At five minutes to six, Harry knocked on Snape’s office door. When no one answered, he entered, and knocked on the door to the Potions master’s private quarters. Instead of being bidden entrance as he’d expected, the door opened and Healer Covey stood before him, in turquoise blue dress robes that matched the color of her eyes and the tips of her hair. She had changed her nose ring to a fuchsia color that matched the threads of the embroidered patterns that decorated her robes. Looking down, Harry suddenly felt underdressed.

“Harry, tis so nice ta see ye,” Covey said, her smile as welcoming as the hug she gave him. “Please, do come in, aye?”

“Thanks,” Harry said, stepping inside.

Snape was setting the table and he, too, was wearing dress robes—black with silver trim over a dark purple button-down shirt.

“Er,” Harry said, looking down at his more casual, Muggle-like attire, “was I supposed to dress up?”

Covey smiled at him. “Nay, Harry. Dinna fash yerself.” Covey ruffled his hair and said, “Sevvie has prepared the meal for us, ye ken?” Leaning in, she whispered, “He’s quite a good cook.”

Snape, cook? Harry hadn’t thought about it before.

“It is quite natural for Potions masters to be skilled in the kitchen,” Snape said. “Attention to detail, proper preparation of ingredients, following a recipe…”

Covey winked at Harry and led him into the dining room, where Covey stood on tip-toe to give Snape a kiss on the cheek. Harry shook himself. It was odd to see Snape, of all people, to be in a romantic relationship.

Snape held out a chair for Covey and she sat. “It smells wonderful,” she commented.

That it did, Harry thought. He fidgeted uncomfortably. What was he supposed to do? “Should I help serve?” he finally asked.

“Sit,” Snape commanded as he came to the table, a steaming pot floating before him as he ladled out a generous helping of soup into the bowl beside Harry’s plate, before serving Covey, and then himself. Braised lamb and roasted quail made their way around the table next, followed by sautéed vegetables, and fresh bread. Lastly, Snape poured each of them—even Harry—a hearty glass of red wine.

Harry stared, dumbfounded. He’d eaten with Snape and Covey before, but then he’d been blind and it had never felt so formal. What was the occasion? Had he missed something? Not to mention it was just strange seeing your strict, rigid professor in an entirely different, and much more personal, light.

Snape took his seat and lifted his glass. Covey followed suit, so Harry did, too.

“Santé,” Snape said, and was echoed by Covey and Harry alike.

The wine was quite good, Harry reflected, never having had any before. It was just a touch sweet and tangy, and made his head buzz a bit. Feeling a little emboldened by the alcohol, Harry asked, “Are we celebrating something?”

“Nay,” Covey laughed. “It was me idea ta have a nice dinner. After all, ye have passed the first major milestone of yer healin’, aye?”

“I have?” Harry asked.

“Aye, ye have,” Covey said. “Ye have finished yer physical healin’. An’ the Stanleys say ye are doin’ quite well with them.”

Harry glanced toward Snape, who was watching him closely. No one had yet touched their food. He still felt as though he was missing something. As if a curse was about to fall from the ceiling and change everything.

“Let’s eat, shall we?” Snape invited.

Covey carried the dinner conversation, as Snape was naturally reserved and Harry felt off-balance in the given circumstances. That said, the food was amazing.

“This is incredibly good, Professor,” Harry said.

Snape nodded in acknowledgement.

“I told ye he was an amazin’ cook, aye?”

“You did,” Harry said, smiling.

“But I made the dessert,” Covey said with a wink. “Sevvie doesn’t put much stock in sweets.”

“They are unnecessary,” Snape commented.

“Aye, but they add a wee bit o’ flavor an’ adventure ta life, aye, Harry?”

Harry nodded, not quite sure what to say.

By the time Covey brought out dessert, Harry was quite full, but the sight of the gleaming confection coated in crème and strawberries was too much to pass up.

“Wow,” Harry said, savoring his first bite. He noticed that Snape had only take a small helping, but seemed equally satisfied.

When they were all finished eating, Snape cleared the plates away to the kitchen with a wave of his wand, then refilled everyone’s wine glass. “Shall we retire to the sitting room?” he asked with a casualness that fooled no one, least of all Harry.

Harry glanced around nervously, feeling as if he was being set up. He followed Snape and Covey, who sat together on the sofa, while he took a seat in a nearby leather chair. Earl Grey, who had been warming herself before the fire, slowly made her way to Harry to take her favorite spot on his lap. She was silky soft and warm and purring loudly by the time she’d kneaded his lap and settled in. Harry felt pleasantly warm, too, after the exceptional dinner and fine wine.

Snape took a long sip of said beverage. “I hope you enjoyed the meal, Mr. Potter.”

“I did, thank you. It was all very, very good,” Harry said.

Snape cleared his throat. “I invited you here this evening because there are issues we must discuss. Covey thought it would be more… suitable… to have dinner first.”

