Harry held onto his godfather’s arm as they made their way to the flue. Before they stepped through he looked back at Snape.

“Thank you, Sir, for -for … today.” He flushed as he remembered his embarrassing behavior earlier.

Snape raised an eyebrow in surprise. He didn’t expect any gratitude coming from that division. He nodded in acknowledgment, feeling a tinge of apprehension with Potter under Sirius Black’s reckless supervision.

Harry looked to the headmaster next, “Can I owl my friends, sir?”

Dumbledore shook his head, “Sorry, Harry. I’m afraid that would be a gamble we cannot risk. I will, however, arrange for notes from your friends to be brought to you. ”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry turned back to look at Sirius, “I’m ready to go home, Sirius.”

“Harry,” called out Dumbledore, “Why don’t you go on ahead. I need a word with Sirius and Professor Snape.”

Harry looked to Sirius.

Sirius squeezed his shoulder, “I’ll be right behind you.”

Harry glanced at Snape then back to Sirius. He didn’t like the dark looks they were throwing at each other. “If this is about me, I‘d rather stay,” Harry said.

“Not this time, Harry,” Dumbledore admonished.

“Go on, pup. I’ll be right behind you,” Sirius gave Harry a little shove towards the flue. “Go on.”

“No, I’ll wait,” Harry pulled away from Sirius, determined to not be kept in the dark.

Sirius gave Dumbledore a questioning look, silently asking if Harry could stay.

Snape narrowed his eyes at the boy, understanding now that Potter would have absolutely no regulations in which he would be required to abide by. It infuriated him because he knew he would be called in if Potter ever did anything foolish enough to require true assistance.

Gripping his wand in one hand, he responded with his usual condescending vitriol, “So, it is not just my instructions the boy chooses to disregard? I should have known you would have absolutely no control over your charge, Black.”

“Shut up, Snape!” Sirius ground out between clenched teeth. He grabbed Harry’s arm a little rougher then intended and pushed him towards the flue, “Harry, get going,.”

When Harry hesitated, Sirius snapped out, “I said GO!”

Harry couldn’t help looking hurt. He had always thought that Sirius would stick by him. He couldn’t help wondering if Sirius was mad at him or at Snape? If his back hadn’t been in so much pain and if Dumbledore hadn’t been in the infirmary to referee, then maybe he wouldn’t have agreed to go, at least that‘s what he convinced himself.

Sirius held out the jar of floo powder to him, offering him a wink and a smile as an apology for his harsh tone.

Harry did not smile back. He brusquely threw down the floo powder on the fire and called out, “Number 12 Grimmauld Place!”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sirius rounded on Snape as soon as Harry was swept away in the green flames. “Don’t you ever tell me how to raise my godson, Snape! He‘s mine now and I’ll deal with him as I see fit!”

Severus narrowed his eyes at the obtuse man before him, finding it hard to hold back from hexing him into oblivion. “Shut up, Black! You should be exceedingly fortunate to garner any advice in raising one of the most disobedient, wayward students to ever have stepped into this school.”

“Wayward!? That’s rich coming from you! At least Harry hasn’t groveled at the feet of a murdering bastard or gotten a repulsive snake burnt into his arm!”

Snape’s anger was hard to contain. He stepped forward, determined to hex the bloody mutt’s mouth closed, but was stopped by Dumbledore’s sharp words.

“Gentlemen, ENOUGH!” Albus gave both men a forbidding glare, “This is exactly why I have asked you both to stay behind. Harry WILL NOT be exposed to your childish hostility towards each other every time you are both in the same room. You WILL come to a mutual agreement to behave as adults around that boy!”

Sirius dropped his gaze down to his feet, feeling embarrassed for being spoken to as if he were still at school.

“The boy is sick. Kindly behave as adult wizards should and stop this foolish bickering, gentlemen.”

Snape’s frown deepened, but he knew better then to challenge the Headmaster when he was in this type of mood. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, clearly annoyed for having to follow any orders in which he would be required to hold his tongue against Black.

