Harry woke in a very strange hospital ward. He was pretty sure he was some place magical, not that he was completely sure what a muggle hospital should look like… but the food trays that floated their ways to the patients along the ward were a dead giveaway.

Harry shook his head, his eye sight was blurry, his head ached something awful, and he felt his mind trapped in some horrible haze.

There was a little creature walking by, carrying bedpans? The creature looked just like the one he’d seen at the Dursleys, the one the floated the pudding across the room, boy he had gotten in a lot of trouble for that. But why was he at the hospital ward, he couldn’t recall how he got there.

Wasn’t he just at the Dursleys?

Looking to the side, Harry spotted Ron in the bed next to him. The boy was snoring, loudly; despite the fact both his legs were magically suspended.

Suddenly Harry remembered the rescue, the Weasley twins freeing him from his ‘room’ at the Dursleys. Using the floating car…

Harry gasped, bringing a hand up to his forehead- which was covered in bandages. Oh they were in a lot of trouble.

Ron and Harry, when the barrier hadn’t opened, decided to get to Hogwarts using the floating car. It seemed like a good idea at the time, why not? The car could fly them all the way to Hogwarts, which was where they needed to go. Even better, the car could be invisible so that muggles couldn’t see them. This was supposed to be their grand adventure, and truly they had not seen any other alternative.

It had been an hour into the flight when things started to go a bit bad. The engine sputtered and then seemed to slow.

“I haven’t seen it do that before,” Ron commented, pressing on the gas with a bit more force.

A few desperate ticking noises and then the engine died. Ron tried the key, willing the engine to start back up again.

Harry leaned over to check the dials. He didn’t know much about cars, but there were a few basic things he did know. One was that a car ran on gas. When the gas gage pointed to “E,” whilst the gas light glowed, then the car was out of gas.

“How long has the gas light been on?” Harry asked.

“What?!” Ron squeaked. He was slamming his foot again on the gas pedal. He tried the key again, then the wipers and the radio preset buttons.

“That,” Harry pointed. Even though Ron was getting pretty stressed out, Harry was starting to feel relaxed. Despite the stopped engine, they were still floating along. Sure, they were a little slower and unsteady, but they weren’t falling.

“Oh that’s been on for ages,” the redhead replied. It seemed as though Ron was calming down a bit as well. “Came on back when Fred, George and I came to rescue you. Why?”

“It’s the gas indicator,” Harry explained, “It means the car needs gas.”

“What?”

“Well-“ Harry started to explain. But just then the car’s nose dipped forward.

Both boys started to scream.

That was the last thing Harry remembered.

Apparently it hadn’t ended well for either one of them. Harry was about to discover that was an understatement. A very large understatement.

“Oh Ronald,” Mrs. Weasley gushed as she and Mr. Weasley entered the hospital room. “How are you dear?” Her voice was full of concern and she didn’t pause to wake the boy before she scooped him up into her arms.

Ron snorted a bit, mid snore, before rubbing his eyes. “Mum,” he said weakly.

Mr. Weasley was at his son’s side as well, “how are you son?”

“I’m okay,” he replied, pulling back from his mum’s embrace. “My legs were broken, but they’re nearly done healing. It’s Harry that’s hurt real badly, he hit his head and I couldn’t wake him.” Suddenly three Weasleys looked in his direction.

“Erm,” Harry stuttered, his face turning red. He was embarrassed to be caught staring. “I’m all right now mate.”

“Oh Harry,” Mrs. Weasley gushed, Harry was scooped up in his own embrace, he was surprised with how quickly Ron’s mum could move. “How are you dear?”

Harry shrugged, “I feel okay, except everything seems a bit fuzzy.” Harry looked towards Ron, “what happened?”

Ron winced, “well, we crashed Harry. The car lost power and then we couldn’t levitate.”

