Late that night Harry laid wrapped up in his quilt in front of the fire, the embers glowing a deep red, chasing away the darkness. The quiet bubble of the potion on the table across the room was all that could be heard besides Snape's soft snores. Harry rubbed his sleepy eyes, and glanced at Snape's slumbering form. Like Harry, he was lying with his side to the fire. Their heads were close to one another, and as Harry laid on his belly he watched Snape sleep, merely because it was so odd for his professor to be asleep while he was awake. Usually Snape seemed to be awake whenever Harry was in the night, leading Harry to believe that he really didn't sleep much. But tonight it was Harry unable to sleep. So, he had been quietly observing Snape, having gotten bored of staring at the dying embers of the fire. It was rather strange, to see Snape fast asleep. For sometimes it was hard for Harry to imagine any one of his professors doing anything remotely human, like sleeping. And yet Snape was, and as Harry observed him, one thing he noticed was that Snape always slept on his side, whereas he slept on his back or front. The lines on Snape's forehead refused to relax as well. Harry wondered why he was so tense all the time.

     Thinking back to what Snape had said earlier in the day, Harry wondered if part of the reason as to why Snape was so uptight and frowned all the time was because his parents were dead. He didn't have anyone to spend Christmas with, or family to write to. Harry supposed it was possible for Snape to have a sibling, but for some reason he did not think this was the case. He had come to think this much earlier than tonight, when Hermione had taken him (she had been extremely excited) to a section in the library, which had large albums of pictures from previous graduating classes of Hogwarts. Hermione had found Harry's parents' pictures, much to Harry's delight. But they had found Snape's too. Ron had found this particularly amusing, as he had found it positively hilarious that Snape had a rather unsightly zit on the end of his nose. Dismissing that thought and thinking back on looking through the albums, Harry didn't think there were any other Snapes anywhere near his professor's picture. This led him to believe that perhaps, Snape was alone now. It would explain a lot. His impatience for the mail in the morning would be one thing (Harry could not count the times he had seen Snape scowl heavily as someone next to him got a letter). Snape scowled quite darkly as well at all of the lovingly decorated packages filled with cookies or little things sure to delight their recipients. Harry had always thought that it irritated Snape to see children spoiled. But now he was not so sure. Mind racing wildly in his insomnia, Harry took a moment to wonder if Snape might just be jealous. Even Professor McGonagall sometimes got a package or two from her sister. It was common knowledge at school that McGonagall's sister restored old books and sometimes sent ones she thought Professor McGonagall would like. And it certainly was quite ordinary to find Professor McGonagall with her nose in a dusty tome at the front of the classroom while she waited for the class to arrive. With a sigh Harry glanced at Snape again, wondering if he too knew what it was like to watch letters and little boxes and cheerful owls swooping down upon your friends and wish so very much that one could land in front of you, only knowing that there is no chance of that. Perhaps it was the night air or the fogginess of his sleep deprived brain, but Harry had the strangest feeling that, like himself, Snape knew exactly that feeling. And knew it all too well.

     Harry turned his gaze toward the red embers, twinkling in the dark. He sighed slightly, thinking of all the letters he could have gotten this year if his parents were still alive. Thinking of all the things he missed growing up with the Dursleys. Harry wondered why they treated him so badly, simply because he was different. Even those who cared for him, quite a large number of them, were gone now ... his parents, Jean, all of his family. Hermione and Ron were far away from him now, and so was Hagrid, and he might not even see them again for all he knew. In his fatigue Harry felt this loss much more deeply, for he was unable to keep the walls and barriers that were constructed during the day from tumbling to the ground. His energy was concentrated on staying awake now, not keeping himself from breaking. Suddenly, he let out a shuddering sigh and his eyes began to swim. For there was one thought that had penetrated deep into his soul, and had been slowly worming its way there for a long time. Something that had been the growing trend for many years.

     "How come everyone that loves me has to disappear?" he whispered to himself as he drifted into oblivion, completely unaware that Snape's snores had now been absent for quite some time.

