When Molly Weasley thought back, Harry showed surprisingly little reaction to  Snape’s dramatic departure, during the days that followed. He played with Ron and the twins, and most often Ginny was allowed to go with them as well. The Weasley siblings showed Harry the secrets of the garden and of the nearby forest, being so physically active that Mrs Weasley had to schedule some quiet time, so that it would not become too much for Harry. 

The boy was all smiles and politeness, voluntarily helping out with the household, but Molly could not help wondering if he did so because he wanted to earn his stay and make sure they wanted to keep him. She tried to show him that they liked him just as he was and that he did not need to perform any particular chores, but that she appreciated his helpfulness nonetheless. There was a slight uncertainty in his eyes when she said so, and she did not really feel that she reached him. At times, when the boy did not know anyone to be near, Molly thought that he looked particularly lost and forlorn. If she tried to approach him in those instances, however, he would invariably assure her that everything was fine and he would jump up and say that he needed to go find Ron. 

And Severus - what was to be said about Severus? Molly could not make the young professor out. Only after he had left so abruptly, did Molly and her husband realise that the wizard had not Apparated between his home and the Burrow to give Harry his tutoring lessons, but had indeed been staying in the village the whole time. The gossip around the strange, black-clad man was buzzing in the Muggle village. When he was not at the Burrow, it seemed that he had spent his days fishing, or walking about the countryside for hours and his evenings were spent reading in his room. It was very strange indeed, thought Molly, because from what he had told them, Severus had seemed determined to work on his house this summer. Well, nothing could have come of that if he stayed at Ottery St Catchpole the whole time, could it?

No, there was something strange about Harry’s lack of reaction to the upsetting scene with Snape, thought Molly Weasley, something amiss. Going from spending several hours a day with the teacher who had participated in saving his life, to not mentioning him at all was clearly suspicious. Molly Weasley was determined to find out what went on in the mind of this obviously neglected and complex youth and protect him from further harm.

***

Snape was lifting heaps of terracotta tiles, five by five, onto the roof of his house at Spinners End, using an old-fashioned winch. He had been working relentlessly the past few days to make up for the time he had lost because of the work he had postponed hitherto during the summer. He had already removed the old grey concrete tiles from the roof, overrun with green lichen. It had been oddly satisfying to launch them over the edge and let them break on the ground in his small yard. There was now a big heap of fragmented tiles in front of his house that he planned to get rid of one night, when his neighbours were asleep, with one or several vanishing spells. The work that now awaited with repairing the roofing-felt and replacing the tiles was more delicate. It needed to be done in day-light and it needed to be done manually because in case Snape wanted to sell the house to a Muggle in the future, it could not depend on magical maintenance. Moreover, he could not be seen levitating tiles in the air in plain sight, nor did he have the patience to cover himself and every single piece of tile with disillusionment charms to be able to work magically - it was simply not worth it. And he did not mind the hard physical work. The sun was burning in his back as he laboured, completely exposed on the roof, from early morning to late at night. He would finish the day with pouring a shower of water on himself out of his wand in his yard with and Aguamenti spell, because naturally the plumbing did not work properly in his house, and then he would tumble into bed, too exhausted to think.

***

Harry was confused. His foster parents seemed to think that they needed to talk to him about what had happened with Severus - or Professor Snape as he should probably revert to calling his teacher. Harry was not used to those kind of conversations. What had happened had happened, right? He did not want to talk about it. He was not used to get help to sort things out and to understand things properly. Mr and Mrs Weasley, however, seemed to think that he needed explanations, because Mr Weasley spoke to him a lot about the magical bond of the appendicitis rite and how it might have affected Professor Snape and Mrs Weasley seemed to think that Harry was hiding something and tried to drag he knew not what out of him. 

They both said that they noticed that he seemed oppressed by something and wouldn’t he talk to them about it? Harry was not aware that he let show his disappointment and dejection. He thought that he was rather good at hiding things like that. But he supposed that he might be a bit quieter and might let his guard down now and then, and there would always be a Weasley around, wouldn’t there? There were so many of them! Harry felt slightly ambiguous about it. He really liked his new foster family. He did. And yet they tired him sometimes. 

