Severus Snape was a man who valued the time he could spend on his own. Not a very sociable person in general, he particularly loathed having to waste his time on people who used "small-talk" as a way of communication or who were prone to ask stupid an inane questions. Nosy teenagers who could not keep their nose out things that were not their business at all were the worst sort of people. That was why Severus was currently sitting at his desk in one of the rooms at Grimmauld Place, looking terribly smug as he sipped his tea. He had managed to get Harry Potter, the bane of his existence, off of his high horse and put him in his place. Not that this was anywhere near a hard thing to do, and considering he had had a lot of practise over the past five years it wasn't an amazing victory either.

And he had meant what he had said to the brat. It was high time someone told him the hard and dark truth, instead of coddling the child to death. Literally, for if his rash behaviour was allowed to continue, the twerp would surely meet his untimely death sooner rather than later. That was why he had stepped in when he was on Order duty yesterday. He rather thought the brat deserved what came his way, but he found he couldn't stand by and let those obnoxious buffoons, that some people would call children, beat Potter to death. Because, Severus told himself, as much as he hated the spitting image of his old nemesis, he did want him to survive long enough to end this war. Oh yes, he knew of the prophecy, how could he not when he himself was the one who...

He quickly occluded to terminate this train of thoughts, lest it would bring back certain memories and feelings he had no intention of facing. Ever. Besides, feelings and emotions were a weakness and he couldn't afford to show any form of weakness to anyone. It would make the dangerous game he was playing, serving two masters on opposite ends of the war, impossible to maintain.

He set his cup down and stood to retrieve a couple of books on the Dark Arts and his journal, wanting to do something useful to occupy him. This summer he had devoted his time to do research for the Order. Reading through books of Dark and ancient magic, Potions, ritual magic and such, and marking interesting passages and noting down anything that might be useful to their cause. If they would not use it themselves, it never hurt to know about things your enemy might use against you. He had brought some books from Hogwarts" extensive library and a few from his own collection at Spinner's End, but Grimmauld Place held a surprisingly interesting assortment of volumes and scriptures as well. He was glad for it, for it made his reluctant stay at the old house of the Black family a little more bearable. 

It was a couple of hours into his work when he was suddenly startled out of his concentration. He stilled and listened closely for any sound out of the ordinary. For a while there was no sound at all, except for the soft crackling of the fire in the hearth. Severus did not stop to wonder if he had misheard, he prized himself on his excellent skills as a spy so there was no chance he would have been mistaken.

Then he heard it. A small whimper from somewhere in the house, that quickly grew to loud screams.

Potter!

With his wand out he swiftly ran out the door and went to Potter's room. The door was closed and showed no signs of being breached. He listened at the door but could only hear Potter's screams. He quickly twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open. To his relief there was no one else in the room except for Potter himself.

Potter lay in his bed, but he was tangled up in his sheets as he thrashed about, a shine of sweat on his forehead. Of course the brat was having a nightmare, Severus thought as he slowly walked up to the bed, lighting the lamp on the nightstand with a flick of his wand. In the illuminated room, Severus saw the bruise on the boy's face and made a mental note to himself to leave him a Bruise Balm. No one would accuse him of mistreating the boy.

"No! Not them! Please, I'll do anything!" Potter screamed in his sleep.

Severus looked sharply at the boy and heaved a sigh. This had gone on long enough. As much as he despised the brat, he valued the quietude of his evenings more.

"Potter! Wake up!"

--- 

In his dream Harry was sitting in a beautiful meadow, with an abundance of yellow flowers as far as the eyes could see. Sirius sat beside him and his friends were playing Quidditch a couple of yards away. They were all talking and laughing and it was all just so peaceful.

Harry beamed at Sirius.

"I'm so glad to be here with you, Sirius."

Sirius's smile faltered and he stood up.

"I gotta go, Harry," he said coolly and turned on his heel.

"No, Sirius, don't go! I miss you, I need you!"

"You should have thought of that before you brought death upon me," Sirius threw over his shoulder with a glare.

Suddenly the air grew dark and a veil appeared. Sirius walked right through it and Harry went to go after him.

But Bellatrix Lestrange appeared and held him back with a cackling laugh. Then she made him turn around and he saw his friends getting tortured by Death Eaters with masks.
"No! Not them! Please, I'll do anything" Harry shouted as he struggled against Bellatrix's grip on him.

Then Voldemort appeared, robes blowing in the wind and his evil, red eyes locked on Harry.

"I told you before Harry, love is a weakness. You will never win as long as you cling to love," and with that Voldemort raised his wand at Harry.

"Crucio!"

Harry felt the nightmare blissfully slip away as he fought to wake up.

