Harry stood alone in a clear area of the peaceful courtyard. His stomach rumbled loudly, and Harry almost wished that he had not eaten his lunch so quickly during his hike through the yard. It really had been quite a long journey, and his breakfast seemed to melt away much faster than it had other times. It was time to return to his room. The sun was setting, and he needed to get back.

Harry reached into his cloak and took out the wizard card that Snape had given him. He stared at his own face. Do I really look like that when I smile? Harry hesitated to try to use the card. Would it work? Would it really just send him to his room, or would it send him to somewhere else? Was it a trick to dump Harry in the dungeons? Harry was sure that Snape had a dungeon under the house somewhere. Snape simply would not be at home without a dungeon, would he?

The card was still grinning at him. Grinning like an idiot. He wished that he could make it stop, but he didn’t bother asking it. He swallowed and fully intended to say the words to make the card work, but something like a dry squeak wormed its way from his throat. Harry coughed, clearing his throat and looked hard at the face in the card. I suppose its worth a try.

“Safe return,” Harry said in a trembling voice. He felt the tug of the key pulling him, and he closed his eyes.

It was cold. Wherever the card had taken him, it didn’t feel like his room at all. Harry was almost too afraid to open his eyes and look. After a dizzy moment of standing with his eyes clamped shut he summoned the courage to open them. With an almost painful stab of panic he realized that he had no idea where he was! It was far too dark to see anything. There wasn’t a lamp in sight from what little Harry could discern, which was next to nothing. He shakily tucked the card into his pocket for safe keeping and blinked in an attempt to adjust to the unnerving darkness.

With his hands stretched out in front of his body to save him from a fall, Harry inched forward on feet made of lead into uncertain territory. Something moved behind him! He had felt it brush by him! Harry whirled in an about face and banged his shin against something hard. He yelped in the darkness, and thought that he had heard a stifled laugh. Harry’s heart pounded in a frantic, almost jerking rhythm. He wasn’t alone! Harry would have given just about anything to have had his wand and a light at that moment.

“Lumos,” A familiar voice said.

Something inside of Harry relaxed at once. He knew that voice. Snape was here with him.

Harry saw from the glow in the man’s wand that the card had indeed taken him to his room. Why had he felt so disconcerted then? He knew the room well. Even in darkness he should have been able to tell it from somewhere else. Perhaps it was because of where the key had dropped him, a corner of the room where he did not travel often. It could have been the darkness and the thoughts of being trapped in Snape’s dungeon running away with his imagination. Whatever the cause Harry hoped that the next time he had to use the card that he did not have a repeat experience.

Snape had lit a lantern, and the warm glow filled the room, chasing away the cold feeling Harry had felt moments ago. “You’re late, Potter,” Snape said. “I expect you to return at sunset, and no later from now on. Is that clear?”

Harry nodded. He probably was a few minutes late, because the sun had been nearly set by the time he decided that he was willing to risk using the wizard card.

Snape reached into his robe and took out a small, blue velvet pouch with a black drawstring. Harry felt his insides quiver and turn cold; perhaps Snape meant to punish him for being late. The boy took a step back and then another.

“Stop backing away from me, boy. I have no intention of lashing out at you.”

He halted and swallowed in an attempt to steady himself. Snape took a stride forward and closed the little gap between them. Harry had to resist the urge to put a space cushion back between them.

Snape opened the little velvet pouch, and in one fluid movement poured the contents into the palm of his hand. A clear blue, marble sized stone in the perfect shape of a tear plopped into his cold hand, trailed by a glittering chain that seemed to be made from quicksilver. The small stone in Snape’s palm began to glow softly, and Harry watched as the clear blue surface began to swirl with several different shades of blue. The colors swirling in the stone now resembled a faded pair of muggle blue jeans.

“This is a Blue Moon Tear, Potter,” Snape said softly. “Have you ever seen one before?” Snape asked, holding the glowing stone by the chain so it dangled in the air.

Harry shook his head; he had never seen a stone like that one before. It looked very beautiful, but he did not wish to handle it if it had something to do with punishing him for being tardy.

“Here Potter, take it,” Snape said offering the stone hanging from the shiny chain.

The swirling colors in the incandescent stone attracted his gaze, but Harry made no move to take it from Snape. He looked at the stone and then to Snape, unsure of what he should do. Snape waited for a second and then rolled his eyes. The man grumbled something that Harry couldn’t understand in a low tone and lunged forward taking Harry’s right hand in a firm grasp. Harry cried out in protest. He didn’t want to touch the thing! No, don’t make me touch that!!

