Snape shoved him into a chair at the table in the kitchen, his face contorted in a furious scowl.

Harry slouched away from him as much as he could. Snape towered over him for a moment, seeming to contemplate internally whether he wanted to kill Harry before he tore into him or after.

Instead, Snape straightened, turned away, and whooshed from the room. Harry expelled a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. His heart had barely returned to its normal rate before Snape made a second appearance, this time pushing Malfoy in front of him with a hand between his shoulder blades.

When Malfoy was pointed towards a chair on the opposite table, Harry couldn't help but feel that Snape had been much gentler with the shoving on Malfoy's side than he'd been on his.

The thought made him slouch even further into his chair, glaring over at Malfoy, who was pointedly ignoring the heat that surely poured from Harry's eyes.

"Sit up straight, Potter," barked Snape, who had remained standing.

Harry, at a painstakingly slow pace, sat up.

An ominous silence fell over the kitchen.

Harry glowered at Malfoy, Malfoy fixed his eyes on the stone wall behind Harry, and Snape pinched the bridge of his nose.

A minute passed; perhaps two, before Snape lowered his hand and spoke.

"If I ever witness such complete and utter idiocy in my home again, the Dark Lord will find himself with the both of you before the day is out."

Harry snapped his head to the side to stare at Snape, wide-eyed.

He wouldn't...

But the look on Snape's face said otherwise.

Harry straightened even more in his chair, his lips sealed together. It was no use attempting to explain, anyway, so he'd rather not take chances. Not when he had to stay in Snape's home for whomever knew how long.

Malfoy, on the other hand, (was an arrogant, cowardly, snivelling bastard) did not have the same thought process.

"You wouldn't," he said with a scoff that nearly had Harry groaning, "Dumbledore wouldn't let you dump his precious Potter anywhere that was remotely dangerous, and you promised my mother-"

"That I'd take certain measures to ensure your safety?" Snape arched an eyebrow, his dark eyes glittering; greasy hair sliding forward as he leaned closer.

0000

Draco stiffened his back. He refused to be intimidated by Severus Snape. A man who had lied to him for the most of his life. A man, whom, if Draco admitted, had been his idol for a few years too many.

A liar. A traitor. Snape worked for Dumbledore.

Snape, who had sworn loyalty to the Dark Lord during his first rise. How long had Snape been on the Headmaster's side, and -consequently- Potter's side?

It turned Draco's world on its axis and made him sick to his stomach. But somehow, at the same time, Draco couldn't help but think... if Snape had been working for Dumbledore this entire time, why hadn't he just asked the Headmaster to put Draco's family in hiding in the first place?

Snape had known their position with the Dark Lord after he'd come back. His mother had asked Snape for help; why hadn't he helped?

She was dead. He could have saved her. Severus Snape could have saved his mother.

If he'd just... done something.

Done what?

Draco shut the train of thought down before it could really get going. Snape was to blame and that was that. Not Draco, not his father. Snape. And Potter.

Heat rose in Draco's cheeks with the anger he felt just thinking about it.

"Consider this, Mr. Malfoy, my actions, as per my promise to your mother, are in interest of your safety. Meaning, I set rules, and you-"

Severus paused to glare at Potter as well.

"Are to follow all of them, with explicit care, or otherwise risk your safety."

And because Draco really did not know when to keep his mouth closed, he couldn't help but interject, "You haven't given us any rules."

Potter groaned, and Draco glanced away from Severus long enough to narrow his eyes at him.

"Which is exactly the reason we are sitting here."

Severus drew his wand from his pocket and waved it wordlessly; a quill and sheet of parchment appeared in front of both Potter and himself.

0000

Harry stared at his parchment, quill already in hand, "We aren't writing lines, are we?"

The cuts on the back of his hand tingled; he checked that the quill wasn't black. It's greenish...but there's no ink pot. Harry swallowed and chanced a glance at Malfoy, who didn't look apprehensive at all. But then, Harry was the one who spent a majority of the last year scraping words into his skin.

"Listen carefully - you are to write every single rule I tell you, and follow them."