In a much more civil tone of voice, Albus continued, “We must remember that much will be asked of the boy in the very near future. You are both quite aware of what Harry’s future holds.”

“You told Snape about the prophecy?!” Sirius shrieked. “What if that snake faced bastard gets that information out of him!?! Harry would be in more danger then he already is in!”

“Unlike you, Black,” Snape spat out, “I know how to Occlude my mind. It is not an open book for all to read. Potter‘s secret is safe with me, from both the Dark Lord and from Potter himself.”

“I haven’t told Harry anything about the prophecy!” Sirius yelled back. “Even though I think he has a right to know.”

“You’ve no prudence, Black.” Snape dusted imaginary lint off the sleeve of his robe. “That boy’s mind is transparent. The dark Lord only need invade his mind and all will be found out. If Potter ever learns about the prophecy then you can be certain the Dark Lord would know everything soon after.”

“Which brings me to my next point, gentlemen,” Dumbledore declared, whilst stroking his long white beard, “Severus, I have a small favor to ask.”

Severus knew that whatever Albus was going to ask of him it would most definitely be far from small. H e gestured with his hand that the Headmaster should continue with his request.

“I ask that you give Harry Occlumency lessons. He is in grave danger of revealing anything he might over hear whilst he recovers at headquarters,” Albus could see Severus’ jaw clench in a most distinct manor, implying that the potion master was angry.

Sirius let out a low growl, “I think that’s a bad idea, Albus. Harry can hardly stand to be around him.”

“Yet, they have a blood bond which will enable Severus to alleviate Harry’s painful headaches,” Albus had not looked away from Severus as he spoke to Sirius. He could see that Severus had wanted to object to giving the lessons but was now reconsidering.

“Severus, you are greatly needed,” Albus looked to Sirius, “You should be grateful for Lily’s blood bond charm. She must have known how desperately Harry would need someone to help him with his pain. I can not even begin to know how she managed to perform such a powerful charm.”

“Nor I,” Severus said under his breath, still circumspect of the circumstances surrounding the charm. How had she managed to get his blood without him remembering?

Sirius huffed out loud, “Fine, Snape can come to my house to teach Harry, but only under one condition…”

“If you care for that boy the way you proclaim, you should be on your knees beseeching me! Certainly not requesting any conditions!” Snape turned away from the obnoxious man with a swirl of his dark robes and headed for the infirmary door.

‘Drop dead, Snivellus!” Sirius called out just as the door swung shut. When he turned back to face the headmaster he couldn’t help but to step back at the infuriated look before him.

The headmaster shook his head before exiting the infirmary without saying another word.

Sirius walked to the flue, knowing that he would need to put right this situation, if only for Harry’s sake.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry stared up at the crack in the ceiling. It was sort of shaped like his scar and he didn’t like looking at it, but he found himself staring at it for hours at a time. He dragged his eyes towards the empty picture frame on the wall wondering how Sirius had managed to get rid of the inhabitants?

There used to be two old men in black cloaks sitting in the empty arm chairs next to the painted fireplace. The moment Harry had entered the bedroom, the cantankerous old men hadn’t stopped complaining (rather loudly) about having to share a room with a filthy half blood. When he woke up from his nap they were gone, leaving behind the empty painting with only the two chairs. Sirius had seemed quite satisfied with himself. How did one go about banishing people from paintings and exactly where did they go?

Harry had been confined to his new bedroom since they had arrived at Grimmauld Place four days ago. His back still burned painfully as the new nerves and skin were growing back, but that wasn’t the worst of his problems. His head ached something fierce, thanks to Old Voldy. He hadn’t realized how much the walls of Hogwarts had helped to shield him from the sharpest of Voldemort’s attacks. Grimmauld Place didn’t offer the same protections.

The moment he had stepped into Grimmauld Place, his scar had flared with a pain so sharp and intense that Harry hadn’t been able to eat, let alone get out of bed. Sirius had sat with him, hour after hour, trying to alleviate the pain in anyway possible, but nothing ever helped.

