The night wore on in darkness. The candles slowly burned out, each one leaving the room a little dimmer as the wicks were extinguished.

Harry knew he should be sleeping, but he forced his eyes open. The immobilizing charm did not wear off quickly; Harry heard the clock down the hall strike two, and he had only regained control of his arms. He may have doze off once or twice, but he jerked himself away, determined not to sleep. The potion Snape gave him did not make him sleepy, but helped ease the soreness in his muscles.

The early morning light was glinting through the windows by the time Harry could move his whole body. He sat up and pushed the covers off. He was not going to hang around here forever, worrying whether Snape was alive or lying in pieces at the Death Eater meetings; Harry was going to find him.

The bedroom door swung open, and Harry took a breath of relief when he saw Snape come in the room. The feeling of relief vanished as Harry saw Snape’s pale face, whiter than usual and marked with pain. The man could barely walk; he dragged himself over to the large bed with obvious effort.

"What did he do to you?" Harry leapt off the sofa.

"Potter, not so loud, please," Snape painfully began removing his black robe. "I’ll be all right in a bit." Snape pulled off the robe, grimacing with pain as he did so, and stood by the bed in black trousers and a white shirt. He looked like he was going say something cold and perhaps nasty, but then abandoned the thought.

Harry watched anxiously as Snape pulled himself up on the bed and slowly eased back on the pillows. He had never seen Snape after a Death Eater meeting, and no matter how Harry had imagined the horrific suffering at Voldemort’s hands, he was not prepared for the reality of the torture.

"Potter," Snape said, not moving, "could you go to the cabinet and bring me back the small green bottle on the top shelf?"

Snape asking him nicely? He must be in pain. Harry hurried over to the cabinet. Fortunately, there was only one green bottle on the top shelf, and he brought it to Snape immediately.

Snape sat up the least bit, took the bottle, and swallowed the entire potion in several gulps. Snape placed the bottle on the bedside table and lay back on the pillows, closing his eyes again.

"All right, Potter, I’m just going to rest here for a while."

"I’ll leave," Harry started to turn away.

"No!" eyes still closed, Snape pointed a stern finger in Harry’s direction. "You aren’t to leave my sight for two more days. Get dressed, and the house elves can bring you breakfast, and then you sit in the corner over there and read quietly."

"Fine," Harry’s concern quickly turned in annoyance as he stalked to the bathroom. "I forgot that vampires have to sleep in the day."

"I heard that," Snape warned from the bed.

Snape did not move for the next few hours. After eating breakfast, Harry thought about watching him sleep, just to make sure the man did not die while he lay there. But as Harry did not know how to tell if someone had died other than their chest not moving up and down while they laid there, he opted for reading in the corner and glancing towards Snape every now and then.

The room was warm and still as the morning lagged on. His nightly vigil made Harry very sleepy, and he leaned back in the comfy armchair, flinging both his legs over one armrest and leaning against the other side of the chair. He closed his eyes only for a moment, and the heavy book slipped lower and lower down on his chest.

"Potter!" an insistant voice rang out, and Harry felt something thwack at his knees lightly.

"Go ‘way," Harry muttered, keeping his eyes shut.

"Potter, it’s nearly four o’clock in the afternoon. I’ll never get you to sleep tonight if you don’t wake up now."

"Leave me alone," Harry grumbled, but he sat up and rubbed his tired eyes. Snape was standing in front of him. The man looked better, the pain gone from his face, and he wore his black robe again. But he was not pleased.

"You were supposed to sleep last night. I swear, this obstinacy must stop. When I say go to sleep, I mean sleep and not laying awake all night. Next time I go anywhere at night, I’m giving you a sleeping potion."

Harry wanted to glare at him, but he was really too drowsy to care about doing anything other than curling up and going back to sleep. Snape, heartless as ever, grabbed him by the arm and pulled Harry out of the chair and to his feet.

"You’ve still got a storeroom floor to scrub, and then I want you to write I will never disobey my guardian again for any reason 500 times."

"Awww," Harry started to whine, but Snape stopped him with a threatening look.

"Care to make that 600?"

"Fine, I’ll scrub and write," Harry followed Snape to the hallway.