Mrs. Weasley straightened up, “do you boys have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused?” Ron visibly shrank to the tone. “You were seen by muggles, surely there will be an inquiry at the ministry. Do you have any idea the trouble this will cause your father?” Mr. Weasley looked down, it seemed as though he’d been on the receiving end of Mrs. Weasley’s temper himself. “Not to mention—“

Mrs. Weasley was cut off as Dumbledore entered the room. “Why hello Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Harry, Ron,” the old wizard nodded to each boy. “Might I have a word with you two,” Dumbledore summoned the parents, who quickly followed the old wizard out of the room.

Once they were alone, Ron broke the silence, “I am in so much trouble. It might have been better had we died in that car crash.” Ron groaned. “At least my legs don’t hurt anymore. How are you mate?”

“My head hurts something awful,” Harry replied. “But where are we?”

“St. Mungos,” Ron replied, “but it took us ages to get here. It wasn’t till morning Mr. Wooklesbreath found us. And then- he’s not that great at magic- he levitated us back to his home. I passed out there, but from what I gather, he must of flooed us here.”

“And I was out of it all that time?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Ron sounded hollow, “I thought you’d died at first. And then when you wouldn’t wake… I thought maybe you’d lost your mind or something? I don’t know. I was really scared and it was so cold that night.”

“It’s a wonder you survived the night,” a mediwitch interrupted, “what with your legs broken, and you concussed.” She headed to Harry’s bed, “now you drink this dear, it will mend the crack in your scull, now that the swelling has abated.”

When Harry woke up next, he was once again in an unfamiliar location, although he had a distinct feeling he was at Hogwarts.  For some reason his body, his magic, recognized surroundings even though he was sure he’d never been here before.

First thing he noticed, he was in a large four poster bed, and not just in the bed, but rather nestled in the bed. There were several pillows surrounding him and a thick satin blue comforter pulled clear to his chin. Near his bed, he could make out the fuzzy image of a bedside lamp, a cup and his glasses.

Pulling himself free of the covers, Harry retrieved his glasses. He was glad to note that his head no longer hurt and the feeling of nausea was gone. And I’m alive, he thought. Looking around the room, he noted that the stone walls were the same as though found in his Gryffindor tower, yet here there were no windows. The floors were also stone, except for a large rug that covered the distance between the bed and an armoire. Beside the armoire was one closed door, and on the opposite wall there was another closed door. Harry had no idea where either led, but only one had light glowing under the door frame. Briefly, Harry considered getting out of bed and heading to the light, but before he could, he heard voices.

“I do this under severe protest,” the voice was hushed but quite angry. Harry couldn’t discern who the voiced belonged to.

However, the voice that responded was quite familiar. “I understand my boy,” Albus Dumbledore replied, “but we really have no choice.  Minister Fudge is trying to remove custody of the boy from his muggle relatives, and if he succeeds, he will be a ward of the ministry. You know what that means.”

“Yes,” the voice replied sharply. “But surely there is someone else.”

Harry gulped; he didn’t know what this meant. What about his custody? He crawled to the edge of the bed and tip toed across the floor to the door.

“No one with your qualifications,” Dumbledore replied, “especially with such short notice. All we need you to do is sign this last document; in effect you will have legal custody of the boy, until he is of age and completes his apprentice.”

Wait, Harry thought desperately, what did he just say? Harry reached for the door handle, struggling to pull it open.

“If you insist,” the voice replied, even if it was still hushed- this close Harry could identify him. “But keep in mind, I hate the boy.”

Pulling the door open, Harry called in alarm, “Snape?!”

Both the headmaster and potions master turned their attention to the boy. Snape was leaning over a table, having just completed his signature. Quickly, the air in the room became thin. From deep in his gut, Harry felt something pull at his magic, it traveled through his wand hand and a jet of white light flowed to Snape’s wand hand. It was like a small string, tying the two together. Harry wanted to jerk his hand back, but he couldn’t move. With a crack, the string disappeared.

“Harry, my boy,” the headmaster started.

At the same time, Snape scowled, “That is Master Snape to you.”

There was a moment of silence, as Harry didn’t know what else to say. A number of thoughts ran through his head, but the biggest thing was denial. This can’t be happening, he thought.