      ***

      When morning came Harry awoke to see Snape peering over the cauldron on the table, checking to see how it was coming along. In the blur of colours Harry could not quite see whether or not the potion was doing well, or badly. So Harry put his glasses on, and his eyes were met with a good sign. Snape actually looked pleased a moment, before seeing Harry was awake. Well, perhaps it wasn't the fact that Harry had woken up but the fact that a large spider was now crawling across the table. At least Harry hoped that was the reason for Snape's expression of distaste. It was immediately made clear that it was the spider, much to Harry's relief, when Snape raised a hand to smack it. Harry felt a sudden pang for the spider as it was crushed with a loud thwack.

    "Breakfast is served," Snape drawled, picking up the flattened spider by the leg and examining it.

     "You don't really eat spiders for breakfast ..." Harry said doubtfully.

    "Whoever said I was going to eat it?" said Snape, an eyebrow raised. He had a funny look in his eyes.

      "W-What do you mean?" stuttered Harry as Snape's lip twitched.

     It was then that Harry realised, oddly enough, that Snape was trying not to laugh.

    "And you actually believed me," Snape said lightly, rolling his eyes and tossing the spider in the fire, where it sizzled slightly.

    "I did not," Harry said indignantly, forgetting his surprise over Snape making a joke.

    "Whatever you say Potter."  And with a flick of his wand Harry's quilt was folded and sent back the corner in the other room. Harry stared at Snape for a rather long time, until he realised he was being rude. He got stranger every day.

       ***

    "I'm sorry about Jean," said Evelyn as Harry helped her in the garden.

      Harry just nodded, not trusting himself to speak still. He appreciated what Evelyn had to say, for it was nice to know that someone cared. He had never known anyone to die, besides his parents anyways. Though, their deaths had always seemed so distant, and far away. He could only mourn what might have been, rather than mourning the sadness that comes from knowing someone and then having them taken away from you. He did not remember his parents, and only knew stories of what Hagrid and others told him. Harry shook his head a little, and refused to go over again and again in his head what he had been thinking of the past little while. Instead, he worked even harder, trying to forget that quiet ache in the back of his mind.

      Harry pulled up another turnip and put it on the pile to be taken in for storage in the house. All the while the aroma of the bread baking for dinner drifted out into the garden as the sun grew lower in the sky. The scent mixed with the heavy perfume of fallen leaves and crisp autumn air. It was extremely peaceful, out in the garden with all of the fresh air. Harry probably would have helped Evelyn even if he didn't think he ought to do so to thank her for letting him stay in her cottage and eat her food.  Evelyn seemed to appreciate the help, and was quite impressed at how handy Harry was in the garden, which made Harry feel quite pleased with himself. Unfortunately, the peace and enjoyment of gardening was something Harry should have known couldn't last for too long.

    "Do you hear that?"  Harry asked warily, sure he heard a faint cry from somewhere past the trees.

     "Hear what?" Evelyn asked, standing up and wiping the sweat off her forehead as she tossed another plump turnip in the pile by the edge of the garden.

     "I just thought I -" Harry fell silent, for he heard a rustle in the tall grass just beyond the garden. "Evelyn," he said softly, "something is in there."

      She snapped her head in the direction Harry pointed to, and she slowly reached for her wand. Harry suddenly wished Snape was outside with them, for an extra wand would be helpful. His heart pounded as the rustling grew louder, but in end the thing nearing the carrot patch was nothing to fear.  A little girl had stumbled through Evelyn's wards. Somehow the girl had been able to get in, without knowing that she had used any magic. She collapsed in the carrot patch in front of Harry, holding out in her trembling hand a hastily scrawled note and handed it to Evelyn, who was speechless.

           Snape had come rushing outside, hearing the quiet cries the little girl was now making. The note slipped out of Evelyn's hand and fluttered to her feet. The blood drained out of her face, and she made to take a step back but stumbled and fell. A bewildered Snape caught her on the way to the ground. She didn't move in his arms as he supported her, a look of horror on her face, contrasting greatly with the look of confusion upon Snape's. Harry, in compliance to Snape's pointed stare, picked up the note and read it aloud, his voice trembling.

      "He's found us. All but Maggie captured. Help us."

     McTavish had gotten into the cave. The only one to escape imprisonment, was little Maggie, her pale, tear streaked face peeking out from among the carrot tops. The crimson stain upon the shoulder of her dress shone brightly as she sobbed incoherently about the attack.       

         And that was how the second storm began.