The next day, to both Harry’ and Severus’s joy was not an Occlumency day. Neither of them really felt up to dealing with the other in a reasonable manner. Consequently, most of the day they spent trying to avoid each other as much as possible. Harry stayed in his room working on his summer projects and reading a couple of books he had stolen from Dudley, who never seemed to notice. Severus stayed in his laboratory brewing large cauldrons full of potions for the Hogwarts infirmary. The only time they saw each other was at meals, or more correctly, dinner, since Severus skipped breakfast and Harry skipped lunch. At the evening meal they pretended the other didn’t exist; Severus because both his “superiors” wanted him to be nice to Harry and he still hadn’t decided whether or not he wanted to be a good little subordinate. Perhaps he could just go on ignoring him for a while. Harry figured that like sleeping dragons, it was better not to tickle sleeping Snapes.At Occlumency the next day Snape hurled legilimens at Potter, and Potter hurled protective curses at Snape. It was a remarkably quiet lesson, but Snape found himself irritated by how easily he was able to break into his student’s mind. He ignored this as much as possible and simply said, “perhaps the Great Harry Potter could find some time to practice between lessons? Then again, we all know how busy he is.” Harry was angry, but he didn’t feel like arguing. He was too tired. Everything seemed to make him tired lately; though every time he tried to sleep he had nightmares.

Things continued in much the same manner Thursday, but the quiet didn’t last. Friday morning at Occlumency Snape snapped at Harry. “Don’t you practice at all, boy? Oh, wait, no, you don’t. The Golden Boy doesn’t practice, it’s beneath him.”

“I do too! What do you know about it, anyway, huh?” Harry yelled back.

Snape snorted. “You have nightmares that make you scream in the night. I can get into your mind without even trying! Are you trying to make yourself easy prey for the Dark Lord, boy? Because if you are then perhaps I should step aside and let you!”

“Are you sure you haven’t already?” Harry muttered under his breath.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Potter?” Snape hissed venomously.

“Just that you don’t seem to be doing a very good job teaching. Are you sure your heart is in it? Or do you not have one?”

“Perhaps I’ve been too lenient, Potter. I told you to address me with respect. Some discipline is in order, I think.”

“Discipline?” Harry asked with a nervous glint in his eye that he tried valiantly to hide.

“Yes, discipline,” Snape’s voce was low and slow and his face was suffused with a malicious joy. “Perhaps some manual labor will do you good. I can only hope it will build your non-existent character.” Harry’s face took on a reassured look that completely befuddled Snape. “Cleaning, I think. After lunch you will come with me to an old laboratory of mine which is a little the worse for wear. Once you begin you will not leave the room until I determine that a reasonable portion of the work has been done. Is that clear, Potter?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry spat, all bravado again. Who did Snape think he was, anyway? Aunt Petunia? Attempting to push away the rather disturbing mental vision of a slightly buck-toothed, long-necked Snape in a pale peach apron, Harry stalked out of the room.

It was about an hour until lunch, and it took everything in Severus not to run down to the lab and cast a couple of dirt spells and some mild sticking charms. Harry knew he should make some effort to calm down before lunch, but the truth was he didn’t want to. He wanted to be angry at Snape. It gave him energy and made him feel closer to Sirius.

Lunch, therefore, when it came, was a silent trial in which the food was swallowed mostly un-tasted and the air crackled with barely suppressed magic. It was over quite soon. Snape rose from the table and strode off toward the basements without a word. Harry was severely irked, but followed him nevertheless.

The room he was to clean, Harry soon found, was the size of his aunt’s living room. Three of the walls were covered in shelves with various jars, bundles, and drawers of ingredients. The fourth had racks of cauldrons and utensils. There were three tables in the middle of the room that were stained and coated with some sort of dried sludge. The entire room was covered with a thick coat of dust, as though the room had been undisturbed for many years.

Harry’s mouth fell open in disbelief. Snape wanted him to clean this? It was atrocious! Noticing Potter’s look of surprised disgust with a sort of grim satisfaction Snape grabbed his shoulder and led the boy forcefully into the room. He waved his wand and some cleaning supplies appeared. Muggle cleaning supplies, Harry noted. “Well, Potter what do you think?” Snape asked in mock solicitousness. When Harry didn’t answer the professor said, “I’ll come back to check on you at dinner. You’d better have something significant to show for your time.” Snape spun on his heel and slammed the door.