Then came several hours of scrubbing, during which Harry stayed on his hands and knees while Snape loomed over him and criticized until Harry wanted to shove the toothbrush down the potions master’s throat. He could not believe that Snape made him use an actual toothbrush.

"I could do this so much faster if you’d let me have a regular scrub brush," Harry protested, returned to the same spot for the third time where something nasty had spilled into the deep lines of the wooden floor.

"I want it to take you a long time," Snape returned, smirking. "It helps keep you busy and out of mischief. A Potter with too much time on his hands gets into trouble sooner or later."

Harry barely resisted throwing the toothbrush at Snape. "Ha-ha, very funny. Don’t you have some important work to do for the Order?"

"I already did my part by attending the Death Eater meeting. Now, I get to have my amusement and watch you suffer. A little harder, you’ll never get the floor clean by the swishing the brush that way."

Harry muttered something that he was glad Snape could not hear.

"You’re the kind of person who needs something to occupy his time," Snape continued, apparently glad to have a captive audience. "I often thought that was why you got into so much trouble at school – too many hours unsupervised. Some people find constructive activities in their free time, but obviously you and your father never made good use of spare time."

"I don’t go around picking on people because I’m bored," Harry shot back. "I try not to bother anyone, except for Malfoy, and that’s because he always starts it first. And you shouldn’t have let them treat you like that."

Snape looked down at Harry. "Excuse me?"

"You were smart – you should have found a way to fight back," Harry insisted, attacking the floor with renewed energy. "I mean, Malfoy finds hundreds of ways to make me miserable, and you’re loads smarter than he’ll ever be. Why didn’t you curse my dad to look like a toad, or talk like a troll? No one would have liked him then. You should have teamed up with my mum, and the two of you could have taken them down."

"You wanted us to start a war?" a hint of a smile played around Snape’s lips.

"Well, one started anyway – you could have fought back instead of just taking it. I don’t let Malfoy get the better of me all the time, and it’s harder because Crabbe and Goyle would beat me senseless if they thought I was trying anything. Did Sirius and Lupin ever try to beat you up?"

"No, and keep your attention on cleaning," Snape answered, but he did not sound too cross.

"I’d like to get Malfoy just once, really good," Harry relished the idea. "Moody turned him into a ferret once and bounced him off the ground. Well, it’s was really Barty Crouch Jr., but I can still remember the terrified look on his face right before he was changed. Of course, McGonagall made him turn Malfoy back, but we all agreed that he looked better as a ferret."

"That’s rather mean of you, Potter," Snape disapproved. "Where’s your Gryffindor nobility?"

"All bets are off when it comes to Malfoy."

"I see. And suppose in fifteen or twenty years, young Mr. Malfoy has a son. How would you feel about him?"

"Are you kidding? Any son of Malfoy has got to be evil, probably with that same nasty attitude and blond hair . . ." Harry trailed off as the impact of what he had just said hit him. It was true; he would probably hate any child or relative of Draco Malfoy, even before he met them. Harry felt his ears turn red, and he ducked his head down, scrubbing hard enough to wear all the bristles off.

"That’s enough for now," Snape’s voice was low and calm. "Let’s go wash up and have some supper.

Harry dropped the toothbrush in the pail of filthy water and stood up. His back hurt from bending over, and his knees ached, and he knew Snape would make him swallow some more of that gross potion from last night. How much potion had he consumed since he came to Snapdragon Manor? Enough to last a lifetime.

Supper was good and hot, and Harry began eating ravenously though he slowed down before Snape could frown at him.

"When we go to Diagon Alley," Snape said casually, "we might as well collect your school books. That way we won’t have to go back, and you’ll have the rest of the summer to read up on your classes for the fall."

"Wonderful," Harry grumbled. "Year round school. People won’t be able to tell Hermione and me apart."

"Sixth year is very important," Snape insisted. "You’ll be thankful later that you gave it time and effort while everyone else fooled around."

Harry shrugged, seeing the logic in Snape’s argument, but refusing to admit it.

"Have you thought about what you might like to do with the rest of your life?" Snape asked casually as he started eating. "After you graduate from Hogwarts?"

