After Harry finished his lunch, he found himself alone again in the Hospital Ward. Madame Pomfrey had brought him some clothes to change into and he sat on his bed, bored once again, waiting for his official discharge.

"Don't forget, Harry, you need to take these potions every day. I've let Professor Snape know so he will give them to you, but they are very important." Once again she offered him a spoon filled with a disgusting sludge on it.

Harry opened his mouth and swallowed it down. It was just as horrid as he remembered. He grimaced and couldn't help but let out a small "ick."

Madame Pomfrey searched for the right words. Although her diagnostic spells had shown few concerns in the way of physical injuries and illnesses, she was very concerned about his mental well-being. She had expressed as much to Snape and Dumbledore. It was technically outside of her realm of expertise. She was a trained and experienced mediwitch, but her job was mostly to fix the physical things she saw. Nonetheless, her instincts and training told her that this was a boy who was suffering.

"How are you, Harry? You must have been through a lot." She paused and looked over at the boy. She was out of her comfort zone, but she felt strongly that ignoring his mental well-being was a dereliction of duty.

"I'm completely fine, Madame Pomfrey. Just tired."

It was a lie, he was not completely fine. He was exhausted and terrified about everything that was happening. He felt completely thrown under the bus. He had not expected the conversation he'd had earlier with Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape.

Harry was gutted that he was no longer officially a Hogwarts student, and even more upset that he had agreed to an apprenticeship with one of the people he hated the most. Not to mention, he was still worried that there were people trying to kill him. He also felt conflicted about the fact that the Dursley's didn't want him anymore. While he had no desire to ever go back there, it confirmed his worst fears that he had never been loved. He felt lonely and his future felt bleak.

Madame Pomfrey gave him a sympathetic look, waiting for him to speak again.

"No really, I feel fine."

This is what Harry had done his whole life. He'd never bothered to complain or talk about his feelings because for most of his life, no one had ever listened or cared. He was used to shoving things inside and attempting to go on with life just like everyone else. Besides, what could Madame Pomfrey possibly do to help? She wasn't going to be able to change the situation, he would just have to deal with it. Like he always did.

She put her hand on his shoulder. "I just want you to know, everyone here really cares for you, Harry. We've all been so worried about you. I hope you know that you can always come here if you need anything. So if you're not sleeping or you're having nightmares, or you're just overwhelmed with stress, you better come see me!"

This was very out of character for Madame Pomfrey. She was an extremely competent mediwitch, but she was also known for being brusque and to the point. She had never been mean or snide, but she also hadn't ever been the type to mollycoddle those in her care.

Just as the silence was becoming awkward between them, the door to the ward flew open.

Snape swooped in and walked toward Harry's bed in quick but quiet strides. After their lunch meeting, he had returned to teach his afternoon classes and was now back to collect Harry and take him to his quarters.

"If you're ready, Mr. Potter." His tone and affect were flat, and he gave away no emotions. In the world of Snape encounters, this was nearly as good as it gets.

Harry stood up and grabbed his backpack off the bed. He turned to Madame Pomfrey and muttered a quick "Thanks, Madame Pomfrey."

"Of course, Harry. Please remember what I've said. And don't forget to take your potions!" She squeezed his shoulder gently.

"Poppy," Snape said, giving the mediwitch his customary nod before spinning around on his heels and heading back to the door. He let the rest of his words fall behind him "Let's go, Potter."

Harry followed his professor out the door. As they walked along the hallways he stayed a few steps behind, having to jog every few paces to keep up.

Not one for unnecessary words, Snape avoided speaking in the halls. He wanted to get Harry into his quarters before the hallways filled back up with students after their last class. He made his way quickly down the steps to the dungeons and paused outside of his door, flicking his wand casually with a silent incantation.

The heavy door opened and Snape stood to the side, glancing back at Harry, he ushered him forward. "Get in."

Harry walked cautiously through the doorway and paused after a few steps. It was dark—it was a dungeon after all—but then the fireplace roared and he saw the parlor come to life.

It was surprisingly cozy. There were bookshelves filled to the brim lining the walls, a comfortable dark couch and two armchairs placed in a semi-circle around the fireplace.

"Take a seat, Potter," Snape directed, pointing at the couch.

