The skies where grey and the wind cool.  Not that Harry would know.

This was the fifth day that the Professor and student had spent at the cheerless little house on Spinner's End with no contact from the outside world.  Well.  At least Harry had, had no contact with the outside world. . .  He guessed that Snape had probably had some word from Dumbledore, but if he had, he wasn't sharing anything.    

"Mr Potter, I find it to be an incredible waste of time for you to simply sit there and sulk.  Go and study or make yourself useful."

The teen raised his head to look over the back of his tattered armchair in order to fix a glare at Snape, but the older wizard was seemingly too engrossed in his own work to notice.

"I'm sick of studying it's all I've been doing for the past month!"

"Then find something else to do," Snape ground out.

"You won't let me go outside and I've already cleaned most of the house! . . . Which you haven't thanked me for by the way."

"I never asked you to do it, and, as I have already explained, it is too dangerous to leave the house.  While the Dark Lord and his followers will be unable to enter this building, they are quite capable of roaming the streets around us.

This sent a shiver up his spine.  On one hand Harry was thankful that Snape was being straight with him and telling him the truth about their situation, but on the other hand, the thought of Deatheaters below his window did nothing to help him sleep well at night.

Harry sighed again and slumped back into the chair.  "Can't I at least practice making potions or something?  If you're gonna force me to study I should at least test what I've learnt. . ."

Snape still did not look up from his desk, but stopped writing.  He thought to himself for a moment before speaking.  "For once you put forward a good point, however, there is no magic to be used in this house."

Snape continued writing and Harry looked back over the chair again.  "Why?  You never said why."

Again the Professor stopped writing to answer.  ". . .  Magic is easily detected, that's why."

"But you just said. . .  If the Deatheaters already know where we are, but can't enter anyway. . . .???"

"I doubt that they know for certain that we are here."

"What can I do then?"

"Shutting up would be pleasant."

Harry just huffed and glared at him again.

Finally Snape put his quill down and looked up at the boy.  Spending nearly a week confined indoors was enough to make anybody restless and this was clearly the case for the young Gryffindor before him.

Sighing the Professor rose form his desk and headed towards the door.  "Follow me," he called behind him.  Harry made no hesitation to follow.

They walked up two fights of stairs and down a number of corridors.  Harry wondered if the house was actually as big as the distance they had travelled suggested.  ‘Could it be bigger on the inside like the Weasley's tent?'

Eventually the Professor stopped in front of a locked door.

He turned his head to look at Harry as he came to rest next to him, then pulled a rusty old key out of a pocket within his robes and twisted it in the lock.

Pushing the door open with a loud ‘creak,' the Professor stood and gestured for Harry to enter the room first.

Cautiously and curiously Harry stepped forward, poking his head around the door and gasping at the sight before him.

Large vines hung from sturdy branches.  Lushes leaves of all colours, shapes and sizes encased the vast expanse before him and strange plants rested in patches all about the place.

"Where are we?" whispered Harry, awe struck. 

"This is where I grow some of the least harmful plants I use to gather potion ingredients," answered Snape as he handed a list and a book to the boy.

Harry looked you at him questioningly.

"There are gloves and a creel hung behind the door," elaborated the Professor.  "In your hands is a list of ingredients I wish for you to gather.  The book will illustrate any that you are not familiar with."

Harry couldn't help but think he was being dumped with a chore simply so that Snape could get him out of his hair for a couple of hours. . .  He couldn't ignore the excitement building up within him though.

He'd never done any kind of Orienteering before and this. . . this. . . Jungle! Was just begging to be explored!

"You have two hours Potter, and make certain that you do not damage anything while you're in there.  I shall come and check on you later."  So saying, the Professor left the room and closed the door behind him.

True to the Potion Masters words Harry found a pair of thick gloves and a basket hung upon the door.

Placing them upon his form Harry looked down at the first few items on the list.

• 1) Nettles.
• 2) Forsythia
• 3) Blue Phantom Moss

‘Nettles. . . boring. Forsythia. . . boring. . . Hm.  Blue Phantom Moss.'

Harry flipped the book open and browsed the index to find the page he needed.  It read:

           "Blue Phantom Moss - Named for its colour and nature.  This plant can be found in areas lighted by the moon.

Its properties are. . ." 

Harry closed the book and thought to himself.  ‘Moonlight?  Where'm I gonna find. . . .?  How is this place lighted anyway?  There aren't any lamps. . . Huh?  Cool.'

The room seemed to have a roof that was enchanted in a way similar to that of the Great Hall in Hogwarts.  It was odd to look at. . .  Through the trees he could see that the sky/roof?  Was clouded, but different weather forms descended from them.

In some areas the sun shone through, bathing areas in a warm, orangey glow.  Some places had the rain drizzling down on them, and in others snow carpeted the floors and trees.

A fair way into the Professor's strange garden Harry could see the soft, silvery sheen of the moons rays reaching down to touch its own segment of land.

