By the time Harry got to the dining room he realized that it was far too early for lunch. In fact, it had been little more than an hour since he’d eaten breakfast. He did not want to go back up to his room and risk running into Snape. Harry looked down at his clothes; they were by no means the nicest ones in his trunk. With a small nod to himself Harry turned and left the dining room.

He made his way cautiously to the laboratory he’d been cleaning yesterday. For a moment Harry considered how odd it was that Snape, a normally meticulous man, would allow one of his laboratories to get in such a shape. On the other hand, the man didn’t seem to wash his hair, either. Harry dismissed both thoughts with a shrug and pulled his shirt up bandit-style again. Time to get to work. My, didn’t that particular clump of dirt remind him of Snape? Harry attacked it ferociously.

By dinnertime Snape, who had skipped lunch in an attempt to avoid Potter, realized that it had been quite a while since he’d heard from the boy. He should probably go and find him. Snape rubbed at his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Foolish child could have gotten them both killed that morning. Lucky he didn’t ask what Lucius was talking about. Then again, that was Potter’s forte, luck. He’d better talk to Dumbledore about it later.

Potter wasn’t in his room. Snape cursed under his breath. Hadn’t he told the boy to stay in his room unless he was with him? Hadn’t today taught him anything? But of course, precious Harry Potter was above the rules. Why worry about pesky little things like rules, anyway? So what if they were meant to keep him safe, Potter didn’t need them. Severus walked through his house looking for Harry and mentally complaining when he couldn’t find him.

Ungrateful boy.

Useless whelp.

Severus had reached the basements and nearly given up when he thought he heard noises. It sounded like someone moving something. If Potter was in his lab Snape promised himself, he would skin him, Dumbledore and Dark Lord or no Dumbledore and Dark Lord.

He was, therefore, shocked speechless when he realized that not only was Potter in the unused laboratory, he was cleaning it and was very nearly done. “Potter, what on earth are you doing?” Snape asked before he could stop himself.

Harry looked up and blinked warily. “Cleaning, sir. Like you told me to,” he continued seeing the shock on Snape’s face.

Severus recovered quickly and sneered. They both stood there silently for a moment before Snape said, “Time to eat, Potter. Get cleaned up.”

Harry nodded and walked out of the room. As soon as he was out of Snape’s sight he ran up to his room.

Snape looked about the lab. The tables were clean. The floor had been swept, though it wouldn’t hurt to do it again. Half the shelves were spotless. Suddenly he remembered what had been bothering him a few days ago. How, Snape wondered, did Potter learn to clean like this? He thought back to a few of the detentions he had given the boy scrubbing cauldrons. When Potter was finished with them, they looked like new. He hadn’t paid much attention before, but now it was a question to which he wanted an answer. In the meantime he’d better get back up to the dining room before there was no dinner left.

Potter hadn’t started eating yet, he saw when he arrived. In fact, the obviously hungry boy hadn’t even sat down yet. Severus looked at him speculatively a moment before sitting down and serving himself. Potter, he noted, quickly followed his lead.

Severus was halfway finished when he sighed. No time like the present he told himself. “Potter, I have told the Dark Lord that I will be teaching you the Dark Arts.” The boy nodded as though this was no surprise. “It is more than likely that Lucius dropped by earlier to ascertain whether or not I was telling the truth.” Potter glanced up at him but again simply nodded. “It is also likely that he will wish to return at some point.”

“How will we convince him that I am learning, sir, when I really won’t be?”

“Well,” Severus began, it was a much more intelligent question than he had been expecting, truthfully he had been preparing himself for questions like “why” and “who would believe that he, Harry Potter, would turn to the Dark Arts”. “The Dark Lord has anticipated that you will need some time and delicate handling. It will therefore be quite a while before I actually have to tell him that I am teaching you. I am supposed to gain your trust first,” Severus said dryly.

Harry gave him a small smirk, and then asked, “And Mr. Malfoy? What about him? I won’t be able to answer satisfactorily if he asks for specifics.”