Harry’s head shot up. "What – I mean, I’m supposed to fight Volde – you know, the prophecy?"

"Yes, but after that. Suppose you beat him, he’s done with, or suppose he doesn’t attack for thirty years. What are you going to do in the meantime?"

Harry had not thought about that before. "Oh, well, I thought I wanted to be an Auror."

Snape shook his head. "No, you’re not going to be an Auror."

Harry’s throat tightened, but he tried to keep his expression neutral. "Yes, I know you know I didn’t get high enough O.W.L.s to take N.E.W.T level training to be an Auror."

"No, not that, Potter. There are ways to get around the rules when it comes to N.E.W.T. levels. I’m talking about you – you don’t have the right personality and attitude to become an Auror."

Harry felt himself getting angry, but he tried to stay calm. "I do so! My parents were Aurors, and you’ve always said I was just like my father."

"In pride and arrogance, maybe," Snape countered. "You’re far too impatient and temperamental to be an Auror. Aurors stay undercover and quiet at their work – you go out in a fit of glory and power, fighting everything in your path with enough noise to wake the dead. You are successful, usually because you catch people unaware and you have the element of surprise to gain the upper hand. Working as an Auror means stealthy operations and undercover work, something you would hate in the first week. No, you’d loathe being an Auror after a while."

"What do you think I should do?" Harry asked, feeling deflated. "And don’t say nothing because I mess up everything I do. Be honest."

"I think you’d make a very good Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Snape took a sip of wine.

This was unexpected, and Harry could only stare, mouth open and eyes unbelieving.

"Is that so incredulous that you have to look at me like a trout?" Snape asked.

Harry closed his mouth. "No, but you think I’d be a good teacher? I don’t have enough patience to be an Auror, and you think I can put up with students and hanging out at Hogwarts forever?"

"Obviously, teaching is not as tedious as you make it out to be, or you would not have started teaching your own Defense Against the Dark Arts class when Umbridge proved incompetent."

"You knew about that?" Harry gulped.

"Please! All the teachers knew about your practices except Umbridge who knew nothing about the behavior of children. Believe me, I would have known if you had been practicing potions outside of class."

"But a teacher?" Harry said before Snape could start lecturing on studying more and playing less. "I don’t know if I’d make a good teacher."

"Why not? You got other students to listen to you, and you knew what you were talking about. Students can recognized incompetence in a teacher very quickly."

"I guess that’s why we don’t listen in your class," Harry said, rather snidely. It was too good an opportunity to pass up, and he was not surprised when Snape cuffed him on the back of the head, but it did not hurt as much as Harry had expected.

"Behave yourself," Snape ordered, "or you’ll be sitting uncomfortably in class all year."

"You can’t discipline a fellow teacher," Harry said loftily.

"Now, I never said I thought you should teach at Hogwarts," Snape objected. "There are other schools where you would do nicely and be at least a hundred miles from me and my potions store."

Harry mischievously smiled. "No, I think it would be fun to teach at Hogwarts. Just think, you and me, sitting together at meals, going to staff meetings, arguing over who gets the Quidditch field for practice. We would cross each other in the halls, I would nod and say, ‘Severus,’ and you would respond, ‘Harry,’ and then we would go our separate ways, knowing we would cross paths again, everyday, for the rest of our lives."

Snape looked like he had just swallowed a very vile potion. "On second thought, I think the Auror program is just the place for you. Or better yet, do your best to get killed in the war."

Harry could not help grinning as he finished his dinner. Yet his stomach flip-flopped uneasily as he thought about his future career. Was being an Auror really a bad choice for him? McGonagall had said she would help him, but had she only said that to tick Umbridge off? Should he be a teacher? Once Voldemort was defeated, it would make sense to keep teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts so no one else tried to become the next Dark Lord. He could imagine standing in front of the class, dressed in dark robes, and a first-year would raise her had and say tentatively, "Professor Potter, could you explain how Dementors behave again, please?"

"Before you drift off into a daydream where you are undoubtedly king of the universe," Snape dryly said, "I remind you that you still have lines to write tonight. I want half of them done tonight and the other half can wait until tomorrow night. Tomorrow, right after breakfast, we’re going to Diagon Alley.

