Sparks Will Fly by Pandora
Summary: When Lily and James' will is discovered in the ruins of Godric's Hollow, what secrets will be revealed? Will two sworn enemies be able to lay aside their differences for the sake of a boy who desperately wants a family?
Categories: Parental Snape > Biological Father Snape > Severitus Challenge Main Characters: Dumbledore, Hagrid, Hermione, Remus, Ron, Sirius, .Snape and Harry (required)
Snape Flavour: None
Genres: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Media Type: None
Tags: Alternate Universe, Azkaban Character, Runaway, Snape-meets-Dursleys
Takes Place: 4th summer
Warnings: None
Prompts: Sparks Will Fly
Challenges: Sparks Will Fly
Series: None
Chapters: 15 Completed: No Word count: 64748 Read: 97339 Published: 04 Jul 2009 Updated: 16 Jul 2012
Changed Perceptions by Pandora
Author's Notes:
Disclaimer: All characters, and the HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling.

Thank you so much Tabitha for betaing for me and for being my sounding board, my English teacher, and just always being there to offer support and encouragement. Everyone go check out ObsidianEmbrace's wonderful stories. Lily's Charm universe is only one, among any brilliant stories that she's written.

Also, many thanks to Kristeh for helping me write the descriptions of Snape's quarters, and she wrote Harry's hilarious perceptions of what Snape's quarters should look like. Check out Slave Child, and Pair of Phoenixs, among other wonderful stories that Kristeh has written. Thanks for your support and encouragement.

Also, I've borrowed a couple of words, or phrases from POA. This beautiful drawing is by: snowflakeprincessqueengirl, who so graciously drew this for me after reading this chapter. Thank you so much Brandy.

Photobucket

Panic crept into Harry's voice. “Sir, I sent Hedwig to the Weasleys. I didn't know that they were gone.”

Dumbledore smiled at Harry indulgently and patted his leg lightly. “Don't worry my boy. You have a very smart bird there. She showed up in the Owlery earlier today, and she's been fed and watered to her heart's content.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, good.”

Harry looked up nervously. “Sir, what about, uh-you know,” He picked at the fluff on his blanket. “What about my aunt? I sorta...uh...blew her up.”

Severus' lips tightened. “What do you mean, you blew up your aunt?”

Severus forced his expression to remain stern when those large emerald eyes looked up at him in fear. He could only imagine what the boy had done. He blew up Petunia? Why hadn't that thought ever occurred to him when the horse-faced bitch had tried to cause trouble with him and Lily?

But Albus only smiled more. “Ah yes, your Aunt Marge.” His eyes were twinkling madly.

Aunt Marge? Severus thought. Hmm... shame it wasn't Petunia. Now that he thought about it, he was surprised that Albus had sent Potter to that bad-tempered shrew. It's not surprising in the least that the child was mistreated there, if Petunia's jealousy and hatred towards Lily as a child, was anything to judge by. He felt a surprising wave of hatred overwhelm him, and tried to tell himself that it was on Lily's behalf, not the aggravating child with the large emerald eyes sitting before him, looking so young and scared.

“Never fear my boy, your aunt has been properly punctured and her memory modified. Minister Fudge has assured me that all is taken care of, and he's only concerned about your safety,” Albus said kindly. His look suddenly grew serious. “What you did was very foolish Harry. You put yourself in terrible danger.”

“And when has Potter ever thought about consequences,” Severus sneered.

Albus sent him a warning look.

“What kind of danger?” Harry asked . “Does this have anything to do with Sirius Black, sir?”

Harry noticed that Snape and Dumbledore exchanged a fleeting glance.

"Yes well, you don't need to concern yourself about that right now Harry," Albus said gently. "I only ask that you remain within the confines of the castle and not leave unless you inform Professor Snape of your whereabouts at all times."

"But sir, aren't I safe here at Hogwarts. I mean no one can enter the castle, right?"

"Yes, of course my boy, but-"

"What the Headmaster is trying to say Mr. Potter, is that you are not permitted to leave the Castle without my express permission, is that clear?"

"Yes, but-"

"Is that clear Mr. Potter?" Severus raised his voice slightly.

"Yes sir," Harry said with a sigh.

