"Gross!!"

The boy jumped backwards, dropping the scalpel from his hand and looking down sulkily at the puss-like goo now christening his robes.

"Potter!" a sharp voice snapped.  "Careful with those instruments!"

"Sorry sir. . ." Harry grumbled.

For the past two days Snape had set Harry the task of dissecting, studying and summarising the plants he had retrieved from the strange garden.

This wouldn't have been so bad if -

"I HATE STUDYING!"

Snape slammed his own quill down.  "That's it!  I have had enough of your incessant whining!  With such a weak attention span it is no wonder that you are heading to fail most of your exams!"

"I don't care about exams!  I care about what's happening outside and I care about not being stuck indoors with you!"

Snape sat back in his seat and sneered at the boy before him.  "I see we can agree on one point at least."

Harry slammed himself down in a nearby chair. 

This was getting ridiculous!  They had been trapped in this stuffy, dark and musty old house for over a week and it was straining on the nerves of both wizards. 

He knew somewhere inside of him that it was unfair to take his frustration out on Snape, but he was the only other person he had to talk too, and wasn't exactly helping Harry's mood in any way either. . .

"Sorry. . ." mumbled Harry half-heartedly.

Snape grunted in response. 

"Can't we leave yet??"

"Not until we receive word from the Headmaster."

Snape's tone was neutral, but Harry could tell that the older man was tired of being stuck there too.

"What's happening at Hogwarts?"

The professor considered the question for a moment before answering.  "The Deatheaters where fended off, but it has not yet been discovered how they managed to bypass the wards in the first place.  Hence, why we are here rather than there."

Harry stared at the professor.  It was indeed worrying to hear that piece of news.

"Then what-!?"

"The Headmaster will have the safety and security of Hogwarts and its students in the forefront of his mind Potter, do not concern yourself with it."

"How can I not worry?  Hogwarts- Hogwarts is. . ."

Snape did not reply, but seemed to understand what Harry was trying to say.

He supposed that the Professor too regarded the school as a ‘home.'  He reckoned that most people did.  Especially those who didn't have much of a real home. . . .  Which brought up another curious thought. . .

"Professor?  Who made the garden?"

It was an innocent question, but the Potions Master seemed to freeze for a moment before fixing the boy with a hard glare.

"And why, Mr Potter, would you care about such a thing?"

Harry was taken back by the reaction.  Snape had been tough on him for the past few weeks, but hadn't held genuine threat in his words for some time now. 

"I- uh, just wondered, that's all. . ." he stated truthfully.  "I, er, kinda liked it. . ."

Snape regarded him for a while longer before his shoulders loosened, but only a fraction.

"It belongs to my family and has done for a number of generations now," he stated simply.

His curiosity had not been quenched, but Harry caught the hint that this wasn't a subject to be breached.

Sighing to himself he sunk back into the chair.

"Don't you have work to be doing?" dry tones asked him.

Harry groaned.  "I've studied all day!  Plus, I'm hungry."

The boy's stomach growled in agreement and Snape shook his head and muttered something to himself.

Abandoning his own work the Professor stood and headed towards the door, fixing Harry with a look on his way.

"I expect you to have completed your synopsis of whichever plant you have made a mess of and cleaned up by the time I get back."

"Where are you going?"

Snape raised an eyebrow.  "To make supper."

Harry sat in the chair for a couple more seconds before getting up himself.

‘Snape, cooking.  Snape doing any kind of housework. . .  That's just weird. . .'

  ------------------

The warm soup trickled down his throat, warming him and filling his empty stomach.

Harry sighed in contentment. 

"Nice.  But why soup again?"

Snape fixed him with a look.  "Because it's all that was left."

That sounded like a problem.

"What? But-"

This time he got the ‘don't be so stupid' look from the Professor and instantly regretted his reaction.  Of course Dumbledore wouldn't let them starve.

"I have already alerted the Headmaster to the situation Potter," said Snape as he took a spoonful of his own soup.  "Tomorrow I will be leaving for a few hours in order to meet and catch up with him -no you can't come- I will pick up some supplies then -no I know it isn't fair. Tuff- and will return before the day is out -If you keep looking at me like that I will abandon you here."

