"What happened to his hand?" asked Harry after a lengthy silence where he fiddled with his food and Snape remained seated at the table. "And what did he mean…who has he lost?"

"He was cursed," replied Snape, after a moment. He offered no other explanation and Harry didn't pry further. He had learned of late to accept the small morsels he was given and wait patiently for more crumbs to fall.

"As for your second question…even I do not know the details, and if I did, they would not be mine to reveal. Harry—" Harry looked up, meeting his professor's eyes. "Harry," he repeated, "the Headmaster has entrusted you with a great deal. It is not … his way … to lay it on the table so openly. I know it is not much—and that you still have many questions—but it will have to be enough for now."

Harry nodded, suddenly realizing how tired he was becoming. Snape looked at him closely.

"As for the rest, a more extensive exploration of the potential connection between us and what it could mean for us in the future—I think that is a conversation best left for the morning, when we are both rested. I expect there is much you'd like to say, but your throat could use a respite. Is there anything more you feel you must say tonight? Anything you would like to ask?"

"Yeah, there is. Just one thing…"

"Go on."

"Can he do that? Can he just give you to me?" He left unsaid—Do you belong to him somehow? What power does he have over you?

Snape stood up and rested his hands on the back of the chair he had just vacated. "Yes, he can." He didn't offer any more explanation, and Harry thought his voice sounded both resigned and grateful. He didn't understand but didn't have the energy and mental clarity now to form the question he wanted to ask.

"For the greater good…" he mused. "That's more or less what he said in the book.

"It is," said Snape.

"Then what he's saying…is that he can't look at just me. He can't get past what is best for … for …"

"For humanity," answered Snape. "Don't feel singled out. You are not the only chessman on his board."

Harry shook his head. He let Dumbledore go for the time being and tried to wrap his mind around this connection that Snape and Dumbledore were concerned about. Honestly, he could use a little time to process everything. As he understood it now, the pain—somehow magnified—Snape felt when Voldemort called him had been passed on from Snape to Harry, hitting him while he was underwater, almost causing him to drown. There was a lot that wasn't clear however—was Harry somehow emotionally connected to Snape? Aware of him so intently that he felt Snape's pain? Did Snape feel his? He had had no inkling of what Snape was feeling once he had disapparated. Did he need to be near him physically for this connection to open?

Snape eyed him critically. "It is nearly one in the morning now. Go back to bed—I'll clean up in here."

Harry nodded and stood up. "Thanks," he said, pausing by the kitchen door and turning back to face Snape. "Thanks for telling me what you think is going on—with this connection thing. It's nice to know for a change."

"What you are saying," corrected Snape, "Is that it's nice to be trusted with the information."

"Yeah, that too," said Harry. "Goodnight, then," he said as he left the room. He could hear Snape moving things around in the kitchen cabinets as he made his way up the stairs.

Harry had thought he'd lie awake, reworking the entire confusing evening in his head, trying to make sense of it all. But the gentle rocking motion of the cool waterbed once again lulled him to sleep. His dreams that night were filled with vague feelings of disquiet, of Dumbledore pulling off the glove, revealing a blackened hand that crumbled into dust, of Snape digging a moat around Shell Cottage, filling it with seawater and Death Eaters. He awoke on his own the next morning with the sun shining through the east-facing window, his dreams only hazy clouds of another day. He still felt a little weak as he got out of bed, but a hot shower and clean clothes went a long way to wake him up and make him feel more human again. He made his way downstairs. A plate with eggs, bacon and toast was sitting on the counter, still warm, next to a tall glass of orange juice. He picked both up, holding the glass against his body with his right hand for more support, and walked out onto the porch. Snape was in the hammock, one arm thrown over this forehead, eyes closed.

"I'm not asleep," he answered before Harry even thought of asking—or checking.

"Plate's for me, I guess?" asked Harry.

"Do you see any other lie-a-beds around here?" asked Snape.

"Only you," answered Harry.

"Cheeky," Snape muttered.

Harry ate in silence for a few minutes. He glanced at the clock. 9:30.

"Get started on your summer work when you finish," Snape instructed.

"But I thought we'd be taking up where we left off last night." Had Snape changed his mind now that he'd had time to sleep on it?

"We're two days off schedule now," answered Snape, giving up on his pretense of sleeping in the hammock. "And unfortunately, I must spend part of the day at Hogwarts. I will be back again at dinnertime, and we will save our discussion for the evening when I return. I have left you a schedule for the day—do try to adhere to it as best possible." He nodded toward Harry's school books. A piece of parchment rested on top of the stack, weighted down with a smooth black stone Harry had picked up on the beach and brought back to the house.

Harry swallowed the piece of toast he was chewing and reached for the list.

"You can't be serious!" he exclaimed. "TWO naps? And what's this about cleaning up the beach?"

