Harry tossed and turned for hours, dreading the following day. He couldn't help but feel miserable, hell, who wouldn't feel miserable if they had to live with their Potion's professor for the rest of the Summer?

Dumbledore had come the day before and explained that Harry would need guidance and training for the upcoming year. Now, Harry couldn't help but feel that this meant he would be fighting Voldemort sooner than he expected. Couldn't they give him a year to focus on his NEWT courses before throwing him into the world of a soldier?

He had laid out an impossibly long schedule detailing every hour of every day for the next month. Harry cringed at the lack of time for himself, seeing that most of the schedule was dedicated to Advanced Defense and Occlumency.

After counting the time he would have to eat and sleep, he was shocked to realize he would only have eight hours total. How was he supposed to train if he was exhausted? Not that it would be much different than the Dursleys, Harry thought to himself. Snape would work him to the bone everyday until he collapsed, more than likely.

And knowing his Professor, he would make Harry get up the next day to continue training.

Finally giving up on getting any sleep at all, Harry sat up and walked over to the window seat facing the main street of Grimmauld's Place. He pulled up his knees and looked out of the rain spattered glass, knowing he wouldn't see anything interesting as it was three in the morning. Shadows flickered and thunder crashed a few miles away. Harry kept observing the storm until he nodded off around four in the morning, not knowing he would be woken up at six by a very disgruntled Mrs. Weasley.

His head raised slowly when she gently prodded him awake, telling him that his breakfast was ready downstairs whenever he was finished packing. He nodded solemnly, submitting to his fate because he really wouldn't help the situation if he fought against his Professor. He wouldn't put it past the man to make his life a living hell for the next month if he so much as put a toe out of line.

Frowning now, Harry began stuffing all of his possessions that had somehow found a way out of the trunk back into the case, ensuring when he was finished that it was properly latched. He could just imagine Snape's sneer if it were all to fall out when they apparated.

Finally finished with his packing, Harry washed his face and ran a wet hand through his hair before heading downstairs for breakfast. He was not disappointed when he was met with Remus, who looked worse for wear with the upcoming full moon, Hermione, who was yawning into her hand while reading a book, and Ron, who had his head down on the table, asleep.

Smiling at his friends, he sat down next to Remus in wait for the food Mrs. Weasley was preparing on the stove. No one looked up for conversation, so Harry slowly slid the lonesome Morning Prophet near the head seat of the table, Sirius' seat he internally cringed, over to himself.

The front cover hadn't really updated much recently, every morning running a list of those killed the night prior by Death Eaters, and some auror's accounts of the attacks. Opening to the second page, Harry read through the list of known Death Eaters currently on the loose. He glared at the first name, Bellatrix Lestrange. What he wouldn't give to hunt her down himself.

This thought process, which was turning more violent by the moment, was interrupted by a delicious smelling plate of scrambled eggs with mixed in chopped bangers and bacon was placed in front of him. He began shoving the food into his mouth, wanting to groan at the deliciously greasy taste of the eggs and meat. He tasted cheese in there as well, with maybe some onions and spices to top off the recipe. Thinking back to himself, he recognized these flavors, but not because he had eaten them. Rather the Dursleys had...an omelette, perhaps?

He didn't really care as he quickly finished off his plate and Mrs. Weasley gave him seconds. Eating this plate of food much more slowly, Harry flipped through the prophet absentmindedly, ignoring the articles about dementors and the possibility of vampires being on Voldemort's side. Turning to the quidditch section, Harry smiled and whooped as he thrust the paper in Ron's direction, startling the barely aware boy with eggs hanging out of his mouth.

"Holyhead Harpies win against the Chudley Cannons!" His grin widens as Ron snatched the newspaper, balking at the article.

"Bullocks! They had to have cheated, no way can they win against the Cannons. They're-"

"British Cup champions for the third year in the row." Hermione and Harry intoned together, smirking at their friend's flabbergasted look. "We know, you mention it anytime we talk about quidditch."