Harry had a strong feeling that the word Snape was really looking for had been ‘palatable’, easier to stomach. Which meant that bad news was coming. What else was new, Harry thought with a sigh.

“I do not wish to upset you,” Snape said, “but you have a right to know. Your relatives were all sentenced early this morning.”

Harry blanched. “You mean my uncle?”

“Yes,” Snape said with a nod, “as well as your aunt and cousin.”

“But I thought only my uncle was arrested?”

“He was arrested first, it is true,” Snape said. “But your aunt and cousin were also arrested at the end of last week.”

“Because of me?” Harry said in a whisper.

“No,” Snape declared. “Because of what they did to you. There is a big difference, Mr. Potter.”

Harry nodded to be agreeable, but he didn’t really feel it. “What…” Harry cleared his throat. “What sentences were they given?”

“Your uncle was sentenced to life in Azkaban, as was to be expected. Your cousin was given six months in Azkaban.”

Harry swallowed. When Snape didn’t continue, he asked nervously, “What about my aunt?”

“Her case is more complicated,” Snape said, taking another sip of his wine.

Seeing this, Harry followed suit, taking a larger gulp then he meant to, which caused him to choke. He coughed and spluttered, his eyes watering.

Snape swished his wand, clearing Harry’s airway instantly.

“Thanks,” Harry rasped, feeling chagrined.

“Your aunt,” Snape spat, “is, unfortunately, still needed. As such, she was given a choice. She could allow you to return to Privet Drive until you turn 17, or she could join her husband in Azkaban.”

Harry felt stunned.

“Personally,” Snape said, setting down his now empty wine glass, “I would have preferred to see her in a cell beside her beast of a husband.”

“What did she say?” Harry asked, feeling breathless and disoriented. His relatives, his Muggle relatives, in Azkaban. It was too much to take in.

“Nothing of consequence,” Snape replied. “She will spend the next two months in Azkaban, after which time she will be released to Privet Drive where she will await your arrival so that the blood wards remain in place for your protection.”

Harry’s hands began to shake. He knew he’d have to go back there, but it still didn’t make the notion any easier. His aunt wasn’t generally as violent as his uncle but, without his uncle there, who knew how she’d act toward him. He carefully took another sip of the wine, and then set the glass on the table.

“Mr. Potter,” Snape said, drawing his attention. “Your aunt has had to agree to a number of rules pertaining to your return. Should she disobey them, she will be sent to Azkaban for life.”

“What kind of rules?” Harry asked. That panicky feeling was starting to crawl into his chest. He rubbed his sweaty palms on the front of his jeans.

“Breathe, Harry, tis goin’ ta be fine,” Covey said, reaching over to give his knee a squeeze.

Snape continued. “Your aunt will not be allowed to mistreat you. That will be seen to. She will act as a proper guardian. She will make your meals, she will do your laundry, she will give you an appropriate allowance for clothes. She will…”

Harry shook his head, Snape’s words turning into so much indecipherable buzzing. It didn’t matter what rules they laid out, she’d do as she pleased when no one was watching. It might not be as bad as it was with his uncle and cousin there, but his aunt was capable of plenty of cruelty. And what happened the following summer when Dudley was no longer in Azkaban, but was full of the need for revenge?

Harry felt the walls closing in around him. He gulped in air, seemingly unable to get enough oxygen. This couldn’t be happening. How could he possibly go back there? How could they expect that of him? Why couldn’t he stay in the castle? Why did these things always happen to him?

“Mr. Potter, calm down.”

Suddenly, someone was crouching in front of him. Two hands landed on his shoulders, holding him in place. Harry jumped to his feet, inadvertently knocking the person aside.

“Don’t touch me,” he shrieked. He turned his body away, his chest heaving, sweat running down his back. He grabbed his hair, pulling on fistfuls of it as if doing so could somehow tether him to sanity.

“Mr. Potter!”

He couldn’t do this.

“Harry!”

 He needed to run.

“Look at me.”

He needed to get the hell out of here. Now.

 “Harry. Look. At. Me.”

Snape’s voice, deep and grounding.

Snape’s words, insistent and coaxing.

Finally, Harry looked up.

Snape was standing a foot in front of him, Covey beside him.

“That vile woman will NOT hurt you,” Snape said, his voice harsh, his dark gaze intense. “I will not let her. WE will not let her.”

Snape’s hands came up very slowly and gently disentangled Harry’s fingers from his hair. Then he guided Harry’s hands back to Harry’s side.

 “You can’t stop her,” Harry said, looking away, his fists now clenched by his sides. “You won’t be there all the time. She’ll only be civil when someone is there to see her.”

Covey spoke up then, her voice a soothing melody. “Someone will be there with ye, Harry. The whole time. Tis part o’ the agreement, ye ken?” Covey said, reaching out very slowly to put a hand on his shoulder. A tingling, calming warmth spread through him.

