“Thank Merlin!” Harry said loudly in relief as his leg was officially freed. He stayed still long enough for Snape to check that his leg was really healed, but instantly started pacing the study when he was given the all-clear. Three weeks. Three weeks he’d been trapped in that damn cast and unable to walk without that damn crutch. He hopped slightly, bouncing from foot to foot.

“You will still have to be careful for a week or so to allow the bone to fully strengthen without the cast’s support,” Snape said and Harry grinned when the crutch was banished.

“So, no chasing madmen across Hogwarts’ grounds?” Harry joked, temporarily forgetting who he was with in his elation. He remembered quickly, though, when he saw the glare on Snape’s face. He stopped walking and bowed his head. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Snape said, looking over Harry at the other boy leaning in the doorway. Harry turned as well. Malfoy had been silent all morning, a far-off look in his eye and his face blank. He figured Malfoy was still confounded by the entire affair with Dumbledore and was processing the fact that he wasn’t back at Malfoy Manor. Harry himself was still trying to understand.

“We will be gone for a few hours. Do try to stay out of trouble while we’re gone,” Snape said and Harry watched Malfoy’s face morph into its first actual expression in hours.

“You’re taking Potter with you, so should be easy enough,” Malfoy taunted, smirking at Harry.

Harry glowered and was stopped from flinging some awful insult by Snape speaking.

“You are no innocent, Mr. Malfoy, do not pretend to be any better than Potter,” Snape said.

Realizing he’d just been insulted again, Harry turned his glare to Snape, joined by Malfoy.

“We will be back for dinner. Make whatever you like for lunch,” Snape said and Malfoy just nodded, his arms tight across his chest, shoulder against the door frame, and a glare still on his face. “Come, Potter. We are going to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place,” he said clearly to Harry so he could repeat it.

Harry grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and stepped into the fireplace. Determined to never have a repeat of the Diagon Alley-Knockturn Alley incident, he spoke as clearly as possible: “Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!”

He dropped the powder and spun away, Prince Manor disappearing for the first time in three weeks. He already felt relief at having a break from the place and people. He may not have his uncle to worry about, but he certainly hadn’t been relaxed yet that summer. He was starting to notice small aches from being so tense.

The spinning stopped suddenly and he was thrown from the destination fireplace, stumbling and coughing. He was brushing himself off and about to look around when a pair of arms were suddenly around his neck. If Hermione noticed his violent flinch, she didn’t react. He managed to start hugging her back after pushing down his panic and spotting Ron over her shoulder. Hermione finally released him just as the fire flared and Snape stepped out.

“Professor,” Hermione said quietly.

Snape just sneered at them and swept away, leaving Ron and Hermione to look at Harry in confusion.

“Did you just come here with Snape?” Ron whispered incredulously as though he didn’t want anyone to overhear him.

“He’s just the one Dumbledore sent to get me,” Harry said, remembering the cover story he’d been told he had to tell anyone that asked. No one could know he was staying with Snape, no one could know he knew where Malfoy was, and, for him, at least, no one could know what had happened to make him leave Privet Drive.

“Come on, let’s go upstairs and talk,” Hermione said and led the way out of the sitting room.

Harry gazed around at the dark and dingy house. It had clearly been cleaned just enough to allow for minimal habitation. They passed what seemed to be a huge portrait covered in thick, black curtains as they headed up a staircase. Harry spotted someone slip into a room at the end of the hall beside the stairs. He looked at his friends questioningly only to have them gesture for him to stay quiet. They ascended the stairs and Harry followed his friends into a small bedroom where Ron appeared to be staying.

He moved to lean against a dusty dresser while Ron collapsed on the bed, Hermione half-sitting on the window frame.

“So, where have you been, mate?” Ron asked, putting his hands under his head.

“Just a safe house,” Harry lied. “I can’t really say.”

“Aw, come on, Harry, you’ve hardly written and when you do, you’ve hardly told us anything,” Ron said, frowning at him.

Harry felt a bit of irritation rise up inside him. “I could say the same thing for you two.” He crossed his arms.

“We wanted to tell you, but Dumbledore forbid us from saying anything,” Hermione said, looking upset at Harry’s anger.

