Harry woke up for the second time that day in almost the same way he had previously, though this time without the panic.

For five minutes he contented himself with glaring at the green canopy above his head and reciting every swearword he knew with Snape’s name attached to them in some way. How dare he mock me, it’s not fair. I have to do whatever he says for God knows how long, and still he has to rub my face in it!

His silent rant was abruptly cut off when he realised there was something was not quite right with the room. Harry blinked a couple of times, and then shot bolt upright in the bed. My glasses! Where are they? Looking wildly around, but not accomplishing anything due to his lack of spectacles, Harry realised that they couldn’t have just fallen off while he slept, or else he would be sitting on them. His eyes widened when an idea came to him and he almost dismissed it immediately, because it was so absurd, but stopped himself at the last moment.

Reaching his right hand out, he groped on the bedside table, and his eyes widened when, at last, he felt the wire frames underneath his palm. He grabbed them and pushed them onto his nose, staring wildly around the room, as if it could explain the phenomenon of how his glasses came to be neatly folded on his beside table, when he clearly remembered falling asleep with them still on.

All the breath left his body when he noticed his trunk, once more its proper size, sitting innocently to the left of his bed.

Ok, as weird as it seems, I could actually see Snape taking off my glasses to stop them getting broken, but no way would he change my trunk back! Did… did Sirius hear my thoughts before I fell asleep and came to help me? But, how is that even possible?

The longer Harry thought about it, the more he realised that it wasn’t, which meant that Snape had… His thoughts were broken off by a knock at the door.

And now Snape’s knocking? Weird. Has the world gone mad when I was sleeping? What do I do now?

Luckily, Harry was spared from deciding as the door swung open to reveal Snape, complete with robe and scowl, a tray of food floating behind him. He billowed into the room, tray bobbing along in his wake, and all Harry could do was sit and stare, still thrown from the half-kindness that Snape had shown him.

Damn, why couldn’t he have given me another few minutes so that I could get around to hating him again? Now I don’t even know what to say to him!

Harry realised that Snape had set the tray in front of him, and was staring at Harry staring at him.

“Potter, I am not leaving until you have eaten every scrap off your plate, so stop gawping at me and eat!”

Harry took a deep breath.

“ActuallysirIwaswonderingifIcouldusethebathroomfirst.” He looked up at Snape, ridiculously pleased that he’d managed to get the whole sentence out.

A line appeared between Snape’s brows. “I beg your pardon?” he drawled.

“Actually, sir, I was wondering if I could use the bathroom first.” Harry replied at a more sedate pace. “Please.” A little courtesy never hurt anyone. Unless their name was Snape. “You see, that was where I was going this morning-“

“Get on and go, Potter!” Snape snapped, looking as though he had reached the end of his tether. Harry resisted the urge to whoop as he gingerly climbed out of bed and slowly limped to the bathroom. Looks like Snape’s weakness is people who babble inanely. I’ll have to remember to use that!

The en-suite bathroom was very nice; pearl gray tiles on the walls; black, magically heated, stone slabs on the floor, and dark green towels everywhere. It was much cleaner than Aunt Petunia’s bathroom, even after Harry had cleaned everything, and, at first, Harry was slightly afraid to touch anything in case he got it dirty. His needs helped him get over that impulse quickly.

So as not to anger Snape by taking too long, Harry hurriedly set himself to rights and was just drying his hands on a towel when his eyes met his own in the big mirror over the sink.

Suddenly remembering he hadn’t spoken to Shadow since the Malfoy incident, Harry hobbled over and hopped up onto the dark gray counter beside the sink, staring deeply into the reflective surface as though that alone could call Shadow to him.

“Shadow? Shadow? Hey, where are you?” After a couple of minutes at staring at his own dark-mopped reflection, Harry felt a lead weight settle in his stomach. Shadow wasn’t coming.

What’s the matter? Where is he? Oh God, please don’t say he was trapped in the Dursleys’ house! Is Snape’s home warded against whatever kind of magic it is? Is he gone forever? Harry bit his lip and looked down, struggling to not let any tears fall. Did I just imagine him?

“Shadow?” he whispered. “Shadow? I’m- I’m at Snape’s house. Please come and find me. I need you.” His voice had trailed off to almost nothing by the time he finished speaking. Dejectedly he climbed off the counter and left the bathroom.