Harry huffed.  He never got to do anything!

‘It's okay.  I don't mind sitting in this rotten house day in and day out with no magic and no owls!  You go out and have fun while I just wait here for Voldemort to come and get me!  It's not like my life is in danger or anything!  It has nothing to do with me has I-'

"POTTER!"

Harry jumped.  How could Snape do that!?  It was like the man could read his mind or somethin- !!

"Occlucy!" Harry suddenly declared.

"What?" asked Snape in exasperation.  

"Th- that Occlu- thingy! You're using it on me aren't you!"

The Potions Master rolled his eyes.  "Occlumency, Potter.  And no, I am not using it on you.  For one Occlumency is not the process of entering someone's mind, and secondly I can not see as I would find anything of real value or interest if I ever did decide to enter yours."

"Liar."

"What!?"

"You can tell what I'm thinking far too often," concluded Harry.

Snape's face twisted into what might have been a smile if the man didn't look so annoyed. 

"You are predictable.  That's how I always know," he clarified.

Harry huffed and the two continued eating in silence.

The rain was beating hard against the windows by the time they had finished eating and the distant sound of thunder rolled as the windows flashed with the bursts of light from the sky.

Harry shuddered and curled up on the large armchair.  Snape said nothing, but. . .

"You okay?" questioned Harry.

"Why would you ask?" returned Snape in plain tones.

"Just. .  y'know, wondered."

"I'm fine," finished the Potions Master, but to Harry the older man definitely seemed unsettled. . .

In turn this only succeeded in encouraging the boy's own nerves.  He had never seen restlessness in this man before and the fact that he should witness such emotions now, even on an incredibly low scale, shook up the doubts and fears he'd harboured since they arrived at that house.

"Um, d-do you think we're. . . you know, ‘okay' here?  I mean. . . There aren't any, like, Dementors. . . or anything?"

"Again with the Dementors.  No, Potter.  They cannot get inside these walls."

"B-but they got inside of-!! AGH!"

A huge crash of thunder roared over the house making Harry, and probably Snape, jump. 

The boy pealed his fingertips from the arms of the chair and looked at the Professor in the opposite chair before laughing out loud.

‘This is ridiculous.  It's only a bit of rain and thunder.  There's nothing scary about that.'

Snape just stared at the boy as if he had gone mad.  "Potter, what on earth-?"

Harry couldn't stop laughing.  "I j-just, heh.  I-it's funny.  We're stuck here w-with, the most powerful dark wizard looking to kill us off, a-and, ha-ha, we're being creeped out by a thunder storm! Hahaha."

Snape smirked, but said nothing other than, "Perhaps.  More importantly, however, I believe it would be time for you to take yourself off to bed."

"What!?  But I'm not tired!" said Harry through a yawn.

"Then lay awake.  Either way, bed."

Harry grumbled on his way upstairs about ‘grumpy Slytherins' and ‘who did Snape think he was,' but did as he was told.  It had proved to be far too much hassle to argue with the Potions Master about such things, especially when said Potions Master always won said arguments one way or another. . .

 -----------

Running. . . .  Running as fast as his legs could carry him, and faster still!

Teeth, sharp and deadly. . .

A bone chilling ROAR!!!!!

The sound of thunder echoed in the dark sky.

Harry sat bolt upright and breathed deeply.

He listened with all the heightened instincts of a frightened animal, frozen to the spot as he heard footsteps falling nearer and nearer.

The doorknob turned and the door opened a sliver.

Harry dipped his head, but watched the door unblinkingly. 

A shadow formed in the gap between the door and the rotting walls and a familiar voice sounded.

"Potter, what are you doing in there?"

Harry did not answer and did not avert his gaze.  He knew that voice, but his thoughts where, disorientated. . . .

With the lack of a reply the door opened further and the shadow grew bigger until a solid form emerged within the room.

"I do not take great pleasure in being ignored, what are you do-?  . . .  Why are you looking at me like that?"

Harry cocked his head to the side and regarded the form curiously.  He knew this form, but what was it. . .?

