He startled awake from some sound trickling in through his opened window. He sat up in bed and examined his surroundings. The curtain flapped lazily in the morning breeze and he could hear some sparrows ranting in the gutters. Nothing indicated intruders suddenly apparating on his property.

Ever since he took his leave from his former Master or should he say: ever since he dramatically fled the rage of the freaking psychopath and his entourage, Severus wasn’t able to truly shake the feeling of persecution. The trial at the Ministry hadn’t really helped this matter.

It had been a long and tough way back into the civilian population. Yet, as much as he didn’t like to think back to this time he was grateful every single day to have gotten his shit together and escaped some much darker fate.

Not being able to sense any immediate danger, he let out a steam of air. It was just the blasted cat. The feline probably found some mouse scurrying away between the flowerpots and had pounced on the rodent.

Why did he have to rescue it last winter? Right, he would have never forgiven himself for letting the scrawny thing freeze on the sidewalk. And Benjamin wouldn’t have either.

Ben. he amended. He would’ve done well in Hufflepuff.

To his surprise, it was with some regret that this thought registered in his mind. Severus would have enjoyed teaching the boy. Even if his Hogwarts persona wouldn’t have permitted to treat him any different from all the other students except his Slytherins.

He wasn’t even sure how the dungeon bat persona had started. Sure, he had been young and foolish before, craving some sort of control, thus joining the Death Eaters. He had committed some seriously wrong deeds. He had been dangerous in his own way. Maybe the dark aura had just carried across to his new profession.

Deeply depressed and disgusted with himself for venturing forward into this luring swamp he had arrived at Hogwarts. Had arrived at the only place he had been given a chance at redemption.

At first, in his trial, he didn’t know why Dumbledore took an interest in him. He was just one run-of-the-mill ex-Death Eater that had pled to renounce his former faith. It wasn’t until the Potter boy’s first year that the real reason for his easy pardoning had struck him.

And he hated himself for taking this long to catch on to that, to have once again trusted someone, put his hope into another person just as he had all those years ago in a red-headed girl.

Oh, how he had raged in the headmaster’s office. Dumbledore thought he would ever go back to this- to this monster? Exposing himself once again to the darkness that lured him in with cruel ease?

Never again, he had sworn to himself right at the first day of his trial. Never again would he go back. Not even for some half-baked plan of Dumbledore to introduce him as the Order’s spy.

No, he was a free man. And he intended to keep it that way.

Agitated from the roller-coaster of memories inside his head, Severus Snape pushed back the covers and prepared for his first day off. Summer meant more freedom than he usually had. For even after his outburst in Dumbledore’s office and the ensuing arguments that wouldn’t abate for many years, some of his Death Eater personality had clung to him.

Perhaps he wanted it to. It made teaching so much easier. Barely out of school himself, just about finished with his Mastery, 21-year-old Severus Snape had used every intimidation factor he might have possessed to his benefit.

Hell, he was just ten years older than the first of the many Weasley siblings, bunch of raucous runts that they were. For Severus that didn’t constitute a satisfactory age difference.

So. Teaching. What had he gotten himself into?

Sure, Dumbledore had been right in pointing out that no apothecary would hire him for the mandatory two years’ work-experience one had to go through pursuing the career of a Potion Master. Agreed. Just like Albus had been right mentioning that even if Severus would be hired by some dubious business in the back alleys of Diagon, no self-respecting witch or wizard would buy his potions ever. You didn’t want an ex-Death Eater to be responsible for mixing your cough-draughts after all. Even if he was officially exonerated by the Ministry itself.

Therefore, Severus had accepted the position Dumbledore offered him at the school. And had quickly learned to use some of the more mellow practices from his time as a servant to the most insane Dark Lord in centuries to his advantage.

The first days had been hell. Compared to a hoard of students running about, shouting constantly, not being able, it seemed, to communicate in appropriate volume, his former servitude almost felt like a trip to Bali. Almost being the key term here.

Still, as soon as he figured out that well-aimed glares and barbs as well as the occasional threat of detention drastically reduced his tinnitus, he started using them generously, nonetheless making sure he never had too much actual detentions to oversee. Evenings he had to himself were sacred after all.