Snape was waiting for him with an impatient look on his face. But then, Harry thought as he slipped back into bed, I get the feeling that Snape is impatient about everything.

“You took your time, Potter. Trying to find a way out perhaps? I assure you that all of the windows only open an inch and the rest of the Manor is sealed from letting you out, except by my express permission.” Snape said all of this with such a bland expression, as though Harry was nothing to him, that Harry felt himself getting angry.

Smug, irritating git! “I didn’t even realise that there was a window in the bathroom… sir!” Harry sneered.

Snape gave him a sharp look. “None of your cheek, Potter. I will not stand for it in my own home! Now, stop procrastinating and eat!”

“I wasn’t…” Harry trailed off and scowled, tugging the tray towards him with a barely mumbled “Thank you.” Staring at the, frankly rather delicious looking, chicken salad in front of him, Harry felt his appetite leave him. His stomach was still churning with anger and upset, and Snape wasn’t helping; standing over him and watching him like a hawk.

Come on, Harry. He didn’t poison the water, and you didn’t even consider the possibility at the time. Granted, you were too thirsty to think straight, but he still didn’t poison it. Harry picked up the glass of water beside the plate and took a long sip. Sighing with relief, he looked down into the water, and promptly choked.

Shadow’s face was staring up at him, grinning. Despite himself, Harry grinned back, all the while thinking I’m really going to have to have a chat with him about which reflective surfaces are appropriate to use and which aren’t. God, I’m glad to see him!

“Something amuses you, Mr Potter?” an irritated voice cut across his thoughts. Harry gulped. Quick think of something, anything!

“Um, I was wondering, sir… How long am I going to stay here with you? I mean, this must be taking up a lot of your time, caring for me, so…” Harry trailed off. Snape was giving him a very odd look.

“The Headmaster did not specify; he merely informed me that you will be taking up residence in my house until further notice, regardless of how inconvenient it may be.” Snape was scowling again.

“Oh.” Harry was surprised how bitter he felt about this. Of course Dumbledore sent Snape; as if Snape would go looking for me and take care of me on his own. Still, at least Dumbledore still cares, even if he can’t do this himself. He must be really busy; otherwise, I’m sure he wouldn’t have sent Snape… Realising he was rambling, Harry cast around for something else to say to his teacher, who was still doing a very good impression of a bird of prey. “Um, so… Where is here, exactly? I mean, this is your house, but… where are we?”

The sneer sent his way let Harry know that Snape thought his question was impertinent. Harry resisted the urge to sigh and roll his eyes. For God’s sake, Snape, I’m injured; I can’t always be counted on to say the right things!

“Yes, Potter, as you said, this is my house. Also know as Tharabraye Manor. If you don’t know where that is, Potter, try reading a map sometime; a proper one, not a Muggle one, it’s a wonder they can even find their own feet! But I suppose famous Harry Potter thinks it above him to ever find anything out for himself.”

The sarcasm was laid on so thick that Harry felt like the air was made of treacle. Harry bit down on his tongue, hard. I think that’s my cue to start eating, before I say anything else stupid! Honestly, that man is more touchy than an old stick of dynamite! And Muggles aren’t useless! At this point Harry viciously shoved a forkful of salad into his mouth, and the scowl melted off his face as he realised that, though plain, the food was truly as delicious as it looked. He continued his ruminations more calmly. Besides I haven’t seen the Wizarding World come up with anything nearly as awesome as the World Wide Web. Harry got an image of Snape sitting down to check his emails, and snorted into his food.

“Yes, Mister Potter?”

 Uh oh! “Nothing, sir, just choking a bit.” Harry replied breezily, hoping that his tone would annoy Snape. Will you stop hanging over me? There’s a perfectly good chair a couple of feet away! There really is no need to stand right next to my bed and stare at me; it’s creepy!

Harry watched the mirror opposite his bed in amusement as Shadow started shoving his hands right through mirror-Snape’s body, trying to push him away from the bed. I’m glad Shadow shares my opinion! Weird how Shadow can’t touch the Snape in the mirror, but then, I suppose he’s made of magic whereas that Snape is just refracted light.

Harry snorted again and finished his meal in silence, trying to ignore the dark man standing and scowling at his side.

HPSSHPSSHPSS

Why is he staring into the mirror like that? Oh, please don’t say that Potter’s vain as well as a brat! I’ll bet he is! He’s staring right at himself! And here I actually felt sorry for him for a time. What a fool, Severus! At least I don’t have to force the food down his throat.

