Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts July 1996 (13)

Harry slammed the lid of his trunk closed and contemplated the various scenarios for the rest of the summer: Either Snape would quickly tire of his incompetence and curse him into oblivion - which would hardly be fair since Harry had no idea how to use his powers - or... Well, he'd just be cursed, wouldn't he? Slytherins and ‘fair' rarely tangoed.

Why did I agree to this? He wondered, for the umpteenth time.

His watch read 11:20 a.m. Snape wanted to be gone by noon, but Dumbledore had requested they meet with him in his office at 11:30 a.m. With a sigh, Harry exited the dorm.

Stepping off the spiraling staircase, he paused outside the door having detected Snape's low, rich baritone mixed with Dumbledore's murmurings. Unable to distinguish what was being said after a few moments, he knocked. Just as he reached for the doorknob, the door swept open to reveal a tight-lipped Snape.

"Good morning, Harry," Dumbledore said in a bright tone.

"Morning, Professor," Harry said, stepping inside. "Professor Snape." He cut his eyes at the man in shy acknowledgment as Snape closed the door behind him.

"Potter," Snape replied, as emotionless as ever. It was as if the past two days had not happened. Unperturbed, Harry continued on into the room.

"Please, Harry, sit down," Dumbledore said. Once Harry was seated, Snape sat, as well. "Professor Snape and I were just discussing how and where you should spend the rest of the summer."

"Oh?" said Harry, irritated, detesting being talked about outside his presence. Also, Snape had made is sound as if their destination had already been decided.

"As the depth of your powers is regrettably unclear, Harry, I believe it essential that you have the freedom to explore your new abilities, unhindered, thereby enabling you to grasp control of them as quickly as possible," Dumbledore said.

Harry turned to gauge Snape's thoughts. The tightness around his mouth and the clipped sound of his voice made plain the man's deep disapproval.

"While I will accept that it is of great importance to gain control of your magic rather sooner than later, it should be a controlled, gradual process," Snape said.

Rather uneasy with the smugly expectant look Dumbledore was regarding him with, Harry knew instantly whose method he preferred. Though he could never be accused of applying controlled and gradual to anything he did, he was willing to give himself over to Snape's way of doing things. But, he did not kid himself; he knew Snape couldn't stand him. Yet, in a mystifying contrast to the man's ill-nature, he had been there for Harry, in one way or another, over the past week.

Following his collapse, it had been Snape's stern face Harry had seen upon waking in the hospital ward and his voice he had heard before slumber.

Also, he had elected to seek Harry out following the revelation of Remus's death. Harry's callous resistance had made for a disastrous encounter, but he had begun to reconsider things after a conversation with Dobby. His blithe disregard of the meals Dobby delivered daily had led the elf to let slip that it was Snape who had entreated him to do so, explaining his sudden and frequent appearances in Gryffindor Tower.

"Harry Potter, you must eat, please!"

"I don't want any, Dobby, really."

The little elf drew his lips tight across his teeth, seemingly to prevent himself from speaking, but eventually his abiding concern for Harry sacked his sense of duty to another.

"Master Snape says Dobby is to make sure Harry Potter eats what Dobby brings and Dobby is to report back to Master Snape if Harry Potter doesn't!" Dobby said in a mad rush. He then began to gnaw on his wrists, much as a dog worried at a flea.

Harry thought of the numerous times he had dismissed the brimming trays of food with a lackluster glance in favor of curling up on the sofa to stare sightlessly into the dormant fireplace. Had Snape bounced Dobby off the kitchen walls, or demanded that he roast his hands as punishment when the elf reported that Harry wasn't eating?

Harry pulled the elf's thin arms down to his sides and demanded, "Did he hurt you, Dobby?"

Dobby shuddered at the angry look on Harry's face.

"No, Harry Potter, no! Master Snape was disturbed when I tells him Harry Potter won't eat..." Then whispering, as if afraid of being overheard, Dobby said, "Master Snape is worried... He is worried for Harry Potter..."

Thus it was with a calculated assuredness that Harry looked Dumbledore in the eye, and said, "I agree with Professor Snape."

"Harry, I do not -" "Headmaster, Pot -" Snape and Dumbledore spoke over one another.

"Headmaster," Snape interjected, "Potter's training will be intense and distractions -"

"Severus," Dumbledore interrupted. "It is vital that I be engaged in what is going on!"

"What's vital is that we be left alone!" Snape countered. "If the boy is indeed as powerful as you believe him to be, it is just as well no one knows our location.

"As you stated the other night, Potter's safety is of the utmost importance. You have charged me with safeguarding him, and I shall do so, to the best of my abilities. I have factored the risks and should anything untoward arise, I have established a foolproof method to alert you."

"Severus -"

With a hiss of impatience, Snape turned to Harry, cutting off Dumbledore's response.

"Potter, it is your choice."

Harry held Snape's dark gaze. There was no eager expectation, nor malicious objective present in those black eyes that he could discern, only a soothing, fluid calmness. It struck Harry, that for once his wishes were being weighed, respected even, without condition. The Dursleys had certainly never afforded him options, but nor had many in the wizarding world. Nevertheless, he felt that should he change his mind, should he submit to Dumbledore's wishes - as the old wizard obviously expected - Snape would accept it and things would still be okay.

Comforted by that thought, Harry turned back to Dumbledore and repeated, "I agree with Professor Snape."

At that, Snape was on his feet, Harry joining him. 

"Severus!" Dumbledore rose as well, his expression a blend of angry disbelief and helplessness. "This is impossible! If there is an emergency, I must be able to contact you!"

"As I said, I shall contact you should anything happen. Barring that, any other correspondence is unacceptable. No matter how cleverly devised, it could be intercepted," Snape said, then strode to the door. He held it open, allowing Harry to pass through.