Between his swirling robes and the door a huge cloud of dust was created that choked Harry and sent him into a coughing and sneezing fit that lasted for several minutes. Harry looked about the room and for a moment allowed himself to feel overwhelmed.

Well, at least I know what I’m doing; Harry thought to himself dryly as he pulled his collar up above his nose and tied a small knot behind his head to hold the shirt in place. The nice thing about wearing Dudley’s old clothes was that he, Harry, didn’t really care if they were ruined.

The first thing he decided to do was get rid of the dust. Harry had to use a chair to get to the tops of the shelves. It was frustrating, dirty work. Every time he thought he had finally cleaned a shelf dust from another shelf got onto it. Harry found himself growing angrier and focusing more intently on his work. When he finally got the dust cleared up to the point that it would be worthwhile to move on Harry had decided that Snape had probably decided to make him do this to humiliate him and prove that he was worthless. What then would make him more furious than Harry’s success? He would do so well, he decided, that neither Snape nor Aunt Petunia (a veritable queen of nit-picking) would be able to find fault in his work.

By the time Harry had thoroughly denuded the first table of its encrusting filth, he realized how good having a goal made him feel. He felt he had a purpose and direction for the first time since Sirius died. It was only a temporary reprieve, a part of his brain told him, but still, he thought, perhaps the reprieve would make it easier for him to break free of the depression and apathy and guilt that were devouring the rest of his life.

It was not long after this that Snape returned. Harry did not immediately notice him. Severus was gobsmacked when he saw how much had been done. The room was still disgusting, but the progress was nothing short of amazing. Just then, Potter looked up. He did not look upset. He looked tired, and he had dark half-circles under his eyes. “Come, Potter. Dinnertime.”

Harry nodded. “I’ll go get cleaned up a bit.” Severus tipped his head forward in acknowledgement and walked up to the dining room to wait for the boy. Harry ran up to his room and dressed as quickly as he could. He was extremely hungry.

Snape was vaguely surprised again when he saw how quickly Harry returned. Harry was distantly startled when he saw that not only had Snape waited for him to start eating, he had, in fact, placed a rather large portion on his plate.

Well, of course, Harry thought, this isn’t the Dursleys’ after all. That much should be quite obvious. Snape noted the expression of puzzlement flitting across Harry’s face. Surely the child didn’t expect him to prevent him eating, he wasn’t that cruel!

They were eating in silence when Harry said, “When shall I finish up the room?”

Snape looked at him a moment then said, “You can work on it again tomorrow afternoon” Harry nodded briefly before returning to his mashed potatoes. Snape looked at him a moment longer before turning his attention back to his own plate.

Later that evening, after Harry had retired to his room, Snape sat reading. Actually he sat gazing in the direction of the book while reflecting on the day. Potter was annoying, it was true. But Snape was slightly disturbed that the boy was able to surprise him so frequently. Was it possible that he had misjudged the boy? Was Harry Potter more than just the arrogant son of arrogant James Potter? Perhaps he should consider reconsidering the boy. Bah! he thought. I’m reading too much into this. Potter is Potter, a brat, just like his father, just like his godfather. Hastily he stood up, closing his book and leaving it on the chair. He threw back the rest of his tea and went to bed hoping that Potter would sleep quietly that night.

Potter did, in fact, sleep quietly that night, and quite well. Better than he had in some time. When he awoke the next morning he felt fairly well-rested, which was a definite change from the exhausted feeling he’d had upon waking for the last while. Harry bounced out of bed, got ready and was down in the dining room in no time. Not even Snape would take the spring out of his step, he promised himself. Severus noticed that the boy looked better than he had and went back to his breakfast and copy of the Daily Prophet.

After he had finished eating, Harry walked back up to his room. My room. How strange to think of a room in Snape’s house as mine, while at the Dursleys’ it was always Dudley’s second bedroom. Very strange indeed, he mused. He pulled out his summer work and was just about to sit down at the desk when he decided that, much as he liked the room, he was a little tired of staring at the same four walls. He had been there for a week and since he wasn’t actually locked in, he might as well go somewhere else.

