The next morning, Severus made pancakes for breakfast. Right on time, Harry arrived in the kitchen and sat down at the table in his usual spot. Severus was finishing up cooking the pancakes. As soon as they were done, he split the stack between two plates and brought them over to the table.

Harry seemed relieved to be handed a plate loaded with food, so Severus supposed that that would be how meals worked from then on. It was such a small matter to save the boy a great deal of worry.

Severus finished his own meal first. He remained in his seat, waiting for Harry to be done as well. Once Harry was done, Severus could inform him of the new rules.

The new rule, singular.

There were no other rules that Severus thought necessary given Harry’s lack of misbehavior, so he would only be setting the one rule. If Harry started acting out at some point, then the decision could be reassessed, but for now, the one rule was all he thought necessary.

When Harry finished eating, he made to get up from his seat, plate in hand.

“Please stay in your seat,” Severus said. Harry sat back down, heavy, then froze.

Harry turned those wide green eyes on Severus, expectant. Over the past several days, Severus had come to expect some degree of fear in the boy’s eyes. But today, that fear was diminished– not gone, but almost. It was an improvement that eased Severus’s heart.

“There is something I wanted to speak to you about this morning,” Severus said.

And there was that fear again. Severus buried his disappointment and continued on. “I noticed, last night, that you set the sitting room back to normal after our lesson. And cleaned the furniture, too.”

Harry nodded.

“That has to stop. You are not to do any cleaning at all.” Severus had deliberated over this last night, how much was too much, what was permissible. And he had decided that he would just have to set a blanket ban on cleaning. Severus had the feeling that if he allowed Harry an inch in this, Harry would take a mile.

Harry frowned, the expression equal measures confused and worried. “But, sir–”

Severus held up his hand, cutting Harry off. “No cleaning. No washing the dishes, no dusting, no sweeping, no cooking. I will be doing your laundry–”

Harry shook his head in denial.

“I won’t pretend to know what went on under Petunia’s roof, but I can infer enough to know that your need to do chores is not derived from anything healthy. Nothing you say will change my mind on this,” Severus added, when Harry looked like he might argue.

“This is the only rule I’ve set down since you’ve come to stay here, and I expect you to abide by it.”

“Or?” Harry asked, quiet, as he fidgeted with the hem of his too-large shirt.

Severus had considered this too. “I have noticed that you do not have your owl with you. I happen to have an owl of my own that I would be willing to allow you to use, so you may correspond with your little friends. That is– I would be willing so long as you follow my one rule and refrain from cleaning.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “That’s it? Not detention?”

“I can hardly have you serve a detention when the vast majority of detentions involve unpleasant cleaning of some kind.”

Harry sat in silence, seeming to take in all that Severus had said.

Severus leant back in his seat, content to let Harry process the new rule at his own speed. It was, after all, far outside Harry’s experience with both rules at home and with Severus.

“You can’t possibly mean no cleaning,” Harry said eventually. “What about making my bed? Or– putting my dirty clothes in the hamper, that’s technically cleaning too. You can’t mean to pick up my room after me.”

“I can and I do. Though I intend to enchant your bed to make itself, the rest I can do when gathering your laundry to clean. I mean it, Mr Potter. You are to do no cleaning while under my roof.”

Harry shut his mouth and bobbed his head in a curt nod. “Yes, sir.”

“Come with me,” Severus said, getting to his feet. “I will introduce you to Hectate, my owl, so you may send letters.”

Mild surprise lit in Harry’s eyes. Severus held his expression steady, knowing it would take more than a promise to attain Harry’s trust.

The next several days passed in much the same way. Severus and Harry would take their meals together, and in the evening Severus would continue to guide Harry through meditation.

Each night, Harry would become more relaxed in Severus’s presence than he had been in the last. And last night, Severus had been able to guide Harry into clearing his mind. That meant that if Harry managed to repeat the feat tonight, they would be able to progress to actual mind-to-mind contact next.

Severus felt a touch of nerves at this prospect. Things had been going well between them. Harry had made free use of Hectate to talk with his friends and had refrained from cleaning. Harry had even grown more confident, less fearful, perhaps as a consequence of the Occlumency lessons.

But if the mind-to-mind contact went poorly, Harry could easily fall back into his anxious patterns of behavior. He could easily lose whatever trust Severus had managed to build with him.

That was the last thing Severus wanted.

But mind-to-mind contact was the logical next step of their lessons together, so Severus knew that he would have to do it eventually. The longer he delayed the more suspicious Harry would become, and the more likely it was that Harry would lose trust in Severus.

So it was best if Severus was to get it over with now. That way he would still have the remainder of break to earn that trust back, if it turned out to be necessary.