“Besides, even if we’d been able to, there’s not much to tell,” Ron said. “We don’t know anything.”

“You could have told me you were with Sirius,” Harry said, still bitter that they got to spend the summer with his godfather, but it was apparently too dangerous for him.

“Harry, we couldn’t,” Hermione said quietly.

“Right,” Harry said, looking away from them. “Do you know what they meet about?”

Hermione shook her head and Ron shrugged.

“Different things, we imagine,” Ron said. “We do know it’s all about Death Eaters and You-Know-Who when Snape’s here though. Oh! Did you hear that Malfoy is bloody missing?” He pushed himself onto his elbows as he relayed the apparently exciting news.

“Uh, yeah, Dumbledore mentioned something about it,” Harry lied again. “What do you know about it?”

“Not much, just that he’s…gone,” Ron said. “Hope he stays gone. A year without that bastard would be brilliant.”

“Ron! What if something terrible has happened to him?” Hermione said, shooting Ron a glare of disapproval which he just shrugged off, laying back down.

“Who cares?” Ron said. “He’d deserve it.”

“Ron!” Hermione said again before turning to Harry. “Speaking of, we were horrified to hear about your relatives. I’m so sorry, Harry.”

Harry was the one to shrug that time, steadfastly ignoring the wave of guilt that washed over him. “Thanks, but it’s fine. You know we didn’t really get along anyway.”

Hermione frowned at him. “I suppose, but they were still your only family.”

“Why weren’t you there?” Ron asked, saving Harry from having to explain how there was no love lost for the Dursleys.

“Dumbledore,” Harry said. “He had me in the safe house from the beginning. Guess he figured something might happen.”

Ron seemed perfectly accepting of the explanation, but Hermione was staring at him with an odd look. He looked away, uncomfortable and afraid she’d be able to tell he was lying.

At the loud crack that echoed in the room, Hermione shrieked and Harry and Ron jumped, Ron scrambling to the head of the bed. Harry stared at Fred and George who had appeared on the bed from nowhere with wide eyes.

“Gits!” Ron shouted. “Mum told you to stop Apparating all over the house.”

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Fred said.

“Or us, so keep your mouth shut,” George said.

Ron just glared at them while Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Harry!” the twins greeted together.

“Glad to see you alive,” Fred said.

“Shame about the Muggles,” George said.

“Not really,” Harry said, shrugging a shoulder.

“Agreed,” Fred said.

“They were pretty nasty,” George said, nodding.

“Talking about the Order meetings again?” Fred asked and the others nodded. “Before they started silencing the kitchen, we overheard a few things.”

“Like what?” Harry asked, interested.

“You-Know-Who is after something and the Order is trying to protect it,” George said and Harry frowned. What could Voldemort want?

“What is it?” Ron asked.

“Dunno,” Fred said.

“Weapon or something,” George said.

“Also, Snape’s a spy, though not many seem to believe that,” Fred added.

Ron snorted. “I sure don’t. Snape hates everyone here. He wouldn’t do anything for any of us, especially not risk his life.”

“Professor Dumbledore obviously trusts him,” Hermione said.

“Yeah, well, Dumbledore’s a bit mad,” Ron said. “Look at all the ‘professors’ he’s trusted. What do you think, mate?”

Harry blinked as he was pulled back into the conversation. “Uh, I don’t really know. If he is a spy, he’s probably just doing it for Dumbledore.”

Ron was the one to give him an odd look, but didn’t get to say anything as Mrs. Weasley’s voice travelled up the stairs.

“Kids! Lunch!”

Fred and George disappeared with another crack and they heard Mrs. Weasley scream. Hermione was muttering about ‘children’ while Harry and Ron followed with grins. They hurried down the stairs, stopping at the bottom to let some adults pass. A woman with pink hair and a man he recognized to be Charlie Weasley waved to them and went out the front door. Behind them came Snape and Dumbledore heading to the study they had Flooed into. They both gave him hard stares as they passed. Knowing they were about to continue the morning’s argument over Malfoy, Harry felt an odd twisting in his stomach, but pushed it aside to follow Ron and Hermione to the kitchen.

