Harry was so shocked that for a second he could hardly comprehend what was happening. And even then, he didn't know what to say. He'd thought that Snape might be annoyed at finding him in the library, but nervous as he was around the professor now, he hadn't expected such sheer rage. Surely Snape couldn't be that angry that he was reading in the library. The only other time Harry had seen the man lose control like this was when he'd caught Harry in his Pensieve.

Snape was still shaking him so hard it hurt. "You ungrateful, insolent brat! I try to be good to you, and this is how you re-pay me? Once again, you can't keep out of my private affairs, can you? Well, you'd better start watching your step, Potter! You're my slave now! You can't go running to Dumbledore for help anymore. I can do anything I want to you. I can beat you. I can starve you. I can do anything, and no one can lift a finger to help you. So you'd damn well better start showing some respect or I'll make you sorry you were ever born!"

"But, sir, what..." Harry tried to say.

"Don't lie to me!" Snape almost screamed. He jabbed a finger at the black book on the table. "The proof is right there. I know you've been reading my journal."

"What?" Harry gasped. He shook his head. "I didn't..."

But Snape wasn't even listening to him anymore. He dragged Harry over to the high carved stone fireplace and grabbed some Floo powder. A moment later the Floo spit them out into another room, one Harry had not seen before.

Three walls were lined with shelves and cupboards. Hundreds of glass jars filled with potions ingredients or various potions themselves lined the shelves. A long wooden counter and a sink ran along the fourth wall. Several shiny cauldrons sat on the counter, and several more, containing bubbling liquids, rested on a work table in the center of the room.

But Harry didn't have a chance to register more than a passing glance at the laboratory. Snape pulled him over to the sink and flung open a pair of drawers underneath. There were some large bottles of cleaning solutions below the sink, and Snape gave his wand a furious flick and a bucket and sponge appeared, too.

"Start scrubbing, Potter," he said between gritted teeth. "This room had better be spotless by the time I return, or you can forget having dinner tonight."

"But, sir...," Harry began, wanting desperately to explain.

"Shut up!" Snape almost threw Harry from him and swept back to the fireplace. Then he was gone.

Harry took a deep breath, and tried to calm his racing heart. It wasn't so bad, really, he told himself. Just cleaning, and he'd certainly had lots of experience with that before. The room already looked spotless, anyway, so it shouldn't be hard work. As angry as he was, Snape hadn't beaten him, or done anything truly horrible.

But he'd threatened to, and the worst part was that he could carry out those threats if he wanted. Harry was his slave, and Snape could do anything to him, and no one could stop him.

Mingled fear and rage swept over him. It wasn't fair. Out of all the spells Malfoy could have cast against him, why had it been a slavery spell? And why, out of all the people at Hogwarts, had Snape had to be the one to catch him?

Because he'd been there. Snape was a fine one to talk about respecting privacy, Harry thought bitterly. At Hogwarts, Snape was always prowling around him, trying to find ways to get Harry and his friends into trouble.

He hadn't even done anything! Madame Pomfrey was the one who'd moved Snape's journal. But of course, Snape wouldn't even give him a chance to explain. Oh, no, the professor just assumed the worst of Harry, like always.

But he had sneaked into Snape's Pensieve that time last year, a small voice in the back of Harry's mind reminded him. He sighed. Going into the professor's Pensieve had been wrong, and Harry knew it. He honestly was sorry about it, too, and not just because he'd seen an unpleasant side of his father. Harry didn't like to think that he'd deliberately violated someone's privacy, even Snape's.

But Snape had done the same thing to him, really. He'd attacked Harry's mind, in the name of teaching, and stolen looks into Harry's private memories. He hadn't seen the worst things. Thank goodness, Harry had somehow managed to hide the very worst things the Dursleys had done to him, but Snape had still seen plenty of stuff that Harry wished he hadn't.

If respecting privacy was really important to Snape, he'd have offered to let Harry use a Pensieve to protect his thoughts. But of course Snape hadn't done that...oh, no, he'd relished his opportunities to humiliate Harry.