Snape pressed the stone into Harry’s palm and held it there. Harry struggled and tried to pull back out of Snape’s grip, but he wasn’t able to squeeze free. There was a warm sensation in the palm of Harry’s hand, and it took him several panicked moments to realize that he wasn’t being hurt.

Finally relaxing a little, he stopped struggling against Snape. With a little sneer Snape released the boy and took a step back. Harry stared at the warm, glowing stone in his hand. The colors were changing. Now instead of the lighter blue that it had been while Snape was holding it, it had turned several shades darker to an almost midnight blue.

“The darker the color of the tear, the darker the mood of the one holding it, Potter. It would seem that you are in a very troubled mood right now.”

Harry clenched his fist over the stone, hiding it’s still darkening colors from Snape’s condemning stare; the shimmering chain spilled out near his thumb and forefinger.

“Tell me, Potter,” Snape said softly. “What can be done to lift your spirits?”

A little ripple of shock tingled through Harry’s body. What had Snape just asked him? Was something wrong? Was this the same man talking to him? Some of the shock seethed into heated irritation. He tightened his grip on the little stone caught between his fingers, and felt it warming his hand.

What did Snape want him to say? Umm . . . a good Quidditch match and a chocolate frog would solve all my problems? Not bloody likely. To be honest, Snape, nothing that you can do or say will help me feel any better. Fixing his features in a determined glare, Harry said nothing in answer.

For the briefest of moments Harry thought he saw uncertainty in Snape’s face. The man didn’t know what to do. Snape cleared his throat and took a step toward the door. Harry’s stomach gave a loud, uninvited growl, and Snape looked at Potter in secret amusement.

“Perhaps after you’ve eaten something you’ll feel better, Potter.” Snape opened the door to Harry’s room and walked out, not shutting the door behind him. Harry was hungry, but he was also irritated. After a moment of personal struggle his stomach won the battle for temporary dominance; the irritation he could save for after dinner.

Harry sat at Snape’s table taking baby sips from a goblet of pumpkin juice. They had both finished eating moments before, and Harry did feel a little bit better now that he was full. In fact he wasn’t really all that annoyed anymore; his full belly had quelled that fire. He looked at the Blue Moon Tear sitting next to his nearly full goblet and picked it up. Harry allowed the chain to twirl slightly in his fingers as he stared at the drop shaped stone twisting in the air. He dropped the stone into his other hand, allowing the chain to flow into his palm. Harry focused his gaze on Snape.

“Why did you give me this thing?” Harry asked suddenly.

“Because, you seemed to need it, Potter,” Snape said quietly.

“Yes, but that doesn’t answer my question,” Harry said shortly. “What is this thing really for, Professor?”

Snape was quiet for a moment as if in deep thought. “In some wizard families these stones are given to children as gifts. The stones are often seen as a source of comfort and security for young children.”

“So this thing . . . is a. . . . child’s toy?” Harry said with his eyebrows raised in disbelief. The stone was darkening again, and Harry let it fall softly onto the tablecloth. In seconds the tear shaped stone reverted to its original clear blue. Why didn’t you just give me a stuffed bear instead? “I don’t understand this . . . this game . . . that you are playing with me.”

“I am not playing with you.”

Almost openmouthed, Harry gaped at Snape. He looked for the signs of dishonesty, but of course Snape was simply unreadable. Feeling a little foolish when Snape had met his stare, Harry quickly looked at the moon stone to find something to focus on.

He needed time to think, to absorb things. Harry couldn’t think clearly with Snape standing only a few feet away and glaring down at him; he needed to be alone. Standing from the table, Harry grabbed the tear by the chain.

“I’m feeling a bit tired now, Professor. I think I’ll go back to my room.”

Snape raised an eyebrow, perhaps because he had been expecting something else from the boy, but he nodded and let Harry leave the room. As soon as he saw Snape give him a little nod, Harry practically ran from the kitchen.

Harry had been sure that once he was in his bedroom and away from Snape things wouldn’t seem so confusing. Instead of feeling calmer as he had hoped he would feel, he only felt agitated. He paced the bedroom, clenching the warm stone that Snape had given him in his fist. He thought about throwing it against the wall in anger, and as he stopped to do so something caught his eye.

The leather knapsack was lying on the floor where Harry had dropped it earlier. Perhaps spending some time in the courtyard would make things seem clearer. Without thinking he put the tear chain around his neck, and tucked the stone safely beneath his robes. It gently warmed the skin on his chest as it snuggled against him. He snatched up the knapsack and filled his empty flask with water from the tap. He placed the filled container inside the bag and threw on his cloak.

Carrying the bag over his shoulder, Harry went to the night stand to grab the lantern. He searched inside the stand’s drawer for a flint and oil, but didn’t find any. He hoped the oil in the lamp had magical properties as he lifted it up and carried it to the door.