Waiting at the top of the moving staircase, Harry heard Snape speak one last word to the headmaster before firmly closing the door.

"Albus."

*WO

When they reached the ground floor, their things were awaiting them near the entrance doors. Harry immediately tucked his broom and Hedwig's cage under his left arm, then grabbed his trunk with his right hand. Snape looked at him as if he had grown a second head.

"What?"

"Do you intend to drag your trunk all the way to the gates?"

"Well, I can't do magic to get them there," Harry pointed out, frowning.

"No... But you have a fully trained wizard in your presence."

Harry flushed. "Oh, yeah. Um, okay."

Reluctantly, he relinquished his Firebolt to Snape's outstretched hand, whereupon Snape muttered, "Reducio," shrinking it to fit within the trunk.

"It shall be fine, Potter," he said, sighing impatiently at the look of dismay on Harry's face.

Harry shrugged sheepishly, then opened his trunk, adding the broom to its contents. Snape then motioned for Hedwig's cage. Harry suddenly clutched it to his chest.

"I can't leave her here!"

"Potter, she is your owl! She will find you wherever you are, though it might be best if she remain here. Communication shall be near impossible and her appearance is entirely too distinctive."

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, grudgingly holding out the cage for Snape to shrink, after which he shrunk Harry's trunk once the cage was inside it. Harry put the small lump in his pocket alongside his mother's medallion.

"It is a rather secluded place where we shall be able to work without fear of discovery," Snape said as he shrunk his own things - a battered trunk and two oversized crates - before slipping them into his robe's pockets.

Harry frowned, dissatisfied with that vague explanation. "But -"

"Potter, we have a schedule to follow!" Snape snapped. Harry rolled his eyes and heaved an annoyed sigh. "In future, a lot less of that will save you from a multitude of chores as there shall not be a house-elf in residence," Snape said. He then began striding toward the great front doors.

 As soon as Snape's back was turned, Harry gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes and sneered. He tempered the urge to jab his thumbs in his ears and waggle his fingers for extra effect.

"I think cleaning the windows of our summer residence might make a fine chore to begin with," Snape's voice drifted back to Harry as he pulled the doors open, flooding the entrance with the noon time sun.

Harry sighed (inwardly), and blinked rapidly against the bright light as he trailed Snape outside. Once they reached the bottom of the steps, he whistled loudly. In the distance, a dot-sized figure came streaking away from Hagrid's hut, growing larger as it drew closer. Finally, Fang loped to a stop at Harry's feet, tail wagging impossibly, shaking the dog's lanky frame.

When Harry had made Snape aware of his promise to Hagrid to look after the dog, he had expected a cold, staunch refusal in allowing the dog to accompany them. He had been thunderstruck when Snape had simply nodded his head in acquiescence.

"Let's go, Potter," said Snape, setting off at a swift pace, leaving little doubt that he was, if not fully recovered, nearly there.

Fang gave a booming bark and galloped after the man. Harry had to jog to keep close behind the two long-legged creatures. Once at the gates, Harry expected them to open as they had when he had arrived with Remus and Mr. Weasley. Instead, Snape pulled out a gleaming, gold pocket watch.

Harry had only paid a perfunctory sort of attention in Sinistra's Astronomy class, but, from what he could see of it, the face of the watch bore a constellation, though he was unsure which constellation it was. The watch's cover, unsurprisingly, had what looked like intertwined snakes, twisting about each other, pausing intermittently.

"We have two minutes before the gate's charms are released, allowing us to Apparate. When I tell you, grasp hold of my arm and keep a firm grip on the dog's collar, understand?" Snape quickly glanced at the watch once more.

"Yes, sir."

"You've Apparated before, with Arthur Weasley?"

Harry peeled his eyes off the timepiece to look at Snape. Recalling Remus' haunted face from that night, he lowered his eyes.

"No," he mumbled, "Remus."

Snape sighed softly. "Well, then you know that it is not the most pleasant experience for a novice and probably not for an animal, either, so I suggest you do as I say."

"Yes, sir."

With one more glance at the watch, Snape said, "Grasp my arm, close your eyes, and inhale a deep breath on my count."

Moving closer, Harry closed his eyes, placed his hand around Snape's outstretched arm and held tightly to Fang's collar as Snape counted.

"Three... Two... One."

Harry inhaled deeply just as a familiar, suffocating darkness enveloped him. He gripped Snape's arm and Fang's collar even tighter as they were transported.

*WO

Though knowing what to expect and what to do made this experience much less dreadful than the last time, Harry determined there had to be better modes of travel than Apparition, such as the Knight bus or a trebuchet. Thankful when the natural bright light of the world returned, he stumbled, but was caught about the shoulders before meeting the ground.

"Thanks," he gasped as Snape steadied him before quickly letting go.

Harry shook himself and felt Fang do the same. After a quick inspection of the dog, he let go of his collar. Harry then took in the unfamiliar scenery, struck by the beauty of the rolling terrain being buffeted by a strong, southerly wind. Breathing in deeply, he inhaled the earthy scent of the sea, though he could not see it.

"Where are we?"

"In a moment, Potter," Snape muttered. "We must get off the road." His pace was urgent as he set off through the nearly ankle-high grasses of the lush landscape. Making sure to sniff everything as he went, Fang trotted easily after the man then turned to look at Harry, hanging back until the boy followed. 

Soon, they crested a short hill. Harry shivered when he felt a tingle of magic just as they were about to proceed down the hill's slope to a breathtaking valley. Fang sensed it and stopped short, whining.

"Come," said Snape sharply. Reluctantly, Fang obeyed, yelping in surprise as he joined Snape and Harry at the top of the hill. The steep descent led to a small, thatched roof cottage. Snape never slowed until they reached the rectangular red door of the dwelling.