After dinner that night, Severus and Harry convened in the sitting room as they always did, with the furniture pushed back against the walls. Severus guided Harry into a meditative trance, then into clearing his mind.

Severus was almost disappointed when Harry cleared his mind with ease. If Harry had failed, that would have been a convenient excuse to delay the mind to mind contact.

Severus raised the lights.

“That was fast,” Harry said, sitting up. He was relaxed and had a slight smile playing about the corners of his mouth.

“It was,” Severus agreed. “Which means that we can progress with the Occlumency lessons. You have now cleared your mind twice. This means that we are ready to initiate mind contact.”

The smile went away, and Harry’s shoulders tensed. “I am? But– but it hasn’t been that long,” he said, voice high and tight.

“If you do not feel ready, then we do not need to progress just yet. But traditionally, this is the point in training where mind contact is first made.”

Harry paused, then nodded. “I’m ready for it, then,” he said, face set in a stubborn expression.

“For this lesson, I will only be entering your mind once. Your goal is to keep your mind as close to that cleared state as possible. We will remain seated, and the contact will not be long.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Meet my eyes when you are ready for me to enter your mind.”

For the next several moments, Harry’s eyes were closed and his breathing was steady and rhythmic. Then the boy opened his eyes and met Severus’s gaze.

Severus raised his wand and cast, “ Legilimens. ”

At first, Severus encountered the nothingness that was characteristic of a cleared mind. He felt a warm glow of pride at Harry’s accomplishment. But then he fell into a flash of a memory. It was wiped away, almost before Severus could process what he had seen, leaving him with impressions of a dog barking and fear.

Once more, Severus found himself filled with pride that Harry had managed to clear his mind, even after Severus had encountered a memory.

There were several more long moments of nothingness, so Severus gave a gentle mental shove to try and find a memory. Harry had done so well at evicting the intrusion the first time that Severus wanted to give the boy a chance to do it again. It would be a good boost of confidence for the boy.

Severus fell into a memory. He was standing in a kitchen that must be Petunia’s. He waited for Harry to dissipate the memory like he had with the other one.

But he didn’t.

Severus knew Harry could do it, and since he hadn’t been in the boy’s mind long, so he decided to stay. When Harry managed to push him out or remove the memory on his own, it would do a lot for Harry’s faith in his abilities.

Looking around the memory, Severus spotted Petunia and a young Harry– maybe seven years old– on the other side of the kitchen. Now that Severus was paying attention, he realized that Petunia was hissing something at Harry as she loomed over him.

“–took you in out of the kindness of our hearts, and this is how you repay us? By taking food out of my precious son’s mouth? No more,” Petunia spat, emphasizing her words with a downward slash of her hand. “From now on, you will work to earn your keep. No more handouts.”

Severus stared in horror as she stood up straight, brushing herself off. The expression on the young Harry’s face was nothing less than guilt-stricken.

That was enough to propel Severus into action. This was not a memory that he should be witnessing. Doing his best to be gentle, Severus extricated himself from Harry’s mind entirely.

Harry was slumped forward, folding over his crossed legs.

Severus rummaged through his robes, looking for the headache cure that he had stowed there. Severus found it and pulled the cork out. Then he leaned forward and held it out. “For your head,” he said.

Harry straightened into a sitting position. He took the potion, but then froze, staring at the opened bottle in his hand.

“If your head hurts, then that will make it stop,” Severus clarified.

Harry blinked. He continued to stare at the potion. Then he tossed the potion back in a practiced sort of way– likely to avoid tasting as much of it as possible.

“What– how much of that did you see?” Harry asked. He was avoiding eye contact by staring at the fireplace.

Ah. Severus ordered his thoughts for a moment before he spoke. “I witnessed the same memory you did, though I was not paying attention for the entire time I was there.”

Harry’s eyes flicked from the fireplace to Severus and back again. “So you didn’t hear what Aunt Petunia said?”

Severus cleared his throat, an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. “I heard some of it, towards the end of the memory. She should not have spoken to you that way, and you certainly do not need to earn your keep here.”

A ghost of a smile flitted across Harry’s face at this last. “I picked up on that, actually,” he said, wry, before looking shocked at his own words.

“That’s good,” Severus said, relieved that Harry had noticed the intent of the one rule. “I will be holding you to my rule more firmly than ever now.”

Harry shifted, finally bringing his gaze to somewhere in the proximity of Severus. “You know I don’t mind helping out, right? Like, yeah, she probably shouldn’t have put that on me when I was that young, but I’m hardly a child anymore.”

Severus kept the amused smile from showing on his face. At sixteen, Harry was nearing the age when he would be considered a man, but he was still so young in the grand scheme of things. “Whether you mind it or not, I refuse to let you slave away when there is no need for you to do so.”