Harry took a deep breath and looked between Snape and Covey, unsure he’d heard correctly. “Someone will be with me? At the Dursleys’?”

“Yes,” Snape affirmed.

“The whole time,” Covey reassured.

Harry took several deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves. He wanted to pace around the room, but forced himself to sit back down.

“Who?” he asked, watching as Snape and Covey returned to their places on the couch as well.

“That is up to you,” Snape informed him.

“Me?” Harry asked in surprise.

“Yes, although we can make that decision for you, if you’d prefer,” Snape said.

“I…” Harry began, but he didn’t know what to say.

“There are several options,” Snape offered. “The headmaster, Covey, Professor McGonagall, and myself have discussed the situation. It would be best for you to stay at Privet Drive for the first four weeks of the summer holiday.”

Harry closed his eyes momentarily, not wanting to hear this. He didn’t want to go there. And he didn’t want witnesses to his degrading treatment, either.

“Thus,” Snape was saying, “the two main decisions that need to be made include who will stay with you on Privet Drive, and where you will reside for the remainder of the summer.”

“What are my choices?” Harry forced out.

“Regarding your time at the Dursleys’, we thought you might prefer to have Mr. Weasley or Miss Granger stay with you.”

Harry glanced up. “That’s an option?”

“It is,” Snape replied.

“But they’re underage,” Harry said.

“Petunia Dursley doesn’t need to know that,” Snape said slyly. “Furthermore, a member of the Order will come at least every other day, if not every day, to check on you. If you prefer, a member of the Order could stay with you at the Dursleys’ instead. Or even that house-elf that seems so found of you.”

“Dobby,” Harry said. “So I could have Ron or Hermione with me at the Dursleys’?” Harry asked again. It was just too unbelievable to be true.

“Yes.”

“I’d like that,” Harry said.

“Whoever stays with you will be under strict orders to report any ill treatment, however slight, to the Order for your immediate removal,” Snape advised.

“All right,” Harry said. “Have you talked to Ron and Hermione’s parents yet? Will they agree to let them stay?”

“We will do that once you have made your decision.”

Harry nodded, the panicky feeling finally receding somewhat.

“Why are you letting Ron and Hermione stay with me?” It was just too good to be true.

“Several reasons,” Snape replied. “First, they both grew up in relatively normal homes, so they should be able to recognize anything that could be construed as abusive or neglectful. And they are very protective of you. Also, you will need support, and we feel you’d be more likely to confide in your friends than in an adult.”

“Ye need yer friends, Harry,” Covey said. “An’ they want ta help, aye?”

“You’ve talked to them?” Harry asked.

“Nay, but Sevvie an’ I have observed them when they were here with ye. We are sure that they’d be more than willin’ ta help ye.”

Snape cleared his throat. “There will be several other safeguards in place as well.”

“Aye,” Covey agreed.

“We know this won’t be easy for you, having to return to the place where so many abhorrent things happened to you. We will do our best to make it tolerable and to help you get through it. We have discussed the situation with the Stanleys as well, and it would be advisable for you to confide in them regarding this. They are more than willing to help you through this.”

Harry nodded, considering all that was being said. “Will I still see them over the summer? The Stanleys?”

“Yes,” Snape said. “We will make sure you have access to them. Whether you go to them or they come to you has not yet been decided.”

He was beginning to feel sleepy. Probably the wine. He yawned.

“We are agreed, then,” Snape continued, “that you wish for either Mr. Weasley or Ms. Granger to stay with you at the Dursleys’?”

“Yes,” Harry replied.

“Then that leaves where you’d like to spend the rest of your summer.”

“Can I stay anywhere?” Harry asked.

“Within reason,” Snape hedged.

“So, at the Weasleys’?”

“Yes.”

“Or at Headquarters? With Sirius?”

Snape frowned. “Yes.”

“Can I think about it?”

“You may,” Snape responded.

Harry took another sip of his wine, finishing the second glass. His head felt pleasantly buzzed and his stomach felt warm. He reached over and petted Earl Grey, who had relocated to the floor after Harry’s abrupt jolt to his feet earlier. Then he slipped down into his chair, laying his head on the arm. “Anything else?” he asked around another yawn.

“I think that is enough for one night, don’t you?” Snape inquired.

“Mmm,” Harry said, his eyelids feeling heavy. He glanced at the clock. It was already 10:20 pm. “Sir!” Harry said, bolting upright. “I’ve missed curfew.”

“You may stay here tonight if you like,” Snape said.

“I can?”

“You may. Your room is ready for you.”

Harry scrunched up his face. Had they planned this? Giving him alcohol and all? But why? Another yawn overtook Harry and he realized that he was just too tired to care at the moment. He’d think about it in the morning.