Severus stared at the Potter boy, irritated at the way he was slowly, precisely slicing up pieces of his food and, equally slowly, chewing them. Is he trying to make a point? Is my food not worthy for a Potter to consume? Bah, I’m going to have to work hard on him this summer if this child is going to be worth anything! I swear he was almost smirking at me when he went into the bathroom; as though he was thinking how easily he could escape from me and my house! Well, he didn’t look nearly so smug when he came out again, and then he had the audacity to lie to me when I knew perfectly well what he had been doing!

Severus huffed and stared down at the unruly mop, trying to forget how soft it felt under his fingers, how Potter had leaned into his touch as though he could derive comfort from that alone. Maybe there’s hope for Potter… if he starts behaving like he does when he’s asleep.

Finally Potter placed knife and fork together on his plate which was, to Severus’ surprise, completely clean. Though, somewhat less surprisingly, Potter looked ready to burst; he kept pressing both hands into his stomach as though he could relieve some of the pressure. That’s what you get if you starve yourself all summer, Potter, Severus thought maliciously. It’s your own fault! Severus vanished the tray soundlessly, the beginnings of a contemptuous sneer curling the corners of his mouth.

“Seeing as I have now satisfied all your… needs, Potter,” Severus paused with malevolent pleasure as Potter flushed bright red at Severus’ words, before continuing, “I shall now replace the spell which will alert me if you leave the bed; so I’d better not find you out of it for any lesser reason than that Bellatrix Lestrange has just climbed through your window! Do you understand, Potter?”

The boy frowned. “Err, Bellatrix Lestrange, sir?”

Severus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose; it really was most inconvenient that the boy was Muggle raised. “Never you mind, Potter. Let me reiterate; you will not leave this bed!”

Potter shrank back slightly, green eyes wide at the outburst. “N-no, sir, no leaving, I promise!”

Severus eyed him sceptically. “Hmm, I’ll believe that when I see it.” Severus turned to go before glancing back one last time. “Sweet dreams, Potter.” Potter’s expression at his sarcasm, delivered in that cold, indifferent voice which drove Potter hopping mad during term time, was priceless. Severus was willing to bet Potter was ready spit tacks when Severus had said ‘sweet dreams’.

Severus swept down the stairs, still reliving the pleasure at seeing Potter being driven up the wall by his comment, yet unable to do anything because he was completely at Severus’ mercy. His amusement was short lived, however, once he remembered what he had now planned to do.

Severus’ lips were set in a grim line as he entered the living room and headed for the Floo; determined once and for all to find out what had happened to Albus since he’d last seen him. After all, Lucius couldn’t stay hidden under a bush all summer, and Severus would be damned if Potter was going to be staying with him a moment longer than necessary; despite the fact that Severus had a rather nasty suspicion that the Headmaster would think him the perfect recipient of Potter now that his relatives were unavailable. Severus wondered, offhandedly, what had happened to them.

Halfway across the living room Severus stopped abruptly, staring down in surprise at the rag he’d tossed on the seat of the nearest sofa to the fire. It’s unlike me to be so shoddy at cleaning up after myself. Then again, he thought as he picked up the rag and stuffed it into one of his pockets, I have had other things on my mind…

Severus remembered, with envy, the oblivious Severus Snape of the night before, who had merely thought he had to rescue Potter from another scrape before returning to a blissfully quiet holiday of brewing and reading. Ah, how naïve one can be, Severus thought as he readied the Floo powder. Time for some answers, Albus! The powder flew from his fingers and the dozy, yellow flames exploded with emerald, shooting several feet higher at the same time.

“Headmaster’s office, Hogwarts!” The flames swirled meaningfully and Severus pushed his head into them, closing his eyes against the sensation of his neck extending. The meaningful pop a second later told Severus he had arrived, and he opened his eyes, eager to speak with his mentor about how he had managed at the Ministry, and what was now to be done with Potter.

The room was empty. Severus peered out of the flames in disbelief. Albus office was never empty at this time of day; yet now not even Fawkes occupied his usual perch, and the only movements in the room were from a couple of sleepy portraits which stared down at him in surprise. Severus bit his lip, his hands, all the way back at Tharabraye Manor, involuntarily clenching in his robes as a strong sense of uneasiness kindled in his stomach.