A few days before his twelfth birthday, Mrs Weasley asked him insidiously if he wanted to invite Severus for the party she planned. Harry’s alarm systems immediately went on alert. Why did she ask? What was she angling for? She did not like Severus, Harry was sure of it. She had been happy when he stopped coming, because the tutoring had triggered the tiniest amount of resentment and jealousy on Mrs Weasley’s part, well-hidden, but clearly detectable to Harry’s expert instincts. She wanted to be the one in charge of everything concerning the children and her household, Harry was pretty sure of that, and she had not enjoyed what she saw as an intrusion in that area by Severus. 

Harry’s experience with his aunt had made him particularly wary of women, and he had an instinct for picking up when he was being manipulated. This was such an occasion and he only shook his head mutely when Mrs Weasley went on asking why he did not want to invite Severus. Harry did not reply, but thought to himself that it was obvious, was it not? He had shouted at his teacher, insulted him. Of course there was no way that Severus - Professor Snape - wanted to come. He probably hated Harry again. It was as simple as that. The thought made Harry more and more miserable and he shook his head with stronger vehemence as Molly Weasley tried to coax him into talking in all possible ways. 

Harry’s wretchedness seemed to bewilder her and at last she asked him with worried concern if something in particular had happened that made him not want to invite Severus. Harry cast her an incredulous look. She blushed and mumbled ’The quidditch incident, yes…’ and let him be. 

Harry new that Mrs Weasley was not as bad as Aunt Petunia, although at times she had the same manipulating tendencies. He could tell that Mrs Weasley was genuinely concerned about him and that there was real warmth behind her fuss. He was still conflicted by her behaviour. He preferred Mr Weasley’s more straightforward way of speaking to him. 

The difference from the Dursley household, however, was that Mr Weasley, although at times yielding to his wife’s whims, did not shrink from having an argument with her when there was something he did not agree with, and subsequent to this particular incident, Harry overheard the couple having a heated discussion again. The Burrow was not very soundproof as the different silencing charms outdated quickly. Although embarrassed, Harry could not avoid inadvertently stumbling upon his foster parents and had no choice but to listen, or to interrupt them, which he dared not do.

” Explain to me, Arthur, how that bond affects Harry.”

”The magic of the appendicitis rite simply liberates and consolidate magical energy, sealing the wizard’s magical identity,” Mr Weasley replied. 

”No, I mean explain to me how it affects the child’s feelings for the person who brought him to the hospital,” Mrs Weasley clarified.

”Oh, the child is not affected by that part of the magic - only the adult is,” replied Mr Weasley.

”Really - how come? Are you sure?” insisted Mrs Weasley. ”Because Harry is acting as if something is wrong.”

”The Ancient magic of the bond affects the adult exclusively, as children are so pliant that once the adult starts behaving differently, they will inevitably respond favourably to the change. The mending of a dysfunctional relationship between an adult and a child is solely the adult’s responsibility,” said Mr Weasley and Harry was not sure that he understood what he meant. The Weasley couple must have changed position because their voices became quieter and Harry only heard fragments of words.

”…boy behaves weirdly…”

”…Harry… not easy… misses his tutor…”

”…Severus… shaded past… Harry… don’t want to talk…”

”…not at all… on the contrary… should encourage…”

”…but if something inappropriate has happened…”

Then Mr Weasley raised his voice and Harry heard every word.

”Stop prodding, Molly, you’re confusing the boy. Just because you read about that teacher in the paper, it does not mean that every man is susceptible to… For Heaven’s sake, if Severus was after something like that he wouldn’t turn the boy against him by restricting him with his protective tendencies, would he? If he had egoistic motives, he would ingratiate himself with the boy and play along with letting Harry do whatever he please. He would not contradict the boy and be stern with him like a… like a concerned parent, now would he? I don’t want to hear you pestering Harry with that kind of questions. He’s been through enough without you projecting your worst fears on him, Molly. Of course nothing inappropriate has happened with Severus!”

Harry did not exactly understand what they meant by ’inappropriate’, but he was glad that Mr Weasley told Mrs Weasley to stop prodding. 