Harry held in a heavy sigh; he was starting to feel an awful lot like he was back at the Dursley's before Aunt Petunia decided he was worth liking. But really, he was staying with Snape, did he expect anything different? Maybe the fact that he was in the Wizarding World was throwing him off. Hogwarts was supposed to be an escape. Now it was like some twisted, alternate, living with the Dursleys universe.

Only worse because Malfoy wasn't afraid of Harry's wand.

"First: there will be absolutely no, and I mean no, brawling of any kind. Magical or otherwise." Snape pinned Harry with a pointed look, likely because out of the two of them, he was the more obvious culprit for throwing a punch.

"Second: if I catch a single one of you attempting to leave these quarters without my express permission with or without a chaperone, you will find yourselves coming straight back here every afternoon after your classes are through."

Malfoy and Harry spoke at the same time.

"Hang on, what do you mean after our classes?"

"We'll still be here during the school year?"

Completely without his permission, Harry's eyes snap to Malfoy's and they exchanged a horrified look before remembering just who the other person is. Harry looked up again to stare at Snape, mouth agape.

He clamped his jaw shut when Snape rolled his eyes.

"Mr. Potter, if you have not figured out already that this is where you will be staying for an indeterminable amount of time, then you are indeed as dense as I have always believed you to be. The same for you, Draco."

Harry's mouth is dropped open again and Malfoy stammered helplessly beside him as Snape gave each of them irate looks.

"You can't be serious," stated Harry, sitting back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.

He wasn't staying with Snape the entire school year. He just wasn't.

Snape's eyes rolled again, "Where did you believe you'd be staying, in the Gryffindor Tower?" he asked, tone mocking as though the idea was ludicrous.

Harry spluttered, "Y-yeah!"

"This subject is not up for discussion and is therefore a waste of my valuable time. Cease your gaping, Potter, and write down what I say."

And just like that, Harry was stuck sitting at a table in the dungeons with two of his least favourite people copying down the third rule he was given;

(You will sit at this table for all three of you meals and behave appropriately. Whether or not you spend time around each other otherwise, I do not care. Stay in your rooms and do homework all day if you can't interact without turning into heathens.)

Then they were given rules that applied to each of them separately.

"Potter, if you so much as cast a single spell, I will drag you up to the hospital wing and leave you in your room there to be poked and prodded by healers for a week!"

"If I find you trying to escape these quarters to send a missive to anyone I have not previously given you permission to write to, all of your letter will be screened by the headmaster, Draco."

Harry's eyes widened; how had Snape known?

Just how many spells were actively tracking them?

"If either of you would like to correspond with friends or relations, you are to give them to me and I will deliver them myself."

Harry, who had been scribbling at the edge of his parchment, snapped his head up, "How're we to know you haven't read them?" he protested.

Snape raised a thin eyebrow, "You shouldn't be writing anything that will cause fault if someone else were to read it."

Harry glared, "Maybe I just don't want you reading all of my letters."

"Then I suppose you will have to be careful of what you write."

This shite was Malfoy's fault. Whatever it was he'd tried to send had made Snape wary... and the whole situation worse.

He switched his glare to the boy sitting across from him.

It would be so easy to kick him beneath the table...

"Now, get up, dinner is in an hour, and I'd rather not lay eyes on either of you until then." Snape pushed away from the table.

Harry scraped his chair loudly as he got up and left the kitchen, stalking straight down the hall and into his room without looking back.

Hey Ron,

I'm stuck at Hogwarts for now. It's really weird when it's this empty. Listen, when you and Hermione get here, I have to tell you some stuff.

Things are complicated, but let Hermione know what I said.

I'll see you guys soon.

-Harry

0000

Harry was beginning to wonder if every day would be awkward and strange as he scraped the last of his stew from his plate, completely ignoring the irate looks Malfoy sent him because of the obnoxious noises. Served the rat bastard right.
"Stop that at once," Snape snapped, after Harry's spoon screeched particularly loud.

Malfoy smirked. Harry kicked his shin beneath the table.