Upon entering, Harry found himself instantly pulled into a tight hug again, making him stiffen unintentionally.

“Oh, Harry, dear, we are so glad you’re safe,” Mrs. Weasley said, stepping back but still keeping her hands on his shoulders. She smiled at him and pat his cheek. “Happy birthday, dear.”

Harry smiled back at the woman. “Thanks, Mrs. Weasley.”

She released him to a handshake from Mr. Weasley and introduction from Bill Weasley, and a rough shoulder clap from the real Alastor Moody. Harry couldn’t help the slight shiver he felt at the man, reminded of just a few weeks earlier. He held back the tears as he remembered the graveyard and Cedric. He got a distraction when he finally spotted Sirius, hurrying over to give his godfather a hug, nodding at Lupin over the man’s shoulder.

They all sat, devouring the lunch Mrs. Weasley had prepared and then the birthday cake. Awkwardly, Harry opened the few gifts the Weasleys and Hermione gave him; an assortment of sweets, clothes, books, and pranks from the twins. As everyone distracted themselves with cake and conversation, Snape slipped back into the kitchen and silently took a seat at the far end of the table away from everyone else. He said nothing, only nodding his head stiffly in thanks at the mug of coffee Bill Weasley offered him. Snape’s face was blank, but Harry did manage to catch the slight narrowing of the dark eyes in response to Sirius’ glare and scoff. Harry frowned at the interaction. Snape hadn’t even done anything. Why was Sirius so angry?

“C’mon, kid, wanna talk to you,” Sirius said quietly and, with a quick glance at Snape, Harry followed his godfather upstairs. They passed the bedrooms and entered a room on the left. It was as dark and dusty as the rest of the house, but this one had an odd wallpaper. Faces and names sat on tree branches that wound their way around all four walls. Here and there he could see a name but no face, only what seemed to be a scorch mark. A familiar name caught his attention and he turned to Sirius, surprised.

“You’re related to the Malfoys?” he said.

Sirius stepped up beside him, sighing as though the names offended him. “Unfortunately. Dear Narcissa is my cousin. It was such a point of pride for the Blacks when she married Lucius. Right bastard he is, but you know that. Son’s the same from what I’ve heard. Death Eater in the making, I’m sure, like the lot of them.”

Harry felt slightly uncomfortable. Sirius had no idea how both right and wrong he was about the Malfoy heir. Given what he’d learned about Malfoy, he wasn’t sure how to feel about how Sirius was talking about the Slytherin.

“I dunno, he’s only fifteen just about,” Harry said, absently realizing he didn’t know when Malfoy’s birthday was.

“Age doesn’t matter,” Sirius said. “Same age Snape was.”

Harry looked at Sirius sharply, frowning when his godfather turned to face him with a hard expression.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Sirius said. “Dumbledore’s going to tell you to trust Snape. Don’t. You can’t trust him.”

Harry’s frown deepened. Sure, he was still on the edge on if he could trust Snape or not, but it wasn’t an issue of if Snape was loyal to Dumbledore or Voldemort. The man had had three weeks of opportunity to deliver him to Voldemort, but he hadn’t done anything of the sort. He hadn’t even threatened it.

He watched Sirius pull a box out of his pocket and hold it out to him. He took it curiously, finding a black and white photo on top, tucked under the strings tied around the box.

“It’s for your birthday, but I also wanted to show you this,” Sirius said, stepping closer and gesturing to the photo. “This is the original Order. See, all of us were in it; me, Remus, the Weasleys, the Longbottoms…your parents.”

Harry examined the picture and felt his eyes sting as he found Lily and James at the front, Sirius and Lupin behind them, all smiling widely. He felt the usual pang in his heart for the parents he never knew, but felt the loss of sorely.

“We were all there. All of us except Snape,” Sirius continued and Harry looked at him again, finding nothing but hate in his godfather’s face as he spoke of the Potions master. “He’s a Death Eater. He fought for Voldemort last time, against us…against your parents.”