Harry quietly snuck back into the kitchen to nip something to tide him over in case he got hungry outside. All he could find in the cupboard that was ready to eat was a mason jar filled with pickled purple turnips, and an unopened box of saltines. Rulger’s Soothing Saltines, read the bright red box covered in stars and crescent moons that glittered in silver against the red background.

“Guaranteed to Soothe or Your Money Back,” the smaller letters beneath the brand name gleamed as Harry read them. Harry took out a saltine and nibbled an edge cautiously. It looked and tasted normal as far as he could tell. He finished eating the saltine and shoved the nearly full box into his knapsack.

Despite the fact that the soft soled boots he wore made his steps soft, Harry still tiptoed to the door that led outside. He set his lit lantern on the floor and looked back to be certain that he was alone. Once he was sure that he was safe, Harry took the thick brass ring that was a handle for the thick door and pulled. He pulled as hard as he could, but not even a creak from the door. When Snape had opened it, he had made it look so easy. Harry threw his weight back, but only felt his feet beginning to slip toward the door jam.

Click, click, click. Harry froze. That was the sound of footsteps, and they were headed for him! There was no way to go back the way he’d come! He was trapped. If only there were somewhere safe to hide! Wait a minute! With a little grin Harry reached into his pocket and gently held the wizard card between his fingers. In barely a whisper he spoke the words “safe return,” and was gone.

As Snape billowed up to where Harry had been only seconds before, the soft glow from a lantern caught his eye. Snape glanced around as he stalked over to pick up the forgotten lantern. This could wait until tomorrow.

********

When Harry did not show up for breakfast promptly at nine a.m., the Potions Master was not overly concerned. Potter had been doing much better with eating, and he had been spending long periods wandering around the massive courtyard. Perhaps everything was simply catching up with the boy and he needed more rest than normal. In any case Snape was going to finish his own breakfast and check on the boy in about an hour.

Snape quietly opened the unlocked door to Potter’s room. As he stepped inside something crunched under his boot. He picked up his foot with a grimace of distaste and looked down; a crushed saltine was ground into the once clean carpet.

Strange, Snape hadn’t given anything like that to the boy to eat. As he looked around Snape saw that the things were scattered in a little trail that led to a familiar red box near Potter’s bed. The idiot wizard on the ridiculous red box smiled annoyingly and Snape sneered in irritation at it. He looked at the boy and went to his side in a quick swoop.

The boy was asleep on his stomach. One arm was flopped over the edge of the bed like a dead fish, and the other was limply resting on a half-eaten saltine. Snape’s mind began to race as his black eyes took in the boy’s appearance. How many of the stupid things had the boy eaten? How much time had passed since he’d eaten the blasted things? Was there enough time to save him?

Snape took a deep breath and in a smooth motion turned Harry onto his back. He palmed the boy’s forehead, Harry’s skin felt cool and clammy. Firmly Snape pinched the back of Harry’s hand and watched the boy’s face for some kind of a response.

Nothing. The boy was too relaxed, too out of it to feel pain, and too weak to do anything but lie on the bed in a puddle of young muscle and bone. Snape cursed under his breath and lifted Harry’s dead weight into his arms. I knew today was going to be a horrible day, Snape thought as he watched Harry’s slack body settle against his own chest. Gently Snape cradled the boy closer to him in an almost protective gesture and they both disappeared with a loud POP.

********

The last thing that Harry recalled clearly was pacing around in his room eating the buttery saltines that he’d stolen from Snape’s kitchen. The saltines melted in his mouth and left a pleasant feeling on his tongue. Harry had easily become fond of the taste, and soon he’d eaten more of the things than he had planned on.

A little while later when he began to feel a bit dizzy, and he had dropped a few of the saltines to the floor before stumbling almost drunkenly toward the bed. As his vision was failing him, Harry had thought about telling Snape to ask for his money back. The soothing saltines had only enticed Harry to eat more than half the box, and then he didn’t even feel soothed at all. What he had felt was dizzy, and his stomach was filled with the sensation of fluttering butterflies. That was not what Harry would consider a soothing sensation at all.

**********

It smelled damp, and it felt cool. Slowly Harry opened his eyes, and even without his glasses he knew that he was in Snape’s personal dungeon. Harry felt a sense of dread and fear tingle through him. How in Merlin’s name did he get down here?

Harry tried to sit up to look for his glasses, but he discovered that he could not move. He let out a muffled moan through his partly open mouth that refused to open the whole way. Harry’s blurry eyes flicked about as he heard footsteps coming toward him.

“Welcome back, Mr. Potter,” Snape said softly. He took Harry’s right hand. “Squeeze my fingers as hard as you can manage.”