Another intelligent question, Severus noted absently, he must have just used up his quota for the month. “With some luck Lucius won’t be back. I can point out to the Dark Lord that having a known Death Eater, and one that has previously attacked you and your friends, come visiting is hardly going to convince you to stray from the path the Light has set for you.” Harry simply nodded. He stared off into space for a few moments, apparently thinking. “Eat boy, before it gets cold,” Snape grunted, startling him out of his reverie. Trust Potter not to be able to do two such complicated things at once.

Not long afterwards, Snape excused himself and walked to his study. He retrieved the mirror he used for contacting Dumbledore from its hiding place. A few moments later a familiar visage popped into view. “Severus? Is something wrong?” the wise old man asked after seeing Snape’s slight frown.

“We had a visit from Lucius Malfoy today, Headmaster. Ostensibly he came to ask me about a potion, but it was obvious he was here to check on Potter’s progress.”

“And?” Albus prompted.

“And he managed to find the boy alone before I could reach him. Fortunately Potter managed not to give anything away, Merlin only knows how.”

“How did Lucius escape Azkaban?”

“I don’t know,” Snape admitted with a sigh. “He only said that it wasn’t difficult since the Dementors had joined the Dark Lord.”

“Ah, of course. And Harry did not give you away? Perhaps you have underestimated the boy, Severus.”

Snape snorted, “I highly doubt that, Headmaster.”

“We shall see, Severus. At any rate Harry’s birthday is coming soon. He turns sixteen on the thirty-first.”

“Why should I care about that?”

“It might be appropriate to have something special for dinner that night.”

“No, Headmaster, I am not throwing that spoiled brat a party!”

“I didn’t suggest a party,” Dumbledore reproved mildly. “I merely meant that perhaps you could let Harry choose dinner or dessert.”

“Right,” Snape rolled his eyes. “Maybe if he manages not to get into trouble this week.”

The older man frowned slightly at Snape. “I do wish you would let the foolish grudge against Harry go.”

“I am well aware of your feelings on this matter, Albus. And I would rather not discuss any of it tonight.”

“Another time, then. Good night, Severus.”

“Goodnight.” Snape sat quite still for a moment. That meddlesome old man was always trying to get Severus to forgive his precious golden Gryffindors. How could he forgive James Potter, or Sirius Black? Especially after all they’d done to him! Even their deaths mocked him; they had managed to achieve peace while he was forced to go on with his troubled and troublesome existence. And Potter, as their son and godson, was the living representative of both of them.

Severus exhaled loudly and rose. He wanted a cup of tea and to read some of his potions journals before he went to bed. Time enough to worry about Potters in the morning.

The rest of the weekend passed quietly and the week began with another Occlumency lesson. Neither of them said more than they considered strictly necessary, though Severus did make a comment about the repetitiveness of Harry’s emotions after seeing Sirius again for the umpteenth time. “Really, Potter, I see that mutt so much I’d never know he was dead.”

This, understandably, made Harry very angry and he found himself voluntarily scouring the laboratory Snape had assigned to him. The room was perfect by the time he left.

Severus noticed Harry’s disappearance into the room and slipped in himself shortly after Harry had left it to return to his bedroom.

To say the man was shocked would be an understatement. He had feared that the boy might destroy some of the ingredients or kill himself in a foolish attempt to brew a poison for Severus. It was therefore inconceivable to him that Harry Potter, arrogant, spoiled darling of the wizarding world, perfect Gryffindor, and golden boy of Albus Dumbledore himself would slip supposedly unnoticed and entirely unprompted into an abandoned room and clean it.

At first he had believed that there must be some glamour on the room to hide the mess that the boy had really made, but a moment later that conviction was shot down by a counter spell. The mystery that had begun to form in his mind surrounding the Potter-boy had just grown. The sense of enigma deepened during dinner when the boy never mentioned the room or his birthday.