The form stepped forward and Harry jumped backwards on the bed.  He recognised the form, but he did not know enough about it to let it approach just yet.

The form lowered its hand and looked back at him curiously.

"Mr Potter, what is wrong with you?"

Potter. . .  That title was familiar too. . .

The boy mouthed the word quietly as if it where alien to his lips.

"POTTER! Snap out of it!  Who are you?  Tell me your name," the form demanded.

An order.  An order was recognisable.  The form must be a Greater.  The Greater's must always be obeyed.  But. . . name. . . ?

Again, Harry mouthed the word in silent confusion.

"Yes, your name.  What is your name?"

Name. . .  My. . . name?  My name??  My name. . .  My name is. . .

"Harry. . .  My name is. . . Harry. . .  My name is Harry!"

Reality struck as quickly and as harshly as the lightning outside.

"Professor!"

The Professor made his way over to the bed now that the boy was less likely to jump out of the window at his approach.

"This is enough!" muttered Snape.  "When I see the Headmaster later today I will be finding a way to put a stop to all of this!"

"Wh-what's happening?" breathed Harry.

Snape remained quiet for a while before finally admitting, "I don't know."

Harry swallowed and his breathing quickened, but he remained silent.

"I will find a way to end this," Snape stated. 

It sounded like a promise and only added to the boy's confusion. 

"Why?" he whispered as firm hands pushed him to lie down again.

". . . So that I may get one night of blasted peace," answered Snape.

The boy smiled to himself.  "You never say what you're thinking. . ."

The Potions Master glared at him.  "I mean exactly what I say Mr Potter."

"But you don't say what you mean. . ." countered Harry drowsily.

The Professor maintained a stern look, but apparently the upside to being in his weakened state was that a stern look was as far as Snape seemed willing to go. 

In other words, he didn't get told off.

"Go to sleep you insufferable brat."

Harry sunk into the pillow and took a steadying breath.  His anxiety diminished slightly as Snape made no motion to leave, but instead pulled up a chair to sit in.

"You're not leaving?" questioned Harry.  He did not wish to be left alone, but he had not expected the Professor to stay with him.

Snape just grunted as if annoyed.  "You would only disturb me again.  I will be leaving in a few hours anyway."

"What?" asked Harry in alarm.  He defiantly did not wish to be left in the house alone!  And what did he mean, ‘a few hours?'

"It is early morning Potter.  I must meet with the Headmaster later today."  At the boy's anxious look he added irritably, "It will be for a short time.  You will be safe here, providing that you follow the guidelines I set for you."

The boy did not look comforted by the notion and Snape sighed.  "Go to sleep.  You can worry about this when you wake up."

Harry did not know how long he lay staring at the ceiling listening to the Professor's silent presence, but eventually he fell into a peaceful sleep.  

  ---------------

"You will not use magic.  You will not leave the house.  You will not stray from or roam the house, but remain within the three rooms I have already designated.  Do not open any windows, doors or answer any calls from the floo network."

Harry sat on the dust old chair as Snape listed off one rule after another.  If all this was meant to make the boy feel secure, it was failing in its task miserable.  Harry felt more like a prisoner awaiting the arrival of a nameless executioner. . .

"I will return before the lunch hour is over. Potter! Pay, attention!  You have more than enough work to keep you occupied until then, so if I do come back to find you strutting around this house as you do at Hogwarts, Deatheaters will be the very least of your worries."

Harry nodded in understanding.

‘Though technically you were a Deatheater so-‘

"If you need to contact me I hope you at least know how to use a phone," continued Snape as he headed for his desk.

‘A phone??  No flying monkeys?  No, interdimentional warp hole?'

"There is a direct link to me so there is no number to dial."

His hand came to rest next to an empty milk carton as he turned back to face a miserable looking Harry.  "Any questions? No you can't come."

Harry huffed.  "Then no.  No questions.  Oh, except, what if Voldemort shows up and he and his mates decide to throw a wild party with me as the piñata?"

Snape smirked meanly.  "Offer them tea."  So saying the Potions Master grasped the milk carton and was instantly transported to who knows where.

"Except I'm not even ‘permitted' into the kitchen!" Harry grumbled to the empty room.      