Harry heard the door close ominously behind him. He looked back briefly before walking around to the front of the couch, slinging his backpack onto the floor and dumping himself unceremoniously on the couch. He tried to make himself comfortable, but he was anything but. He felt completely out of place, like he was trespassing somewhere he didn't belong.

Snape walked through one of the doorways on the other side of the room and Harry heard the unmistakable sound of glasses and cutlery clinking around. He sat silently, taking in his surroundings as his professor tinkered in the kitchen.

A few moments later, Snape returned with two cups of tea. He handed one to Harry and took his time settling down in the armchair to his right.

Snape sipped slowly at his tea before putting the cup down on a small table to his left. He was thinking about what he should say. He realized the boy was probably still reeling from the conversation earlier, so he wanted to choose his words carefully. He was desperately trying to avoid any further tantrums or outbursts.

"How are you feeling, Potter?"

As soon as the words came out of his mouth he wanted to recoil in disgust. He really had no intention of engaging the boy in a therapy session, but Albus and Minerva had impressed on him that he needed to make an effort to be "sensitive." Even with his Slytherins, he didn't engage in mindless conversation about their "feelings." He took his responsibilities as Head of House very seriously, but he generally avoided one-on-one chats unless it was to lecture them or threaten them about their grades and behavior. He left the tearful conversations about homesickness and inane teenager drama to his prefects.

Harry held his cup with both hands and looked down at his feet, repeating his usual mantra: "I'm fine."

Of course Snape knew that wasn't true, but if the boy wasn't up for talking, that suited him perfectly. "Yes, well, I imagine you're less than enthused with this arrangement. Personally I have never intended to take an apprentice—certainly not someone underage—but here we are. We will both need to adjust."

Harry wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to that. Was he supposed to get down on his knees and thank him? He hadn't asked for this. If he wasn't afraid he'd be thrown into some orphanage or picked up by Death Eaters, he would have never agreed. There were a thousand sassy things he could say, but his self-preservation won out, and he stayed quiet.

Snape, sensing that Harry wasn't going to respond, took another breath before beginning again. "Despite our...differences...I am fully committed to seeing that you succeed with your studies and in this apprenticeship. If you fail, it reflects poorly on me. As such, I will do everything in my power to see that all of your needs are met and that you excel in every possible way. Do you understand what I'm saying, Mr. Potter?"

"Yeah, I guess." Harry said, putting his cup to his lips and taking a swig of tea to avoid having to look at his professor.

"Pardon?" Snape narrowed his eyes and hardened his tone. He'd been lenient with the boy when he'd arrived last night, and during their conversation earlier today, but he refused to set a poor precedent going forward.

"What?" Harry said, looking up at Snape with mild indignation.

"Manners, Mr. Potter. You know perfectly well the proper way to address an adult." By Snape's standards, it was an extremely gentle admonition. His voice was stern, but he was trying hard to keep things calm. It took everything he had not to threaten the brat with something extremely unpleasant should he not take heed.

Harry was tempted to roll his eyes, but he controlled himself. He knew Snape well enough to know how poorly that would go over.

"I mean 'Yes, sir.'" He made sure to emphasize the last part, giving off the smallest hint of attitude. If Snape picked up on it, he ignored it, and Harry took that as a win.

Snape nodded. "I understand that you've been through a lot. But I want to make it clear right now," he paused when he realized Harry was fidgeting with his tea cup. "Eyes up. Look at me."

He waited until Harry's eyes met his before continuing. "I will not tolerate any disrespect or cheek from you. This is your last warning. Are we clear, Mr. Potter?

"Yes, sir." Harry mumbled.

"Good, then we won't have any problems."

Snape was making a real effort to tone down his rhetoric. Generally he found that a harsh tone and a few solid threats were extremely effective to ensure his students stayed in line, but he had promised Dumbledore he wouldn't upset the boy tonight.

"It will take a few days to get paperwork together for the apprenticeship. During this time, we will get adjusted to one another and iron out the details of this arrangement. I will endeavor to make my rules and expectations crystal clear. This will be your opportunity to ask any questions. After that, I will not be lenient. Once the contract is formalized, you will be officially under my care and playtime is over. An apprenticeship is not a joke. My credentials and my reputation are on the line and I will not allow them to be tarnished."

Play time? What the hell is he even talking about, there was no such thing as "playtime" with Snape. Harry made small circles on the carpet with his foot. He desperately wanted this conversation to be over. He'd heard every word his professor said, but he didn't have anything to say. Snape was going to do what he wanted anyway. He just wanted to get out there so he could go to the dorms and see his friends.