“All right,” he muttered. “I’m knackered. I’ll stay.” Harry pushed to his feet and instantly his head spun. “Whoa,” he said, grabbing the chair for support so as not to fall over.

Snape snickered.

“Not funny,” Harry said.

“That is a matter of opinion,” Snape said dryly. “Would you like help to your room?”

“No, I got it,” Harry said. He took an experimental step, and then another. He was a bit wobbly, but thought he could manage it. “Night, Professor. Night, Covey.”

“Night,” he heard them both say as he made his way to his room.

“Well, at least that part is over,” Snape said.

“Aye,” Covey said, snuggling against Snape’s side in front of the fire. “Do ye think we should have given him Dreamless Sleep?”

Snape sipped his third glass of wine. “As much as I’d have liked to,” Snape said, pulling Covey closer, “I think it is better not to. He will be particularly vulnerable and open tonight after all we have told him. He will be ripe for the Dark Lord to attack.”

Snape stroked Covey’s hair; he loved the feel of running his fingers through it, short as it was. “If the Dark Lord does attack, it would be best if I am here to help him Occlude, and a sleeping draught could interfere with that.”

Covey nodded before straddling Snape’s lap, a wicked grin on her face.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think we would be safer in the bedroom? What if Mr. Potter decides to come out for a glass of water?”

Covey wiggled suggestively against him and brushed her lips along his neck.

“Aye,” she said, “as ye wish.” She slid off him and sauntered toward the bedroom, undressing as she went.

“You are going to be the death of me, witch,” Snape growled, following close behind.

Snape awoke to a red strobe light and a soft buzzing sound. He ended the alarm with a wave of his wand and looked at the clock: 3:35 am. Potter had slept longer than he’d thought the boy would. He leaned over and kissed Covey on the cheek before slipping out of bed to pull on a pair of sleep pants, a robe, and slippers.

Snape padded down the hallway, stopping just outside Potter’s door to listen. The boy wasn’t screaming or thrashing—at least, not that Snape could hear. He knocked softly before entering.

Harry was sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. Snape stilled, surprised to see him upright and awake.

“Are you all right?” he called out.

The boy looked up and nodded, and Snape was somewhat surprised to see that his face was dry.

Snape came and sat beside Harry on the bed.

“How did you know I was awake?” Harry asked.

“After what we discussed this evening, I would have been surprised if you hadn’t had any nightmares,” Snape responded. “What was this one about?”

“The one where my uncle is choking me. I remember now why that happened.”

Snape waited for the boy to gather his thoughts and go on.

“There was this teacher at school: Ms. Becker. She was really nice, and she was especially nice to me. I think she felt bad that I didn’t have any friends, and I think she guessed things weren’t good at home.” Harry took a breath before plunging on. “At first, I wouldn’t tell her anything but, after a while, I told her that they didn’t feed me much and that I only got Dudley’s old clothes and that my uncle hit me sometimes.” Potter shook his head. “You’d think by then I’d have known better,” Potter said in a self-deprecating tone. “Anyway, she confronted my aunt and uncle and you can imagine how well that went over.”

“Indeed,” Snape said, once again feeling out of his depth. He could handle Occlumency lessons, he could counsel and coach the teen on how to Occlude the Dark Lord, but he had no idea how to comfort the teen when it came to his abusive relatives.

“He was so angry,” Harry whispered. “He was choking me for telling. He said I’d never be able to tell anyone ever again.”

Snape put his hand on the boy’s knee in silent commiseration. “He won’t ever be able to hurt you again,” Snape said.

“Part of me knows that,” Harry said, “but it’s just so hard to believe.”

“It will get easier,” Snape said.

“Everyone keeps telling me that,” Harry replied.

“They are right,” Snape said.

“Did it get easier for you?” the teen asked, looking at him through Lily’s eyes.

Snape caught his breath and looked away, surprised that Harry had guessed as much about Snape’s own childhood, and even more surprised he’d been bold enough to ask. “I am not sure easier is the right word,” Snape admitted, “but it does get less painful over time. It fades to a dull ache.”

The boy nodded beside him. “Thanks. I’m sorry for disturbing you, sir. You didn’t need to get up for me.”

“Of course I didn’t need to,” Snape replied.

Harry studied him, confusion shining in his eyes.

“I didn’t need to, Mr. Potter, I wanted to.” Snape gave the boy’s knee another squeeze before getting to his feet. “Don’t hesitate to knock on my door if you have another dream or if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” the teen said, sliding back under his own covers.

“And, Mr. Potter?”

“Yes?”

“Your mind is especially vulnerable tonight, so do try to Occlude before you go back to sleep.”

Harry grimaced. “I’ll do my best,” he said.

“That is all I ask,” Snape replied, running his hand over Earl Grey, who lay curled at the foot of the bed, before making his way back to Covey and his own warm blankets.