wand or spoken a word! Good god, he'd not even taught the boy the spell… Not waiting any longer, he abruptly raised all his defenses, attempting to empty his mind and push the boy out.

It was hopeless, however. Harry's powers were much too strong to be resisted. Snape had been able to keep the Dark Lord at a distance, using all of his will, but his power combined with the boy's was simply impossible to withstand.

He could only try his best to resist, in the hopes that Harry wasn't digging into the darkest corners of his memory…

Harry wanted to know. Snape had no right to hide information from him, not now, not like this! He'd never tried to use Legilimency, but he'd recognized the spell right away when he found it in the Potions master's thoughts. Hence, their roles were reversed now. Oh well, it was now or never! So, why had he wanted to stop the testing session?

Images streamed before him, before stopping. Snape was casting a first-year spell at him, and had to use all his strength to do it. His second spell, even weaker, hardly grazed the boy's shield, with the third one ineffective.

Snape simply didn't have any more magic at his disposal.

Struck with remorse, Harry wanted to withdraw from the professor's mind, and apologize, if that were possible, but already the images had changed. Snape sitting on the bed, holding him in his arms as he felt his strength leaving him unrelentingly. Trying to hide his weakness so as not to alarm him, and drinking potion after potion so Harry could continue to suck him dry. Casting a Protego with all of his soul, draining his magic and what remained of his strength.

Alarmed, Harry reached out his arms to stop him, but it was hopeless, obviously, just a memory he could no longer do anything about…once again, the picture changed.

Godric's Hollow… He only had hazy memories of the place. He'd been too weak then to realize that he was in his parents' village, at the very place were they were laid to rest. But Snape was there, coming toward him, a knife in his hand. Harry remembered that he'd not been afraid, but he could feel the professor's apprehension as he came closer, dressed in Death Eater garb, in order to discreetly pour a potion down Harry's throat. He was trying, against all hope, to break the Death Eater circle and leave the grip of the Anti-Apparition wards.

He knew he didn't have a chance, but he wasn't any less determined, and ran as fast as he could, holding Harry against him. And behind…behind them, Harry could see the silvery silhouette of a huge dog and a stag, throwing themselves on the Death Eaters, sowing panic amongst their ranks.

The scenario seemed to speed up, and an instant afterward, Snape was standing on the threshold of the house, unable to leave, calling Harry by the name he'd given him, the despair in his cry giving Harry goose bumps. And then the figure of a woman was bending over Shadow, taking him into her arms, Snape's heart pounding so hard, it seemed about to explode…

Lily.

His mother! His mother had come to help him? And he'd not told him anything? His mother, handing the unconscious cat to the professor, who murmured a word to him…

What had happened? Why? Why not tell him anything? He didn't have the right to hide this, and behind them, Prongs and Padfoot were watching them, satisfied. No, it wasn't possible!

And yet, he could feel the professor's intense relief, mixed with regret, with sadness, with suffering, with joy as well, and a profound feeling of gratitude… How could one feel so many things, all at the same time? He'd always thought Snape a cold and relatively indifferent person… His opinion had changed this summer, of course, but what he'd just felt in the professor's memories was so intense, that he had the sensation of a sharp blade digging into his chest.

The professor's face, though, showed hardly any more emotion than it had recently, only his eyes speaking for him….

Before he had time to adjust, the images changed once again. Snape, preparing a potion in a vast room, tired and tense, but his motions precise. Someone was laughing behind him, a long, satisfying laugh…  Voldemort. The pale face was even more hideous, split by a sickening smile. The professor didn't think differently, given the tension in his shoulders, but something suddenly caught his attention, and he nervously looked up.

Harry couldn't help but startle when he saw what Snape was looking at…a face, far away, confused, two green eyes peering out from it, brimming with pain and fear.

His own…and Snape, mad with worry and rage, powerless to help him, forced to wait for the right moment, swearing to get him out of there….

Snape. Since when had the man begun to be so protective of him? Harry wondered, and couldn't help but feel strangely comforted by the thought.

He'd just barely asked himself the question, when the reel of Snape's thoughts moved on and accelerated.

Privet Drive. He gave a start. Snape, at Privet Drive?

Vernon opened the door, and Harry felt himself draw back at the sight of the man…but Snape wasn't impressed, and the door shut behind him.

Vernon explaining the situation. Harry could sense the professor's bitterness as the man accused Harry of murder. Snape believed it, Harry understood, and the thought filled him with anguish. The idea didn't even surprise him, that Snape could see him as a murderer.