"Can I go visit Ron and Hermione now?" Harry asked, finally looking up from the floor to shoot Snape a pleading look.

"No, Potter, you may not." Snape braced himself for an impending meltdown. "You'll see them next week when they return from Easter holidays."

Harry scrunched up his face and slammed his hand down on the couch. "That's not fair! They're my best friends, I haven't seen them in ages!"

"Then you can certainly wait a few more days." Snape replied curtly. He gave him a stern look and lowered his voice in warning. "And watch your tone."

"This is rubbish! You can't keep me down here like a prisoner, I haven't even signed anything yet!" Harry leaned back on the couch with an angry huff and kicked at his backpack.

Snape got up from his chair and snatched the backpack off of the floor with one hand before leaning over and grabbing Harry's chin between his thumb and fingers with the other. He pulled his face forward to meet his own and looked him directly in the eyes. Anger flashed in his own eyes and he growled "Get control of yourself, Potter. Right. Now. I assure you, my patience is notunlimited."

Snape kept his eyes locked in threatening gaze for a moment before releasing the boy's face and standing up. "I have no intention of keeping you prisoner, but it is not safe for you to be running around the castle right now. It is of the utmost importance that we keep your whereabouts here as quiet as possible until the apprenticeship is finalized."

Snape paused, waiting to see if Harry had taken his warning. The boy stayed quiet, but his eyes were burning with anger and tears of frustration.

Hoping he made his point, Snape allowed his voice to return to its neutral baritone. "You've had an eventful day. I'll show you to your room and you can rest quietly before dinner." He stood by the arm of the couch, waiting for Harry to follow him.

Harry stood up, quietly wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve. He waited for Snape to move before he fell into step behind him.

Snape walked through a doorway at the back parlor. He paused in the hallway, gesturing to a door on the right. "This is your room. I didn't have much time to set things up, but we can make any changes over the next few days."

Stepping forward, Harry opened the door to see a small, but adequate bedroom. There was a double bed with long dark curtains, and a small desk pressed into a corner. A wardrobe and a bookshelves lined the wall but they were all empty.

Harry's trunk sat at the foot of the bed. "How did you get my trunk?" he asked, turning back to look at Snape.

"We collected your things, including your owl, shortly after you failed to return to school. It was at that time that we spoke with your relatives and learned you'd been gone for weeks."

"You met the Dursleys?" Harry asked, feeling his ears burn red as he shifted his eyes to the floor.

"Briefly. The headmaster and I made the trip together. They were most...unhelpful."

Snape had plenty of opinions he could offer about the despicable muggles, but seeing Harry's embarrassment, he stopped short of offering a full commentary.

"There is a washroom here," Snape pointed to the next door on the right, "and my own room is at the end of the hall." He glanced over at Harry before adding "Obviously, that is completely off-limits."

Harry nodded at him. As if I would ever think of stepping foot in that git's room. I don't have a death wish!

"Dinner will be at 6:30. Now go and rest quietly for an hour."

"What am I supposed to do for a whole hour?" Harry said with a touch of whine in his voice.

Snape placed one hand on Harry's open door and the other on his back, gently pushing him through his bedroom doorway. "Figure it out, Potter. You're not a toddler. It is not my job to entertain you."

"I've been laying around all day, and I don't have anything to read!"

Snape closed his eyes slowly and let out an exasperated sigh. It had been less than an hour and he was already growing tired of the brat. "You may borrow a book," he said, waving in the direction of his parlor.

Harry scurried past him into the parlor and began browsing his bookshelves for something fun to read. It was mostly thick academic books and old potions manuscripts.

"Do you have any books on Quidditch?"

"No," he said with annoyance in his voice. He paused for a moment before adding "But there may be some books of interest on the small bookshelf near the door."

Thumbing through the different spines, Harry found what looked like a young adult novel about a group of teenage vampires who solved crimes. This was obviously not one of Snape's personal selections, but over the years he'd amassed a small collection of books left behind by Slytherins in the common room.

"Got one!"

"Good. Now go. I'll knock on your door when supper is ready." Snape suddenly remembered the backpack in his hands. He unzipped it and pulled out the invisibility cloak, holding it up for Harry to see. "Oh and Potter, I'll be holding onto this."