Harry took another deep breath and tried to force his bitterness aside. He couldn't change anything that had happened in the past, and now that he was a slave and Snape was his master, it would probably be wise to not provoke him. Maybe, just maybe, if he cleaned the lab and showed Snape that he was trying to be obedient and respectful, the man would calm down a little and listen to the truth.

Harry couldn't help feeling another flash of resentment as he knelt down to pull the bottles of cleaning solutions out from under the counter, and his sore muscles ached in protest. Snape hadn't had to shake him that hard.

Feeling very unsettled and achy and stiff, he filled the bucket halfway with water and then pulled the caps off the bottles of cleaners. It brought back memories of all the hours he'd spent scrubbing floors at the Dursleys, and made him wish more than ever that his own parents were alive.

If only he could have had his own mum and dad, and grown up with them, or if Sirius hadn't died and Harry could have lived with him. What would it have been like, to have a real family with people who loved him?

But thinking about his godfather was just too painful. Harry couldn't bear to remember Sirius' grin, or how his eyes had lit up whenever he saw his godson. He couldn't bear to remember Sirius telling him to be strong and hold on, that one day everything would work out and they could always be together.

He resolutely grabbed one of the cleaning solutions and began adding it to the bucket of water. He was so lost in his misery, he never thought to read the warning labels on the bottles, but simply mixed in a generous amount of the two solutions and then began sponging off the counter.

***

Severus paced furiously around the library. He'd already locked his journal inside the desk, but he was much too angry to settle down to reading, or writing, or even to eating the meal he'd had Zan bring in here to him.

How dare that Potter whelp go through his journal? Had the arrogant little brat not learned his lesson when Severus had caught him in his Pensieve last year? And after Severus had tried to make things bearable for him here. He'd been more than reasonable. He'd allowed Potter to keep all his belongings, which were now legally Severus', or most of his belongings, at least. Severus had put away that blasted invisibility cloak and the broomstick for safe-keeping. But he'd let Potter have everything else. Not that Severus had any use for Potter's things, anyway, but regardless, it would have been wrong to keep them from the boy.

He hadn't made any extreme or irrational demands of the brat, only requiring him to keep his room neat, put some effort into his studies, and show up on time for meals. Anyone would have to admit that Severus had done his part to make things run smoothly.

Then, after all he had done, Potter had repaid his kindness by waiting until Severus was gone and then snooping through his journal. Well, he was a Potter, Severus thought bitterly. Like father, like son.

If he, Severus, had ever dared to do such a thing, either to Tobias Snape or to Jeremiah Prince...well, Severus could imagine the beating he would have received.

Perhaps that was what Potter needed...but no. Severus had vowed long ago that he would never be like his father or grandfather. He disliked children in general, and Potter in particular, but he had never physically abused any child and he would not start now.

He stopped his pacing and took several long deep breaths, trying to calm himself. His food was getting cold and there was no point in letting a nice dinner go to waste.

He stalked over to the little table where his plate rested, flung himself into a chair, and speared a forkful of shrimp linguini. But all the while he was eating, his mind kept replaying the horrible instant when he'd returned from Diagon Alley and found his journal next to Potter.

The little brat had read some of his most secret thoughts. Anger and shame burned in Severus' stomach and after a few bites he set his fork down. As upset as he was now, he'd probably get indigestion if he kept eating. He wasn't very hungry anyway.

He supposed he should call one of the elves to come take his tray, but truthfully, he didn't want to have to face them yet. He could still see Zan's disapproving stare when he'd informed him that Potter was being punished and they were not to fetch the boy to dinner, but to retire for the evening, and let Severus deal with him.

Zan had not argued; he'd probably accepted that when Severus was in this foul a mood, it did no good. But he'd just looked at Severus, his eyes filled with disappointment and reproach. Norie's reaction would be even worse.

But Severus hung on to his righteous anger. Norie and Zan didn't know what Potter had done to him, and it wasn't even the first time that arrogant little guttersnipe had violated his privacy. But by heavens, it would be the last! One way or another, the Potter brat was going to learn to respect him.