“Now Severus,” Dumbledore spoke calmly, “surely the boy can continue to address you as Professor.” The headmaster’s eyes sparkled, gesturing for Harry to come closer. “Harry, I’m sure you’ll have lots of questions, which I am more than happy to answer if you would come and sit down. Perhaps some sandwiches would be in order,” Dumbledore turned to Snape, “if you could place the order?”

Snape’s eyes narrowed, his expression clearly stating his displeasure. “I think, Headmaster,” Snape ground out the title, “that I will take over from here. As his Master, I am more than capable of explaining the situation.”

Dumbledore looked to consider the matter, and then responded, “I will, of course, let you do as you think best.” The headmaster gathered up the paperwork from the table, “However, should you need anything, either of you, I will be nearby.” Dumbledore nodded to Harry, “anything you need at all.”

As the headmaster made to leave, Harry couldn’t help himself, he felt a surge of panic. “Wait,” Harry shouted, “you can’t just leave me here. What’s going on? What is Snape talking about?!”

“Potter—“ Snape shouted, but what interrupted.

“Professor Snape,” Dumbledore corrected, “will be taking care of you,” Snape’s face was growing red with anger, pointing the old man towards the door. Dumbledore continued unfazed, “as you have need of a guardian. I will allow him to give you the details.”

Harry didn’t say anything; he couldn’t say anything, as the headmaster left him. He felt angry, betrayed, confused. He still had no idea where he was or what was happening. As the exit door quietly closed, Harry slowly turned to his guardian?

Severus Snape, bat of the dungeons, stood glaring at the table. The man’s knuckles were white, as he gripped the back of a chair. Taking a moment to consider the situation, Severus said in a deadly cold voice, “Potter, you will sit down, now, and I will discuss the situation when I return.”

On instinct alone, Harry quickly moved to comply, sitting as far from where Snape stood that was physically possible. Severus stared down at his new ward and glared. Satisfied that the brat would likely do as he was told, Severus fled from his dungeon chambers.

The boy was left sitting alone at the table.  Looking around the room, Harry took stock of the area around him. The table was small, with only four chairs and settings, and was placed in a small recessed area in the wall. Looking towards the exit, where he watched both Dumbledore and now Snape leave, he contemplated his chances of escape. Also in the room was a fire, which had a low table in front of it, and a matching couch and chair. There were also some shelves, pushed against various walls, mostly filled with old books and simple trinkets. On the wall opposite from the room Harry had previously occupied were two other doors, both shut.

Harry squirmed in the chair, wondering why the room had no windows. He had a sinking feeling that he was in the dungeons. Again he looked toward the door, contemplating an escape. The fire cracked, and Harry jumped, startled.

Looking to the fire, he quickly established that he was still alone. He wished that he had his wand and wondered where it might have gone. Harry hadn’t much of a chance to look around the room to make sure there weren’t any other of his belongings. In fact, Harry realized he was still wearing pajamas, thin pajamas, and no socks, and the dungeon was cold.

Shivering a bit, Harry hugged himself, hoping to generate some warmth. He briefly considered sitting nearer the fire or perhaps returning to the room and looking for a robe. Harry felt his head, where it was previously bandaged, only to discover everything was fine, not even the slightest twinge of pain. He wondered what had been happening and why his thoughts were so jumbled.

After a while, Harry was getting downright impatient. He had no idea what was going on, where his belongings were, and he couldn’t decide why Snape expected him to sit there when he clearly wasn’t coming back. Resolved, Harry decided to get up and explore the room he’d just come from, figuring that his wand must be in there.

He was half way to the door when his progress was halted. “Potter,” Snape snapped, “Did I, or did I not instruct you to wait at the table.”

Harry froze, thinking quickly he responded, “But you weren’t coming back.” The boy cringed when he realized he sounded like a whiny child. “I,” Harry was wavering under the professor’s stern look. Gathering his bravery, he continued on, “my wand! Where is my wand?”

“Your wand?” Snape mocked. “The first thing you are worried about is your wand?” Harry stared back at Snape, blankly. “There isn’t anything more important in the car,” Snape drawled, “that you might find more important?”

Harry’s face twisted in confusion, as he thought back to the car. His thoughts regarding the flight were still all muddled, despite the fact his head felt much better.