"You felt the magic at the crest of the hill?" Snape asked. Harry nodded. "This area has many abandoned tin mines and to anyone else, Muggle or wizard, this cottage appears as such. No one knows of its existence besides me, and now you. And, no one but you or I are able to cross the boundary."

"Not even the headmaster?"

"Not even him," Snape stated coldly. "It's primarily why he disapproved of my idea and insisted we go to a location of his choosing."

Snape seemed snidely satisfied at having denied Dumbledore information he had so obviously desired, making Harry wonder if the rift between them had been mended or not. To a degree, he understood Snape's attitude because though he placed blame at Scrimgeour's feet for his shameless pursuit of Harry's celebrity, Harry felt equally put out with the headmaster for shuttling him out of Hogwarts instead of making it so that he could stay.

"I could have refused the Minister's request, you know. I'm not a baby," he grumbled.

Snape considered him for a moment before responding. "Yes, but, the Headmaster felt it necessary to avoid confrontation in any case."

"Yeah, right."

"Pardon?"

"Dumbledore didn't want to avoid any confrontation; he just didn't want Scrimgeour finding out about my magic. He probably thought I'd have a fit or something, get upset, use my new powers, then Scrimgeour might rather use me as a weapon instead of the Ministry's poster boy."

Snape crossed his arms over his chest and cleared his throat. "You are, perhaps, somewhat more observant than I give you credit for, Potter."

"Yeah?" Harry said, stunned at what seemed like praise coming from Snape.

"Yes," Snape said, bemused at Harry's reaction. After a moment, he asked, "How well do you think you could have handled Minister Scrimgeour bringing up the deaths of your family as a way to entice you into playing a role at the Ministry?"

"Entice me?" Harry scowled. "First of all, it would take more than insincere condolences to ‘entice' me. Secondly, I hate that the Dursleys were killed, but they weren't my family so much as people Dumbledore forced to take me in."

"‘Forced'?"

Harry looked at Snape and shrugged. "Long story." 

"Indeed," Snape responded, intrigued. When Harry failed to volunteer further information, Snape turned toward the cottage's door and said, "Corage is the password to gain entrance. Once you've said it, you need not say it again during your stay here."

"Cor-ahge?" As Harry spoke, the cast iron latch clicked and the door swung open, causing Fang to cower and whimper. Snape reached down to briefly touch the dog on its head; prompted by the touch, Fang preceded Harry inside.

The door opened onto a cozy sitting room, flooded with natural light filtering in through the great mullioned window at the front of the cottage and a smaller version on the side. The room was furnished simply with an oversized sofa, a toffee-colored club chair, an old, tattered arm chair, and a round wooden coffee table atop a large, faded oval rug adorned with four monkeys. Harry watched as Fang quickly sniffed out the area, then settle on a sunny spot beneath the larger window.

Harry pulled his shrunken trunk out of his pocket, placing it on the floor.

"Professor... Could you?" he asked, indicating his tiny trunk.

Snape pulled out his wand and incanted, "Engorgio."Harry reached inside it to remove his broom and Hedwig's cage, and Snape enlarged them as well.

"Thank you," Harry said. "Where should I put my stuff?"

"Down the hall, on the right," Snape said, engrossed in walking about, inspecting the condition of the place. Harry continued down the short hall to the room Snape had indicated.

It was small and contained a single bed shoved up under the window, a wardrobe, a desk, chair, and side table. There was a thick burgundy rug along the open side of the bed and it was there Harry placed his things. He looked out the low mullioned windows to the wonderfully wild garden beyond. He climbed onto the bed and pushed the glass open to lean on the windowsill. A fragrant breeze washed over his face as he closed his eyes, inhaling the tantalizingly foreign scents so different from Hogwarts. Hearing a rustling behind him, Harry turned to find Snape leaning against the door frame, arms crossed.

"I see we need also to work on your sensory skills."

"How long you been there?" Harry turned to scoot off the bed.

"Long enough," Snape said, pushing off the wall and straightening up. He looked around the room. "Everything is satisfactory?"

"Yeah, it's great. I really appreciate... you know, you doing this."

Snape gave a clipped nod, obviously uncomfortable with Harry's expressiveness. "Neither of us had much choice."

Harry regarded him strangely. "You did."

Snape hitched an eyebrow, then shrugged. "We do what we must." He turned to leave.

"Sir!"

Snape looked back.

"Um, I've been wondering for a while now... Why didn't I get a warning?" Snape frowned, confused. "From the Ministry - for using underage magic, like last year with the Dementors?"

Snape's frown deepened. "It was powerful magic you performed, Potter - untraceable."

"Untraceable?" Harry stared, stunned. "Dumbledore never - Why didn't he tell me that?"

Snape's expression cleared, yet he took a moment before responding. "Fear... I suspect."

"Dumbledore? Scared? Of what?"

"Potter, once you have garnered control of your powers, you shall be a formidable wizard, much more so, I believe, than either the Dark Lord or even Dumbledore. And as you grow older, your powers shall only progress, as shall your skill to control them."

Pondering the significance of Snape's words, Harry was overwhelmed with both the possibility and impossibility of living up to them.

Meekly, he asked, "Are you frightened of me?"

"No, I am not," Snape said crisply. "Oh," he said as he again turned to leave, "you might want to get started on the windows now so as to have them done in time for dinner."

*WO

Soth-ince Den, Lizard Point, Cornwall, July 1996 (14)

Just as dawn was breaking, Harry was awakened by the mouth-watering smell of frying bacon. He slipped on his glasses and opened his bedroom door to be further assaulted by the aroma wafting down the short hall from the kitchen. Bare feet slapping against the slate flagged floor, he rounded the corner into the cozy eating space. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of Snape, fully dressed, tipping several thick slices of the deliciously fragrant meat onto a plate.