But everything wasn't turning out like Vernon would've liked. With the string of questions, Harry could feel the professor's mind trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

And then they were there, in Harry's room, Snape questioning Vernon, and suddenly….

Before he had time to understand what was happening to him, Harry found himself in Vernon's mind, Snape's still resting at the surface.

Harry and Vernon, in the little room…the insults, the blows. Vernon's twisted satisfaction, Snape's fury. The hatred of the two men. And himself, on the floor, allowing himself to be beaten without protesting.

It was yesterday. He could still feel the sting of the belt. And he'd been right. But the perverseness of Vernon's feelings, Snape's devastating anger, it was too much, much too much…

Now it was Vernon screaming at the blows of the belt enchanted by Snape, and the professor shut him in there, doing up the locks with a satisfied smile.

His cat. Harry thought he felt himself smile weakly. Yes, this was truly His Snape. He was sure of it now. Who else would've avenged him this way?

The scene changed, Petunia now in the tidy sitting room…accusing Snape of having corrupted Lily. How could Petunia know the professor? But by the feeling of disgust he sensed in the professor, it was clear that they weren't meeting for the first time.

Harry stiffened at the question.

The boy felt the same bitterness that he'd noticed in the professor spread through him. Snape, though, seemed more shaken that he was. Upset, actually.'

Harry's heart pounded in his chest. Snape? His mother? His son?

And the regret…the betrayal he felt in the Potions master as he said those words…

Not able to take anymore, Harry closed his eyes and with all his might, threw himself out of the professor's mind.

Vernon. Voldemort. Death Eaters. Lily. Snape.

He was going to explode. He had to explode, do something…but before he had the chance, he felt his mind connect with someone else's once again, and the images forced themselves into his own mind.

A dark room, where a strong odor of blood lingered. A bed, a figure…and the fire. Hatred.

"Potter!"

"Don't believe you'll get away like this! We're not finished! Oh no, we haven't finished!"

But he could sense the wizard's body, how his magic was broken, and only the Dark Lord's rage still gave strength to the waves of pure hatred that had just painfully spilled out into Harry's mind.

"I will kill them all, all whom you love, those who've protected you, those who've helped you, and yourself at the end, yes, once you've seen them all die…and it'll be you who will beg me to take your life! I already know whom to start with, Harry…"

But the connection was abruptly broken, and Harry opened his eyes wide, gasping. He was stretched out in the grass, his hands clenched in a clump of grass; he could hear Snape's voice behind him, his hands on his shoulders.

"Harry, push him out, come back, listen to me!"

But Harry'd already done it. He'dve liked to reassure Snape, but he realized he wasn't able. Too many things, too many visions, too many emotions. Refusing to think, he closed his eyes and threw his head back, letting out a long scream with all the force of his lungs.

For everything. For the mother whom he hadn't known, and who'd saved him, for the Dursleys who'd hated him and who were dead because of it, for Snape himself, for all that he'd endured…

When he had no voice left to scream, the stone in his chest was still just as heavy. He gasped for a moment, regaining his breath, and an arm came to gently wrap around him.

Before he had time to think, he felt his muscles relax as he leant back against Snape. A moment afterwards, something damp dropped onto his hand, and Harry realized that he'd started to cry, the tears flowing freely down his cheeks, while the professor held him, pressed against him.

When the familiar hand came to rest on his forehead, the stone that was keeping him from breathing seemed to shatter into thousands of pieces, and Harry found himself sobbing despairingly against Snape's chest, while the man whispered comforting words in a low voice.

Part of him was horrified at the idea of crying this way, like a child, in front of the Potions master he'd so wanted to impress…but he couldn't find a way of stopping the hiccoughs shaking him, or the tears flooding down onto the wizard's shirt. But even more, another part of him was shouting for him to take advantage of this moment, of the warmth and comfort that Snape was offering him, of the sun, of his own weakness…to have someone to support him as he cried, just this once. To let out the pain, the despair and anguish, just his once.

Abandoning the effort to regain his composure, he gave himself up to the soft hum of words coming from the professor, his body still shaking with sobs that refused to quiet.

"There, it's going to be fine. It won't be easy, Harry, but you're not alone, I wouldn't leave you. It's probably not a big thing, but we're going to do our best, and in the end everything will be fine. At the least, I promise you that."

Harry wasn't entirely convinced that everything would turn out fine. But it was enough for him to do his best, and if Snape promised to be there, well…

The tears still flowed, but he was fairly certain now that most of them were tears of relief.