“But Dumbledore—”

“Is wrong,” Sirius said firmly. “He’s blind when it comes to Snape, always has been. He doesn’t want to admit he’s wrong, that Snape’s nothing but a dirty traitor. You don’t stop being a Death Eater. He’s a liar and a murderer. You can’t trust him, kid.”

Harry was taken aback, unsure he’d ever heard Sirius so hateful. He wasn’t even this harsh towards Pettigrew that night in the Shrieking Shack and he’d been a second away from actually committing murder. Sirius was honestly on par with Snape’s own anger and hate that Harry had experienced over the years.

“Do you know why he joined the Death Eaters?” Harry asked, curious about the rest of the story. After just three weeks with Snape and Malfoy, he was realizing the world wasn’t necessarily split into good people and Death Eaters. The world wasn’t black and white, and there was a lot he didn’t know or understand.

“Does it matter?” Sirius snapped and Harry couldn’t stop his eyebrow from jumping. “He’s a slimy, traitorous Slytherin and he’s always been a dark bastard. Even Lily refused to talk to him eventually.”

Harry looked at Sirius in shock. “They knew each other?”

Sirius nodded, grimacing. “They were friends even before Hogwarts, but, if you ask me, I think she only hung around him out of pity. He was a loner and a freak.”

Harry winced at the word, his relatives’ voices echoing it in his head. He’d always hated it and found it hard to hear as reference to anyone, even Snape.

“He’s fooled a lot of people, but not me. I know what he is. No one else knows what he was like in school,” Sirius said and Harry frowned.

“Sirius, that was twenty years ago,” he said.

Sirius sneered. “People like him don’t change.”

Harry wanted to say something—what, he didn’t know—but was interrupted by Snape, of all people, calling for him.

“Potter! Time to go!”

Harry watched the dark hatred shadow Sirius’ face even more upon hearing the other man.

“Don’t trust him,” Sirius repeated.

Harry gave a small nod, but didn’t say anything. They left the room, Harry hugging Hermione and saying ‘bye’ to Ron on the way down. Harry entered the sitting room, Sirius behind him, to find Snape standing by the fireplace with his arms crossed and looking annoyed. Harry saw the dark eyes flash upon seeing Sirius, but the man still said nothing.

“You get him to the safe house and that’s it. Nothing funny, Snivellus,” Sirius spat, shocking Harry with the venom and insulting name.

“You are an imbecile if you think I can just Floo Potter to the Dark Lord,” Snape sneered.

“No, that’s what that’s for.” Sirius stabbed a finger at Snape’s forearm where Harry knew the Dark Mark lay. Snape’s jaw twitched and his eyes flashed again.

“Sirius…” Harry said quietly, uncomfortable with the entire interaction.

“I’ll see you later, kid. Stay safe,” Sirius said and squeezed Harry’s upper arm before storming from the room.

“Let’s go, Potter,” Snape said shortly.

Harry sighed sadly at the less than pleasant visit with his godfather after so long apart, but turned to go through the Floo. He stumbled a little less on the return to Prince Manor, moving quickly to get out of Snape’s way. He could see the anger in the professor’s face and frowned down at the picture again, replaying the conversation with Sirius.

“Sir,” Harry said hesitantly before Snape could sweep from the room. The professor turned to face him, clearly irritated. “I…I wanted to ask you about something Sirius—”

“Do not mention the mutt to me, Potter,” Snape snapped. “I have no interest in whatever inane things you choose to discuss.”

“But it’s about m—”

“I do not care,” Snape said and left the room.

Harry sighed again. What could have happened to make Sirius and Snape hate each other so much? His mind heavy, he headed up to his room. He sat on his window seat, taking a few minutes to just gaze out at the huge expanse of land. When he felt slightly more settled, he turned to his unopened gift from Sirius. He pulled the photo out from under the string and placed it on the seat beside his feet. The gift was wrapped in simple brown paper and he pulled at the string, undoing the rough knot. Once untied, the string and paper slipped off the plain white box easily and he removed the box lid. Two items lay inside: a mirror and a knife. A small, folded piece of parchment sat on top of the items and he picked it up to read.

Happy birthday, Harry.