Harry had the strangest feeling that there was something he wasn't being told. Something to do with Sirius Black. But of course, as usual he was being treated like a little kid. I've defeated Voldemort, tackled a troll and a Basilisk, and they still think I need to be protected, he thought angrily. I can take care of myself. I've been doing it forever, haven't I? Harry thought bitterly. I'll just have to figure out by myself, what's going on.

As if he could read Harry's mind, Snape suddenly drilled him with his dark eyes. "If I find that you've disobeyed me, you won't like the consequences, Mr. Potter."

Harry gulped. And feeling uncomfortable under the Potions master's hard glare, Harry was relieved when the brusque Medi-Witch interrupted them.

"Headmaster, the boy needs his rest. I must ask that you both leave." Poppy looked pointedly at Harry.

Albus looked at the boy fondly, and the guilt overwhelmed him again. He looked over to Severus and although few would have been able to recognise the slight crack in the veneer that Severus had built around himself, he could tell that the reserved man was not as immune to Harry's situation as he would like others to believe.

Albus nodded. "Yes, of course Poppy."

"Remember what I said, Mr. Potter," Severus said sternly. "You are not to leave that bed until Madame Pomfrey deems you are well enough."

"Yes sir," Harry said resignedly.

Harry felt a strange sense of loneliness wash over him as he watched Dumbledore and Snape leave in a sweep of blue and black robes. Soon though, he felt his eyelids grow heavy as Madame Pomfrey fussed over him and tucked the snow-white sheets around him firmly, with strict instructions that mirrored Snape's earlier dictates.

Harry woke up much later, to the moonlight filtering in through the tall, hospital windows. He was beginning to feel a little hungry, and wondered what time it was.

As if on cue, Madame Pomfrey came in with a tray, which she cast a spell on to hover over his lap.

Harry dipped his spoon in the light broth and savoured the surprisingly tasty soup. As was the case at the Leaky Cauldron, he couldn't stomach more than a few spoonfuls of soup, before his stomach refused to accept more.

"It's quite alright, Mr. Potter," she reassured Harry when he gave her a sheepish look at his half-eaten soup. "It is best that you eat lightly for a few days. You're suffering from malnutrition and dehydration. You are also severely underweight.”

Although Harry knew that her anger was not directed at him, he felt his face warm up in shame. Everyone would know soon. Everyone would know that the strong, brave Harry Potter, was really so pathetic and weak that he couldn't even stand up to his uncle.

"Mr. Potter, it's not you who should be ashamed, child," Poppy said kindly. "You've done nothing wrong."

Harry continued to stare down at the sheets. He was thankful when she returned back to her no-nonsense demeanour. "Now Mr. Potter, you must rest if you are going to get better."

"But I just woke up," he protested.

"Be that as it may be Mr. Potter, you will rest," she said firmly as she handed him a phial containing a blue frothy liquid, that Harry just knew was going to taste vile.

"Drink it all up," she ordered.

He gave her a pleading look, but she hardened her heart, and looked at him sternly. She pointed to the phial. "Now, Mr. Potter."

Harry sighed, pinched his nose, and gagged as the liquid slid down his throat.

"Bloody Hell, what's with these damned potions tasting like crap?”

"Mr. Potter, language," Poppy admonished sternly.

"It would seem that Mr. Potter has developed quite the potty mouth," a voice drawled.

Harry's face felt like it was on fire.

"I suggest that you restrain yourself from now on Mr. Potter, or I will come up with a solution, that I guarantee will cure you of your penchant for spewing a mouthful of profanities," Snape threatened with a glare.

Harry scowled. What a git.

"I'd like to speak with you privately, Madam, if you will," Severus said quietly.

"Of course Severus."

Harry battled to keep his eyes open, as he was hoping to eavesdrop again, but within minutes he was sound asleep.

Poppy took one last glance at her patient, and was shocked at the overwhelming feeling of protectiveness that overcame her when she looked down on the sleeping, messy-haired child. Harry was clutching his blanket possessively; his small form curled into a ball, looking lost under the mounds of blankets on the sterile hospital bed.

Severus was quite annoyed with himself that he couldn't quite stir up the usual feelings of hatred for the boy. It was hard to feel animosity towards a child who had stood before him, fragile and vulnerable, looking like a ghost from his past.

He tore his eyes from the sleeping child and pushed his unwelcome feelings of sympathy for the young Potter to the back of his mind.