Harry gathered up his things and walked down the stairs to a small library he had seen. Rather, the room was small, the library was quite large. Harry figured some of the bookshelves had to be magicked in. He sat down in front of the fireplace and began working. Perhaps half an hour later the fireplace roared, startling Harry. He backed up just in time to watch a tall, blonde man stepping out of the Floo connection.

It was Lucius Malfoy.

The shock on Harry Potter’s face was priceless; Lucius rather imagined that it was the same look that would be on his face when the Dark Lord killed him. If the Dark Lord kills him, Malfoy thought sourly. He seems rather convinced that Severus will be able to turn the boy. Lucius was rather skeptical, himself. And the fact that Severus even wanted to try rather suggested to him that his fellow Slytherin was not all he claimed to be. Then again, when has a Slytherin ever been all he claimed to be? Malfoy shrugged slightly and said, “Mr. Potter. How lovely to see you again.”

“Mr. Malfoy!” the boy gaped. “What are you doing here?” Dislike was evident in his voice.

The boy has no tact, Malfoy thought with a sniff, and he looks like a street urchin to boot. Then again, what else can you expect from a boy with what he had as a mother. “I am here to see your mentor, boy.”

“Shall I go get him for you?” Harry asked, not wanting to be alone with the Death Eater any longer than he had to.

“No, I expect he’ll be up in a moment,” he paused. “How are your studies going?”

“Well enough,” Harry replied carefully. Something in the older man’s voice made Harry feel he wasn’t referring to Care of Magical Creatures.

“Learned anything particularly interesting yet?” Lucius asked with a slight sneer.

“I have learned many things, Mr. Malfoy,” Harry said neutrally.

At that moment Severus entered the room. “Lucius! How are you?”

“Quite well, thank you, Severus. I’ve just come to ask you a few questions about a potion...” he smiled.

“Ah, of course, Lucius. I must admit I am a bit surprised to see you, though.” Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Come, come, Severus, don’t be silly,” Lucius replied, raising his own delicately arched brow. “Surely you didn’t expect Azkaban to hold me very long, did you? Especially now that the Dementors have joined our Lord?” Harry raised his own eyebrow at the thought of Snape being silly.

“If you’ll come down to my lab, I can answer your questions.” Lucius inclined his head and the pair walked out.

Harry sat a moment longer, pondering the conversation he had just witnessed. Then he gathered his materials and walked back up to his bedroom.

Severus led Lucius down to one of his less secure labs and answered a few questions the man had about a poison. They were inane questions, obviously a cover story. What Lucius had really wanted to do, Severus assumed, was check up on whether or not Harry was actually learning Dark magic. And the boy played right into his hands. Severus had been apprehensive when he heard the wards go off, telling him that someone had Flooed into the house. He had been horrified to discover the boy-who-lived sitting in his library. He hadn’t gone over the story he had told the Dark Lord with Harry yet. In truth, he hadn’t expected any visitors that quickly. Thank heavens the boy wasn’t as dense as he looked and was able to respond to Lucius’s inquiries appropriately.

After Severus managed to shove Lucius back through the Floo, he decided he’d have a little chat with Potter. It was more than likely sheer luck that Potter hadn’t given the whole game away. And anyway, what was the brat doing in the library without permission?

Severus stalked up to Potter’s room. Did he say Potter’s room? The room he was so gracious and generous as to allow Potter to occupy for a brief period of time. “Potter,” he growled, standing in the door way of said room. “Would you care to explain your presence in the library?”

The boy had the grace to flush slightly. “I was bored. I didn’t think you’d mind me just sitting in the library.”

“You certainly didn’t think, Potter. Your boredom could have gotten both of us killed! But then what more could you expect from Golden Harry Potter?”

Harry pursed his lips and glared.

Snape sneered back. “Lunch, then cleaning,” he paused. “NOW!”

Harry snapped into action. Stuck in a house with a slightly disgruntled Snape was one thing, stuck in a house with a seriously angered Snape was quite another.