This cast a pallor over Harry’s face as he wrapped his arms around himself. “May I be excused?” he asked.

“You may,” Severus said.

Harry got to his feet and walked up the stairs. Severus couldn’t be sure what the boy was thinking, but he suspected that the stark contrast between him and Harry’s family was painful.

All in all, though, their lesson had not gone as terribly as it could have. They had managed to establish mental contact, and Harry had not stormed out of the lesson or been in excessive pain. Severus would count this as a victory.

And though Severus had not intended to intrude when he had entered Harry’s mind, viewing that memory had confirmed that he had done the right thing by banning Harry from doing chores. The way he had tried to insist that he didn’t mind ‘helping out’ even after Severus had doubled down on his rule only made him more sure.

Severus would help Harry learn that he did not need to prove his worth to receive basic care.

Harry stretched his cramping hand and realized that he was thirsty. In his last letter, he had told Hermione and Ron that he was staying with Snape. Their responses had been laden with questions. He didn’t blame them for that, but it meant his response had taken a good deal of time to write.

Checking the time, Harry saw that it was still a long while until dinner. He got up from his seat, then walked down to the kitchen to get a glass of water and to stretch his legs. He didn’t pass Snape on his way down, so the man must be in his office since he hadn’t said anything about going out.

It took a couple of tries to pinpoint the location of the glasses since Snape hadn’t let Harry so much as set the table, but he managed to find one. As he was filling the glass in the sink, the sound of a car backfiring startled him. Harry managed to keep his hold on the glass, but his hand and the outside of the glass got soaked in water.

He finished filling the glass, then turned around to lean against the counter while he drank it. His hand was still wet, so he went to transfer the glass to his other hand. But he wasn’t careful enough, and the glass slid through his fingers.

Harry watched as it fell, almost in slow motion. He tried to catch it, but he didn’t move fast enough, only succeeding in bumping the glass so it fell faster.

The glass smashed into the ground and shattered into several pieces. His stomach plummeted, and he swore under his breath as he dropped to his knees. He started gathering the broken pieces of glass, heedless of the risk to his hands, which had begun to tremble.

Harry had gotten all of the glass into a pile when he realized that some of his blood had mixed with the spilt water. He gasped, then pulled his jumper sleeves down, past his hands, and started mopping at the water with them.

“Mr Potter!” Snape called, forceful.

Harry jumped, but he didn’t look up or stop his desperate motions. Snape was angry, and Harry wasn’t even getting anywhere with cleaning the mess. If he didn’t clean it up soon it would stain the floor, and then Uncle Vernon would really be mad.

Harry gasped, then turned his head to the side to wipe a few stray tears off on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, sir, I’ll have this clean in– I just don’t know where the mop is– I’m sorry .”

There was the sound of footsteps– too light to be Uncle Vernon, too heavy to be Aunt Petunia, he noted distantly. He shook his head and tried to twist his jumper around so he could mop at the water with a drier part of his sleeve.

Then hands clamped down around his wrists. Harry jerked back, though he knew resistance was pointless. Uncle Vernon was too strong.

“ Harry , please stop, you’re hurt .”

That didn’t make sense; why would Uncle Vernon care if he was hurt? Harry risked a look up. “Snape?” he mumbled, confused. Then he froze as the memory of where he was slammed into him. “I’m sorry, sir,” he repeated. He took in a deep breath to continue, though he didn’t know what he meant to say.

“Wait,” Snape interrupted, firm, “just wait until I have healed your hands, then we can discuss this.”

Harry pulled at his hands, trying to free them from Snape’s grip so he could finish cleaning the mess. Snape let go, but before Harry could hunch back over and resume cleaning, Snape grasped his shoulders and guided them both into a standing position.

“But, sir, the mess , I’ve almost got–”

Snape only shook his head and continued to pull Harry along. Harry allowed himself to be pulled, too shaken to fight much. But as he cast a look over his shoulder at the puddle and pile of glass on the floor, his stomach clenched tighter.

The walk through the house passed in a blur, and before Harry knew it, Snape was opening the door to his office.

“Sit down,” Snape said, releasing Harry.

Harry looked around the small office, but the only seat in the room was Snape’s desk chair. Harry glanced at Snape, hoping to see some indication of where he was meant to sit. Snape was distracted, though, looking through a cabinet.

Snape had said to sit and Harry wouldn’t– couldn’t disobey him, but Harry still had some blood on him and his jumper sleeves were soaked. Harry couldn’t imagine Snape wanted Harry to sit in his chair, so Harry sat down on the floor, legs crossed, just like during their Occlumency lessons.

