Despite the boys' optimism, dinner went poorly enough that their beliefs were sorely tested. Harry had awful table manners (as a result of well, never being allowed to sit at the table), and despite Dudley's surreptitious coaching, ended up being sneered at over and over by Severus, who in turn, was dumbfounded at how badly a ten-year-old boy could do with a set of utensils.

"Were you raised by pigs, boy?" he finally snapped in exasperation. "Hold them like this." He tersely demonstrated the correct position of knife and fork, and Harry gratefully followed, his whole face burning with humiliation.

"At least you know how to sit at table," Snape directed at Dudley, who also looked embarrassed, though for different reasons.

Though he tried his best, Harry couldn't manage to eat more than half of the simple repast set out in front of them. His stomach was unused to having anything like this, and finally, he had to set his fork down, painfully aware of how much food he was wasting and how Severus was sure to comment. And sure enough...

"Not fancy enough to your liking, Potter?" Severus sniped. "It's all you'll get and be grateful for it. Your cousin-Dudley, was it? Likes it well enough." He waved his wand over Harry's plate, vanishing the contents and sending the dishes to scrub in the sink. Harry twisted round in his chair, mouth gaped open, at the sight. You could use magic to wash dishes? Perhaps magic wasn't as freaky as he'd always been told it was.

"If you're both done," Snape said, directing his comment to both children. "You may go and read or play quietly in your bedroom. Potter, put your cousin's things in the sink for him."

"Yes, sir," Harry mumbled, picking up Dudley's plate and carefully setting it in the sink, where the bubbles attacked it with vigour. He hadn't neglected to pick up on the disparity between addresses. Dudley was well, Dudley, and he was Potter or boy. It figured. His shoulders slumped as he turned to follow his cousin up the stairs.

"Potter!" Severus called him back.

"Yes, sir?" he asked, trying to keep from squeaking.

"I expect you to eat all of what's on your plate tomorrow or you'll have a variety of very unpleasant nutritional potions to wash down," Snape said, an unpleasant sneer revealing yellowed teeth. "I assure you, it would be to your benefit to lose the pickiness."

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed and trudged up the stairs, where Dudley was already waiting for him. He could already tell by the man's overly strict demeanour that there was no point in explaining that his stomach simply could not handle that much food yet. To Snape, he was just 'picky' and had too many airs.

"Sorry, Harry," Dudley whispered and tugged him along to their shared bedroom. Snape had deemed it ridiculous for them to get their own separate rooms, so instead, they shared a rather cramped bedroom at the back of the house. Its main redeeming feature was how far away it was from their erstwhile guardian's room. Although Harry had to admit the man had at least done his best to brighten it up, ensuring there were two twin beds, a shared chest of drawers, and even a toy box. And unlike at the Dursleys', he knew he was meant to actually sleep in a bed, as opposed to the closet or a dusty corner. That was always nice.

"Not your fault, Dud," he murmured back, taking a seat on the leftmost bed and stretching. His stomach twinged unpleasantly, and he sighed, falling back on the slightly lumpy surface.

"Could be worse," Dudley said, taking a seat on his own and grimacing as it squeaked under his weight. "Could be back at Aunt Marge's."

"There's a nightmare and a half," Harry snorted, pleased when a smile appeared on Dudley's face.

The two boys quickly lapsed into silence, Dudley playing with an old ball on his side of the room, tossing it up and catching it, while Harry simply curled into a ball. He was uncomfortably sure he would spend ages falling asleep that night. The bed was comfortable enough, he supposed. Certainly more luxurious than he was used to! But that was the problem. He wasn't used to it, nor was he used to so many blankets. For a moment, he wished he could simply take off the top one and settle on the floor.

But that was far too open and he had no doubt Snape would come along in the morning and make his life a misery if he tried. Probably laughing at him and asking if a bed was now too low for his lofty expectations. Harry had no idea why the man hated him so much. Maybe he was cursed to have every adult in his life despise him? It wouldn't surprise him. First the Dursleys, now this. He wondered for a moment if his parents would have hated him as well. He'd like to think they wouldn't (certainly Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had loved Dudley), but how could he know?

The mood was rather melancholy on Dudley's side as well. He cast the ball up desultorily, over and over. It was pleasant enough in this house, he supposed. Loads of rules, but he'd get used to that quick enough. He wasn't sure if he could get used to Snape's treatment of his cousin, however. It had been bad enough with his mum and dad, but surely another guardian shouldn't behave like this? And why did he have it out for Harry so? It was almost like he knew Harry, but Dudley knew that couldn't be true. Neither of them had ever seen the man in their lives.

He was still puzzling it out when Snape appeared suddenly in the doorway of their room, surprising a squawk from Dudley and provoking a fear-driven jump from Harry. Snape didn't remark on it, although his dark eyes surely must have seen it. Instead, he merely looked at each boy.

"Wash up and get ready for bed," he ordered. "It's nearly nine."

"Yes, sir," Harry and Dudley chorused.

Harry automatically let Dudley use the bathroom first, something Snape raised a cruel eyebrow at before he left, retreating to his own room at the other end of the house. Flushing furiously, Harry pulled out his ragged sleepwear, stripping down to his y-fronts before pulling on the battered pajama bottoms and baggy tee shirt. Cast-offs from Dudley, they pooled at his feet and draped down over his hands, but at least they were relatively clean and well-mended.

"There you go, Harry," Dudley muttered as he returned, smelling strongly of toothpaste. Harry grinned at him and padded barefoot into the bathroom, delighting inside to see a new toothbrush lined up at the sink for him. Snape had provided a lot of the basic amenities like that, and Harry hadn't the faintest how to thank him. He doubted the man would appreciate a hug, and he didn't have the stomach to provide gratitude in the ways he knew Aunt Petunia had demanded of Dudley.

For a thick, nausea-inducing moment that brought bile up his throat, leaving him coughing into the sink, Harry wondered if Snape was the kind of man who liked those things. He hadn't shown any interest like that in either boy, but appearances could be deceiving. Aunt Petunia always acted like the very picture of propriety and motherhood around Dudley after all.

If he is, we can live with that, too, he resolved, rinsing out his mouth extra well and spitting it all into the sink. It's only for a few weeks, that's what he said. Just until school starts and then we'll have a new guardian. No matter what he does, we can live with it until school starts.

But Harry had a sinking feeling, as he tiptoed back into his room and saw Dudley sprawled on his back, already snoring, that it wouldn't be nearly as easy as he wanted to pretend.