After another few seconds of Severus’ blank staring at the room, one of the portraits; an old woman with her hair done in a floppy perm, and a massive pair of glasses perching precariously on her nose, spoke up.

“He’s not here, Deary, you’ll have to look elsewhere, I’m afraid.”

“Yes, I can see that! Thank you so much for pointing out the obvious to me.” Severus scowled at her, but she just smiled back at him and went back to her knitting.

“Haven’t seen him since you have, in actual fact,” a younger man told Severus while stroking his chestnut goatee and frowning thoughtfully. Matthew Cruthers; Severus remembered his name from a previous visit to this same office. “I think we all hoped you’d come to tell us where he is.”

A general murmur came from all of the portraits; even the ones still pretending to be asleep. It amazed Severus that, no matter how rude he was to any of them, they always treated him like one of their own. But all things considered, it may not be so surprising; these people had seen him at some of the very worst moments of his life. Maybe these moments had kindled some fellow feeling in them for him; but, to Severus, any human kindness was still surprising.

“No,” Severus supplied shortly, his worry increasing tenfold once he yanked his mind back to the conversation. “I haven’t seen him since then either, but if you happen to see him before I do, let him know that I have the Potter boy… and that Lucius Malfoy is under a bush in Little Whinging, and could he please deal with that for me as I now have a brat to attend to.”

A loud cheer ran around the office once he had finished speaking, and all the portraits started talking loudly amongst one another. Severus could have sworn he heard one wizard with long, platinum blonde hair mutter, ‘Serves him right, the little shit!’

Severus rolled his eyes at the gossiping, and was about to pull his head out of the fire when the woman with the perm called out to him once more. The other portraits fell silent to listen to the exchange.

“I say, Deary, you might want to try Minerva’s office, she’s just arrived to deal with all the replies to the acceptance letters!”

At these words a little of the worry dissolved from his stomach. If Minerva’s not with Albus, then the trouble at the Ministry can’t be too serious… “Thank you,” he told the witch from the portrait, who was currently pearling a stitch. “What was your name again?”

“Ethel Weatherly,” she said without looking up. “Be sure to send Minerva my regards; I know how busy she is, poor dear…”

Severus nodded briskly and pulled his head from the fire before she could elaborate.

Desperately shaking his head to clear it of the lingering dizziness of Floo travel, Severus took another handful of Floo powder, this time calling out Minerva’s office as his destination, and stuck his head back in the flames. The resulting dizziness of Floo-travelling twice in so many minutes almost knocked Severus off his knees and he had to keep his eyes closed for several seconds to regain his composure.

By this time, Minerva had noticed him, and was currently peering at him over the top of her rectangular spectacles, patiently waiting for him to get his bearings.

When he finally looked at her, she smiled. “Hello, Severus, what brings you to call on me today? Normally you hardly contact any of us during the summer.” She tilted her head inquisitively.

“Minerva,” Severus replied, nodding his head in acknowledgement, only to gasp and squeeze his eyes shut as another wave of dizziness overwhelmed him. A minute later he cautiously opened his eyes and peered at her. “My apologies, Minerva…”

She waved his words away before he had even finished. “Not at all, Severus. We all know how dreadful you are when you use the Floo unless you’re not thinking about it.” Her lips twitched. “In fact, I remember the time that-“

“Thank you, Minerva,” Severus stressed, and the Deputy Head fell wisely silent. “I’m Floo-ing about some quite important business and Albus is nowhere to be found! Have you seen him?” Please say yes, please say yes.

Minerva looked regretful. “I haven’t seen him, but he did send an owl informing me that the situation at the Ministry is as bad as he thought, and that he isn’t to be disturbed by anyone. He did stress the ‘anyone’, Severus, so I can only assume he meant you as well.” Her apologetic face was starting to make him extremely irritated. Blast the old man! Setting up this impossible scheme and then abandoning me without as much as a backward glance!

“Indeed,” he huffed. He briefly considered asking Minerva for help, but balked at the last minute. He and Minerva got along only when they avoided anything concerning their House rivalries, and Severus had the feeling she would object to some of the methods he was using to take care of Potter. Besides that, the only person Severus Snape would ever ask for help was Albus Dumbledore. Who had currently vanished.

“Did he say what amazingly important setback the Ministry had experienced this time?” he snapped at her.

Minerva’s face went pale. “Oh, Severus, I thought you knew. The Ministry has been attacked by the Death Eaters.”