Snape paused to take in Harry's scruffy appearance - particularly the nest-like hair. "Sleep well?"

"I did, thanks," said Harry. Snape went back to loading more food onto the plates as Harry ran a hand through his hair, shuffling his feet back and forth on the chilly floor.

He'd been so tired last night after working most of the afternoon cleaning the windows that he'd gone to bed without dinner. He vaguely recalled being woken by Snape, insisting that he get up to eat, but Harry had grumbled tiredly and shifted to a more comfortable position on the bed. A moment later, he'd felt Snape remove his shoes and cover him with a blanket, leaving him contentedly sated, though he'd eaten nothing.

Without looking up, Snape said, "I'm not bringing your plate to you."

With a white stoneware pitcher in hand, he filled two glasses with an amber liquid. When Snape sat down, Harry did, as well. He reached for his fork and began pricking the eggs on his plate. Taking a bite, he almost moaned aloud.

"These are fantastic!"

"You expected something along the lines of Hagrid's... inventions?"

Harry shivered. "Gods, no! I just never figured you for a... a cook," he replied around a mouthful of the savory, perfectly seasoned and perfectly scrambled eggs. When Snape grimaced, Harry snapped his mouth shut.

"It is merely a matter of seasoning and finesse. One with even the most rudimentary skills could do it," Snape said, nibbling at his toast.

"I know how to cook, but I'm crap at making good eggs. Will you teach me?"

Snape regarded Harry's earnest face for a moment. "Perhaps. Let's see how well you follow my instructions with your training first. Merlin knows you rarely listen in class."

Harry bit back a sarcastic retort, and quickly averted his eyes. He got the notion Snape was baiting him, trying to prove a point, Slytherin-style, but the man's innate maliciousness would prove challenging over time. Despite the horrific things both had experienced since the end of last term, Harry recognized that they would never be friendly, yet he hoped civility might be managed. Having consciously and determinedly broken with Dumbledore to follow this man, Harry did not want to evoke any unpleasantness so early in their stay.

He could make no promises for the days and weeks to come, though.

"No comment?" Snape fairly drawled the dare.

Stuffing a slice of bacon into his mouth, Harry chewed, swallowed, and choked out, "No - sir."

Snape nodded, satisfied.

Coughing, Harry picked up his glass and took a drink. Apple juice, cold, and sweet slid down his throat refreshingly, tickling his taste buds. Throughout the meal, whenever Harry's plate emptied, Snape refilled it. Finally, Harry covered it with his hand when Snape made to put more eggs on it. Harry had, from what he could tell, dispensed with seven pieces of bacon, three slices of toast, replete with butter and honey, and a host of eggs.

"No more," Harry groaned.

"You're sure?"

Harry nodded, languidly leaning back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him so that he could rest his hands on his stomach. He inhaled and exhaled contentedly.

"We shall be working hard this morning. It is important that you keep your energy level up," Snape said, by way of temptation.

All Harry wanted at that moment was to curl up and take a nap, but he shook his head and said, "I can't... I'll burst."

Snape's lip twitched as he took in Harry's drowsy eyes, relaxed slouch, and satisfied frown. After quickly bowing his head to shield his reaction, he stood up. Fang lumbered into the room, anxiously wagging his tail. Snape simply cast the considerable remainder of their meal into the large bowl on the floor, which Fang attacked, noisily, snuffling it down before Snape had fully cleared the table.

"Let's go, Potter."

*WO  

After a quick shower and change of clothes, Harry joined Snape outside where the sun had not yet risen high enough to burn off the morning's dew. His oversized sweatshirt and well-worn undershirt worked well enough to combat the slight, lingering chill, but after taking in Snape's intense expression, he imagined the temperature would soon be of little consequence.

Looking at Harry, Snape said, "Clear your mind." Harry nearly bolted, reminded horribly of their failed Occlumency sessions. "Take several deep breaths and think of something pleasant."

That was different.

"Like what?"

"I don't know, Potter." Snape scowled. "What do you like?"

Considering the question, Harry eyed the ground, focused on the light film of dirt covering Snape's boots. Quidditch, flying, and magic were his great loves. But, he felt he needed something more emotionally substantive, more tangibly human to relate to.

Images of the people in his life instantly flooded his mind. Unsurprisingly, there was Hermione and Ron, but then Neville, Luna - who was always good for a chuckle - and Ginny appeared as well. It didn't escape his notice that they had been the ones with him at the Ministry, but that brought on emotions he was not yet ready to deal with.

"Potter!"

Harry startled. "It's not easy!"

"Fine! Let's try something else," Snape said. "Look at me."

Warily, Harry looked up. Had this been any day beyond two weeks ago, or even a month ago, he would have balked. But, after the summer they had both experienced, he realized that he was slowly coming to develop something like trust for Snape. It wasn't absolute, but it did make following his instructions a bit easier.

"Listen to my voice," said Snape, his voice a calm monotone. "Relax. Close your eyes. Picture yourself in a safe place."

Immediately, Harry found himself in a vaguely familiar room with dark wooden bars surrounding him. He glanced down. Chubby fingers had a tenuous grasp on the bars, but in the next moment, he was no longer standing. The abruptness in the change of position rattled him and he began to cry. A smiling woman with deep red hair and almond shaped eyes of vivid green came into view. She began to sing softly to him, trying to calm him: ‘Little star that shines so bright, come and peep at me tonight...' Giggling, he cast his hands skyward as she reached down for him, and then he was flying...

"Potter!"

Harry grimaced, feeling unbalanced and unsure of where he was. Something sharp was digging into his neck. He opened his eyes to find himself staring up at the sky.

"What happened?" he asked, groggy, and a bit nauseous.

"You fell over," Snape said. "What did you see?"