Nodding to himself and placing the book and list into the basket that hung from his shoulder, he set off in the direction he hoped would lead him to his first ingredient.

 - - - - - -

Thoroughly exhausted from his long ‘hunter gatherer mission,' Harry sat down by what seemed to be a small pond to rest.

He spent what must have been a good twenty minutes watching this odd. . . ‘thing' that looked like a cross between a little squid and a frog.  Whatever it was it was slimy, and, gross, and, . . . Pretty awesome to watch actually. . .

When the . . . ‘Sqog,' thing. . . had ended its own forage and disappeared beneath the algae covered water, Harry returned to checking his list.  There where only a few more that he needed to find before he reached the end of it.

• 47) Mermaid fin lily
• 48) Bunnyear cactus needles
• 49) Winter cherry
• 50) Items number 1, 2, 16, 23 and 38 which I am certain that you will have disregarded as ‘normal' or ‘boring' plants, but are still necessary ingredients that I have sent you for!

                  - S.S

Harry snorted at the note before him.  He hated it when the Professor was right, and, since this happened to be one Severus Snape, this was a common event. 

On the other hand. . .  It was sort of humorous and, well, comforting, to have someone know you like that.  Plus, Harry had actually ignored all of the mentioned items and forgotten them as a result. . .

Sighing the boy got up from the rock he had been sitting on and headed off once more into the untamed garden.

Oddly enough it turned out to be much more difficult to find the ‘common' plants than Harry had expected.  In any normal forest, wood or garden a person could easily get sick of the sight of them, but Snape's garden was anything but normal.

Leaning over a raised tree root in order to try and grab a handful of bluebells, Harry managed to land face first in the mud when he leaned too far forward.

Growling to himself he propped himself up on his forearms and wiped as much dirt as he could from his glasses.

It was as he placed his glasses back on that a slight glint caught his eye.

Reaching out he unearthed what seemed to be a locket of some sort.  A very old one by the looks of it. 

Scrapping the dirt out of the clasp, Harry opened it up and looked at the picture within it.  On one side was a youngish woman with long, black hair, heavy set brows and a long pallid face.  The other side held the picture of a much older woman.  The picture had no colour to it, but Harry could tell form them the shadings that she also had very dark hair and eyes, but very light, pale skin.

It was odd to think of Snape having family.  Harry had never heard of the Professor being particularly close to anyone, be it friends or family.  However the resemblance in the pictures where enough to make the boy believe that these where probably the Potion Master's mother and grandmother. . . .

The sound of crunching gravel nearby broke Harry's train of thought and he stuffed the found locket into one of his pockets.

He picked up a handful of bluebells as he rose to his feet then turned to see a black clad figure making its way towards him.

Harry clumsily made his way back to the garden path, getting caught up in various bits of undergrowth as he did so.  Snape caught up with ease and waited for Harry to join him on the clear path before speaking. 

". . . . ."

"What??"

Snape's lips twitched slightly, threatening an expression that rare to his features.  The man forced himself to appear stern, but Harry had a strong feeling that he was being laughed at.

"What?" the boy asked again in indignation.

The Professor cleared his throat before speaking.  "I do believe I told you not to damage anything."

Harry shook his head.  "Why-?  Uh. . .  Never mind. . ."  He just couldn't understand the Potions teacher. . .

Said Potions teacher shook his own head then walked back the way he had come.  Harry followed after removing the last few clinging vines from his arms and ankles.

"Did you collect everything?" the Professor asked.

"Yep," exclaimed Harry proudly.  "I even the ‘normal, boring' ones."

Snape smirked.  "You should not lower the value of things so easily.  The fact that they are common plants does not make them any less useful.  The Nettles in particular are a primary ingredient in a number of medicinal potions.  You would do well to remember that."

"I knew that!" Shot Harry defensively.  He only got a disbelieving snort in response.  "I did!" he repeated.  "And the thing it works best with is a Whirly drop petal!" he added proudly.

Snape fell into silent contemplation for a moment and Harry couldn't help but smile to himself.

‘HA!  That shut you up!  Didn't expect me to actually ‘read' the book you gave me did you?  Just thought I'd look at the pictures and-‘

"What is a counter ingredient for haze grass?" asked the Professor, breaking Harry's triumphant musings.

The smile faded.  "Wh- er, well I, uh. . .  I didn't get to that one. . ."

"Hmm?  Oh.  Then tell me, what predominant effect would I get if I mixed the roots of a Guinnea weed with the stamen from a Husk skinned radish?"

Again, Harry had no answer.  Instead he looked up quietly and growled at the triumphant look now residing in the Professor's eyes.

"I take it that you only bothered to look up the properties of the plants you found interesting.  If I am not mistaken, the ‘Whirly drop petal' was named after the Quidditch move a player was making at the time he fell off his broom and discovered the odd flower," the older man said slyly.