When Tuesday came Snape was absolutely certain that he would hear something about the approaching “holiday” from the boy. The disappointment of this anticipation served only to heighten Severus’s anxiety. When Wednesday passed with nothing more than Potter’s inquiry as to whether or not he was allowed to use his owl, Snape gave a cautious affirmative and decided the boy was plotting some sort of foul surprise for him.

For his part, Harry knew it would be his birthday in a few days, but he saw little reason to get excited about it. He was far more concerned about he subtle signs of nervousness emanating from Snape. Years of living with the Dursleys had taught Harry to recognize the symptoms of fear, first as he watched Dudley beat up anyone smaller than he (practically everyone) and later when he realized that his enormous cousin was afraid him. The Potions Master’s unease made Harry jumpy. After all, anything that could chip away at Snape’s poise like that had to be serious.

After writing letters to tell Ron and Hermione that his summer was going well and that he had rather not spend too much time in Grimmauld Place and another note to Remus to say he was well and making progress on his summer work, which included a review of basic potions, Harry dressed for bed and soon dropped off into a slightly disturbed sleep.

In the wee hours of Thursday morning a piercing scream shook Snape Manor. Harry jerked upright in his bed, panting. He was pale and trembling after the horrible nightmare he had just had. He tried to reassure himself that it was just a nightmare and not some Voldemort-induced-vision, but the thought that his own subconscious could come up with the images he had just seen was not particularly comforting. He was really not even particularly aware that he had screamed.

Severus Snape, on the other hand, had jumped out of bed, wand in hand, and was halfway to Potter’s room before he realized that not only were there no Death Eaters or other assassins in the house, he had forgotten his robe. He accio’d it from his room and after knotting it firmly about his waist he stalked the rest of the way down the hall to the boy’s room.

Potter, he noticed was sitting up in bed, playing absently with the corner of a blanket and did not immediately react when he entered the room. “Potter,” he growled, yanking Harry out of his reverie. The young man fumbled for his glasses as the elder continued, “I suppose you think it’s funny, screaming like that and waking the entire household?”

“No, Professor,” Harry shook his head.

“Good, because I certainly don’t. Do not let it happen again.”

“Yessir,” Harry said quickly.

Snape eyed the boy a moment then asked, “Do you need to contact Dumbledore?”

“No, it wasn’t that kind of dream.” Harry stumbled over the words and closed his eyes for a few seconds, but then they flew open as if his mind conjured images he’d rather not see.

Grumpy and ungenerous as he was feeling that moment Snape summoned a potion and handed it to Harry. “Dreamless Sleep, I do not wish to wake to such a horrific noise again.” He then spun around and left.

Harry let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He had been half afraid Snape would react like his Uncle Vernon and start screaming at him and maybe slap the side of his head, which had happened once. He knew of course, that Snape was no Vernon or Petunia Dursley, not that they treated him too horribly of course, but a summertime habit of cautiousness had asserted itself and Harry found himself unconsciously stepping softly.

After another moment’s reflection Harry turned his attention to the bottle in his hand. He took off his glasses and replaced them carefully on the nightstand. He then uncorked the bottle and took a swallow. He had just time to cap it and set the potion next to his glasses before Harry fell back to sleep and did not wake again until late that morning.

Harry slept in on Thursday and spent a quiet morning reading and drawing. Snape looked at Harry sharply at meal times but otherwise left him alone. Harry returned to his room and played a few games of solitaire with the muggle deck of cards he had found among Dudley’s discarded belongings. It was missing the queen of spades and the seven of clubs was torn nearly in half, but Harry had mended the deck as best he could with tape and a joker he had found in another card box which was mysteriously empty. Harry found himself looking forward to his annual tradition of staying up ‘til midnight; it was nice to have something he could control, and to know that some things didn’t change.

Meanwhile in the private potions lab of one Severus Snape a very confused man was brewing a very complex potion for a werewolf acquaintance of his. It was not the potion that confused him; however, it was the fact that tomorrow was July 31st and Harry blasted Potter still hadn’t said a word about it.

