It had happened suddenly. Uncle Vernon had been drinking, and it was a rainy night. He'd taken a curve too fast. Aunt Petunia had been flung halfway out of the vehicle, her head cracking unpleasantly against a sign post. Uncle Vernon had sustained blunt force trauma and died on the way to the hospital. The first Harry and Dudley knew of it was when a police officer knocked on the door, the loud noise terrifying Harry into hiding under the sofa. Dudley had answered it, pulling the door open cautiously, and sinking to the floor as the news properly struck him.

Now, both boys were at Aunt Marge's. She'd told the police that she would take them in for the time being, but that "other arrangements must be made soon, I can't waste my time looking after a couple brats! Dudley, maybe, but not that rat he calls a cousin!" The police officer, more stone-faced than Harry thought was possible, had agreed that they would endeavour to find other guardians.

Aunt Marge hated Harry. He was small and scrawny and reminded her of a rat. "The runt of the litter," she liked to spit in his direction, particularly after she'd had a few too many. The news of her brother dying filled her with a brief sadness, before she returned to praising Dudley for the slightest movement and aiming stray, vicious kicks at Harry while forcing him to take care of her many, brutish dogs. In the two days he spent with her, he collected a handful of bites, a terrifyingly large collection of scratches, and more cuffs to the head than he could count.

Despite her lavish treatment of him, Dudley didn't look much better. When Aunt Marge went to bed at night, Dudley would creep down into the kitchen, where Harry was forced to remain in a corner, and sit by him, knees hunched to his chest. Dudley couldn't sleep at night, either, although Harry knew it was for different reasons. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia may have loved their "ickle Duddykins," but Aunt Petunia loved him in ways that weren't particularly appropriate to a ten-year-old. Or a six-year-old, which was when she'd started coaxing Dudley into her bedroom in the middle of the afternoon, when Uncle Vernon was at work. Harry had watched from the doorway with too-large eyes until Aunt Petunia noticed and threw a shoe at his head. It left a nasty purple splotch on the side of his forehead, one that Uncle Vernon increased when he came home.

The police officer came back on the third day, accompanied by a tall, severe-looking man with a large, hooked nose and a curtain of greasy black hair. The man sneered continually at Harry and Dudley while the police officer explained that a distant cousin had been found, and that Mr. Snape had agreed to take charge of both boys. There was an odd, fixed look to the policeman's face that Harry didn't care for, but couldn't put his finger on why. Not that it mattered, because in the space of an hour, both he and Dudley were sat in the back of a run-down black car, headed straight for the neighbourhood known as Spinner's End.

Sometimes Severus Snape hated his employer. This would be one of those times, he thought with a scowl as he readjusted his mirror and glanced in the backseat at his two new wards. The contrast between them was startling. One tiny and dark-haired, one overweight and blond. The blond boy-Dudley, was it?-would have to be put on a diet immediately. Potter-Harry, he forced himself to say-needed proper feeding. He wondered why the brat was so thin. Was he that picky? Well, he'd learn, Severus decided as he put his blinker on and switched lanes, resisting the urge to say many colourful profane words at the idiot next to him who had tried to cut him off. There would be no pickiness or fastidiousness over food in the Snape household. If he didn't eat properly, he wouldn't eat. A few days of the unpleasant-tasting nutritional potions that Severus kept the Hogwarts Hospital Wing stocked with would ensure even the most spoilt child would eat like a normal human.

He knew virtually nothing about his new charges. Albus had simply told him that Harry Potter's guardians had died in an unfortunate accident, and he had no one else to see to the boy. He hadn't been aware the brat came with a friend until the police had told him about Dudley Dursley, Potter's cousin. And then what could he say? Of course he had to take the second child in for the summer, as well.

At least it would only be for the summer, he thought darkly, pulling into his slightly ramshackle driveway and cutting off the engine. Albus had promised to have better guardians lined up for both Potter and his cousin, and Severus intended to ensure the Headmaster lived up to that promise. He had no desire to take care of two bratty children for the rest of his life. Not to mention what would happen when he needed to return to his teaching position. Potter had only just turned ten, and Dudley was in all likelihood, a complete Muggle. There were spells and potions, of course, that could enable a Muggle to see Hogwarts, but with any luck, Severus would feed and shelter them for the next few weeks and then pass them on to someone new with a cheerful heart.

"All right, out," he sneered at the two boys who sat motionless in the back, peering out each side with vague interest. Neither child seemed particularly grieved at the realisation that they'd lost their parents/guardians, but perhaps it was a delayed thing. He shepherded the two into his house, resisting the urge to hex one of the neighbours who kept peering curiously, if a bit short-sightedly, at him. He had no doubt this news would be all over the neighbourhood within the hour. Lovely.

"Sit," he barked out at the two, who sat obediently on the sofa next to each other. Such a contrast, he thought again, staring at the two. Dudley met his gaze boldly, unafraid, while Harry stared constantly at the floor. Thinks he's better, does he? Severus internally snarled. Figures. I'll get that out of him in the last weeks of the summer no matter what I have to do. Wretched child, just like his father!

"I have a few things to tell you," he began, perching awkwardly on an armchair across from the two. "One-I am not actually your cousin, distant or otherwise. Two-my employer shall be coming here shortly to explain matters in a way better than I can. Three-You will be under my care for the rest of the summer, and the rest of the summer only. I have no desire to babysit children, but the Headmaster-my employer-thought it prudent otherwise. You will follow my rules, behave like good children, and I will do my best to ensure you are not kidnapped, murdered, or locked in the cellar." He thought he saw Harry's face whiten at his last words, but decided he must be mistaken.

A knock sounded on the door and he rose gratefully.

"There's my employer now," Severus announced. "His name is Albus Dumbledore. Be respectful, or you shall feel my wrath." Both boys nodded, and Severus escaped to the front hallway with what felt suspiciously like relief.

Harry's head was swimming by the time Mr. Dumbledore left and they were alone, once again, with Professor Snape, as he preferred to be called. An evil wizard, a magic school, the fact that he had magic and wasn't just a disgusting freak...it all swirled around in his mind until he thought he might sick up on his shoes. It didn't make sense. But he couldn't see why Professor Snape and Mr. Dumbledore would lie to him. Not with Dudley there, too. People might lie to him-and did, all the time!-but they didn't lie to Dudley. His cousin looked every bit as baffled as he was, which was a comfort.

Professor Snape had left them with a giant list of rules. Don't leave the house without permission. Don't run in the house. Don't talk back, always speak respectfully and speak when spoken to. Be in bed by nine o'clock. Be up and at the breakfast table by eight o'clock, or you shan't have any. Same for lunch at noon, and dinner at six. Do your summer work, do your assigned chores, or you'll be sorry. Don't enter any closed room without permission and definitely don't attempt to enter through any locked door. Practise proper hygiene (here, Professor Snape's eyes had flicked disdainfully toward Harry's untidy hair, dirty face, and rumpled clothes, and he'd felt his face burn in shame. Aunt Marge hadn't let him, but of course, he couldn't tell his temporary guardian that!). They had free time for a few hours each afternoon, and an hour in the morning. Harry didn't know what he would do then. Perhaps read the books Professor Snape had recommended for him, with another sneer. Books on "magic" and "the history of the wizarding world." They sounded interesting, even if only from a fantastical perspective.

One thing was certain, both Harry and Dudley thought, as they washed up for dinner. No matter how strict Professor Snape was, he had to be better than the Dursleys.

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.