"Whatever Harry, you just like staring at their arses-" "Ronald!" Ginny screeched, finally appearing with messy hair and her nightgown bunched and wrinkled from sleep. "Don't you dare finish that sentence. All of us know that the Harpies are one of the strongest skilled all female quidditch teams in Britain. Stop being a prat about it."

"Ah, and the harpy herself finally joins us," Ron sneers, glowering at his sister for interrupting him.

"Mum!" Ginny yells again, hands on her hips in a very Molly-like fashion.

"Children!" Molly glowers at the group. However, her face softens as she watches Harry silently laughing behind his hand and Hermione hiding behind her book, shoulders shaking with mirth. "Can you two not behave for two minutes? Let's try acting our ages, shall we?"

Ron rolled his eyes, but let the argument go. He finished reading the article about the quidditch match, mumbling under his breath about the need for better trained referees to catch the blatant cheating going on in the league.

Harry shook his head and took the paper back again, reading about recent closures in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade because of the return of Voldemort. It was sad, knowing that most of the first shops he had ever entered as a wizard were now closed.

Sighing and finishing his food, Harry smiled when he caught Ginny staring at him. She lightly returned the gesture, a blush coloring her cheeks as she focused intently on her food for the next few minutes.

Harry cringed when the front door of the house slammed open, and heavy boots pounded down the hall. A strong spell closed the curtains next to Ms. Black's painting, effectively cutting off her screams. Harry wanted to pound his head onto the table, looked like Snape had finally made an appearance this morning.

"Potter," he snarled, entering the kitchen and glaring at the children and werewolf seated at the table. "You have five minutes to fetch your belongings before I apparate and you can find another way to my manor."

Harry resisted the urge to cringe and glare at the man, but instead sighed and went to get his trunk. When he returned two minutes later, Snape hadn't moved. His arms however had crossed in front of him in a very off-putting way, and his glare seemed to be even fiercer as he looked at Remus.

"He will be returned in a months time, wolf. Be prepared," he then turned to the adolescents in the room, narrowing his eyes and gritting his teeth. "Potter will not have any correspondence unless he earns it. I do not suggest sending any mail without it being carefully scrutinized, or having heard from Mr. Potter first."

Hermione looked as though she wanted to speak, but pursed her lips and turned to Ron who was turning a very interesting shade of red. She laid a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from creating a scene with his Professor. Molly was at the stove, turned and looking at Snape disapprovingly, if anything had to be said, she would say it.

"Shouldn't you give Harry a moment to say goodbye, Severus?" Snape's lips thinned, but he nodded sharply and swept out of the room.

"You have two minutes, Potter." He spat Harry's last name out as if it was a curse word, similar to one of the unforgivables.

Hermione was the first to throw her arms around him, squeezing him and burying her face into his shoulder. "Please promise to behave, Harry. Don't intentionally make him mad, it'll only make your stay worse than it already will be." Harry nodded and returned the pressure of her hug, turning to Ron next.

"It's only a month, mate. I'm sure it'll fly by, right?" Ron chuckled without humor, betraying his true feelings on the matter. It was going to be hell, everyone knew that. Dumbledore did, Remus did, even Molly did.

"I can only hope," Harry supplied, patting his friend on the back in a brotherly gesture.

Remus was next in the queue, and didn't look happy about the situation.

"Severus is a complicated man," he began, nodding his head towards the doorway. "What he did last week was unforgivable, but keep an open mind, Harry. Be observant and don't give up." Remus hugged Harry to himself now, breathing in the scent of his best friends' child. "I'll see you in a month, just stay strong." And now Harry nodded, raising his chin slightly and breathing deeply.

Molly bustled up next, throwing her arms around him and reminding him to eat and keep up his energy levels. "We don't need you coming home sick now, do we?" And then she nudged him in the direction of Ginny, the last and most quiet person in the room.