These are for you. The mirror is charmed and connects to mine. We can talk using them. James and I used them all the time in the summers before I ran away from home and lived with the Potters. The knife can open any door, even ones with Locking Charms. Got into a lot myself with it at home and Hogwarts. Hope you can get just as much use out of it.

Love you, kid.

Sirius

Harry blinked at the couple of tears sitting in his eyes from the tidbits about his father. He put the note down on the photo and examined his gifts. Both were pretty simple, visually nothing spectacular. The mirror was a handheld mirror; small, square, and silver with little patches of wear and age. It was still a bit dusty, but Sirius had obviously tried to clean it to gift. The knife was a small penknife, barely the length of his hand when folded. Its handle was a dark wood with silver trim, but no other details. He took the knife from the box and pulled the blade out, finding it to be a shiny steel, also with no distinguishing details.

He smiled to himself, overjoyed to get such personal items from his godfather. He placed the knife back in the box and picked up the original Order picture again. He gazed at all the faces, finding the few he knew. He looked at the couple Sirius had identified as the Longbottoms and stared at them curiously. He knew Neville lived with his grandmother, but he realized he didn’t know why. Neville had never spoken of his parents and he wondered what their story was.

Chewing his lip, he moved his eyes over the young Marauders, ignoring Pettigrew, before letting them settle on his parents again. While no one in the photo looked particularly joyful, he still basked in their small, proud smiles. They were proud to be a part of the Order and to be there with their friends.

He swiped at the single tear that fell on his cheek, feeling the deep ache of loneliness in his chest. The desire for a family hit him hard, wishing he could have Lily and James, but also willing to have anything that was just his. He just wanted to be…wanted and not be alone anymore. He’d been alone for fourteen years. He was tired of it.

He leaned his head against the window and just stayed there, gazing at his parents until he was called for dinner.

“You will begin your daily walk today,” Snape said the next day as they all finished their breakfasts.

"You can’t be serious,” Potter said, returning Draco’s glare across the table.

“I am, Mr. Potter, and it is not negotiable,” Snape said. “You need to exercise your leg, you both need fresh air, and you need to learn to get along. I refuse to entertain your bickering for the next month and you are far more alike than you believe.”

Draco just scoffed.

“We are nothing alike,” Potter snapped and Draco couldn’t help but agree. Having terrible caregivers did not make them the same.

Snape hummed, but didn’t respond to their denial of his observation. “Regardless, go. Out back. Walk the grounds. I will call for you in a little while to discuss the remainder of our summer together in terms of your various trainings.”

They both huffed and shoved away from the dining table rougher than needed. Turning left out of the dining room, Potter stormed down the hall with Draco behind him, pushing through the back door and stepping onto the back porch. He hadn’t actually seen the back of the property yet. A thick forest sat on the other side of the fence, some trees hanging over. A huge weeping willow sat in the yard, its drooping, leafy branches almost a teal colour and some brushing the grass with their length. Wildflowers spotted the property. The back porch was smaller than the front, but still had the space for a few outdoor lounge chairs and a small wire table.

“Let’s go, Potter,” Draco said, shoving past him and purposely shoulder-checking him.

“Shove off,” Potter snapped and left the porch.

He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and started walking casually, uncomfortable with Potter beside him. Despite having Potter there, Draco had to admit it was nice to be outside. He was usually trapped inside Malfoy Manor, despite their massive property, and the manor was anything but comfortable. Here was open and inviting. He wondered if flying was possible, if Snape would allow such an activity. He never got to fly at Malfoy Manor. He still could hardly believe he didn’t have to go back and that it was Snape that had taken him away.

They passed the willow tree and Draco held out a hand, letting a couple of branches brush through his fingers. He glanced at Potter out the corner of his eye, uncomfortable with the palatable tension between them. It was like an invisible wall. He noticed Potter was beginning to limp very slightly and frowned.

“How’s the leg?” he asked, remembering how Potter had been in the library the other night. They had managed to be civil then and that’s clearly all Snape wanted.

Potter glared at him. “What do you care?”

“I don’t, but noticed you were limping,” Draco said, trying to keep his anger down.