Poppy swished her wand to close the curtains around Harry's bed, but not before taking one last look to assure herself that the boy was comfortable.

"Sleep well," Mr. Potter, she said softly.

Severus rolled his eyes. They were all taken in by this arrogant slip of a boy. He was just like his father--spoilt and conceited. Never mind the little voice in the back of his head that whispered, he was none of those things; he was just like Lily.

Severus led Poppy to a far corner of the infirmary and added a privacy spell for security.

Poppy looked up at the dark man expectantly.

"When do you think that Mr. Potter will be well enough to be released?" Severus asked with a scowl.

"Well, most of his injuries are healed, but I worry about his concussion and his weakened state. He is suffering from severe malnutrition and dehydration. It is possible that he might be ready to leave by tomorrow, providing he does not over-exert himself, and he will need some sort of nutritional supplements and slow introduction of solid food," Poppy explained with a clinical professionalism, that belied her growing sense of outrage at the boy's treatment at the hand of his relatives.

Severus nodded. "Very well, I will make tentative plans for moving the boy down to my quarters tomorrow."

Poppy studied Severus' expression. "What is it Severus? I get the feeling that something else is on your mind. Why the privacy spell?"

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Sirius Black has been spotted on the outskirts of Hogsmeade."

Poppy's eyes widened. "But surely Hogwarts is secure."

"I would hope so, but the Headmaster is not taking any chances with Potter's presence here. He's taking extra precautions."

Poppy glanced over at the closed curtains. She shook her head sadly. "Hasn't that boy been through enough already?"

"Yes well, I don't trust Potter not to go wandering around for a midnight stroll," Severus sneered.

Poppy looked shocked. "You don't think-"

"This is Potter we're talking about. He's expressed some curiosity about Black and I wouldn't put it past him to satisfy that curiosity by snooping around. He's never given much thought for his own safety, now has he?"

"Well if I catch him out of bed, I'll put a sticking charm on him," Poppy said sternly.

Severus smirked. "Now that is a sight I would like to see."

Poppy tsked, and gave him a disapproving look. "Severus."

Severus ended the privacy spell. "I will return in the morning for an update on Potter's condition, and to see if he's well enough to be released."

Poppy nodded, and watched the tall man glide out of the Infirmary in a sweep of dark robes. Despite the man's hard exterior, she knew that Severus would keep the boy safe and healthy.

-------

Harry rolled his eyes. "But I feel much better," he insisted.

"Yes well, you will rest nevertheless,” she said firmly.

Harry groaned. He was tired of resting.

"Ah Severus," Poppy looked up to see Severus standing in the doorway of the hospital listening to Harry argue with the Medi-Witch about her instructions for the following week. She'd ordered strict bed-rest, allowing Harry to be out of bed for only short periods of time, and severely limiting his physical activity. The boy was having none of it, however; Harry Potter was definitely not the type of child to be content with inactivity.

She turned a stern glare to Harry. "I was just telling Mr. Potter that unless he wishes to have a relapse and end up back here that he had better obey my instructions to get plenty of rest and not overdo it."

"Don't worry Madam, Mr. Potter will be well taken care of," Snape said ominously

Harry, who had been sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, swinging his legs back and forth, clanging the metal bars with his trainers, stopped and looked wide-eyed at Snape.

The moment that Poppy had announced that she was springing him, Harry had dressed quickly, well as quickly as Poppy would allow him to, and was anxious to escape the white walls and smell of disinfectant. Not that he was particularly anxious to spend time in Snape's company, but Harry was tired of being confined to bed, and was looking forward to being free of Madame Pomfrey's fussing and the foul-tasting potions that she forced down his throat. Harry had the feeling, however, that he was escaping one prison for another.

After impatiently waiting for what seemed like hours, Poppy finished briefing Snape on Harry's care and limitations. All the while Harry was beginning to feel the walls close in on him. Harry was worried that Snape was going to keep him on a short leash for three weeks, and his mind was working overtime to think of ways to escape the invisible bars; a silky fabric lying on the bottom of his trunk came to mind. He'd wait till Snape was asleep; did the old bat even sleep?

Harry, who had tuned out most of the conversation, jumped when a deep voice barked, "Potter."

Snape scowled. "Let's go. We don't have all day," he said impatiently.