When Snape finished the potion he checked the muggle clock he kept in his laboratory; it was much more convenient for potion brewing than any magical timepiece he had found. It was just before midnight. He cleaned up and walked up the stairs to his room.

As he was passing Potter’s door he noticed that the light was on and he heard the rustle of many wings. Curious he knocked on the door.

Harry jumped, and then called, “Come in.” Normally he would have answered the door himself but he was engaged in trying to revive an extremely exhausted Errol.

Severus opened the door but stopped short when he counted no less than seven owls perched in various places around the room. “This is a bedroom, not an owlery,” he snarled, trying to use sarcasm to mask the fact that he had been startled.

“I know that, Professor,” Harry said wryly. “They’ll all be leaving in a few moments, well all except Hedwig, that is,” he gave the great snowy owl a fond pat as he straightened. Errol was still quite weak but perked up a bit at the owl treats and water Harry was distributing. After relinquishing their burdens and accepting refreshments the owls took off through the open window.

“What was all that?” Snape inquired with the barest hint of curiosity in his voice.

“They were just delivering my birthday presents.” Snape raised one eyebrow at the statement then another when he saw Potter sit down in front of a small stack of letters and a few parcels.

“Is that it,” he asked, “or should I expect another flock of owls through the window?”

“No, that’s all,” Harry said unconcernedly. He began to open a card with Hermione’s writing on the front when he noticed Snape watching him; interested despite himself. He paused and glanced at Snape, then smiled and gave a small laugh.

“And what, pray tell, do you find so amusing?” Snape snapped, indignant at Harry’s seeming rejection and ridicule. “Well, it just occurred to me, sir that since you are here too, this could officially constitute my first birthday party.” Harry gave him a small half smile, flushed a little, and turned back to his card.

Snape’s mouth nearly fell open in disbelief. Potter’s first birthday party? Surely he was joking? “What are you talking about?” Snape demanded.

“Birthday parties, sir,” this time the youth did not look up. “I’ve never had one before.”

“Don’t lie, Potter. I know you’ve had parties before.”

Harry was quiet a moment then said, “Have you ever seen any in my memories, sir” his voice icy. “In any event, I refuse to spend my birthday arguing with you.” He resolutely opened the parcel that came with Hermione’s letter. It was a book about famous aurors.

‘Thought you might find this interesting,’ a note in the pages before the title page read. ‘It has a few people you know. Turn to page 278.’ Harry did so and saw James Potter and Sirius Black waving at him before turning and hitting an imaginary dark wizard with simultaneous curses. Harry smiled but his eyes were sad.

He closed the book lovingly and set it aside before reaching for Ron’s letter. He grinned then turned to open the package which included a cake from Mrs. Weasley and a bunch of chocolate frogs from Ron. ‘I’ve got a feeling, mate,’ read an extra note, ‘that you’ll get a really good card in this batch.’

He also got a few canary creams and a trick wand from the twins who sent him a letter to say that business was still thriving and if he wanted anything to use on Snape (tough luck on that, mate) he shouldn’t hesitate to ask, it would be on the house. Harry smirked then turned to Hagrid’s package which contained a bunch of inedible rock cakes and fudge and another picture he’d found of Harry and his mum. Once again Harry smiled with tears in his eyes. He stood the photo up and watched longingly as his mother cooed over the baby. She looked up, smiled warmly at him and waved.

He smiled and picked up Remus’s letter. It told him not to worry, that Sirius’s death was not his fault, Happy Birthday, and that Moony couldn’t wait to see him again. The next letter had his list of school supplies and included a fairly general text on Defense Against the Dark Arts which told Harry exactly nothing about who the new professor would be. It also contained a note saying that his OWL results would be along in a few more weeks.

Harry yawned suddenly. He’d had a very good birthday and was just getting up to go to bed when he realized that Snape had been watching him silently the entire time. He looked thoughtful for a moment then recalled a party Dudley had had once when he’d listened through the grate in his cupboard door. “Did you want some cake, Professor?” he inquired politely.