“Just shut up,” Potter snapped. “Snape said we had to walk, that’s it.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “He also wants us to get along.”

“Which will be far easier if you just shut up,” Potter said and Draco glared back at him.

He didn’t respond, letting them fall back into an irritated silence. While he was thrilled to be away from Malfoy Manor for once, a large part of him wondered how their arrangement would work. They all hated each other, had since the moment they met. He’d been treated marginally better than Potter by Snape, but only because he was a Slytherin. Snape had been better since his shocking apology in the library, but it had obviously become more of a toleration than anything else. He still didn’t like or care about them. Three weeks didn’t change anything and he doubted another four would be any different. In fact, he was sure hateful Snape would return once he accepted that Draco and Potter would never get along.

They looped around when they approached the fence and slowly headed back to the manor. Draco noticed that Potter’s limp seemed to have gotten worse and he shook his head slightly at the Gryffindor’s ridiculous stubbornness to admit his leg was hurting. It wasn’t like Potter was weak or anything because his leg hurt. It was barely healed after being snapped only three weeks ago! He could swear Gryffindors were purposefully obtuse and irritating.

When he saw Potter stumble slightly and his face twist in pain, Draco had had enough and huffed.

“Geez, Potter, we can take a break,” he said, slowing down to try and get Potter to stop with him.

“I told you to shut up,” Potter snapped, continuing to limp along.

Draco rolled his eyes and stopped walking completely, crossing his arms. “You’re just going to reinjure yourself.”

“Leave me alone,” Potter ground out.

Annoyed, Draco resumed walking, a few paces behind Potter now. He hurried forward when, all of a sudden, Potter stumbled again and, this time, fell to the ground. At Potter’s side, he started to reach out to help the Gryffindor only to be shoved away roughly. He glowered at Potter.

“I said leave me alone!” Potter said angrily.

“I’m just trying to help you!” Draco retorted.

“Well, don’t!” Potter said sharply. “Just get lost. You should’ve just gone back to your father.”

Draco stared, his eyes flashing at what he thought he heard but hoped he hadn’t. “What did you say?” he said dangerously.

“You heard me.”

“And you should’ve died with your Muggles,” Draco spat, not caring how awful the comment was. He watched Potter struggle to his feet and turned, continuing to head to the manor. It was only a moment later that he stumbled, nearly falling when he was shoved hard from behind.

“Sirius was right. Just like your bloody father,” Potter said when he whipped around to glare at the Gryffindor.

“You don’t know anything,” Draco growled.

“Nothing but a lowlife Death Eater,” Potter said.

Draco shoved Potter’s shoulders. “Shut up, Potter.”

Potter sneered. “Hit a nerve?”

“At least I’m not a waste of space and magic,” Draco shot back.

“At least I wasn’t so useless my own father wanted to sell me to a madman.”

“No, just left to rot with Muggles.”

They both growled and lunged at each other, throwing punches and clawing at clothes. They tackled each other to the ground, rolling to try for the upper hand. They were grimy with small cuts and already blooming bruises on their faces. Draco had just gotten on top of Potter when he was roughly yanked by the back of his shirt, up and off of Potter. The Gryffindor flinched at the hand that came towards him, gripping the front of his shirt and hauling him to his feet as well.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Draco and Potter glanced up at Snape’s enraged face and they both flinched.

“Well?” Snape said, shaking them slightly.

“Just a fight, sir,” Potter said through gritted teeth.

Snape’s eyes narrowed, flicking to Draco for corroboration. The professor had told them a couple of times already that he didn’t want them fighting. After all, that was one of the reasons for the walk in the first place. If Snape knew the kinds of things they’d said to each other, how much more furious would he get?

“Right, just a stupid fight,” Draco said tightly.

“Have I not told you that you are not to fight?” Snape said angrily.

“Yes, sir,” Draco and Potter said in unison, shooting each other glares from under their fringes.

Draco stumbled again as Snape roughly shoved them towards the manor, finally releasing their shirts.

“Inside. Upstairs study,” Snape said shortly.