Harry jumped off the bed quickly, jarring his wobbly knees and making the springs creak on the old hospital bed.

Snape's thin lips tightened in disapproval.

"Mr. Potter," Poppy admonished, "what part of you are not to be jostling about haphazardly, do you fail to understand?"

He looked at her sheepishly. "Sorry, Madame Pomfrey," he mumbled.

"Think you can make it to my quarters without injuring yourself?" Snape sneered.

Harry glared at him. Yeah, this was going to be so much fun.

-----------

Harry huffed. So much for taking it easy.

The git was walking at the speed of lightening, and stopped every now and then to snap out a, "Hurry up Potter, we don't have all day."

Harry glared daggers at the back of Snape's flapping robes.

Snape led Harry down a series of moving staircases and corridors, until he noticed the entranceway to the Slytherin Dorms. After going undercover pretending to be Goyle last year, Harry had never had the desire to return here. It began to really sink in what fate awaited him for the next three weeks. He had to fight down the overwhelming desire to flee in the other direction.

Snape stopped abruptly, and Harry who'd been following at a run, bumped into him; Harry felt a jolt of pain, as he collided with Snape who had just turned around to address him.

When Severus turned around, he saw a scrawny, dark-haired missile come barreling towards him.

In a flash of blinding pain, Harry would have crashed to the hard cement tiles, but for the firm vice-like grip of two strong hands grasping him by his upper arms.

Almost instinctively, Harry scrunched his eyes shut, and flinched as Snape's face tightened in anger. Severus, who was about to lambaste the boy for his carelessness, bit back his scathing words as he saw the child flinch and clench his eyes tightly shut; memories of himself as a small child, curled up in the corner, his eyes glued shut, hoping to hide and pretend that he didn't exist when Tobias stumbled through the door; the stench of liquor clinging to his clothes. The crack of a palm against flesh echoing against the walls of the modest home, and the sounds of his mother's crying and pleading for it to stop; knowing that his mother had failed in distracting his father from finding the next target of his ire.

Harry's eyelids fluttered opened when the punishing grip on his arms loosened, and he was set gently on his feet. He stared up at Snape in confusion.

"Just a moment Potter," Snape said in a voice, while not gentle, was devoid of its usual malice.

In a series of complex wand movements, Severus whispered the password, and the portrait guarding the entrance opened up to reveal a tall wooden door, with a brass snake clasped to the door handle. To Harry's surprise, Snape whispered, "Serpensortia" and the snake began to slither and hiss, and suddenly the door popped open.

Snape looked at Harry oddly when he began conversing with the snake in Parsletongue. He had known since last year, of course that the boy was a Parslemouth, but it was still very odd to hear the strange hissing sound come from anyone other than the Dark Lord.

Aw, a speaker. So rare is it that I come upon one, and especially one so young. You must be a Slytherin. Only those who possess the qualities of the noble House of Salazar Slytherin have been able to converse with snakes.

I'm a Gryffindor actually, but the sorting hat did say that I'd do well in Slytherin, he added slyly.

Well, of course little one. More often than not, children end up in the same House as either parent. Your mother must have been a Gryffindor.

Before Harry had a chance to decipher the snake's strange words, he felt a firm tug on his arm.

"Let's go Potter," Snape snapped impatiently. "You may converse with your little friend another time.”

Harry took one last look at the snake, whose thin red tongue was popping in and out of its mouth, and said a quick "goodbye," before he was yanked unceremoniously inside Snape's quarters.

Harry jumped when the door slammed shut behind him, causing the flames of the candles on either side of the door to flicker, with the sudden swoosh of air.

Snape swished his wand and Harry squinted his eyes as the curtains parted on the high dungeon windows, illuminating the dark room in bright sunlight.

Harry's jaw dropped.

If Harry had ever spent any time wondering what Snape's quarters were like, he would have expected that the rooms would be dark, ominous, chilly...assuming that the man actually did live inside the castle and didn't just crawl off at midnight to some dank cave.