“Really Potter?” Snape taunted, “Are you really so selfish?”

Harry was pretty sure that Snape wasn’t talking about his trunk and he knew that Ron was just fine, unless maybe the hospital had just been a dream. Surely Snape couldn’t be considering any of Harry’s mere possessions.  And then suddenly Harry remembered, and in a moment his stomach dropped, sick with sham and worry. “Hedwig?” Harry asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Snape paused, his scathing response just on the tip of his lips. He could tell the boy’s whole demeanor had changed and he knew the boy was suffering still from the effects of a head injury. Still, he loathed the selfish boy, “yes Potter, your owl. Are you at all concerned with her condition?”

Harry gulped, he didn’t that Snape used the word ‘condition,’ but Hedwig had to be okay. “Yes,” Harry replied, his voice cracking, “is Hedwig okay?”

“Your owl is fine,” Snape replied, “although she did sustain a few injuries from the crash.” Snape studied Harry’s eyes; he could see a mixture of emotion from the boy, he hadn’t expected to see such a deep level of anguish and worry. “Hagrid has just returned from Mending Hoots, she had broken a wing.”

Harry sighed in relief, although he was still concerned. “May I go see her sir?”

“No,” Snape replied shortly, he had information that needed to be covered, and he was growing tired of speaking with the boy already. “You will sit down, as I had instructed before, so that I may enlighten you to your current circumstances.”

Harry complied with the request, still upset and worried about Hedwig, but still needing to know what was going on.

Once they were both sitting at the table, Harry across from Snape, the professor started. “I will speak and you will listen. Any of your inane questions will have to wait until I’m through. Do I make myself clear?”

Harry nodded.

Snape stared critically, before he continued, “Clearly you are incapable of keeping yourself out of trouble.”

Harry’s head snapped up, he had a retort for that! Except he kept his mouth closed, hoping that his glare could speak for him.

Snape didn’t seem fazed, “not only did you steal a car, fly through muggle London without a care, but only a short time before you were using magic at home.”

“Wait,” Harry interrupted, “That wasn’t-“

Snape slapped his hand down on the table. “Potter,” he shouted, “do not interrupt me.”

Again, Harry held his tongue; his anger was barely in check.

“Those two considerations,” Snape continued, “plus the absence of your relatives.” Harry opened his mouth to ask what Snape meant, but the man held up a hand demanding silence. “… had led the ministry to question whether or not your guardians have been truly minding you properly. I can see their point; I’ve seen how spoiled and unruly you’ve been. Would you be surprised when the ministry went to follow up with your relatives that they were more than happy to give you up? ‘Too much trouble,’ they said.”

Harry wasn’t surprised, Snape noted, not even upset; was the boy really that selfish? Snape’s anger grew, he almost growled. Taking a deep breath, he took a moment to deepen his occlusion and then continued. “It was easy for Minister Fudge to start the process of making you a ward of the ministry. That, Potter, would be an unfortunate development and not just for you, though I’m sure that’s all you’re concerned about, but for the Headmaster and…” Snape trailed off; as if there were things he couldn’t or wouldn’t say.

The room grew silent, Harry’s mind screamed with questions, he opened his mouth to ask, but suddenly Snape continued. “That brings us to our current situation. The headmaster carries very little power concerning your custody. Since your relatives were more than happy to be rid of you, there were no real options left. Except apprenticeship, do you know what an apprentice is?” Snape stared critically at Harry; the boy still looked all too confused. He wondered whether any of this information was getting through the boy’s thick head.

“No I don’t suppose you do,” Snape mocked. “An apprentice, Potter, is a person bound to his master, until such time the apprentice has learned all the master has to teach. It’s ancient magic, and there is nothing that you can do to break it. I have bought you, and you are mine, until such time I determine that you have learned all that you must learn.”

“No,” Harry shouted, “this can’t be possible. You own me? Rubbish! Call the headmaster back, he’ll tell me the truth.”

Harry expected the man to be anger, to shout back, he hadn’t expected Snape to be amused. The gleam in Snape’s eyes made him shudder.