Harry awkwardly walked up to her, avoiding her eyes. He stood two feet away from her, biting his lip. "So I guess this is goodbye," he began, hoping she wasn't feeling as unfamiliar as he was with this. "But it won't be for long," she reminded, finally meeting his eyes.

He smiled, engraining a picture of her at this moment in his brain. Her messy hair and rosy cheeks and rumpled look, she was beautiful. He gathered her in his arms next, taking a deep breath as her perfume or lotion or shampoo- whatever it was smelled damn good- assaulted his nose. She smelt amazing too.

"Take care." He hugged her closer, enjoying the feel of her against his body. "We'll talk when I get back." They pulled back together, maintaining eye contact, before she smiled and nodded. He backed away slowly, keeping his eyes on her as he excited the room, waving goodbye to everyone once more before meeting Snape in the hall.

"I'm ready to leave, sir." He shuffled his feet on the floor, picking up dust, and avoided looking into Snape's eyes. That was dangerous, even he wasn't stupid enough to ignore that fact.

"I should hope so, you took long enough." Snape grouched, opening the door and casting a shrinking spell on Harry's trunk, handing the small, toy-like version to the boy.

Harry bit back a retort, it wouldn't do to become angry so early in his visit. Deep breaths Harry, we haven't even stepped out of the door! He reminded himself, that he needed to do this, he needed to do this to fight Voldemort, to survive.

Nodding to the Professor, Harry followed him out onto the front lawn, and inwardly winced as Snape grasped his forearm and spun in a slow circle, swiftly apparating them away. They landed in a field, and one hundred yards away stood a towering building. Harry didn't have much time to look as he attempted to keep up with his teacher, having to jog to keep pace with him.

When he entered, Snape stopped and hung his cloak onto a coatrack next to the doorway.

"Twinky!" Snape called to the air, startling Harry. A pop announced the arrival of a small house elf, no bigger than Dobby.

"Please stow Mr. Potter's trunk in his rooms." The elf nodded enthusiastically, taking the proffered trunk into her hands and popping away once more.

Snape then moved towards a room on his right, a parlor room, and sat into one of the arm chairs. He motioned for Harry to do the same across from him. Harry perched on the edge of the chaise, watching his teacher warily.

"You are here under the direction of the Headmaster, and thus are here for a very good reason, one you may not comprehend, Potter." Harry gritted his teeth at the insult to his intelligence, clenching and unclenching his hands resting on his knees.

"We are in a war," Snape stated as if announcing the weather. Harry took in a breath, having already known this, but the way Snape said it, it didn't leave any argument. This was real.

"As such, strategies have been made, with one person being the figurehead of the entire campaign, you, Potter." Snape made it sound like it was Harry's fault for the wizarding world being in a war, how the hell was it his fault? Voldemort was around decades before Harry was born, how dare Snape say something like that!

"It is not my fault we are in this war," Harry gritted out between his teeth, trying to reign in his anger that was very close to spilling out.

"No, it is not. But the wizarding world has you on a pedestal Potter, and you will have to live up to that commitment. People are depending on you, solely because your mother protected you as a infant. You are nothing more than a poster child, war propaganda. And only because the Dark Lord was daft enough to listen to a prophecy made by a drunken witch." Snape sneered the last part, leaning forward in his chair as he threw words at Potter.

Harry didn't know why he was so hurt, but he hoped it wasn't showing on his face. He never thought of himself like that, he couldn't help what the public thought. So why did it sound like Snape was making it out to be his fault for the public believing in the Ministry's words, for making him out to be something he was not?

Snape breathed deeply, before all emotion left his face. Harry came to the conclusion that he was occluding, and the envy then started rearing inside of him. Why could Snape do something so quickly, and make it look so easy, but couldn't teach worth a lick?

"Meet in the hall in one hour. From that time on, you will be adhering to that schedule. Should you deviate, you will have privileges confiscated."

Harry's jaw dropped, what privileges? Eating? Sleeping? Was he serious?

The Professor smirked at Harry's reaction, oh this would be a very enjoyable month indeed.