"And now Potter, it's time to learn your third lesson."

The words that came out of Snape's mouth next shocked him so thoroughly, he couldn't move.

"Avada Kedavra."

In that instant, Harry was convinced, beyond any doubt at all, that Snape had finally cracked and he, Harry, was going to die. Harry's mind went completely blank.

It was amazing what being faced with imminent death made one's mind latch onto because in the very next moment, he wondered whether Snape would be proud that he had finally managed to clear his mind.

His eyes were closed, waiting for the curse to hit. He expected to be dead any second and all he could think was how stupid he felt for being so very wrong about Snape.

Seconds ticked by. Harry wondered if he was already dead or if time just seemed to slow down when death was imminent. If he opened his eyes, would he still see the curse hurtling toward him? Or would he see the afterlife, whatever that looked like.

He was afraid to open his eyes but even more afraid not to. What if he were dead? What if he never got to see Ron and Hermione again? Who would take care of Hedwig? Who would warn the Order about Snape's mental health? What if he saw his parents and Sirius?

His eyes shot open. There was no bright light. There were no ghosts come to welcome him. There was no green spell hurtling toward him. There was only Snape.

Potter's mouth opened and closed several times. Severus thought he looked like a fish out of water trying to draw in air. His own arms were crossed and he knew there was a frown on his face. He glanced idly at the wall far above Potter's head where the spell had landed - quite on purpose. There was no mark at all on the wall from the curse, but Severus hadn't expected there to be. That curse was meant for the living only. His eyes moved back down to rest on Potter. Potter had not reacted well at all. He allowed for the fact that that particular curse from him would be shocking. But really, after the curse had been spoken, he had expected Potter to do...something. Not just stand there in shock and then close his damned eyes and stand there for nearly ten more seconds.

"The third lesson Potter, is to move," he spat, letting Potter hear his disappointment.

Oh. That wasn't very good. Harry stared at Snape for a few heartbeats, trying to wrap his mind around his meaning. Move. Right. Harry's head dropped and he stared at his shoes in frustration. Of all the stupid things to do! He had known that. Why did his common sense leave when it was Snape of all people? The second, the very second that he had heard the curse uttered, he had believed it was coming for him. But there had been time to dodge or duck. He had done it before in other situations with other curses. He didn't make any excuses for himself though. When he had heard Snape say the very first syllable of that curse, his mind had screamed at him that this was a hostile situation and he should react accordingly. But he had been too stuck in the notion that he couldn't speak to cast a spell that he had just taken it.

His mind turned to one of the other times someone had tried to use the killing curse on him. This night wasn't the first time he had ever thought of the night Cedric had died and Voldemort had risen again, but it was the first night that he allowed himself to think of it objectively. Every other time, he had been too preoccupied with wishing he hadn't grabbed that portkey, or he had been filled disgust and guilt at how easily Pettigrew had killed Cedric, or with how amazing it was that part of his parent's essences had come out of Voldemort's wand. But he had never before judged his performance in that duel. He had just been grateful to live. Now he forced himself to judge his actions and what he found left him wanting in the way of skills.

The killing curse had no block. But when Voldemort had yelled it at him, he had yelled Expelliarmus back and stood his ground. If those wands hadn't connected...Harry shuddered. He forced himself to analyze what he should have done. What had Snape done when he dodged the fourth spell Harry had cast in succession during their last duel? He must have felt that he couldn't hold the shield so he had side stepped. But even moving, he had thrown a curse back.

Harry abruptly raised his face to Snape's, his eyes widening in understanding. That was a very important lesson. He wondered if Snape knew how important and illuminating that lesson had been and then promptly waved that aside. Of course Snape knew. He probably had even better an idea why that lesson was so important. Harry had the distinct impression that Snape was no raw recruit when it came to battle.

"So Potter. Your natural inclination when you hear that curse is to freeze?"

"No," he answered sulkily, but in his mind, he was going over every time that he had heard those words being uttered. Snape would not leave him alone though. He seemed to know what he was thinking.

"You're thinking about it aren't you? Every time you've ever heard that spell. How could you not? I remember every time anyone has ever yelled that curse at me. So tell me Potter, tell me what you did each time that green light sped toward you. Were you just lucky or did you actually move?"

"I was just lucky I guess," Harry answered, shuffling his feet and shoving his hands in his pockets.

"No Potter! Do this right. Force yourself to examine your reactions. Learn to despise those that are second-class. From the beginning Potter."

"I don't remember the first time, not really," Harry said quietly, thinking of the night his parents had died. "I suppose the next time I heard it was when that man was killed in my dreams."

"What man?" Snape asked.

"His name was Frank Bryce. Vol..." Snape's glare intensified and he instead said, "He, You-Know-Who, killed him in my dreams. Only it wasn't a dream."

"And when was this?" Snape asked him quietly, but Harry didn't miss the anger in his voice.

"In my fourth year; actually, the summer before. But I thought it was a dream!" Harry said when Snape's arms uncrossed and the man's hands clenched.

"And did you tell anyone about this dream Potter?"

Ooh, Harry didn't like this at all. "I told Sirius," he whispered. "And Ron and Hermione."

Snape's eyes closed for a brief moment. That stupid mutt, he thought. When he opened them again, his face was completely blank. "Very well," he said curtly. "And the next time?"

"When Pettigrew killed Cedric." Harry was embarrassed by how his voice cracked at the end. But if he expected Snape to have any mercy, he might as well be waiting for Voldemort to declare himself reformed and ready to hand himself over to the ministry.