“Yes Harry,” Snape replied calmly, “I do. I have complete control over you. What you are allowed to do, where you go to school, whether you eat, where you sleep. If you disobey, I can beat you, starve you, and there isn’t anyone who can say otherwise.”

Harry’s face lost all color. “But you— Dumbledore, he— I…”

“Eloquent as ever, Potter,” Snape replied. His amusement with the boy’s response was starting to wan. Potter looked on the verge of some panic attack and Snape wondered why he’d gotten so far away from what he’d wanted to say. “Be that as it may Potter,” Snape continued, “I would not treat you so drastically, although considering you spoilt past, you likely won’t agree. So do you have any questions on the matter?”

Harry had a hundred questions, but he didn’t know where to begin. Still, he thought this must be some sort of sick joke, or maybe he was in the hospital still, delusional. “This is not happening,” Harry shouted, “I won’t let it happen.” He jumped to his feet, ready to bolt. “I am going to the headmaster.” Harry was so mad, he was starting to cry.

Snape was faster; he rounded the table and grabbed the boy by the arm. “Yes Potter,” Snape scathed, “it is. And I assure you, I hate this arrangement far more than you.” He pulled Harry towards the room he’d been in before. “You will stay in your room; I will not tolerate this tantrum.” Opening the door, Snape all but threw the boy in and then slammed the door behind him.

Harry backed away from the door and fell backwards onto the bed. He felt a jumble of raging emotions and he could no longer control his tears. Rolling over, he buried his head into the thick comforter and wept.

Out in the living space, Severus poured himself a glass of Firewhisky. Five years, he thought, this boy is my charge for a further five years, at least. He really had no intention of abusing the boy, although he wouldn’t hesitate to use a firm hand. The boy was spoiled, the boy was a trouble maker, and Severus hated the boy… this was not an ideal arrangement.

Several drinks later, Severus lost count, and the man found himself starting to drift off. Shaking his head, he quickly cleared his thoughts, and then performed a quick tempus charm. It was nearly one o’clock in the morning, Severus scowled. The day had been long, retrieving Potter from the hospital and spelling Hogwarts to arrange an extra bedroom.

Severus’ scowl deepened, he and the boy were now linked, master and apprentice. The magic binding them was old, traditional, it couldn’t be broken. Severus thought back to his own apprenticeship, more of a technicality than anything, and a part of him hated fate. After the fall of the Dark Lord, many Death Eaters had been captured by the ministry and were being sent off to Azkaban. When Severus’ name made the top of list, no amount of argument from Albus could convince the ministry of his innocence.

Severus wasn’t innocent, he knew it, Albus knew it, and the ministry wouldn’t be swayed. It had only been a little over four years since Severus had joined the Death Eaters as Albus’ spy. But in order to join, he had to be willing; he had to be full of hate. At seventeen, Severus had been full of hate and anger; he hated the world and everything in it. When he was with the Dark Lord, he was expected to do many things, and he did them, all of them.

Doing as the Dark Lord bid, Severus would focus on his anger, focus on his rage, he made a separate part of himself, one that wanted to do those deeds. When he was free of the Dark Lord, returning home, he would come back to himself, sick with guilt and the horrible reality of what he’d done. But Severus knew the truth, no matter what circumstances Albus would argue on his behalf, he had done those things, he was guilty.

Being guilty of those crimes, the ministry would have thrown him into Azkaban. Severus would have spent the rest of his life, forgotten, wallowing in the memories of pain and hate as all happiness sucked from him.

As it were, Albus had an alternative plan, an apprenticeship. Severus thought it was a good idea at the time, desperately really, the only plan. And so Severus was bound to Albus Dumbledore, as a technicality really, for a few years. When the focus of the ministry started to wan and many became to accept that Severus was not a true death eater, Severus was released from his apprenticeship and once again his own man.

It had been nearly eight years that Severus had been bound to another wizard. The first chance he got, he fled from Hogwarts, spending a year studying for his potions mastery. The work was quite easy, as he already had knew most of the material, so he started to look for a job assignment. Despite being generally considered innocent, most who knew of him would not even consider his resume. Lack of options brought him back to Hogwarts where he took up post as the Potions Professor.