Snape shook his head. "Read what it says, Mr. Potter. Collect driftwood on the beach. It will be necessary for the good old fashioned beach campfire we will have down there this evening after I return. As for the naps, you are still recovering from your illness and injury—you will be thankful for the chance to sleep."

Harry was reading the schedule. He was intrigued by the evening's plans. While it sounded like fun—sitting on the beach drinking butterbeer in front of a fire—he knew by now that there would be an instructional purpose behind it as well, a reason to remove this particular discussion from the cottage to the beach, probably a reason for the fire too. He studied the schedule again. If he followed it to the T, he'd be journaling on trust again for 30 minutes, working on assignments, taking two 30 minute naps, reading the Grindelwald book, meditating, eating lunch, doing his Physical Therapy exercises and gathering driftwood. He looked up and groused "Don't I even get to go to the loo?"

"Certainly. You can cut your lunch short by a few minutes…or take a private moment or two while you're down at the beach gathering wood…"

Harry rolled his eyes, still looking at the parchment. "Wait, what's this? DADA summer assignment with RL? From one 'til three? We don't have any DADA summer work—Umbridge never assigned any."

Snape lifted an eyebrow. "No, she didn't. But you have some. I assigned it."

"You did? Just for me? Gee, thanks." Harry grinned.

"No, not just for you, though I can arrange extra work just for you if you're interested. I assigned the DADA homework for the entire school. The students received a special owl with the assignment since it was given after the term ended."

"So what's our assignment, Mr. Defense Against the Dark Arts … professor?" Harry had started the question in a fairly jovial, joking voice but as he got to the end of it, the words began to trail off.

"Wait a minute. You gave the assignment? Does that mean…?"

Snape regarded him evenly.

"Your question, Mr. Potter?"

Harry scowled. Snape was playing with him again. He knew what question Harry had implied.

"Does that mean you're teaching Defense this year?"

"It might," answered Snape. It was difficult for Harry to judge whether Snape was happy or sad about it. Rumor had it that he'd wanted the job for years. "Professor Dumbledore has not yet found an acceptable DADA professor, yet he hasn't found an acceptable replacement Potions instructor either. Suffice it to say things are up in the air still. And that information—sketchy as it is—is not to go out in any owls to your friends, by the way."

Harry ignored the comment about sharing the news with his friends. "Seems like they're always up in the air when it comes to the DADA position," muttered Harry. "Look what we got last year. I almost think people would be relieved to see you in that classroom after Umbitch…I mean Umbridge…"

Snape eyed Harry carefully. "I'm fairly sure there was an insult for me in there somewhere."

Harry rolled his eyes and studied the schedule again "So Remus is coming today to help me with the DADA summer assignment? What is our assignment anyway?"

"Wards," answered Snape shortly. "Sixth years will research simple privacy and intruder alert wards. However…I have asked Lupin to work on something different with you today. He taught you the Patronus spell, yes?"

Harry nodded. "Third year," he answered. "The dementors." He shuddered. Remus Lupin had shown an inordinate amount of patience with him while he learned the very difficult spell, the spell that had ultimately saved his life.

"Today he will be teaching you how to deliver a verbal message with your Partronus," said Snape. "This is how Order members communicate with each other." He didn't seem inclined to say more—more distracted this morning than he'd been the night before—and less inclined to share nonessential information. When he went out the front door to apparate beyond the wards an hour later, Harry was already in the front garden looking for plant-eating insects to sketch and categorize for his Herbology assignment. Snape walked over near where Harry was picking through flower stalks.

"Harry," he began. Over the last few days, Harry noted that Snape had begun to call him Harry almost as frequently as he called him Mr. Potter.

"I know, I know. I'll stay inside, won't touch anything, won't break anything, won't make any messes, won't eat anything out of the fridge, won't light anything on fire, won't do anything freakish…."

"Dursley rules?" said Snape. Harry nodded. "Very amusing. Actually, I wanted to tell you to stay inside the wards—more specifically, inside this fence in the front, and in the back down to the ocean, but only directly behind the cottage. Don't wander further looking for driftwood—or..," He looked at the rather large lady bug Harry had picked up "…insects. And if anything should happen, you can floo-call Hogwarts. The floo here is keyed directly to my quarters in the dungeon. There is a house elf on watch there at all times—a miserably upbeat creature called Dobby. Seems to have a fondness for you. He will fetch someone immediately if there is a problem."

Harry nodded his understanding and watched Snape as he opened the gate, walked out a few steps and disappeared with a short, sharp crack. He stared at the empty spot that had just been Snape for several minutes then returned to the flower bed where a fat beetle was walking clumsily up the stem of a brown-eyed Susan. The beetle only vaguely resembled Rita Skeeter's animagus form, but it gave Harry a very good idea for that DADA assignment on wards.

Could wards be set to trip when a human in animagus form crossed them? A few minutes later, Harry was in the sitting room on the floor in front of the bookshelf , holding a dusty and dog-eared copy of "Animagus Among Us: A Beginner's Guide to Finding the Animal Inside."