Harry pushed up to a sitting position and rubbed his eyes. His hands came away wet.

"I saw me, in a cot, crying, then my mum came..."

Snape inhaled shallowly. "Get up," he said, helping Harry to his feet. Snape directed him to the sturdy oak bench next to the front door and sat beside him. "That was the first image to come to mind of a safe place?"

"I didn't even think about it. It just came to me... If I thought about it, nowhere would be safe," Harry said, rubbing his neck.

Snape regarded him disbelievingly. "What about the Weasley's home?"

"That's... different." Harry frowned, shaking his head, feeling utterly incapable of fully expressing what he meant.

Harry had always preferred the chaos of the Burrow over the stark, Aunt Petunia-clean existence on Privet Drive, yet, in either case, he was left wanting. The Dursleys had reveled in excluding Harry from their family, but as close as he felt to them and as welcomed as they always made him feel, the Weasleys were not his family, either. Lily's arms embodied the truest safe place because there, a bond existed, cemented by blood. That he was still alive was testament to its power.

 "Very well," Snape said, rubbing his temples. "Why don't you look around the area, spot something that appeals to you and use it a point of focus."

Harry stood up. Venturing forward, his eyes swept the natural expanse of the land until he spotted an old rowan. Beautifully bowed by the relentless southern breeze, its imperfect branches, teeming with wild fibrous leaves, extended sideways, supple as a dancer.

He took a deep breath, trying to think of nothing but the calm he felt while looking at the tree, but, again, tiny, grasping fingers appeared as a soft pair of hands pulled him up, up, so that he squealed with laughter. Then, horrified, heart-wrenching screams mingled to eventually overpower his joyful, tinkling sounds. 

As Harry started to fall away, Snape lunged forward to grasp him about the waist. He swept Harry's limp body into his arms and carried him inside placing him on the sofa where he began to lightly slap Harry's cheeks.

"Potter! Potter, wake up!"

Harry frowned at the stinging blows. Finally realizing he wasn't dreaming, he nudged Snape's hand away. He opened his eyes to the man staring down at him, concern and irritation etched across his face.

"W-what happened?"

"You passed out!" Snape paused, swallowing. "What did you see this time?"

"Same thing, except this time, s-she was screaming... It's like when Dementors come round me, I a-always hear her s-screaming..." He choked on a sob in his throat.

"Don't!" Snape said. "Close your eyes. Just - just rest a moment."

Harry instantly regretted saying anything at the look of revulsion that marred Snape's face. He suddenly recalled Snape's memory of James Potter arrogantly dangling a young Snape before the Marauders, and young Snape's acid response to Lily coming to his defense. Though Snape had never professed to hate or even dislike her, Harry imagined he must have counted her amongst his antagonists, if only by Gryffindor association. Nevertheless, that look had hurt, so Harry turned his back on the man.

After a time, his breathing evened out and his tears dried, yet for as long as it took him to fall asleep, Snape remained at his side, his brow furrowed.

*WO

The days passed and routine was established. At breakfast, Snape would quiz Harry over their previous training sessions - as much a taskmaster outside the classroom as he was inside it. He maintained his commitment to instruct Harry to come into his magic gradually, but it was difficult to temper his frustration when Harry easily grasped the theory of his magic, but made little progress in the practical aspect. As hard as Harry tried, as hard as he wanted to try, mentally, he was unprepared, thus ineffective.

Friday proved a hard day.

"You have about as much focus as Filch has magic!" Snape snarled.

"Well if you took a moment to talk to me instead of yelling at me!" Harry yelled.

They had both ended up stalking away from each other; Harry to pout at his rowan, and Snape to scowl in his potions lab out back of the cottage. That evening, following a silent, strained dinner, Harry fell into bed exhausted.

Tired and emotionally overwrought, that nightmarish vision of his mother dying manifested itself in his dreams, haunting him in even sharper detail.

Baby Harry watched as Lily waded through a box, picking out various items from her days at Hogwarts. There were several old Gryffindor ties, a scarf, old textbooks, and quills. Shoving parchments filled with old marked assignments aside, she discovered a medallion. Her eyes overflowed with tears as she lifted it, letting it swing between her fingers. Recognizing that she was upset, and bewitched by the shiny object, Harry rose unsteadily to his feet and clumsily tottered over to her. She looked up from the necklace and a radiant smile lit her face. She eagerly threw her arms out, and Harry, giggling, toppled forward into them.

There were delighted squeals from both mother and child: The child, happy because his mum was no longer upset, and the mother, ecstatic to witness her baby's first steps. As Lily held him, he grasped hold of the medallion, marking it as his own plaything by promptly shoving it into his mouth and gumming it mercilessly, making Lily laugh even harder.

Months later on Hallowe'en night when his world shattered, Harry had held tight to that same medallion; after his mother was struck by a frightening green light, he had held tight to it; as he sat crying for her, a blinding pain struck him in the center of his forehead, yet he held tight; and when enormous, dust bin sized hands gently plucked him from the ruins of his home to fly him over the moon, he clung tight to it. But, the next morning, he hadn't had it to cling to when his aunt's screams woke him.

Snape came awake instantly at the wretched sound of Harry screaming. He nearly tripped over Fang in the hallway as the dog raced into Harry's room. Snape sat on the bed's edge and gripped Harry's thrashing shoulders, calling to him. Finally, Harry opened his terrified eyes. By the light of the moon seeping through his window, he distinguished a blurry, pale, dark-haired shape beside him on the bed.

"Sirius!" Gasping, Harry threw himself against Snape and embraced him tightly. "You came... I knew you wouldn't leave me... Knew you'd come back!"

Closing his eyes, Snape went rigid. For several moments, he stiffly endured Harry's weak sobs and pleadings, hoping the tears would exhaust the already overtired boy. But, when Harry continued to call him ‘Sirius', Snape finally rested his chin on Harry's head and began to chant softly. Eventually, Harry's grasp loosened and he slumped back against his pillows.