Silent, Draco walked beside Potter with Snape behind them to the manor. Potter pulled the door open, clearly not caring when he almost hit Draco who glowered at him. Neither of them spoke, not wanting to anger the professor even more. They walked down the hall and circled the banister to head up the stairs, entering the room beside Draco’s.

Draco had only glanced in this study before, but had never gone in. It was quite large with several desks for work. Two long desks created an ‘L’ while two others sat separately in other corners. There was no fireplace in this room, but a huge, antique grandfather clock instead. This floor also wasn’t carpeted and there was no seat under the tall window. Small lamps sat on each desk, prepared to provide more light in addition to the sconces on the walls.

Draco and Potter stopped in the center of the study and watched Snape walk to one of the desks creating the ‘L’. He looked at them and pointed to the connecting desk before sitting down. Annoyed at having to still be close to Potter, Draco moved to the desk and sat heavily in the chair while Snape summoned one of the others for Potter. Draco sat back, crossing his arms over his chest while Potter leaned on the desk, propping his cheek up on his fist.

“This is the third and final time I will warn you to cease your childish fighting. I will not tell you again,” Snape said. “If I catch you fighting again, you will not like the consequences.”

Draco felt an inkling of concern at the threat, but kept it from his expression.

“Yes, sir,” he and Potter said, once again in unison.

“Now, about the remainder of the summer,” Snape said. “In these next four weeks, you will learn about your own magic, Occlumency, and you will both assist me in creating a potion to treat Potter’s scar pain.”

“What?” Potter said, sounding surprised. “You don’t have to. I’m fine. I can handle it.”

“We cannot have you incapacitated every time you have a vision until you learn Occlumency,” Snape said. “On top of your training and brewing with me, you will also complete your summer work.”

“Professor, all of my things are still at Malfoy Manor,” Draco said, glancing at Snape.

“I will take care of it,” Snape said and Draco nodded, figuring he had no choice but to trust the man with the task. “You will both complete Occlumency lessons with me. As for your individual magic, I am unable to train you in those areas. As such, I will be bringing in masters of both magic types to teach you what they can in these few weeks.”

“I thought no one was supposed to know we were here,” Potter said in a snarky voice.

Snape’s eyes narrowed at the Gryffindor’s attitude and Draco shook his head to himself. Potter never seemed to know when to just back down.

“They are trusted associates of mine and you will both treat them with the respect they deserve,” Snape said, giving them a pointed glare.

“So, not much considering they’re friends with you,” Potter sneered. “Didn’t know you were even capable of making a friend.”

Draco’s eyes widened slightly at Potter’s blatant rudeness and glanced at Snape. If the man hadn’t already been furious, he was absolutely fuming now. What was Potter doing? Did he want Snape to snap and hurt him?

“We will do Occlumency twice a week and brewing twice a week. Your training masters will determine your lesson frequency. They will arrive at the end of the week,” Snape explained before moving his gaze directly to Potter. “To your room, Mr. Potter. Await me there.”

Potter looked like he was desperate to argue, but just barely managed to hold back and stomped out of the study.

“Mr. Malfoy, do not make me regret my decision to keep you here for the summer,” Snape said. “No more fighting and no more attitude.”

Draco ground his teeth together, thinking about how Potter had had a worse attitude than him. “Yes, sir,” was all he said.

“You may go,” Snape said and Draco left. He went immediately to his own room to be left alone and nurse his wounds. He supposed Snape wanted them to suffer a bit and so had not healed their facial cuts or bruises. He looked at Potter’s door and shook his head again, wondering just what the Gryffindor’s problem was. Blowing out a breath, he disappeared into his room to contemplate if Prince Manor were truly his best option considering the company.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply, trying to calm down while he questioned his choices. He was wondering if he’d done the right thing keeping Malfoy and Potter with them. It had been right to take them from their abuse, but, perhaps, he should have found somewhere else for them to stay. There was very little to convince him this arrangement would work. They simply brought out the worst in each other and he wasn’t sure that would change.

With a sigh, he left the study for Potter’s bedroom. He knocked on the closed door.

“Yeah,” the dull, annoyed voice said from inside, making Severus roll his eyes at the still-present attitude. The boy had always had such an attitude and some anger.