After realizing that Harry was in no condition to get out of bed, Sirius had brought in his blankets and pillow and transfigured a hard wooden chair into a soft comfortable bed. He had only left Harry alone when it was absolutely necessary. He had finally left this morning on a mysterious errand and had yet to return to Grimmauld Place.

Harry had tried to hide the pain he was in, knowing how helpless Sirius felt for not being able to shield him from Voldemort’s attacks, like Snape could. He couldn’t help but to long for Snape to make an appearance, even just to stay for a minute or two Nevertheless the Potion Master had yet to come. A moment of reprieve from Voldemort‘s constant anger and pain would be .

His face reddened with shame as he remembered how he had let himself cry all over Snape. Bloody hell, if Ron ever found out he’d never hear the end of it! Despite the fact that he was still mortified, he still wished the professor would get here soon. He didn’t know how much longer he could take the ghastly nightmares he had every time he closed his eyes. He wondered if Voldemort ever slept, because the awful visions seemed to overwhelm him both day and night now.

Harry had just drifted into a fitful sleep when a loud “pop” sounded in the room. His eyes flew open and he fumbled about for the wand under his pillow. He had just tightened his fingers around the holly wand when his eyes focused on the decrypted little elf that Sirius had inherited. Kreacher had been the Black family’s elf for nearly a century and Sirius had the misfortune to inherit him along with the house.

“Master has forced Kreacher to tend to the blood traitor,” the nasty little elf croaked out as he held out a tarnished silver tray. “Filthy, Mudblood lover.”

Harry pushed his wand back under his pillow before flopping back on his pillow. He threw his arm over his eyes to shield out the bright light the house elf had ignited from the lamps in the bedroom. A tray was dropped on his lap, forcing him to grasp it with both hands before it fell to the ground. He was barely able to catch the hot cup of tea.

There were three covered plates and a somewhat dirty napkin, along with a fork which was slightly bent. Harry hadn’t been hungry since arriving at Grimmauld Place but thought he should at least try to eat a few bites. He lifted the lid off a silver platter to find the carcass of a dead rat!

Kreacher fled, covering his head as the tray came flying through the air. The platter, along with the dead rat, smashed against the far wall, very nearly decapitating the house elf with the force in which it was thrown.

“Bloody stupid elf! Stay the eff out of my room, you bloody little …!” Harry had the cup of tea in his hand, ready to chuck it at the door when a tall dark figure stepped into the room. Harry immediately felt the pain in his scar lessen. But as much as he wanted to see Snape, he was also anxious since their relationship had been anything but comfortable. He tightened his grip on the tea cup as the hot tea splashed onto his hand.

Snape sneered down his long nose at the scene before him as he pulled his wand out of his robe. The mess on the floor disappeared before he stepped further into the room.

“You came,” Harry blurted out. He flushed with embarrassment over sounding so eager.

Kreacher cowered by the door, clearly frightened of the imposing wizard towering over him.

Snape raised an eyebrow before slamming the door on the wretched creature. He turned to study the boy, appalled at the poor health Potter appeared to be in. He had expected the teen to be much further along in his recovery. He felt a surge of anger at Black for not coming to get him sooner.

Harry sat up straighter, nervously picking at the blanket on his bed as Snape studied him. He rubbed at his scar as it tingled instead of throbbing like it had been just minutes ago.

“Does it bother you?” Snape asked, pointing to Harry’s forehead. He rubbed at the dark mark on his own arm as it flared with pain.

Harry dropped his hand to the blanket, “Most of the time, but it’s stopped …”

“Since I arrived?”

Harry nodded, “Yeah… I mean- yes, sir. I’m okay though, it’s not so bad.”

“Do not lie to me, Potter,” Snape snapped out before moving closer, “I have disrupted important work to be here… at Black‘s insistence. I will not waste my time hearing false bravado from a Gryffindor.” He waited until Potter met his stern look, “Now, tell me again about your scar.”

“Sirius went to get you?” Harry asked, knowing how much pride that must have cost his godfather.