Instead, the room was light and airy, and decorated in colours that reminded Harry of England in the fall. The walls were made of pale stone, and were covered in wall-hangings, with splashes of orange, burnt umber and red. Velvet maroon drapes hung on the high dungeon windows, and a sofa, loveseat and stuffed armchairs, ivory with small maroon and gold throw cushions stood in the middle of the parlour. The floors were polished hardwood, with a large area rug with the same colours as the wall-hangings. For a man who professed to hate his rival House, Snape's quarters look suspiciously Gryffindorish. Of course, he'd never suggest that to the man.

In front of the sofa was a dark cherry-wood coffee table, with a fine, lacy pattern engraved into the polished wood. Facing the loveseat was a fireplace, with a carved mantel, made of the same fine wood as the coffee table, and end tables that were situated on either side of the loveseat. Along the main wall, there were tall, built-in bookshelves, of the same burnished wood as the other pieces of furniture in the room.

There was no fire in the grate, but the room was a comfortable temperature, with the sunlight filtering in through the windows. Harry closed his eyes for a moment, and felt the warm glow of the sun on his pale face. Harry figured that because it was mid August, that once the sun went down, it would be cool in the dungeons.

Harry was surprised to find that Snape owned quite a few Muggle items, such as a phonograph, an antique telephone, and even a telly encased in wood panelling. Harry would have thought that Snape was the ultimate pure-blood wizard who would have scoffed at anything Muggle, but upon further inspection, Harry could see that Snape even had a video machine, with a wide array of videos lined neatly upon the gleaming wood shelves that stood next to the telly. Harry had to admit that the one thing that he missed in the Wizarding world was the telly, although it was a rare occasion that he was allowed to watch it. Mostly, he would sneak a peek at it while he was cooking for, or serving dinner to, the Dursleys.

Along the other wall, was a small dining alcove with a large dark wood table and four chairs. To the side of that was a kitchenette, with an ice-box and large, old-fashioned Muggle-style oven. Again Harry was struck by how Muggle-like Snape's living space was. Wait till I tell Ron that Snape doesn't actually sleep in a coffin, and live in a cave, Harry snickered to himself. Oh bloody hell--Ron! Wait till Ron finds out that I've been staying with Snape of all people; He'll be horrified when he finds out that Dumbledore made me live with the greasy git till school begins.

Harry felt an ache in his chest. He missed his friends terribly, and wondered when Ron's family would be back from wherever it was that they were. He thought that he remembered Dumbledore saying that Ron would be back in two weeks, so maybe he could spend the last week at the Burrow, instead of with Snape. At the very least, maybe Dumbledore could maybe at least arrange a visit or something. It would be very lonely for him to be without his friends for the next three weeks; only having Snape's company to look forward to, filled Harry with dread and emptiness. It brought to home again, just how very alone in the world he was.

After everything that had happened with the Dursleys, Harry realised that the only people he had that really cared about him were his friends and Dumbledore. Harry felt an aching deep within his heart; what he wouldn't give to have a family like Ron's. He wondered what it would be like to have a mother or a father, or both even. Sometimes Ron complained about his parents, particularly his mum, about how she fussed over him, made him eat his vegetables, told him what time to go to bed, reprimanded him when he misbehaved.

He often told Harry how lucky he was that when he was at Hogwarts, that he had no one to answer to, and no one except the teachers to tell him what to do. What Harry wouldn't give to have a parent, even it if was to make him eat his vegetables, and even if it was to give him hell when he broke the rules. The Dursleys certainly never cared if he ate his vegetables; hell, they never cared if he ate. And if Harry broke their rules, he was beaten within in an inch of his life.

Snape pointed his wand at Harry's trunk, which he'd levitated all the way down from the hospital wing, and it floated off down the corridor and disappeared inside a room at the end of the hallway.

"Come, I'll show you to your room," Snape broke into Harry's thoughts.

Harry looked at the Dark man in confusion. I have my own room? He thought for sure that he'd be relegated to sleeping on the couch or the floor for the duration of the three weeks. On the other hand, Harry thought that he wouldn't put it past the man to stick him in a broom cupboard. But Harry ate his words when he laid eyes on the sight before him.

Harry's first thought was that Dumbledore must have had a hand in convincing Snape to allow him such a beautiful, spacious room. But that thought was quickly dispelled.

Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry. "This is your room for the next three weeks. I converted my study to accommodate you, and I expect you to keep it presentable, is that clear Mr. Potter?" he asked sternly.

Harry had to force his dropped jaw to function again to speak. "Uh--yes sir. I understand," he whispered.