‘Bugger.'

Harry just huffed.  He hated being read so easily. . .  And that look was back!  That weird look that made him feel like the humourless Professor was laughing at him.  Though it felt kinda. . . good!  After being trapped in a dark and shabby old house for several days a good laugh is definitely what he needed, and laugh he did.

After several minutes chuckling to himself Snape looked at him as they walked with a raised eyebrow.  "Feeling better?"

"Yeah," admitted Harry, wiping a tear out of his eye.

"Good, because tomorrow you will be dissecting some of those ingredients and starting your own inventory and summery text."

"What!?"

Again, Snape smirked.  "You will find it useful Mr Potter, believe me."

‘More work. . . goodie!' he grumbled to himself.

   -----------------

‘Emotion. . . no place. . . your world . . . . . . . only purpose . . . . obey!'

‘Sir. . . . Sixty-seven, not. . . responding.'

‘Give. . . . . . respond too!'

Harry's eyes snapped open!  The pain in is arm was back and he felt like he was going to be sick.

". . . .Potter?"

Harry could vaguely recognise the sound of someone talking, but only really heard the voice when it said his name. 

His head shot up and his frantic green eyes met uneasy black ones. 

"Potter?  What is it?"

Harry took deep breaths, trying to get a steady flow of air running through his lungs again.  The pain in his arm was not as strong as last time, but a dull ache still rested there making it uncomfortable to let it go.

He realised that his free hand was shaking and drew it towards him in an effort to calm himself.

For a good few minutes he sat there huddled up.  The panic had ended when he remembered where he was, but he still needed a little while to collect himself and, thankfully, the Professor seemed to recognise that.

"Dream. . ." Harry eventually murmured.

"Like the last one?" questioned Snape.  His tone was soft, but hid any real sign of emotion.

Harry merely nodded then felt the chair cushion dip as the Professor pressed his weight against it to get up from the floor. 

"What's wrong with your arm?" he asked as he noticed the boy rubbing it roughly.

"Hurts. . ." was all Harry cared to say.

The Professor opened his mouth to say something, but thought the better of it and went to a cabinet in silence.

Harry watched him wearily.  It was odd, but these dreams always seemed to rob him of his energy.

In his dreary state the gliding and fluid movements of the Potions Master reminded him of a shadow.  It was a comforting thought somehow. . . 

He had been very young when he had gotten over his fear of the dark.  In the dark it was time to rest.  In the dark he was left alone. . .

Snape returned with a vial in hand.  He put it to Harry and ordered that he drink it.  Too tired to argue Harry did as he was told and wrinkled his nose at the foul taste.

"Ugh!"

Snape smirked half-heartedly.  "It will help."

"Help what?  Kill me?" questioned Harry groggily.

"Your welcome," spoke Snape dryly.  "Now up.  You need rest and I'd rather you didn't attain it by taking up my study and disturbing my work with your annoying, sleep talking!"

Harry would have glared at the Potions teacher, but his eyelids where too tired to focus properly, so he glared at all four of them instead.

"Would you rather I carry you?" the snide voice suggested.

That had the effect of spurring the deep rooted Gryffindor pride into action.  Harry's form stiffened and he forced himself slowly from the chair he had fallen asleep on.

Snape followed him up the stairs, keeping a comfortable distance, but staying close enough to catch the boy should he fall to fatigue. 

At the top of the stairs Harry found that he had to stop in order to catch his breath again before continuing to his room.  He stumbled once, but luckily was able to remain on his feet.  The second time, Snape grabbed his arm to steady him and ended up leading him the rest of the way.

Harry growled to himself.  While it was nice to have Snape help him rather than hinder him it was still a knock to his pride that he should even need that help.  Especially in something so simple as walking.

"Stop berating yourself," Snape growled in turn as if he could read the boys thoughts.  "You are not impervious to human faults and can not live your entire life without accepting some kind of help every now and then."

Harry just nodded sulkily.  He felt like a little kid being taken back to bed after having a ‘bad dream.'

It was nice to lie down among the pillows though. . .  Even if they where brown and lumpy and smelt like century old dust.  He was just happy to close his eyes the second his head hit the pillow. 

The moonlight shone through the window, illuminating the room with its gentle glow.  Through closed eyes Harry could sense a shadow silently gliding about the room. 

It was comforting, having that presence there.  That strong presence that willed him no real harm, but seemed to radiate a strong, yet subtle, kind of power.

He could never describe the Potions Master as a particularly gentle or kind person.  He was neither a friendly or soft kind of man, but he did have an air about him.  One that demanded respect and boasted a rare mixture of strength and intellect.

Also, Harry thought with a smile coming to his lips as sleep began to claim him, more and more he was beginning to recognise a certain level of warmth about the man.  A warmth that was hidden by sheets of ice and coldness, but was definitely there, showing through when the cold became too much to handle.