The urge to immediately step outside the room in an act to prove that Snape was being paranoid or mean was just as quickly overruled by the thought of, what if Snape wasn't being paranoid or mean and something violent would jump him the second he did leave. 

Knowing Snape the man had probably set something up to keep Harry from wondering anyway. . .

Sighing in resignation Harry lifted himself from the creaky armchair and picked up his note book only to sit back down and begin writing. 

Well. . . actually his ‘note book' was a kind of journal. . .

Snape had made it clear that Harry should start writing down his daily events.  It served as a cross between a revision guide/reference book as he could look back on things and see what he was thinking around the time he found a certain ingredient or spell or recipe. . .

On the other hand it also helped him to keep track of the strange dreams he kept having.  Both the ones that where clearly related to Voldemort and the new ones that, well. . . Whatever they where. . . 

Providing that he remembered them that is. . .

   ---------------

The hours past and Harry stomach signalled that it was lunch time while his mind signalled that he was bored. . .  Very bored. . .

Dropping the severed plant leaves into the examining dish with a huff he flopped into the chair behind him. 

Without much purpose he reached for his quill and scribbled over some of the lines of the various doodles and pictures he had drawn throughout the pages of his ‘note book.'

He had taken to drawing a few things here and there.  First they started off as little doodles to help him remember what something looked like, then he got bored, and now it had become almost a part of his daily entry to add a picture or two to every page.

It was difficult to draw people though. . .  So he had resorted to drawing ‘characters' to represent people. 

He was a lion, to signify Gryffindor.  Ron was a lion too, with an orange mane.  Hermione was a cat. . . 

Snape was a bat at first, but that took too long to draw so he became a snake instead. . . .

That was as far as he'd got really. . .  There weren't many people to write about at the moment.  Quite sad really. . .

A loud crash outside made Harry jump!

Swearing to himself he shakily picked up the ink pot and wiped his hands on a nearby rag.

His eyes darted about the room as he made sure that it was still safe to be there.

More sounds where heard from outside and Harry crept his slowly to the window, keeping himself low to the ground. . .

There was definitely some kind of heated argument going on out there.

He peered over the window ledge and struggled to see through the dirty glass.  He could make out two figures in the musty street before him, mere yards away from the house.  Both seemed to be clad in black robes.

Harry could feel himself shivering.  He wanted to be back at Hogwarts.  He wanted Sirius to be with him. Hell!  He wanted anything but to be in this situation right now!

He couldn't make out the words shared between the two, but he knew that they weren't friendly ones. 

Shifting his head slightly and using the moth-eaten curtains as a kind of shelter from view, Harry looked through one of the cleaner parts of the window and his heart froze with dread.

He could not see the faces of either man, but one was most certainly a Deatheater with the black robes, skeletal mask and wand raised. 

The other. . .  Shoulder length black hair, black cloak and lofty attitude. . .  It was Snape!

To Harry's increasing horror he could see that the Deatheater was the only one with his wand raised, and Snape looked to be in no state to be fighting back. . .

The man's head was held high in defiance, but his body sagged as if his shoulders where too heavy for his legs to carry, and he was gripping what looked to be a severe gash in his wand arm.

Harry panicked.  They must have been alerted by the Portkey magic!  Snape was probably on his way back as they caught him!

Without a second thought about what he was about to do, Harry was tearing through the house heading for the front door.

Ripping the door open he was just in time to see the dark haired being thrown to the floor by a binding curse.

‘No. . .  NO!!!'

Harry rushed forward.  The Deatheater noticed him, but not in time to prepare himself for Harry tackling him to the ground.

In a frenzied panic Harry threw punch after punch at the screaming figure below him. 

The end of the pained grunts and groans of the Deatheater told Harry that the man had passed out and left the boy sitting there breathing in ragged breaths.

"Are you alright Professor?" he panted.

"Never better."

The voice was chilling and Harry's breathing once again froze within his chest as he looked over to the man now kneeling, completely free from the curse and staring back at the boy unpleasantly.

Harry knew his mistake as he looked into the cold eyes of the man before him.

"No. . . ."