The room was everything that he'd ever wanted. Hell, a bathroom would have been better than what he'd had at the Dursleys.

The room was painted a medium blue, with dark blue curtains and matching comforter on the large four-poster bed. The furniture, which consisted of a dresser, night tables on either side of the bed, shelves of books, and a small desk were all of a dark, rich polished wood, similar to that of the furniture in the main living area.

Harry was quite pleased that his room had a window that looked out onto the grounds. Harry had been sure, that being in the dungeons, that there would be no windows, and that he would feel quite claustrophobic while staying with Snape. Although the windows, were a little higher off the ground than if they had been on higher levels of the Castle, they were quite large, and allowed a substantial amount of natural light to filter through, giving the room a warm, cosy glow, and cosy was not a word that Harry would have ever associated with the likes of Snape.

"There is a small loo to the right, and there is also one at the end of the main hall," Snape said uncomfortably. He still couldn't believe that Potter, of all people, would be his house guest for the next three weeks.

"I will leave you to unpack and get settled." He pinned Harry with his dark eyes. "You are to rest, after you've unpacked, and I will wake you for dinner."

"But sir," Harry whined, "I'm not tired."

"Nevertheless you will rest," Snape said firmly. "You are not required to sleep, but you will rest on the bed till dinner time. You may read if you like," Snape said motioning to the wide array of books on the shelves, but you are not to do anything other than lie on that bed until it is time to eat. Is that clear Potter?"

Harry bit his lip. He really didn't feel like resting, but he supposed that being able to read wasn't so horrible. "Yes sir," Harry said nodding his head.

"Very well, I will give you one half hour to put your belongings away, freshen up, and then I will come to make sure that you are where you are supposed to be. Given your track record for following directions," he sneered, "I don't trust you to do as you're told."

Harry gritted his teeth. Whenever he started to think that the man wasn't quite so bad, the git had to open his mouth and ruin it.

-------

"Potter."

Harry's eyelids fluttered open, and the heavy, opened book that he'd fallen asleep with while reading, jumped up into the air, and landed with a thump on his chest, knocking the wind out of him.

Snape smirked at him. "So, you weren't tired, were you?"

Harry took off his glasses, and rubbed his tired eyes. "Well, maybe a little," he said sheepishly.

Snape studied the boy for a minute. He'd actually waited several moments before waking the boy, when he'd opened the door to find Potter, glasses askew, eyes closed, clasping a book to his chest and sleeping soundly.

He wasn't quite sure what compelled him, but he couldn't quite stop staring at the small, sleeping child. Why did he have to be the one to find Potter at the Leaky Cauldron? Why did he have to be the one to discover that Potter was not the pampered prince that he thought he was? Damn it all. Why couldn't he still feel that same hate that he'd clung to for all these years? Why was it that only now was he likening the boy to Lily, and not James bloody Potter? He was Potter's son. He didn't want to feel anything but hate for this child, and now his illusions were all shattered, and he wished he could go back in time to before he saw this small, broken child, staring up at him with Lily's eyes.

Severus had stood there staring at the boy, trying to retrieve all those memories of when the younger Potter had broken the rules, had been arrogant or conceited like his father but all Severus could feel was the same pity and compassion that he'd felt for the child since the shocking realisation that Potter had lived the same childhood as he had.

"Come, it's time for dinner," he said gruffly.

"When you are back on solid foods, we will eat more frequently in the Great Hall, but since your dietary needs are specific, we will eat down here," Snape said, motioning for Harry to take a seat.

While Harry did feel somewhat hungry, his stomach still churned a little, and he was thankful that he wasn't expected to eat anything too substantial.

As if reading his thoughts, Snape retrieved a phial from his robes pocket, and Harry recognised it as the same stomach soothing potion that he'd been given while in the hospital.

"This should help you to keep your meal down. It wouldn't do for you to lose what little nourishment we can get into your stomach."

Harry had to refrain from telling Snape just what he thought of his foul-tasting potions, after the horrid liquid made him gag. He didn't really want to find out what Snape would do to him if he allowed his mouth to run wild again.

Snape motioned for him to eat.

Harry had a feeling that he was going to be thoroughly sick of soup by the time he was back on a regular diet. But there was also some rice, yoghurt and a hard-boiled egg.

