Once she was informed of the attack on Mr. Weasley and learned that Harry had not left Hogwarts with Ron and his siblings, Hermione felt it incumbent upon herself to march up to Gryffindor Tower and demand an explanation from Harry.

“Are you mad?” She exclaimed as soon as she entered the room.

Harry, who had been pretending to sleep while his roommates packed, sat up in bed and put on his glasses.

“What?”

Hermione strode across the empty room and came to stand beside his bed, then put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

“Dumbledore says you’re staying here for the holidays.”

“You spoke to Dumbledore?” Harry asked. He sat up straighter and looked anxiously at his friend. “How is Mr. Weasley?”

“Dumbledore doesn’t know yet.” Hermione answered with a frown. Worried more than angry now, she dropped her hands to her sides and gazed pleadingly at Harry. “Ron’s our friend, Harry, and he needs us now. Both of us.”

“Hermione-”

“Come on, Harry. I’ll help you pack, and then you can still make the train to London. I’m meeting my parents there to tell them that I’m not going skiing, and then we can go to Sirius’s house together.”

It was a tempting offer, and Harry was on the verge of agreeing. Then he remembered being inside the snake, and Mr. Weasley’s cries of pain, and the look on Ron’s face when he asked Harry to stay behind.

I was the snake. Harry thought. Ron’s right to be afraid of me, and to not want me near his family right now. After all, if it was my dad who’d been attacked…

“Harry?”

He looked up at Hermione and shook his head. “Thanks, Hermione, but I’m not going.”

Hermione studied him for a moment. Then her face took on a look of fierce determination, and she reached down and tugged on Harry’s arm.

“Yes, you are.” She tugged harder. “Now get up and get ready. I’ll pack for you.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Harry jerked his arm away and screamed up at Hermione. “I SAID NO!”

Hermione stepped back, looking suddenly fearful. “But, Harry-”

He took a deep breath and, with great effort, lowered his voice to a snarl. “I’m not going, so you can just get out.”

Tears slipping down her cheeks, Hermione nodded and backed away. “Alright, Harry.” She walked slowly to the door, then turned and whispered. “Happy Christmas.”

Harry turned his back and watched her reflection in the window. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then bit her lip, turned, and walked out the door.

Harry removed his glasses, lay back down, and continued to stare out the window. He could tell that it would be another beautiful, snowy day at Hogwarts, but he did not care. He had no intentions of leaving the room anytime soon. Harry closed his eyes, not to sleep, but to ceaselessly wonder what was happening to him.

It was eleven o’clock before Severus was calm enough to emerge from his quarters and seek out his least favorite student. The halls were empty, and the heavy silence was broken only by the sound of the Potion Master’s steps. After failing to locate Potter in any of his usual haunts, Severus stalked to Gryffindor Tower, scowling the entire way. The Fat Lady was sleeping, and Severus had to yell out the password Minerva had given him several times before she awoke and granted him access.

It took Severus about two seconds to determine that Potter was not in the common room. Groaning, he realized that he would actually have to enter the boy’s sleeping quarters.

“Why is it always me?” Severus muttered as he strode up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory. He had to open several doors before he found a room that appeared to still be inhabited. There was a large lump under the covers of one bed. As Severus walked into the room, the lump moved slightly. Severus sneered.

“Get up, Potter.”

Harry was reliving, yet again, the scene from his nightmare when he heard footsteps outside his room. He tensed. There were no other Gryffindors staying over the holidays, so who could be walking around the dormitory? He heard the door open a second later, then someone enter the room. Who could it be?

I bet it’s Hermione. Harry thought angrily. He burrowed further under the covers and glowered. Probably decided to stay here and give me another lecture.

“Get up, Potter.”

Harry’s anger was very quickly replaced with dread. He knew that voice, but never before had he heard it in Gryffindor Tower. He sat up, put on his glasses, and blinked rapidly in horror at the sight of Snape sneering at him.

“What?”

“You heard me, Potter.” Snape said. “Or is eleven o’clock in the morning too early for you to comprehend plain English?”

Harry’s instinctive dislike of the man kicked in, and he scowled. Snape arched a brow.

“Unless you wish me to remove you from that bed, Mr. Potter, I would suggest you obey me immediately.”

Since Harry did not want to be hauled out of bed like a child by anyone, least of all by Snape, he threw back the covers and got out of bed. The two studied one another for a long moment.

“Get dressed, Potter,” Snape finally said, “And meet me in the common room.”

“Sir, why-”

“You have five minutes.” Snape interrupted. “Do not make me come back up here.” With that, the man turned and stalked from the room.

Harry stared after him and groaned. “And I thought having Hermione stay would be bad.” He stomped around the room, gathering up clothes and yanking them on. Harry dreaded going downstairs and dealing with Snape again, but he also knew that Snape did not make idle threats and would return to the room if Harry did not obey. What would happen then was too dire to even consider, so Harry quickly combed his hair and raced to the common room.

Snape was standing at the notice board. Harry could only see his profile, but that was enough to know that the man was less than amused by whatever he was reading. He either did not notice Harry or was ignoring him, and Harry glowered at his back. It was just like Snape to make him hurry and then ignore him. Finally, Snape turned and looked at Harry.

“It appears that the Golden Boy is capable of following orders after all.” He said softly. “Perhaps one day he will learn to do so without stomping about like a petulant child.”

Harry gritted his teeth and said nothing.

“Come, Potter.” Snape turned and strode to the portrait hole. “I don’t have all day.”

“Where are we going, sir?” Harry asked, not moving.

“To the dungeons.” Snape answered without looking at him. “My potions do not typically brew themselves. Now, come along.”

“But, sir,” Harry persisted, “Why am I coming with you?”

The Potions Master turned and looked at Harry with the utmost contempt. “Because you excel in getting into trouble, Potter, and I have been assigned the dubious task of assuring that you do not run afoul of Professor Umbridge while the Headmaster is away.”

“He’s gone?” Harry asked. “But he never said anything about leaving for the holidays.”

“You are not entitled to know the Headmaster’s every move, Potter.” Snape said. “Suffice to say, he is gone, and I will be monitoring your every move.”

“How will you do that?” Harry questioned anxiously, a feeling of dread settling in his stomach.

“Is it not obvious, Potter?” Snape looked deeply displeased. “You are to spend your days with me."

Harry thought he might vomit. “All day? Every day?”

“All day.” Snape confirmed. “Every day. Until the Headmaster returns.”

“But I can stay out of trouble.” Harry protested, desperate to avoid spending his holidays with Snape.

“Of course you can.” Snape replied. “And I can fly just by flapping my arms about. For the last time, Potter, come along.”

Snape stooped to exit the room. As Harry followed him, he knew that this would absolutely, positively be the worst Christmas of his entire life.