"Sirius..." he whispered as his eyelids fluttered sleepily, fighting Snape's spell. "Don't let him get me..."

"It's all right Potter, you're all right," Snape intoned softly. Using his palm, he swept the perspiration from Harry's brow. "No one shall harm you... Sleep, now," he said.

Harry, tired and lulled by Snape's voice as he continued to murmur softly to him, wasn't long in obeying.

*WO

Soth-ince Den, Lizard Point, Cornwall July 1996 (24)

"Today you shall work on levitating something more substantial than a quill," Snape said, getting up to clear the breakfast table.

"I'm not ready for anything heavier than that, yet."

"I believe you are. That you don't is part of your problem."

Harry joined him at the sink. "I don't have a problem; I just know what I can and can't do!"

"Potter, you can levitate whatever you choose to levitate! These ridiculous excuses are exhausting!" Snape thrust the dirty dishes at Harry as the boy ran hot, soapy water to wash and rinse them.

"I'm not making excuses! I've tried it, plenty of times! I just can't do it!" Irritated, Harry glanced at Snape to find him regarding him skeptically. "What? When you're out in the lab, I'm trying to levitate... things."  

"May I see you try?" asked Snape, eyebrow raised in a non-threatening, inquisitive sort of way so as not to put Harry off.

Shifting about nervously, Harry rinsed and dried his hands. "Fine..."

In the sitting room, Harry spotted a half-empty inkwell on Snape's dark oak desk. He'd attempted to levitate it two days ago, and had become frustrated when the vessel's only movement was a weak wobble. He concentrated, trying to block out all distractions (per Snape's annoyingly repetitive instructions) to focus hard on what he wanted to occur. He mentally verbalized the spell and watched anxiously as the inkwell quivered once - then fell still.

Casting a quick glance over at Snape, who was eyeing him - unimpressed - Harry puffed out a determined breath and tried again. Come on, come on! Please! I could use a little help... But, the inkwell seemed glued to the desktop.

"You are not focusing and you are not clearing your mind," said Snape, his tone as bland as Aunt Petunia's roast chicken.

"Yes, I am," Harry said, his voice thick with irritation.

"Oh? What were you thinking about during the second attempt?" Looking like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Harry mutely shrugged his shoulders. "I can see the wheels spinning, Potter, you are thinking of something outside of what you want to happen!" Snape said, exasperated. Catching Harry's eye, he said, "Fine then, who were you thinking about?"

Harry quickly lowered his gaze. "What? You don't know -"

"Tell me who it was!"

"No!" Harry shouted.  "It's none of your business!"

He felt Snape already knew the answer, but he refused to play Snape's game; he started for his bedroom. Snape stepped in front of him, blocking his way. Their bodies were nearly touching as he raised a long, thin finger between them.

"Potter," he said, emphasizing his words with a poke to Harry's chest, "do not imagine that whatever happens here has nothing to do with me. I'm responsible for you whilst we are here and I shall decide what is of importance and what is not!" He let his hand fall. "I do not take this training lightly, nor will you. Now I shall ask once more. If I don't find your answer satisfactory, I shall resort... to other measures." He narrowed his eyes meaningfully.

Harry knew which ‘measures' Snape was threatening him with, and while he didn't want to divulge his thoughts to the man, he didn't want Snape plundering his mind at will either.

"I don't understand what -"

"Potter!" Snape yelled. "Answer me now or -!"

"Sirius!" Harry shouted back, his voice cracking a bit. "Happy now? I was thinking of Sirius!"

"Black!" Snape spat, unable to control an instinctive snarl. It was obviously not the answer he had expected as lately, Harry had been dreaming of Lily.

"Yeah," Harry sneered back. "What of it?"

"Potter, Black cannot help you," Snape said, his jaw tight.

"No, that's your job, isn't it?" Harry said, fuming. He needed no reminders, especially from the likes of Snape that Sirius was not there to encourage him; that there would be no late night fire calls, no coded owl post, nor clandestine meetings in caves.

"Oh, yes, Potter, that is my job, such as it is. Unsurprisingly, my duties here, as back at Hogwarts, are to watch you botch attempt after sad attempt after an even more desperate attempt at performing magic a third-year could do with his eyes closed!" 

"Well, if you were doing your job properly, maybe I could levitate a damned half-empty inkwell by now! And by the way - don't ever touch me again!"

"Do not speak to me in that manner!"

"I'll speak however I please. You can't punish me!"

"No?" Shifting his stance, to lean forward menacingly toward Harry, Snape crossed his arms over his chest.

"No," Harry retorted, mimicking Snape's actions. "You think the ridiculous chores you give me round here are punishment? I did all that and more at the Dursleys!"

Snape narrowed his eyes ominously, and said, in his silkiest tone, "Very well. Continue to defy me and I shall make certain the coming school year shall be fraught with a variety of unspeakable unpleasantness as you shall be spending a great deal of time with me - in detention!"

Judging the horrified, disbelieving look contorting Harry's face, Snape was satisfied he had the boy's undivided attention. He straightened up and ground out, "Now, levitate the inkwell."

With a petulant sneer Harry angrily focused on the object, knowing that in his current state of mind he'd be lucky to levitate dust. Eventually his face grew red with the effort, and the inkwell remained irritatingly unmoving.

"I can't do it!" he yelled, tired and frustrated.

"You're not even trying!"

Enraged, Harry closed his eyes and clenched his fists, strongly resisting the urge to slap the equally furious man's face. They weren't even two weeks into their stay and Harry felt they had been at this for far too long. How was he supposed to endure this madness for the rest of the summer?