Harry again was amazed that Snape didn't push him to finish his meal. He simply nodded when Harry apologised for not being able to finish, and with a swish of his wand, cleared the table.

Harry stood for a moment, uncertain of what was expected of him now.

He sincerely hoped that Snape wouldn't send him back to bed again.

Snape studied Harry a moment, before saying, "You may lie on the couch and rest either with a book or you may watch the telly, but you are not to do anything else."

Harry was at a loss for words at how kind Snape was being. Well, maybe kind wasn't the word, but it seemed as though the man had lost a bit of his sarcastic edge. Just a little bit.

Snape summoned a blanket and a pillow for Harry, who hadn't realised just how knackered he really was until he rested his head on the propped up pillow.

"I have some work to attend to. I trust you can keep yourself busy until bed time? Which will be at nine o'clock."

Bed time? Harry grimaced at the word. He was thirteen, not three! And nine o'clock? Harry never went to bed before at least midnight, even on school nights. Him and Ron would laugh and talk till all hours of the night. Never mind, that Harry always looked and felt like he was sleep-deprived, and it showed in his marks.

"But-" Harry began, but thought better to argue when the man's face became as dark as a storm cloud.

"You will be required to be in your room by nine. You are permitted to read quietly in your bed until ten, when you will be expected to turn out the lights," he said firmly. "We will discuss more thoroughly my rules and expectations tomorrow," he said before he gave Harry one last look, as if daring him to argue.

Harry sighed. He could just imagine what rules that Snape would cook up. It would probably fill a novel.

"Here," Snape said as he handed Harry the remote control to the telly.

He looked at Harry sternly. "Not one foot off that sofa, except to go to the loo. Do you understand, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded. "Yes sir."

"Very well," he said then turned around and said as an afterthought, "You may, if you are thirsty, serve yourself some juice from the ice-box."

Is this really Snape, or did they replace him with a clone?

"Thank you sir," Harry said gratefully. Snape nodded, and disappeared down the corridor. Harry heard a door close, and he wondered what Snape was doing for a study, since Harry had taken his. He felt a twinge of guilt. Of course, Snape must think that he was a real burden.

-------------

As Harry lay in his bed, he stared at the phial of potion that Snape had ordered him to take before going to sleep. Even though Harry had much less pain than before, his muscles still ached when over-exerted, and he still fell a dull throbbing in his temples from time-to-time.

He knew that somehow, he was going to have to develop a tolerance for the vile-tasting potions that Snape was going to be shoving down his throat in the next three weeks, or Harry thought that he would go barmy with having to endure something that tasted like Hagrid's cauldron cakes.

Just before ten, when Harry prepared to extinguish the lanterns, he went over to the windows to draw the curtains closed, and jumped out of his skin when, the same two glittering charcoal eyes that had haunted him in Magnolia Crescent, stared back.

Harry's legs turned to jelly.

At the sound of the door opening, Harry turned around and stared at Snape, his face pasty and eyes glossy.

"Mr. Potter, what are you doing out of bed?" Snape's lips thinned with anger at the boy's stubbornness. He hurried over and firmly grasped Harry by his arms, and helped the unsteady child into bed.

He closed the curtains with a flick of his wand and turned to Harry--a disapproving look on his face.

"It is ten o'clock now Potter, and I expect you to go to sleep." he said firmly, while extinguishing the bedside lanterns and with one last look to make certain that the boy was doing as he was told, left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Harry lay still in the dark for what seemed like hours. He heard the chimes of the grandfather clock in the hallway, that said it was now midnight. Harry tiptoed to the door and opened it a crack.

Two candles on the walls illuminated the hallway with a soft light. Harry listened to hear if Snape was still awake. Upon hearing only the blood pounding in his head, Harry quietly closed the door and kneeled before his trunk.

He scooped up his invisibility cloak and hugged the silky fabric to his chest for a moment. He allowed himself to imagine his father skulking about on one of his adventures, while hidden under the cloak to avoid detection. His heart twisted. He wished that he'd know his mum and dad.

Harry placed the cloak over his head, took a deep breath and quietly slipped out the door.

To be continued...
End Notes:
Harry likes to live on the edge doesn't he? Will Snape catch him, or will he be like a cat with nine lives and get off scott-free?

I love cats!


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