-----

At eight o’clock sharp, Harry was lying on the sofa with a sore hand, staring up at the high domed ceiling while Snape worked over some papers. Harry was not tired, but he didn’t say anything for fear that Snape would make him take a sleeping potion. He still felt guilty when he thought about blowing up the potions lab. An uneasy sensation settled at the bottom of his stomach, and he tried to think of something else.

"Stop squirming, and go to sleep," Snape ordered.

"What happens at the Death Eater meetings?" Harry rolled onto his side so he could face Snape. "Is there a plan or do people just start getting hurt at random?"

"It’s none of your concern. Go to sleep."

"No, really," Harry insisted, pushing himself up on one elbow. "What happens? Is it just Death Eaters or are would-be, wanna-be Death Eaters allowed to visit? Is it like a club that you join, or is it like being in the Mafia?"

"I’m not telling you," Snape snapped.

"Why not?"

"Because it would scare you."

Harry huffed indignantly, but Snape shook his head. "No, Potter, I know you think you’ve seen a lot of violence and suffering in these last few years at Hogwarts, but that’s only a taste of what really happens around the Dark Lord. You are too young and too naive to handle knowledge about true evil. You’re nervous and jumpy about the prophecy as it is – if I were to tell the horrors that await you, you’d never sleep again, and then I’d never get a moment’s peace."

"But not knowing makes me even more worried," Harry objected. "I was scared at the first task during the Tri-Wizard Cup, but once I knew what I was fighting, I felt better and could prepare."

"You can argue all you like with me, but I’m not telling you," Snape was resolute.

Harry thought about pouting, but his thoughts drifted to other concerns. "Why can’t all the good wizards and witches get together and go to a Death Eater meeting and have it out?"

"Potter," Snape began to scoff, but Harry pressed forward.

"No, I’m serious. We all gang up and gear up, wands and weapons ready – you lead us to the meeting, catch Voldemort by surprise, and battle it out. Maybe I could hide ‘til the last minute, and then kill him before anyone sees me, and then it will all be over. Round up all the Death Eaters, send them to Azkaban, perform spells so no one can bring him back, and then it’s all over. A straight-forward attack, no sneaking around and spying, no worrying about when he’ll attack, just straight fighting. Come on, give a reason it wouldn’t work."

"Well, for one thing, the Dark Lord has put up sensors and other magic wards to alert him if anyone other than a Death Eater comes within three miles of him. For another, at our meetings he places special charms on himself so he cannot be harmed. These charms are entrenched in dark magic, and I would be dead before I could lift the first one."

"Oh," Harry felt a little foolish, "still, we should do something. We should have a defense."

"Potter," Snape sounded very tired, "what do you think the Order of the Phoenix is? A tea party to discuss books or some other nonsense? We are working very hard, and I know you want to do your bit, but for now your bit is going to sleep and letting me work since I am a member of the Phoenix."

"Suspicious member," Harry muttered, knowing he would be punished if he didn’t shut up soon. He tried one last time. "Are there going to be more Death Eater meetings while I’m here?"

Snape reached for his wand.

"I just meant," Harry said hastily, "I don’t want you to have to go to more of them. I wouldn’t know if something had happened to you, and I couldn’t get off the sofa, and Death Eaters could have swarmed the place, and I couldn’t move."

"You weren’t in any danger. At the smallest sign of trouble, my house elves have orders to take you to Dumbledore immediately. I’ve put up other wards so no one will know you’re here. As far as everyone is concerned, you are at your relatives’ house which no one really knows where it is."

"Ron found me in my second year," Harry argued. "He knew where I was staying."

"Mr. Weasley Sr. knew where you were staying," Snape corrected. "And he probably told his son inadvertently, which was not at all wise of the older Mr. Weasley."