***

Snape, in the meantime, continued to numb himself with labour. He finished the tile roofing in three days and started to sand the wooden floor in the living-room and the bedrooms. That, too, was hard work, but as he was sheltered from his Muggle neighbours inside the house, in this case at least Snape could use magic to save himself from breathing in the dust. The major part of the job was done without magic, though, and Snape concentrated in moving the sanding instrument over the floor in slow, strong, even movements. The bright wood that emerged underneath the blackened tiles was surprisingly decorative. 

The monotonous work in the silent, empty house made his thoughts wander. This time of the day, in the late afternoon, the tutoring sessions with Harry used to be over and he would sometimes take a long walk back to the village. A couple of times, he had taken Harry with him to go fishing. Once in a while he had stayed for dinner at the Burrow. Well, that was over now. He was doing what he should have done from the beginning this summer. Something sensible. He was working for himself, finally arranging for a decent place to live at, permanently, like a responsible grown-up, instead of roaming about in the world like some lost globe trotter.

To think that it had felt almost impossible to leave that little village barely a week ago. In the end, it had not been so difficult to tear away, had it? Curse Ancient magic! The bond was nothing. He was free now. The Weasleys could play around as much as they wanted. They could make excursions to the moon and back on their broom-sticks for as much as he cared. And Harry, Harry could just… Harry could… Snape clenched his teeth and bent down to work a spot around a wood knag manually with a piece of sandpaper where the Muggle sanding floor machine that he had rented did not grip. 

***

Harry was conflicted about what he had learnt about the bond. Mr Weasley had tried to explain the magical bond of the appendicitis rite to Harry, attributing Severus’ misdirected protectiveness, as he called it, to the bond, trying to explain and find excuses for the teacher’s behaviour. Harry did understand that part, but the main thing that Harry derived from the conversation was that Severus - Professor Snape - had been obliged by some magic to become nicer to Harry and started to imagine that he needed to protect him. 

None of Severus’ attentions had probably been real. That bond, that magic - whatever - had made the old Snape act in an uncharacteristic way, and now it was over, because Harry had dispelled it by shouting at him and when they started school again, everything would be just as before. No doubt, Snape already hated him again. Severus was someone who had appeared briefly only to take Harry through everything that happened in the hospital related to the appendicitis. Severus no longer existed - only Professor Snape did.

Mr Weasley proposed that they speak to Severus - Professor Snape - over the floo. Harry who had never heard of the floo network was curious about it, so Mr Weasley and Ron had explained everything to him, how you could do fire-calls through the fireplaces and, if you had floo-powder, travel from one place to another, provided they were connected to the network. 

”Severus told me he had sent in an application to the Ministry to re-connect. Apparently his house’s fireplace has not been used for a long time,” Mr Weasley muttered. Ron got permission from his father to fire-call a cousin to demonstrate the procedure. But finally and all the same, Harry declined politely to try reaching Severus - Professor Snape, and the more Mr Weasley tried to convince him, the more silent Harry grew, shaking his head determinedly.

***

Snape was painting door cases in his house at Spinners End. He allowed himself this lighter work after six days of heavy labour. Again he used a mixture of Muggle and magical techniques where the actual paint was applied physically with a brush, but where Snape did not need to do all the surrounding work with applying painters tape, for example, because a simple repelling spell would do the work of protecting the surrounding wall and floor from stains.

This meditative occupation had the disadvantage of opening up his mind for more reflections. And they circled principally around one single event. He had humiliated Harry, Snape realised that. He understood that he had passed a line where the boy had snapped and wanted him gone. Harry was right - Snape had no business with him any longer. The boy was the charge of the Weasleys. Snape had no legal right, no prerogative. In fact, in the Ministry’s eyes, he probably had less precedence to taking part in what happened to the Boy-who-lived than even the lowest clerk in the most obscure department. He had thought… He had thought that there might be a role for him in Harry’s life. He had thought himself subtle and clever when he managed to influence Albus to assign him as the boy’s tutor. 

Snape vacillated between remnant anger, regrets and misgivings, one moment wondering whether there was anything he could do to change what had happened and the next moment wanting to forget the whole affair and going back to how things had been at the beginning of the summer. Pretend that Harry’s appendicitis had never occurred. 