Only 26 years old, he was the youngest by far. The only consolation though, was all of the students who’d gone to school with him were now gone and graduated. He was not so lucky regarding students who recalled him from his apprenticeship days. Not that many even knew he was apprenticed, Albus and the staff didn’t really speak openly about it. No, mostly he was remembered as the bat in the dungeons, the one who made potions for the infirmary or occasionally took over class for sick or traveling professors.

Albus continued to be a mentor for him and Severus found himself drawn to the man like a boy to his father. Embarrassed by his own weakness, Severus often exploded at the man, hoping to show how Albus was not important to him, and no, he wasn’t going to do as Albus wanted. When Albus’ eyes twinkled, the message was unmistakable. The headmaster would not be pushed away; he would always be there for Severus, as the bond between master and apprentice was never completely gone.

But now Severus seethed. It was that apprenticeship that gave him the unique qualifications to take on an apprentice himself. The ancient magic expects that the apprentice will become the master, and so it latched onto him as if it was always meant to be. But of course, who should he have as an apprentice, none other than harry-bloody-potter.

Even though he was very angry about the whole situation, there was a small detail that made him feel very uneasy. What he couldn’t understand was why the headmaster hadn’t apprenticed Potter himself. He’d asked the man, but got so distracted by the following, “I helped you back when you needed it, now I ask you for help,” guilt trip, he’d completely forgotten. But if the headmaster truly cared for the boy, wouldn’t he also be concerned with Potter’s happiness?

Severus had a sinking feeling that the old man’s main objective was to prevent the boy from being a ward of the ministry. He was concerned that Albus was only concerned with maintaining influence over the boy. That concern shook Severus to the core, if that was all Albus wanted then he was going to make sure that he didn’t allow the man’s manipulations control the boy’s future. He, Severus Snape, was in control and he would do as he saw fit.

Severus took out his wand, a few spells later and the Firewiskey and glass were cleared away. Standing up, he felt his balance was slightly off; usually his body did not react with such influence. He realized with a start that he hadn’t had anything to eat all afternoon, which meant the same for the boy as well. He felt slightly shamed by that realization, regardless of how he felt about the boy, he had no plans on starving him.

Walking to the boy’s room, Severus quietly opened the door.  He’d heard the boy crying earlier, but his sobs had died down and the room had grown silent. Stepping into the room, he found Potter asleep, lying oddly skewed across the bed. Unwilling to touch the boy, Severus acioed his glasses and then levitated his body into a more normal sleeping position. In another fluid motion of his wand, Severus had the comforter completely tuck around Potter and the lights spelled out.

Resolving to take a strong headache draught before bed, Severus slipped out of the room.

..…

The next morning, Severus woke at the usual early hour, well before most any other individuals. His body was accustomed to short amounts of sleep, and after having taken the headache draught the night before; he didn’t feel any ill effects of the Firewiskey. He quickly showered and got ready for the day. After flooing Dumbledore of his intention to take a further three days away from class, Severus went to his study to start outlining his plans for his apprentice.

Two hours later and a well prepared Snape headed to his apprentice’s room to wake the brat. “Potter,” Snape shouted, rapping his knuckles against the open door frame, “time to get up.”

The boy’s body jolted, being startled awake, he mumbled something incoherent, Snape chose to ignore him.

“You have fifteen minutes to get up, shower, dress, and come to the breakfast,” Snape ordered, “if you are late, you will not enjoy the consequences.” The boy moved, curling into a ball, looking to settle back into sleep. “Potter!” Snape shouted louder, pulling out his wand he pulled the covers off the bed, “up now!”

“Urg,” Harry whined in alarm. The boy rubbed his eyes and reached out for his glasses.

“You will find an outfit in your truck,” Snape pointed to the end of the bed, “one of the better pieces of your atrocious wardrobe.” Potter was sitting up, a look of defiance in his eyes, Snape ignored him. “You now have fourteen minutes, move!”