He needed to get out, get some fresh air; get away from Snape. Outside, he headed for the wind swept rowan near the edge of the magical boundary. He leaned against it, hoping for comfort he knew would never come.

"How dare he talk to me like that!" Harry railed, kicking the base of the tree, before flinging himself to the ground. "'Black can't help you.' Bastard! As if thinking about Sirius has anything to do with me not being able to control my powers! If it's anyone's fault, it's his! Constantly haranguing me, berating me for every mistake I make! NEVER a word of support!"

But, that wasn't entirely true. Since their arrival at the cottage, Snape had been encouraging in words and manner, though this bothered and confused Harry, more than he cared to admit.

To an outsider, Snape would appear stiff, distant, and cold; to Harry, Snape's behavior was near doting. He kept after Harry to eat, loading his plate to overflowing if Harry let him; there had been times he'd reacted explosively to something Harry had done, but at other times, he seemed to temper his urge to dole out a tongue lashing in favor of just walking away.

When Harry had tried to levitate that inkwell two days before, it had only been because Snape had left the cottage, without a word, looking defeated, following Harry's unsuccessful attempt to summon his glasses. Feeling horribly inept and guilty, Harry waited a few moments, then followed him. Peeking from around the corner of the cottage, he found the man pacing alongside the garden, muttering and growling.

"He can Apparate me from Merlin knows where, but he can't manage a simple fourth-year Summoning Charm?" He'd then grasped his head in his hands and said, "This is ridiculous, a revolting waste of time..."

Harry now wondered if he shouldn't have agreed with Dumbledore's wishes for him to do whatever his untapped powers allowed, especially if it included cursing Snape senseless. The idea seemed all too appealing just then and lost in his thoughts, he failed to hear Snape's approaching footsteps.

"Potter." Harry stiffened when Snape lowered himself to sit beside him on the grass. "You wished to strike me back there."

Harry turned to Snape, his eyes narrowed with malice. "A hug seemed inappropriate."

"You shall never conquer your powers without first mastering your emotions."

"I don't care." Harry turned back to stare out beyond the hill.

Snape exhaled an irritated sigh. "You must come to grips with your feelings regarding Black's death. This grief shall rob you of all your powers should you continue to ignore it."

"I don't want to keep thinking about it!"

"I'm not suggesting you dwell on it, but talk about it so that you can begin to move on!"

"Talk about it? With who? You? You hated Sirius as much as he hated you!" Harry said, wondering why Snape was so interested in Harry's feelings regarding Sirius' death. Was he getting some twisted sort of pleasure from bringing it up?

"Mine and Black's enmity for one another is not at issue here, you are. And as distressing as the reality may be, Black is dead, Potter. He shall not be coming back!"

"I know that!"

"He shall not be here to take care of you..."

"SHUT UP!"

"...but, you have people willing to, if you let them."

Furious, Harry pounded his fists into the ground and yelled, "No I don't! Anybody who ever cares about me ends up dead! Even when they don't care, th-they still end up dead or-or tortured! And I won't have it! I WON'T HAVE IT ANYMORE!" he screamed, beside himself now.

He jumped up and ran, giving no thought to his destination. Ignoring Snape shouting after him, he stumbled blindly up the hill, his skin tingling as he broke through the protective boundary. He finally collapsed near the road, oblivious to Snape puffing to a halt behind him.

"Potter!" Snape roared.

"Get away from me! I hate you!" Harry screeched, trying to crawl to the road. "You like saying that Sirius is dead, don't you? You don't care about my feelings for him! You don't care about me, so just PISS OFF! I don't know what I was thinking going ANYWHERE with you! Sirius would die if he knew I was with you! You make me sick! SICK!"

White as a sheet, Snape strode forward to grab Harry's arm and proceeded to drag him up the hill. Harry flailed, kicked and screamed bloody murder, but the man never let up his intense grip on Harry's arm. As they neared the crest of the hill, Harry went rigid. Alarmed, Snape looked down. As soon as he did, he was sent flying through the air, coming to land forcefully on the ground, the middle of his back slamming into a large, viciously jagged stone.

Rolling onto his side, Harry looked to where Snape had landed. The man lay eerily motionless and silent. Instantly Harry was on his knees, scrambling over to him, fear constricting his airway.

"P-professor?" Harry knelt beside the unconscious man, whose face was obscured by lanky, black locks of hair. Just as Harry was reaching to push them back, Snape cried out, a grimace contorting his face as he tried to sit up.

"Professor?"

"We... must get... back," Snape gasped, now trying to roll over. White hot pain flared intensely in his back, forcing a choked curse from his lips. Then, he collapsed and rolled off the rock onto Harry's hand, silent, still.

"Oh no!" Harry whispered.

Feeling suddenly vulnerable, he looked around nervously as he crouched down to grab Snape under his arms. He then began to drag the man up the hill. It was slow going because of the thick grasses, but he pulled until he reached the crest of the hill where he stopped for a breather. Snape was a thin man, but he was taller than Harry and it was not easy to pull what amounted to dead weight. Dead weight. Harry's stomach churned at the thought, but he reached once again to grasp Snape's arms, pulling him clear to the other side of the protective boundary.

*WO

Panting hard, Harry collapsed against the door of the cottage. He could hear Fang scrabbling about inside, his nails clicking against the stone floor as he barked. Trying to balance Snape's weight while trying to snag the latch downward with his hip, Harry absently wished the door would open. He gave a cry of surprise when it did. He fell, landing painfully on his behind, with Snape's lead-like weight trapping his legs. Scooting from under the man, he made it into a crouching position, then struggled to tug Snape over the threshold, after which he managed to elbow the door closed.

Fang had backed out of the way of the falling bodies, then padded over to investigate, sniffing around Snape's head. When there was no terse, vocal response, he whined and licked the man's face. Unsure of what to do, Harry watched anxiously, silently praying for Snape to come around.