Was there the least little chance that the boy might forgive him, though? Or was the confidence lost for ever, like it had turned out with Lily all those years ago? It was Harry’s birthday tomorrow. What if…?

Suddenly Snape heard a grind, followed by footsteps on gravel and a shuffling sound as someone mounted the masoned steps up to his front door. Inside the house, Snape made his way down the stairs soundlessly to apply a one-way transparent charm on his ridiculously thin door. What he saw made him lift his eye-brows. 

Petunia’s husband, Harry’s Uncle Vernon was standing on the landing, staring at a piece of paper, rubbing his sweaty hands on his trousers and lifting his head now and again to scrutinise the ramshackle building with a brand new roof in front of him, obviously wondering if he had found the right house. Finally he decided on raising a fist to knock on the door. On the inside, Snape remained crouched on the stairs without so much as batting an eye-lid. He had no wish to speak to that cowardly man and, anyhow, he had no business with Harry any longer. He was not going to open the door.

***

It was Harry’s birthday. He had withdrawn to Ron’s and his room, shortly before mid-day to gather his wits. It was the first time someone took pains to celebrate him properly, and Harry had been subjected to the Weasley family’s usual birthday ritual, as explained to him by Ron. It meant that Harry had received strict instructions to stay in bed in the morning and laid there, wide awake, listening to the commotion in the hall as all the family members gathered outside and then burst in, singing ’Happy birthday’ and filled his bed with presents. 

Harry had been excited despite himself - it was a bit childish to be frantic about your birthday at twelve, Ron and he had agreed upon, but still Harry could not help himself. He had always wondered what it would feel like to be on the recipient end of such lavish attention as the one you were supposed to receive on your birthday. At the same time he felt terribly self-conscious. He was simply not used to this. It tired him to smile at everyone, to keep his attention up in order to figure out what was going to happen next and endeavour to be prepared, show the right reactions and not disappoint anyone.

Harry walked aimlessly around the room and picked among a couple of school books that Severus had brought for the tutoring and that had been left behind when he so abruptly stopped the lessons.

Harry sighed. He did not know what to think. He was still angry and could still feel the humiliation burning inside him because of what Severus - Professor Snape - had subjected him to that day. He had assumed the worst of Harry and had hauled him down without any consideration for Harry’s dignity. He was always scolding and holding Harry back, and yet Harry had been patient until that one time, had he not? Because it had been kind of nice to have someone visit, just for him. The annoying protectiveness from Severus’ side had been counterbalanced by the fact that the strange wizard seemed to care, that he wanted to teach Harry things and that he wanted to spend time with him. No adult had ever done that before, and Harry knew that unlike the Weasleys who were very nice, but who had been asked by Dumbledore to be his foster family, unlike them, Severus had not been asked to do what he had been doing, but had volunteered for it. Dumbledore had assumed that Severus’ part in taking care of Harry was over when they came back from the hospital, but Severus seemed to have chosen to continue tutoring Harry only because he wished to. Or simply because of the bond, Harry reminded himself.

Harry sighed again. He supposed that his break was over and that he should make an appearance again so that no one would start missing the birthday child, as they insisted on addressing him today. He smiled to himself - it was kind of nice. There would be a party this afternoon and Hermione was invited over. Mrs Weasley had suggested that he invite everyone in his dorm - or why not all the Gryffindors of his year? - for the birthday party, but Harry had been horrified by the idea and quickly insisted on only wanting Hermione. Ron seemed content with a small party as well. 

Harry was not surprised when he heard someone mount the stairs and when he opened the door to forestall the entreaty to come down, he found Mrs Weasley on the landing. 

”Harry,” she panted, ”your uncle is here. I showed him into the living-room.”

Harry felt himself go rigid.

”Harry?” Mrs Weasley asked carefully. ”I thought that you said that your uncle was okay?”

Harry inclined his head to the side slowly, neither confirming, nor negating her question. 

”I thought that maybe he came to wish you a happy birthday. He must have travelled a fair distance to arrive here and I thought… But if you don’t wish to see him…”

”It’s okay, Mrs Weasley. I’ll be down,” Harry hastened to say as he steeled himself. What could Uncle Vernon possibly want to speak to him about?