He scowled blankly down at the table as he contemplated how to handle the situation. In spite of his anger and resentment, in spite of what he'd told Potter, Severus knew he would not beat the boy or deny him food. The scrawny little runt already looked as if a strong gust of wind would blow him away.

He couldn't make Potter work all night either. For one thing, Norie and Zan would have his head, but Severus knew deep inside, that even without Norie and Zan, he would give Potter time for rest.

He supposed he'd go tell Potter to eat in the kitchen and then go on to bed. Perhaps he'd have the boy finish cleaning in the morning, but on the other hand, Severus had planned to brew tomorrow and he certainly didn't want the brat mucking around in his lab while he was trying to work there. But there were other things Potter could do. He'd think of something in the morning.

Severus stood up and stepped towards the library door, but just then the Floo roared to life. He looked at it in surprise. He rarely received visitors at dinnertime, but perhaps it was Albus, coming to see how he and Potter were managing. Well, let him come. Severus would give him an earful!

But when the green flames cleared, Albus wasn't stepping gracefully from the fireplace. Instead Poppy's face hovered above the coals and she looked uncharacteristically frightened.

"Severus! Are you there?" She called even before the flames had completely vanished.

Severus felt a cold lump of ice settle in his stomach at the panic in her voice. Poppy didn't panic easily. "I'm..."

She saw him before he could finish. "Oh, Severus, you've got to come right away. Albus is hurt, maybe dying, and I don't know what to do. It's some kind of Dark Curse, but I've never seen anything like it."

"I'm coming. You're at Hogwarts?" Severus was already grabbing some Floo powder from the little vase on the high ornately carved mantel.

"Yes, the infirmary. Hurry, Severus!" She vanished.

Every other thought had disappeared from Severus' mind. The only thing he was aware of was that Albus was in danger. The headmaster was more than a friend. He was the only one who'd ever defended Severus, first from Jeremiah Prince and later from those who'd wanted to send him to Azkaban. He was the only one who'd seen that Severus' remorse was real, that there was something worth saving in the broken shell of a young man who had come to him wanting to leave Voldemort's service. He was the closest thing to a real father that Severus had ever had.

Severus leaped into the fireplace and Flooed to Hogwarts.

***

The rim of a bright silver sun was glimmering on the eastern horizon when Severus stepped wearily out of the fireplace in his bedroom. He was exhausted, but euphoric. They'd done it. Albus was alive and recovering. It would be a few days before he was back to full health. The Dark Curse had been strong. It had taken all of Severus' knowledge and skill in fighting the Dark Arts to dispel it, but in the end, he and Poppy had won. Albus was unconscious, and likely to stay that way for another few days, but he would be fine.

Severus ran a hand over his face, and moved towards his bed. He wanted nothing more than to collapse and sleep for the rest of the day. His potions would just have to wait.

His potions...his lab...Potter!

Severus swore under his breath and reversed directions without breaking stride. He'd completely forgotten the boy. How could he have done that? It wasn't like him to be so careless. And damn it all, the boy had gone without dinner and had been cleaning all night after all, in spite of Severus' intentions.

It did serve the brat right for reading his journal, but Severus still felt uncomfortably guilty. He truly had not meant to be that harsh. Well, he supposed he should be willing to let the matter drop now and not give Potter any further punishment. He'd send the boy to the kitchen to eat breakfast and then let him sleep all day, too. Perhaps they'd both feel better in the evening.

Severus Flooed down to his Potions lab, which had once been part of a huge underground cellar, to fetch the boy. But the instant he arrived, he knew something was terribly wrong. Noxious yellow-green fumes filled the room, clouding his vision and burning his nose and throat with every breath.

Yanking his wand from his sleeve, Severus quickly vanished the choking vapors, and looked around frantically.

"Potter!"

For the second time in twelve hours Severus felt his heart stop beating. The boy lay face-down on the cold stone floor by the sink, unconscious, with blood streaming from his mouth and nose.