"Mmf! Merlin! Bloody hound!" Snape choked, after several tense moments. Coughing, he pushed Fang away. Heaving a sigh of relief, Harry ran to the kitchen to get a glass of water and a wet flannel.

When he returned, Snape was still on his back, Fang lying next to him. Harry knelt down, extending the glass to the man, who had flung an arm over his eyes.

"Professor?" Harry said, meek as a mouse.

Snape lowered his arm, and slowly opened his dark eyes. He grimaced, trying to sit up. Harry quickly put the glass down to scoot behind him to act as a support. He mentally prepared himself for the tongue-lashing to come; berating him for the hateful things he'd said, for using his powers against Snape, and even now for trying to awkwardly ease his discomfort.

Harry waited, but the only thing Snape said was, "Out in the lab, there is Strengthening Solution and a bottle marked Canalis Vertabralis. Bring them both to me."

"Yes sir." Harry exhaled. He had never felt such glowing relief, suddenly struck by how utterly vulnerable he would be without Snape.

He knew they were in Cornwall, a place called Lizard Point. But, he was powerless to fend for himself, forbidden to do even rudimentary magic with his wand because of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. And it didn't matter that his wandless magic was untraceable - until he learned to control it, it was as useless to him as his wand.

Snape gingerly lifted his hand to summon throw pillows from the sofa. Gently, Harry wedged them beneath him then rose to walk down the short hall and out the back door. It opened onto a beautifully wild garden bursting with fragrant herbs, flowers, and vegetables. Beyond it was a small, rickety shed - Snape's potions lab. Harry followed the overgrown stone path to the door.

The quaint, tidy dwelling was instantly illuminated by wall torches when Harry stepped inside. He peered around at the meticulously ordered bottles, quickly found what he needed, then raced back to Snape's side. After taking a swallow from each bottle, Snape handed them back to Harry then rested against the pillows as the potions took effect. A moment later, he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck.

"A-are you okay, Professor?"

Snape got to his feet. Without looking at Harry, he reached down to pluck the bottles from his hand, then continued down the hall, outside. Unmoving, Harry ruefully watched him depart.

Snape had every right to be angry, even to yell at him if he chose, but he would almost rather Snape had hit him than ignore him. For reasons Harry couldn't yet fathom, Snape's coldness stung deeply. Slowly, he made his way to his room where he collapsed onto his bed, trying to lose himself in the surrounding silence.

*WO

Harry awoke to darkness. After putting on his glasses, he raised his head to look out his open window. Fat, silver droplets of rain sluiced off the roof's eave in a soothing rhythm. He shivered, slightly chilled, then listened, trying to discern any noises coming from within the cottage. Hearing nothing, he got up and padded to the door. His shoes, he noted, were resting neatly beside the foot of his bed.

Snape's bedroom door was open, which meant he was still up. Thinking the man was most likely outside in the lab Harry shuffled into the living room, his stockinged feet whispering across the flagstone floor. Fang thumped his tail in greeting from his spot beneath the window.

When the front door flew open, Harry started. Snape stamped in, wearing a heavy cloak. After closing the door, he swept the hood from his head, then pulled the cloak off, shaking off the excess water before hanging it on the cloak rack. Harry swallowed when Snape's dark eyes came to rest on him.

"Feeling rested?" Snape asked, his voice low and calm.

Stunned that the first words out the man's mouth were not curses or cutting admonitions, Harry managed to croak, "Yes, sir." Embarrassed, he cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes, sir. Thank you. How are you feeling?" he ventured, as Snape breezed past him to the desk.

Snape took the time to first extend his wand to the wall torch above the desk, lighting it. The other six spaced throughout the room came to life, as well.

"I'm fine, Potter," Snape said. He sat at the desk, then reached into a drawer to pull out a quill and parchment.

"Sir, I'm really sorry... for hurting you, again..."

Seeming to come to a decision, Snape turned to look at Harry. He set his quill down and motioned for Harry to take a seat in the nearby chair.

"Perhaps I pushed you too hard. It is only the second week." 

Harry stared. Again, it was not what he had been expecting to hear, nor for Snape to be so... indulgent.

"No, I was wrong... you were right," Harry said, miserable. "I have to learn to control myself or... I'll just keep hurting people."

Snape considered Harry a moment, then said, "Potter, Albus told me about your vision of me being tortured. You spoke of it whilst I was asleep, too, of how I came close to dying because of you."

He paused, waiting for Harry to look at him, wanting his undivided attention so that the boy would not misunderstand his next words. When the boy's tortured green eyes met his, Snape said, "I came close to dying because my duplicity was discovered. Bellatrix Lestrange never believed my loyalty was to the Dark Lord, and she and Lucius Malfoy devised a scheme to prove it. It was through my own carelessness that I was caught, no one else's."

In a familiar gesture, he arched his eyebrow to emphasize his point, but lacking its normal enmity, it came off as reassuring.

Harry was staggered. He had been desperate to apologize to Snape, but even more so, he had hoped the man would accept his apology. He had been wholly unprepared for Snape trying to make him feel better!

"But, if it hadn't been for me, you wouldn't -"

"Potter if it hadn't been for you, I would have perished that night... From the moment I was allowed back within the Dark Lord's circle last year, Bellatrix was determined to expose me as less than loyal at the least, and at most, a spy and traitor. She was never going to give up and I knew this!" Snape stressed, more to himself than to Harry, it seemed.

Harry flushed at the admission, but maintained the intense gaze with his professor. He quietly asked, "Then, why did you agree to go back? Why did you stay?"

Snape sighed tiredly, breaking eye contact. "That - that is between the headmaster and me." He then turned back to his stone-colored parchment, picked up his quill and began writing.