"You have your first appointment at 10 o' clock tomorrow morning with the oncologist the Headmaster found, Mr. Potter," Snape said, the minute Harry laid down his spoon.

Draco snorted.

"Got something you want to say, Malfoy," asked Harry, glaring across the table at him. "Well? Spit it out."

Draco took his time wiping his mouth on his napkin, "That is the most ridiculous name for a medi-wizard I have ever heard. Perhaps if they started acting like respectable wizards and stopped dabbling in muggle-"

Harry stood, shoving his chair away with his legs, "What's it matter what their bloody name is, you prick!" He didn't know why what Malfoy said bothered him so much, but maybe he was just irritated with the idiot all together.

Harry snatched his dishes from the table, leaving Snape with two fingers pressed to the skin between his eyebrows, and Malfoy making his most superior expressions. He set his dishes on the counter by the sink, back tense with annoyance at Malfoy being a prat, Snape for not telling Malfoy to shut up so he could finish talking to Harry, and Dumbledore for putting him there in the first place.

With Snape and Mafloy?

Dumbledore has lost one marble too many, thought Harry, as he washed his plate and utensils, that's what Ron would say. Harry stacked his dishes again, unsure of whether he should find a tea towel and dry them, or if he should continue his storm out.

"Leave them there, Mr. Potter. Your appointment is at 9 o'clock in the morning. I will not wake you, be ready on time."

Harry rolled his eyes, as if he had trouble waking up in the morning at horribly early hours.

"Yes, sir," he muttered, and left the kitchen.

0000

"It is in poor taste, Draco, for you to upset Mr. Potter," began Severus, fixing Draco with a calculating stare.

Draco stared pointedly at his plate, pretending to be actually interested in the remaining food on it. "I don't care what is in 'poor taste' when it comes to Potter," he bit out, "And I don't see why I should listen to anything you have to say about it."

He shouldn't have said that last bit, Draco knew, but Severus had been far worse to Potter than he had ever been. Well, maybe not worse, they at least treated the stupid Gryffindor with equal amounts of dislike.

And it wasn't like Potter was helpless, he gave as good as he got.

"It is in poor taste, you ridiculous child, because that boy is the only chance you have at surviving the Dark Lord's wrath," Snape replied scornfully.

Draco looked up from his plate, refusing to be cowed, "You think Potter actually has any sort of chance against the Dark Lord?" he asked incredulously.

"Whether I think that or not has no bearing on your situation." Severus leveled a look at him that Draco wasn't sure what to think of. "At this time, you are in perhaps Mr. Potter is, the Dark Lord believes you to be a liability that your mother was."

Draco bit the inside of his cheek, "But my father-"

"Is not so lucky to be alive. He has been dishonoured within the death eater ranks, he has been spared only to live in shame and embarrassment, forced to do the Dark Lord's will for fear of worse punishments."

Draco paled, "Why can't he go into hiding as well? Can't that old coot hide houses and such?"

Severus stood, clearing his dishes from the table, Draco wondered why the man didn't just call a house elf to do it.

"It is not so easy to hide a person from the Dark Lord," he said quietly from where he stood by the counter, "Especially if that person is not so willing."

Draco got up as well, leaving his plate on the table though. He was not about to behave as though Hogwarts didn't have an entire army of house elves begging to clean up after them. "My father isn't stupid, he'd hide if I asked him."

Severus scoffed, "If he did not listen to your mother's pleas, he most certainly will not listen to yours. I know Lucius Malfoy better even than you, Draco, don't tell me what he will and will not do."

Draco clenched his jaw, "I think I know my own father, Professor."
But the words sounded weak even to his own ears. After all, he'd never thought his father would strike either of them, but Draco remembered all too clearly the bruising on his mother's cheek.

Had that been the first time?

Severus moved back and forth between the table and the sink, leaving Draco standing beside his chair, frozen in thought.

"Your father is a man capable of many things, Draco, but he has always tried to do right by you. Fear can change even the bravest of men."

Severus' hand landed on his shoulder for a moment, then he was gone.