Finally Potter got up and hurried across the room towards the bathroom. Satisfied, Severus stepped out of the room to give the boy his privacy. He went to the floo to order their meal and then sat and waited, watching the clock closely.

…..

While in the bathroom, Harry could feel his anger rising again. He wanted to throw things. He wanted to yell and scream, and even stomp his feet, regardless of how juvenile that sounded. However, despite his anger, he complied with Snape’s request. He found everything that he needed in the bathroom. A part of him was skeptical about using the toothbrush, seeing as he had no idea where it was from. After close inspection, he was sure that it was likely new, seeing as it bore no signs of use.

Dressed in only a towel, Harry poked his head out of the bathroom door. He wished he’d gathered his clothing before heading to the shower, but in his hurry to comply, he hadn’t been thinking clearly. Also, while he’d been in the shower, his pajamas had disappeared. Harry hoped it had been the result of a spell or something, since the alternative made him shudder. As a result, Harry was feeling very uneasy, half expecting Snape to burst into the room, yelling insults.

Sprinting to the truck, Harry snapped open the lid. He briefly noticed that most of his things were in there, with the exception that he really only had one outfit and no others. Gathering up said outfit, Harry rushed back into the bathroom and quickly dressed. Finally, he combed his hair, not that it did much good.

Ready, Harry made his way back to the main area, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he was positive that he’d been quick enough. Taking a deep breath, Harry opened the door.

“Why, Mr. Potter,” Snape growled, “I am impressed; I had expected you’d be late.”

Catching sight of all the food on the table, Harry didn’t really take in Snape’s comment. Suddenly, the boy realized how hungry he was and for the moment, he lost all concern regarding his present living arrangements.

“Potter,” Snape called, “if you would please stop drooling all over yourself and have a seat, we may begin our breakfast.”

Blushing, Harry nodded, and went to sit down opposite Snape. As soon as both were sitting, Snape started to serve himself some food. Somewhat hesitantly, since he was unsure of how the man would react, Harry did the same. When it was clear that Snape wasn’t going to stop him, Harry finished filling his plate with a bit of everything.

Harry had not expected a breakfast like this with Snape. There were eggs, potatos, sausage, ham, rolls, toast porridge, pancakes, fruit, and even a variety of muffins. It was almost like they had their own personal spread to mirror the great hall. Despite being very hungry, Harry still ate with a bit of control, knowing from experience he could upset his stomach. Harry also had the impression that he might upset Snape as well.

“So Potter,” Snape began, “today I have several things planned.”

Harry didn’t look up from his food, now that his hunger was being satisfied; he was again reminded of the situation he was in.

“First, we will go shopping for some much needed clothing,” Snape announced. “Do you realize how atrocious your wardrobe was?” Harry chose not to respond, he didn’t really think Snape expected him to anyway. “Second, when we return to Hogwarts, you will do a number of different tests; I’d like to assess how abysmal your learning has been thus far. Not to mention the fact you appear to have no level of fitness what so ever.” Harry scowled at that, ready to retort, but Snape continued. “Third, you will see Madame Pomfry, for a physical exam, as your medical records seem to be missing from your file.”

“Wait, what file?” Harry asked.

He was ignored, “afterwards, you will rest in your room for the afternoon, perhaps you can read or simply nap. I don’t care what you do, but you will stay put in your room so that I may have some time without you to concentrate. Finally, before supper, I will discuss your training program, expectations, and outline consequences should you disobey.”

Severus studied the boy, waiting for him to throw another one if his spoiled little fits. He was pleased to see the boy blush and look away. Today was going much better so far than the afternoon before.

Harry pushed his plate away; his stomach wasn’t feeling to well anymore. With a wave of Snape’s wand, all of the food and plates vanished. “We shall floo to Hogsmeade,” Snape directed.

Harry briefly considered folding his arms, demanding answers or a way out of the current situation. He looked towards the door, the one that must lead out of these rooms, away from Snape. Harry was fast, he could run and run and never look back. But Harry realized that was just foolish thinking. He couldn’t get away, or even if he could, he had nowhere else to go.  

Reluctantly, Harry got to his feet.