Thus, Snape, the greasy git evolved, pushing Severus, the easy-going young men to the back in the process. Or not to the back but rather to the holidays. These few weeks around Christmas and in the summer were the only times he allowed himself to relax and breath normally, easing himself out of the Potions professor’s hide and just existing as plain old Severus, a man who enjoyed tea and biscuits in the afternoons.

A man who greeted his neighbours on the way to the supermarket. A man who lay down on his old sofa to watch TV in the evenings and looked forward to the rebroadcast of the Doctor Who movie with excitement. He naturally had to miss its premiere on BBC in May due to the absurd amount of magical radiation at Hogwarts. The series had accompanied him since he was three years old, through the troublesome years of his childhood and well into his twenties.

So this was him, Severus, a man who tenderly cared about his garden and fondly looked down on a red cat sleeping in his lap.

Said cat now, however, produced the largest ruckus to date and Severus feared for some of the smaller flowerpots. He again focussed his attention to the outside world.

Felix was, true to his name, a lucky charm. Since Ben had found him huddled together in some snowy corner and brought him to Severus in a desperate attempt to save the small chap, the cat had time and again showed its uncanny ability to ground the Potions Master to the here and now. Which was a good thing what with all the thoughts and memories constantly clawing to get out of the closet he had built in his mind.

Watching for the little cat through the kitchen window, he poured some canned meat inside the bowl Ben had gifted him this past Christmas. It read the name of the irritating cat as well, ridiculously enough. Though Severus had to smile every time he saw it imprinted upon the bowl.

Opening the back door, he beckoned Felix over. As he watched him swiftly devour the meat he rubbed his neck.

It was a well-guarded secret this life away from Hogwarts. A secret that, ironically, only the inhabitants of a small muggle town knew about. He was sure not even Dumbledore was aware of his holiday persona.

The persona, Severus considered truest to himself. How absurd and simultaneously oddly fitting that the person who knew him best was a sixteen-year-old muggle teenager, he thought wryly.

Severus knew Benjamin since the boy was eight years old. One day he had stumbled into Severus’ front yard seeking a hiding spot from one of his mother’s drug-induced stupors. That information however didn’t come to light until much later when Severus dragged it out of a reluctant and pond water dripping Ben.

Thinking back to this incident, Severus had to chuckle, although the reason for Ben to fall into his newly created pond was not one to chuckle about.

In the beginning, he didn’t want to get involved with the neighbour’s boy. He had only recently moved to this town on the east coast of Britain having finally been able to sell his abhorred childhood-home. There was next to nothing in it for him monetarily but psychologically it was like doing trauma therapy with some highly praised shrink.

Finding a new home was simple enough. He wanted to move to some area not generally associated with magic, as Godric’s Hollow or Ottery St Catchpole would have been. He wanted to see the ocean, because he never had been there before. In short, he wanted his peace and his teacher’s salary was sufficient to buy a small house in the area.

When he stepped out onto the street that gently sloped down with some telephone poles on the right and left, the cords going every which way like some giant spider’s web, he could just catch a glimpse at the deep blue sea in the distance. If Severus was in the mood for some fresh salty air, he could reach the cliffs in just shy under a mile.

All this had drawn him to this town. He could have his peace there.

Except, he hadn’t prepared to deal with the trouble of neighbours. The specific trouble of one specific little boy to be exact. He wasn’t supposed to care, but he did. In his own way.

At first, they were both shocked although for different reasons. The little boy was shocked to have tumbled into the front yard of Number 7. Only much later did Severus find out why Ben had been on the brick wall separating the two yards.

Severus had been shocked as well. The kid could have broken his neck with this stunt or at the very least an arm. But the boy had just bounced to his feet and was prepared to escape through the gate in seconds had Severus not been there, watering can in hand and shirt-sleeved, as he was tending the garden.

They had looked at each other, frozen to their spots, calculating and stunned.

“Are you alright?” Severus had asked and couldn’t quite keep the concern from showing in his voice.