He pushed into the room, closing the door behind him. Potter was sat on the bed, legs crossed and leaning on his knees. He was staring down at his hands as he picked at the skin around one fingernail. Severus could see the tension in the boy’s shoulders, but Potter still refused to even glance at him as he pulled over the desk chair. He sat, crossing his legs and considering the child.

“Anything to say for yourself, Mr. Potter?” Severus asked after a long silence.

Potter just shrugged.

“Mind telling me where your deplorable attitude is coming from?” Severus tried again.

“What’re you going to do about it?” Potter challenged. “Hit me like my uncle?”

“Have I given the impression that I would?” Severus said, raising an eyebrow at Potter’s absent admission. It was the closest either boy had gotten to disclosing anything about their abuse.

“No one ever does until they do,” Potter snapped and Severus had to concede the boy’s valid point.

“I have told you multiple times that I will not harm you,” Severus said.

“Doesn’t mean much coming from you,” Potter snapped again. “You don’t get to pretend anything’s changed and that you’re suddenly this whole new person.”

“I was unaware that’s what I’ve been doing,” Severus said. “Have things not changed?”

While all of their ability to get along remained the same, surely they could all recognize the subtle changes that had occurred. Severus found himself more tolerable of the boys as he came to recognize the signs of their abuse that he had previously ignored or attributed to arrogance. Potter and Malfoy had begun to settle into being just annoying teenagers in his mind rather than reprehensible clones of their fathers.

“No,” Potter said shortly. “You’re still the bastard that’s tormented me for no reason even though you’re my bloody teacher, Malfoy’s still a stuck-up prat, and I’m still trapped with people that hate me and I can’t trust.”

Severus bristled slightly at the boy’s continued rudeness. “Regardless of what you think of me, it does not give you the ability to behave so disrespectfully.”

“You have!” Potter said loudly, getting angry again. “Everyone else gets to do or say whatever the hell they want, especially to me, but the second I do it, I’m arrogant or a freak that has to be locked away until I’m needed to stop some great evil because every adult around me is also evil or incompetent!”

Potter was finally looking at him fully for the first time since he’d entered the room. Severus felt himself grow angrier at the layers of insults Potter had just thrown at him, but did his best to swallow it and focus on what the boy had said.

“Have you told anyone of these frustrations?” Severus asked, choosing not to directly address what he knew related to the boy’s relatives, knowing it would just cause Potter to shut down.

Potter gave him a surprisingly withering look. “Did you not hear what I just said about adults?”

“What about the mutt?” Severus asked, unable to hold back his distaste at even mentioning Black.

“Don’t call him that,” Potter said. “I’m not talking about him or anyone with you.”

“So, you haven’t told anyone about your abuse,” Severus concluded.

Potter’s face hardened. “That’s not what it was, and no, I haven’t told anyone and I’m not telling you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t care! No one does!” Potter shouted and Severus was sure the green eyes had begun to shimmer with budding tears. He managed to hold the angry, hurt green eyes for longer than he expected before Potter broke the contact, dropping his gaze to his lap. “Just get out. Leave me alone.”

He understood now, the cause of some of Potter’s anger. The boy had yet to enter into a place where he felt wanted and accepted. Anyone who did care for him was incapable of taking him or unwilling to fight for him. He was passed around according to where Dumbledore wanted him to be, never taking Potter himself into consideration. Prince Manor would never be that place Potter needed, but perhaps the boy could come to see that it was a better place and he was accepted there.

“I can understand your anger, but there are a few things you must understand yourself,” Severus said firmly. “First, I will not tolerate your continued rudeness and disrespect. No, I will not hit you for it, but you will be punished if it continues.”

“Fine,” Potter muttered.

“Second, whether we all get along or not, this is your home for the summer. Remember, the headmaster did not want either of you to stay here. It was my choice,” Severus continued.

The green eyes flickered to him, but the messy head remained bowed. “Right,” he said quietly.

“And lastly, I may dislike you, but I do care about what’s been done to you,” Severus finished and Potter’s head came up, meeting his gaze again, sadder now.

“Why? Why are you different?”

He held Potter’s eyes steadily. “Because things have changed.”