Harry looked down at his hands. He had managed to cut his fingers several times, and there was a deep gash across his right palm, but it really wasn’t that bad. He wasn’t sure why Snape was so upset– Harry would have been able to finish cleaning up the mess.

Snape started to turn around from the cabinet. “Alright–” he said, before cutting himself off. “What are you doing on the ground?”

Harry felt a flash of anger at Snape. It wasn’t like he’d been told where to sit; he’d been left to guess. “You told me to sit down, sir,” he muttered.

Snape closed his eyes for a moment. “I meant for you to sit in the chair, so I may examine you for injuries.”

Harry supposed that did make sense, though he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to have known that. He got to his feet, then moved over to the chair. He hooked his leg around the chair leg to pull the chair out and turn it towards Snape– without getting his blood on it. Then he sat down and held his hands out for Snape to inspect.

Snape took his right hand first, probably because that was the one with the deepest cut. In short order, Snape had rubbed some kind of salve into both his hands. Harry watched, fascinated by the magic that caused the cuts to close over as if they were several days old rather than mere minutes.

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said, flexing his hands.

Snape set the jar of salve down on his desk, then he leaned against the desk and stared at Harry. “I would like to start this conversation off by reassuring you that I am not angry with you. That being said, you did break my one rule.”

Harry’s heart plummeted. He’d thought– well, he wasn’t sure what he’d thought. In fact, he hadn’t been thinking at all. He’d broken the glass and then he’d reacted.

“Is there anything you’d like to say for yourself?” Snape asked.

“I– it seemed different, because it wasn’t routine cleaning. That’s all.”

Snape nodded. “I thought it would be something like that,” he sighed. “But the bottom line is that you broke the rule, and I did tell you what the consequence for that would be.”

Harry froze as he tried to remember what that was.

“So for the next two days, you may not send letters with my owl, Hectate.”

“That’s all ?” Harry asked in belief, then closed his eyes, realizing that he should not question it when a punishment was more lenient than it ought to be. And this punishment was too lenient. Harry had broken the one rule.

Snape raised his eyebrow. “Yes, it is. But while we’re on the topic of your lack of self-preservation skills, I’d like to ask what you were thinking when you picked up glass with your bare hands.”

“Er– I wasn’t?”

“Well, next time I expect you to think before engaging in an activity where you could injure yourself.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, his own voice sounding distant in his ears.

“Now I am going to go finish cleaning up, and you are going to go lie down. You have lost some blood and could use the rest,” Snape said, getting to his feet and moving towards his office door.

Harry got to his feet as well and trailed behind Snape as they left the room. He did feel a bit tired, light-headed, maybe because he’d lost blood, but maybe because of the conversation he’d just had.

“Do not forget,” Snape said as Harry was about to turn into the sitting room so he could go upstairs, “you are not allowed to send letters with Hectate for the next two days.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said. He turned to go up the stairs, thinking on Snape’s recent behavior.

Snape had been good lately. Better than Harry had ever thought Snape could be. And despite Harry’s initial misgivings, Snape had yet to betray him again. Even the Occlumency lessons had been going well. The thought of the lessons now sent a pang of guilt through his stomach, because they were not the method of atonement Harry had thought they would be.

But then, to make things even worse, Harry felt guilty that he was upset the lessons were going well. He knew how important it was for him to learn Occlumency, yet a part of him would have felt better if they hadn’t gone well.

That was the same part of him that had driven him to sit on the floor in Snape’s office. That had led him to believe that his dinner was going to be taken away for going through Snape’s books. The list went on, and Harry realized that these were not constructive thoughts.

They were thoughts that brought him anxiety, or panic, or any other number of negative emotions.

And Harry knew he could pin at least part of the blame for these thoughts on the Dursleys. They had done a thorough job of making sure Harry knew that he was not welcome in their home. The mindset had not only bled over into his friendships, but also into the expectations he had for everyone he lived with.

Harry knew that if he was ever going to be able to live with someone, he needed to sort out his thoughts. He couldn’t continue to go around reacting as though everyone was like the Dursleys.

Though– that was exactly what Harry had been doing with Snape, and so far Snape had not judged him for his slip-ups or misunderstandings. In fact, the way he had handled Harry trying to clean up that broken glass was– well, probably just what he needed to start to break out of the Dursley-mindset.

Harry ought to use his time at Snape’s house as an opportunity to learn how to live without the fear he was used to experiencing at home. If Harry managed to work out his issues here, with Snape, then it would be much easier for him to move in with someone else one day. Because then he wouldn’t be worried about– about burdening someone he cared for by asking them to help him through his ridiculous problems.

This way the only one who would have to deal with him would be Snape. Which was good, because Snape had already proven himself to be a good choice for the position.

Maybe winter break wouldn’t be so long after all.