In retrospect, Severus was sure that Ben must have picked up on this. Why else would he have allowed Severus to invite him into his kitchen for plasters and a cup of tea?

Definitely Hufflepuff, Severus thought, but without the usual derision.

Were they too trusting? Yes. Were they too sensitive? Certainly. Did Ben combine these two traits perfectly? Definitely.

And there you had it: Severus Snape cared about Ben Anderson. His resolve to not get involved didn’t even outlast their first encounter.

The satisfaction Uncle Vernon gained from Harry’s trashing didn’t hold very long. It didn’t even last to the weekend. He really should stop trying, thought Harry when he dragged himself up from the table, where he had hung limply for the last twenty minutes. Pulling on his shirt as the routine dictated he couldn’t suppress a small hiss when the cloth touched his back. At least he was allowed to keep his shorts on, small mercies and all, although the chafed fabric didn’t do much for softening the blows.

Uncle Vernon looked smug though, so Harry made sure to groan some more as he bent to pick up the belt where his uncle had thrown it after the last hit. Handing his uncle the belt, also a long established rule added to humiliate him some more, Harry could feel the bile rise inside his throat.

Just get on with it, just keep going, he chanted in his head.

He squeezed his way past his uncle and had his foot on the first step when-

“Boy! Didn’t you forget something?”

No, of course he hadn’t forgotten. Neither of them had.

Harry trudged back into the kitchen and stood there hanging his head.

“Thank you, Uncle Vernon,” he murmured.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

“Thank you, Uncle Vernon,” he said a bit louder.

“Don’t let it happen again,” he said good-naturedly “or else.”

With that, he let the belt glide through his hands one last time before putting it back on. Harry fled to his room as quickly as the thought Vernon would allow.

There he leaned against the closed door, gingerly as to not disturb the fresh wounds. Finally, inside the only half-sanctuary place in this damn house, hell in the whole damn freaking neighbourhood, he took some deep breaths to dispel the nausea that threatened to take up residence inside his stomach permanently. A flutter in his peripheral vision made him look up.

“Hedwig!”

Happily, he opened the window to let her hop inside. Gently removing the small package from her leg, he smoothed his hand over her feathers while she tried to nibble at his fingers.

“Hey, stop that,” he laughed.

When he had settled Hedwig in her cage with some owl treats, he picked up the attached letter. It was from Ron.

Hey Harry,

finally arrived in Egypt. Would you have thought Dad’d win the bonus again? You know at first I wasn’t keen on going to the desert again but it’s not bad you know. There’s so much more to see.

Yesterday Bill took us to some weird dune. It’s moving constantly and the muggles think that the wind’s responsible for it. Bullshit! It’s just some magical folk lives there since I don’t know when and they wanted to protect their village from being discovered.

Some friend of Bill’s took us on a tour and it was really cool. There was so much to eat and special things as well that you wouldn’t get back home. They even had this small primary for little kids so they’d be able to learn some magic before going to the big school in Cairo.

Anyway, how’s your summer? You holding up there at the Dursleys?

You just hang in there and I’ll try to convince my parents to get you as soon as we’re back.

And hey, I know it isn’t your birthday for another month or so but I thought you’d like this now. I don’t know how fast this’ll reach you anyway.

Fred and George and the others say Hi.

So bye!

Ron

P.S. Hedwig just turned up so I recon you’ll get this way before the 31th. But I know you’ll be bored at your relatives so open it already. And I’m not turning into Hermione, promise.

Harry’s heart jumped. He had to grin all through the letter. This was almost novel-length for Ron. He really must have put thought into this. Harry felt warm thinking about his friend sitting down to write him about his vacations trying to break him out of his summer routine.

Curiously, he pushed the brown wrapping paper a little more to the side.

Magic in the Dunes – The Secret Sorcery of the Sand People.

Harry laughed heartily. Well, these Sand People definitely had nothing to do with the Tusken Raiders from Star Wars.

When he opened the book to the first page, some grains trickled onto his feet.

Well, sure as sand in the Sahara, he thought and settled in to browse through the marvellous moving pictures.