"Can I write to Ron and Hermione?" Harry moved on to his next thought. "They’d like to know where I am. I won’t tell them where I am exactly, just that I’m safe. I hoped to see them sometime this summer. Hermione will know all about her subjects this fall, and she’s probably received perfect O.W.L.s as well. Ron will feel stupid because there’s no chance he scored as high as she did, though usually they don’t fight about school. It’s everything else they bicker about and shout and refuse to talk for days. I just want a quiet year for once so I can –"

Phtt! Without warning, Harry fell back on the pillow, eyes shutting and mouth closing. He began breathing deeply and rhythmically.

Snape drew back his wand, the smoke from a strong sleeping spell still lingering in the air. That should hold the brat for a while, long enough for Snape to get some work done.

-----

Harry tried to look cool and collected as he waited by the doorway for Snape get ready. Harry had been to Diagon Alley before, had lived there for several weeks before the start of his third year, but each time he felt excited about going there again. He loved the shops, especially the novelty ones with magic items he had never seen before. Fred and George’s joke shop was supposedly a big hit, and Harry hoped he might could sneak away to get a peek at it while Snape argued potions prices. Of course, knowing Snape, he would probably keep Harry at his side the entire time, stuck in some dark, cramped shop filled with bottles of stuff that made Harry want to gag.

And if Snape was really preoccupied, Harry planned to sneak off to some darker store and look for illegal timeturners. Yes, he knew he shouldn’t, and yes, he knew Snape would light into him if he found out, and Harry would be lucky to sit for the rest of the year, but he had a plan! Harry had a plan, and he was sticking to that plan, and Snape was not about to get in his way.

"Are you ready?" Snape swept into the room, holding a short walking staff and a ring of keys.

"Yes," Harry fastened the snake head clasp of his cloak, "I’ve been waiting on you for an age now."

"Don’t be cheeky with me, Potter," Snape warned. "We have a long day, and we’re not going to start out with any of your lip."

"But we can start off with your mean comments," Harry growled.

Snape gave him two raps on the head with his wand. "And there will be more to come if I hear any more from you."

"How are we getting to Diagon Alley?" Harry queried, resisting the urge to rub his head. He didn’t want to see Snape smirk again. "Can we fly?"

"No, too dangerous." They stepped outside, and Snape paused to lock the door with a key.

"Why don’t you just use your wand?" Harry blinked in the sunlight.

"Not all magic is done with a wand," Snape replied. "By locking this with this key, the manor can not be unlocked by anyone else but me holding this key. That way I don’t have to worry about coming home to a house full of dementors."

The image of Snapdragon Manor filled with floating, black dementors was eerie, even in the warm sunlight. Harry tried to shake it off. "So if not brooms, can we Apparate there?"

"Not off the property, you’re still underage," Snape put the large key ring in his pocket and pulled out a smaller ring with only two keys on it.

"All right, the train then," Harry was running out of guesses. They were walking around to the side of the house along a pebble path lined with short shrubs.

"No, we’re going the old-fashioned Muggle way."

"We’re walking? Are we that close to London?"

"No, we’re driving," Snape pointed to a black sedan up ahead.

Harry’s mouth dropped open. "We’re taking a car?"

"Yes, you’ve been in one before, I presume," Snape walked over to the driver’s side of the car.

"But it’s a car – a Muggle car," Harry protested. "You’re a wizard."

"That doesn’t mean I can’t take advantage of Muggle technology when I want to. It was easier and cheaper to rent this car than get a Portkey."

"Can I drive?" Harry asked. It would not be as much fun as flying on a broomstick, but he could still have some fun.

Snape gave a short laugh. "Oh, that infallible Potter humor. I had forgotten how amusing you could be. Passenger seat or the back?"

"Fine," Harry swung into the passenger seat and closed the door. Snape got into the driver seat. Harry pulled on his seat belt, and Snape did the same.

Snape was fumbling with the keys, and Harry shot him a worried look.

"You do know how to drive, right?"

"Yes, Potter, I know how to drive. I read the manual last night." Snape pushed a button and his window rolled down. "See? And here," he pushed another button and all the locks went down on the doors, "child proof locks. I’m the only who can unlock them. And you turn the wheel in the direction you want to go. Here, let’s go." Snape shoved the key into the ignition and turned the engine on.

I’m going to die was Harry’s only thought as he leaned back in his seat and gripped the arms tightly.