He felt a little confused, but Harry tried to obey. His fingers wouldn’t respond. Harry couldn’t even sense Snape’s grip; he only recognized what his fuzzy vision let him see. Snape squeezed Harry’s hand firmly.

“Can you feel this, Potter?”

It took a considerable effort to simply whisper no in response.

Harry could see now that Snape was pinching the skin on the back of his hand, but he couldn’t feel it. Snape set Harry’s hand down and turned away to a table. He returned with a goblet full of a dark green liquid. Harry could smell its earthy scent as Snape lifted his head and pressed the goblet to the boy’s lips.

“Try to swallow, Potter.

It took several tries and a few minutes, but Harry managed to choke down most of the bitter tasting potion. Snape set the empty goblet down on the floor and carefully removed the moon stone from around Harry’s neck. He gently eased the boy down and pressed the stone into Harry’s right hand before resting both of the boy’s hands on his chest instead of letting them lie limply at the boy’s side.

“Rest. The potion I’ve given you is the last dose of what should help bring feeling back to your limbs. It will not take full effect for several more hours. When you can feel the stone in your hand let me know. I have some other potions to brew that will probably help you. If you need anything, I shall be close by. I will hear if you call out.”

Harry tried to nod in acknowledgment, but only succeeded in tilting his head into what would be an awkward and uncomfortable position when he regained his feeling. Snape moved Harry’s head back into a more natural position on the cot he was lying on and conjured a soft blanket for the boy. Harry would have thanked him, but when Harry had whispered the words Snape had already turned away.

Harry felt warm and fuzzy inside. He wondered if it had something to do with the potion that Snape had just fed to him, or perhaps it was Rulger’s Saltines finally kicking in. Whatever it was it felt rather nice, and Harry let it swallow him up with a heavy sigh. The familiar sound of a cauldron burning nearby and the bustling noises of Snape brewing different things almost felt like reassurance. Harry fell asleep feeling glad that he wasn’t alone in this cold, dark place.

Snape woke him twice for two different doses of foul tasting liquids, but Harry drank them down without a protest and then faded back into a dark sleep.

When Harry woke he could hear hushed voices. He recognized Snape’s voice and the other was Madame Pomfrey. Harry strained to hear what they were saying. From what little he could pick up neither person was happy. He heard Snape shush her sharply, and then a low incantation that Harry recognized as a silencing charm. Whatever they were talking about Snape didn’t want Harry to hear it.

*********

“Send the boy back to those muggles! You can’t be serious! He’s just recovering himself as it is. Sending him back to those animals is madness. I want no part of it,” Snape growled in a low, angry tone as he looked over at Potter who was drifting back to sleep on the cot that Snape had made for him in the dungeon.

“I don’t like it either, but he hasn’t really admitted anything to you that should give you reason to not send him back.”

“I saw the bruises on his face, Poppy. I saw the cupboard that they locked him in under the stairs. The boy bloody flinches every time I move to do anything! That to me is a sign that the muggles were mistreating him, and to me that is reason enough not to send him back.”

“Did he tell you anything to give you cause to believe he’d been mistreated?”

“He only implied a few things. Nothing specific. He refuses to talk about it.”

“Well, unless you can get him to admit abuse to you, and then get him to tell the Headmaster as well we can’t do a thing for him, but send him back home.”

“That is bloody ridiculous,” Snape murmured under his breath.

“What shall I tell the Headmaster then?”

“Potter needs time to recover from his encounter with Rulger’s Saltines. A week at least, perhaps two.”

“Two weeks? Was it that bad?”

Snape glared at her. “I was not the one who put those bloody things in the cupboard. Had they not been there, he would not need the time to recuperate his strength. You were the one who gave me those things.”

“Yes, well, I thought they would help you to have a bit more patience with your students, Severus,” she said in a soft voice.

He snorted. She could sooner change the flow of the tide than change his teaching methods. “I simply forgot to toss them away is all, and the boy got into them. He had no idea how powerful they were.”

They stood for a moment in an awkward silence. Madame Pomfrey was first to break the spell of quiet in the room.

“I shall inform Dumbledore of the situation. I’m sure that he will be glad to give you the two weeks that Harry needs. Good luck with him.”

Snape nodded and watched her trudge up the stairs that led out of the dark dungeon to leave. He dispelled the silencing charm and checked on Harry who was once again sleeping soundly. Snape adjusted the boy’s blanket, in spite of the fact that it really needed no adjusting at all. With a last look at the sleeping youth Snape decided to get back to work. He had two weeks to change things. Fourteen days to gain the boy’s trust, but could he give what he wanted to receive?