"Potter, wake up!"

He finally became aware again as he lay painting and sweating on his bed entangled in his sheets. He opened his eyes and tried to get his breathing under control while thinking of something to say to his Potions professor.

Who, surprisingly, handed him his glasses.

He took them from him and put them on, glad to be able to see clearly as he did not feel comfortable with Snape in such close proximity while he was this vulnerable. He sat up and tried to relax his tense muscles. He took a deep breath and fumbled with his sheets.

"Sorry I woke you up, sir" he said not looking at Snape.

With a humph Snape turned on his heel and strode out of the room, still managing to look as menacing as ever even without his billowing robes on.

Harry figured it was for the best, he didn't feel up to another confrontation with the man as they had in the kitchen a couple of hours earlier. He disentangled himself from the sheets and swung his legs off the bed, his bare feet on the cold floor helped to ground himself and get rid of the last bit of panic the nightmare had brought on.

He had not had one this severe since the beginning of the summer, the first weeks with the Dursleys always cause for sleepless nights. He was sure Snape's spiteful remarks earlier were the cause of this one. That ugly, greasy, manipulative...

"Here."

Harry was startled out of his reverie when two vials were stuck under his nose. He looked up with a frown, as he had not noticed Snape's return. Snape mistook it for ignorance and sighed impatiently.

"This is a Calming Draught, Potter. Surely even you recognize a fourth year level potion?" He sneered. "And this is Dreamless Sleep potion. Take them."

Harry nodded and took the vial from him. Of course he recognized these potions, being far too familiar with them already. But he wasn't going to tell Snape that.

Without another word Snape swept out of the room. Harry quickly said "thank you, sir",  but wasn't sure if Snape had heard him.

He took his glasses off, switched off the light and only downed the Dreamless Sleep potion, looking forward to a nice, dreamless sleep.

---

The next morning Harry was surprised to find a jar of Bruise Balm on his nightstand. Shrugging off mental images of Snape sneaking into his room to put it there while he was asleep, he took the jar to the bathroom. His own image in the mirror looked tired and his skin was quite pale, making the bruise on the side of his face stand out in contrast. He gingerly rubbed some balm on it and it immediately looked and felt better.

He went downstairs and met Snape in the kitchen. The man was seated at the table with a steaming cup of tea, reading a newspaper. Harry was shocked to realise that it was not the Daily Prophet he was perusing, but a regular muggle newspaper. His mind grew curious but he refrained from asking why.

He took two steps further into the kitchen when Snape's voice halted him.

"Seeing as both of us will, regrettably, be spending the remainder of the summer here," Snape drawled without looking up from his newspaper, "a few rules will be in order."

Snape gestured the chair across from him, indicating Harry to take a seat. With slight trepidation, Harry moved to sit down and locked his hands together on the table, hoping to feign an air of calm and indifference. He waited for Snape to continue talking, but he took his sweet time sipping his tea slowly.

Finally Snape set his cup down. He folded the newspaper and put it aside before locking his black eyes with Harry's green ones. Harry fought a gulp, wondering what it was about this man that unnerved him so.

"Until you leave for Hogwarts, you shall not leave this house," Snape began with an even tone.

"You will also make sure not to get in my way while I am here and as such my rooms will be off limits to you. I have warded them strongly, so don't even think about trying your luck. Not even with that infernal cloak of yours, Potter. Trust me, I will know," Snape warned him darkly.

Realising Snape was waiting for a reply Harry quickly nodded his head.

"Yes sir."

"When writing letters, you will refrain from mentioning your whereabouts or who resides with you, as letters can easily be intercepted. There is no house elf here at this moment so you shall have to put that little skill you possess to use and make your own food and clean up after yourself. Do NOT make me repeat myself and do not expect me to be at your beck and call. You are not to bother me at all unless your death is imminent. Any questions?"

Harry struggled to take everything in and his jumbled thoughts settled on the house elf situation.

"Where's Kreacher?" he said bewildered. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"That house elf left when Black died. With no master, surely you do not think he would stay in a rotten place such as this?" Snape sneered at him as he stood and collected his stuff from the table.

"Any other stupid questions?"

"Will my friends be staying here anytime this summer?" Harry dared.

Snape looked up at him incredulously, obviously making it known that this fell right into the category of "stupid questions."

"Do you take me for a fool Potter? How would I possibly know all my students' summer plans? It is bad enough that I have come to know yours."

And with that Snape left the kitchen leaving an irritated Harry behind. He should have asked for Snape to unshrink his trunk but after the snarky answer to his earlier questions he would rather stick his hand in burning solution than ask for Snape's help.