“Certainly not at this time of night,” Severus sniffed.

“Oh, well,” Harry said looking slightly disconcerted, none of his cousin’s guests had ever turned down cake. “Um, goodnight, then, sir.”

“Goodnight, Potter.” He turned but paused in the doorway. “Happy Birthday.” He stalked off so quickly that Harry wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard correctly.

“Thank you,” he called finally, just in case, closed the door and went to bed. Severus heard the thanks just before he entered his own room. He paused, looked back, and then went to bed himself.

Though Harry had no trouble falling asleep Severus found himself tossing and turning. He kept remembering Harry’s question, “Have you ever seen any parties in my memories, sir?” The answer was no, he hadn’t. In fact, he had seen hardly any happy memories in Harry’s head at all, and all of them seemed to take place at Hogwarts. Perhaps the headmaster had been right. Perhaps it was time to reassess Harry Potter, boy-who-lived and thorn-in-side-extraordinaire.

A few moments after reaching that conclusion, Snape sank into sleep. When he awoke mere hours later, he wanted nothing more than to go right back to sleep and forget all about Harry Potter. Unfortunately it was an Occlumency day and he had to be ready in—forty-five minutes!

Snape leapt out of bed and rushed through his morning routine. As he was brushing his teeth he remembered his decision of earlier that morning and groaned. He supposed the best way of starting to get to know the boy would be to go through his memories. It wasn’t like the boy could actually block him yet, though he was becoming rather adept at throwing him out. Maybe in the long run it would help the brat as well.

That morning instead of hurling legilimens at him before he’d even sat down, Snape was waiting for Harry. This was rather unusual and frankly disturbing. “Potter,” he began. “The laboratory was cleaned quite adequately,” he paused. “Where on earth did you learn to do it?” The slight emphasis he put on the word “you” clearly indicated that he thought Harry must have somehow cheated.

Harry bristled slightly and said, “My aunt taught me.”

Snape sneered, “The same aunt whose dog chased you up a tree?” Not a bad idea on his aunt’s part, the cleaning bit, not the dog. Probably, he thought, there was nothing wrong with the way he saw Potter.

But it couldn’t hurt to look, now could it. It never hurt to have a little more information. Besides, he had made a decision and he would bloody well follow through, even if only to get Dumbledore off his back. The Potter-boy was still glaring at him.

Oh well, “Legilimens” he said. As soon as he gained access to the boy’s mind he started working his way toward the lad’s earlier memories.

The first one he found was Harry’s memory of the night his parents died. He watched most of it before moving on. He noticed that Harry’s mind naturally jumped to Dementors; apparently that was what he considered his worst memory. Snape smirked.

The boy was trying to shove him out now. Nimbly, Snape eluded him and dove back into Harry’s early memories. He saw fragments of a purple faced man, an enormous boy, and a shrill-voiced woman. He also found lots and lots of memories of a tiny, dark space with a lot of spiders, what was that place? He was just preparing to look into it further when Harry shouted.

“Protego!” The link was severed.

Snape looked at the panting, kneeling boy before him. He had gone quite pale. He looked up and glared. “Are we even now, Professor?” he spat.

“Perhaps,” Snape raised an eyebrow. “In any event you can go.”

“Thanks awfully,” Harry sneered back with a curled lip.

“Manners, Potter,” Snape said mildly. If it made him angry when Albus was mild with him, he figured it might work on Potter too. Potter just snarled and left. “Hmmm,” Snape sighed to himself and headed to his lab. He knew Potter had had no control over what he had seen, despite his struggles, so that ruled out the possibility that any editing had occurred. In which case Potter’s early childhood at least did not appear entirely...satisfactory. On the other had, early memories were always hazy. It probably wouldn’t hurt to do a little more digging.

And in the meantime, it was always amusing to anger Potter.