Snape ignored the question, pointing to the teen‘s head. “Your scar, Potter.”

Harry dropped his gaze back to the blanket, “Hurts almost always. Sometimes …sometimes I even see visions,” he whispered.

“What sort of visions?” Snape asked rather abruptly, startling Harry.

“He … he likes to torture people. Sometimes I wake up and I can still hear their screams,” Harry sunk back against his pillow, inadvertently causing his raw back to sting something fierce. He shot back up, sitting straight up in the bed again.

Snape narrowed his eyes at the obvious pain the boy was still in, filing away the information about Potter‘s “visions“ for later. Potter’s burned back should not still be so tender. He snapped his fingers motioning for the boy to turn over, “Let me see your back.”

Harry huffed out loud, struggling to roll onto his stomach as he grabbed hold of his pillow to bury his face in. He lay there for a moment wondering how he had ever ended up in this situation. The springs in the old bed protested when Snape sat down next to him. His moment of awkwardness passed as soon as Snape laid a hand on his back. He was overwhelmed with relief from the total lack of pain in his scar. Snape gently lifted up the back of his t-shirt.

“Your Godfather is a complete moron,” Snape spat out angrily before tugging the shirt all the way up to Harry’s shoulders.

Harry turned his head to look back at Snape, “He’s doing his best!”

“If this is his best, then he is even a bigger idiot than I ever imagined him to be. Your back is quite obviously infected.”

“How should he know? He’s not a healer!” Harry shot back, glaring at the Potion Master.

“Shut up, Potter,“ Snape pushed Harry’s head back down into the pillow.

Harry grumbled out something incoherent.

“Silence! I’ll not waste my time talking about that fool.” He reached over to the tray of healing potions, noting how many full vials were still left. He picked out the most powerful healing cream on the nightstand.

Snape cast a thorough cleansing charm on his hands before scooping out a healthy dose of the potion from the jar. According to his estimation there should not be nearly this much of cream still left. It was no wonder the boy was so ill. Black had not adhered to the protocol he had been given for Potter’s care. He growled at the stupidity of the man.

He didn’t give the boy any warning before rubbing the cream onto Potter’s burning, infected skin. The teen gave a violent flinch before settling back down.

Harry gripped the pillow tighter, burying his face further into it. The cream burned dreadfully, no matter that Snape seemed to be applying it gently.

“The pain shall pass soon,” Severus said in a stern voice, “I’ve added a numbing serum to this potion. Had your godfather been applying this potion as prescribed, you would not be suffering from a severe infection.”

Harry frowned into the pillow, then lifted his head to say, “He hasn’t exactly had a whole lotta experience with taking care of anyone. For the most part he’s done a good job of remembering my potions.” He knew that wasn’t exactly true.

“”As I’ve said previously, I’ll not waste time talking about the mangy mutt,” Snape ground out. He studied the raw skin on the boy‘s back, not satisfied with how it almost appeared to be getting worse.

He abruptly stood up, straightening his robes. In a voice filled with irritation, he said, “I must brew a stronger potion before the infection progresses.”

Harry slowly rolled over to look up at the Potion Master.

Snape plucked another vial from the nightstand and thrust it at Potter, “Drink this.”

As soon as Harry swallowed the foul tasting potion he felt his head begin to swim. He felt somewhat tipsy, almost like he had when he and Ron had snuck a drink of Fire whiskey. He watched as Snape moved towards the door. In his inebriated state all he could think of was how much his scar was going to hurt once Snape left the room.

Snape could see how the strong pain relieving potion was affecting the teen. In just a matter of seconds the boy looked to be intoxicated. At least the poor fool would not suffer so greatly once he left. The boy suddenly pointed a finger at him.

“Whereyougoing Snape!?” Harry rambled through his words. “Don’t go. Youshould stay.”

“Go to sleep, Potter,” Snape replied.

Harry was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

Snape rolled his eyes upward, having no patience for Potter’s antics. He swept out the bedroom door, his mind already going through the list of ingredients he would require for the stronger potion.