"And the next?" This time, Snape seemed impatient. It was clear to Harry that Snape didn't want to hear about other people being killed. He wanted to hear how Harry had reacted to the spell.

"When He made me duel him in the graveyard, after he had...um, come out of the cauldron thing." Snape nodded for him to go on. "He used that curse."

"And you did what?"

"I messed up and got lucky," Harry said, dropping his head again.

"Indeed?"

"I tried to disarm him but I didn't move out of the way. The only thing that saved me was our wands connecting."

Snape nodded and Harry remembered that Snape had heard what had happened. He was just making Harry repeat it all with a different emphasis.

"And then," Harry continued, this time not even waiting for Snape to encourage him, "last month at the department of mysteries." Harry had to stop at the reminder of how soon all of that had been. Had it only been a month since he had led his friends to what could have been their deaths? A month since Sirius had died? A few days since Snape had rescued him? Harry felt a lump in his throat but swallowed it back down and focused.

"One of the Death Eaters tried to kill Hermione with it but I tackled him."

"Is that all?"

"No," Harry said in a strangled voice. He really didn't want further proof that he was incompetent. "He used it on me there."

"Did he?" Snape asked quietly. Harry glanced up and noted that Snape had resumed his crossed arm stance. But where before, he had seemed completely relaxed, this time his hands were clenched around the fabric of his sleeves.

Harry nodded.

"And what did you do?"

"I completely froze."

"Yet you live. Tell me. Are you immune to the curse? Is that why you just stand there?"

"No." Harry shook his head and swallowed another lump in his throat. Now that he was forced to remember it, he realized that of the two times that he had been in the line of that curse and able to appreciate it and respond, he had froze both times. "No, the Headmaster blocked it with one of the statues from the atrium."

There was silence for several seconds. Harry felt dejected and weak. The cold from the floor had crept through his socks and now he realized that his feet were numb with cold. He shifted from foot to foot, hoping to restore feeling. But his mind was too occupied to focus on that. Was this part of training then? Going back through every battle and being forced to see his own stupidity time and again?

"Get your shoes on Potter."

Harry nodded jerkily and obeyed, not once looking at Snape. He really didn't want to see Snape's disgust. He sat on the floor and pulled his shoes on. His mind was so preoccupied by his own failures that he made a mess of his trainer's ribbons and only belatedly realized that he had tied them both into ugly knots.

"That's enough Potter. Get off the floor." Snape didn't sound upset or taunting, but Harry was so upset with himself that he imagined what he thought he deserved to hear in that voice. It was easy when Snape's tone was almost always close to sniping anyway.

"Look at me Potter," Snape said when Harry was standing again.

Harry raised his eyes slowly. He expected to see scorn on Snape's face. Instead, Snape was watching him with the same kind of concentration he had with particularly difficult experimental potions.

"You freeze when you hear the killing curse directed at yourself." Harry's eyes widened slightly at the lack of accusation in that voice and he nodded in agreement. "Now that we know, we'll fix it. Is that understood?"

Harry nodded, something very close to hope forming in his chest. Hope that Snape could help him and hope that Snape didn't think he was completely weak because of it. In that very moment, he wanted nothing more than to prove to Snape that he wasn't weak; that he could learn and get better.

Snape started walking for the door and held it open for Harry. "I believe dinner time has come and gone Mr. Potter."

Harry hadn't even realized before, but at the mention of food, his stomach gave a loud growl and he looked up sheepishly.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Come Potter. Let's go eat."

Harry noticed within the first minute of trailing Snape that they weren't heading back to the apartments. "Where are we going?" he asked.

Snape put a hand to his brow and rubbed his forehead absentmindedly for a moment. Harry wondered if the man had a headache and winced in sympathy. He knew he would if he had had the day Snape had. The man had just gotten back from a funeral a few hours ago.

And then dueled him with ease and taught him a few lessons besides. Wasn't the man ever off his game?

"We'll eat in the kitchens tonight," Snape answered.

Harry perked up a little. Maybe Dobby was in tonight. But did he really want Snape seeing Dobby and he interact? Harry did the equivalent of a mental shrug. There wasn't much he could do about that if it happened.

It wasn't until they had made it to the hallway with the painting of the ticklish pear that Snape spoke again. He peered out of the corner of his eye down at Harry and frowned. "Did you need something tonight Potter?"

"What?" He had taken Harry completely off guard and he didn't know what Snape meant.

"When you came to the training room. Were you looking for me for some reason?" Snape sounded impatient with having to explain himself.

"Oh!" Uh oh, Harry thought. "No, well kind of. I didn't need anything. I was just wondering where you were so I went for a walk and heard you."

Harry knew he wasn't good at lying, but it was pretty close to the truth. And luckily Snape wasn't looking directly at him. He seemed preoccupied actually.

"Hmm. How were Moody and Lupin today then?"

"Fine, I guess. Moody wanted to go to your rooms." Harry glanced at Snape guiltily. He had thought at the time that Snape didn't care if Moody knew about the wards or not, but maybe he had been wrong. He hoped not.

"Yes, I expect he did," Snape said with a smirk.

Harry cleared his throat nervously and Snape shot him a suspicious look. "I, um, told him what you told me. About you not wanting him in your rooms."

Snape didn't look like he gave a damn. "And?"

"Oh, nothing. I just thought you'd want to know is all."

Snape nodded. By then they were standing in front of the door to the kitchens. Snape ran his finger along the pear and the door swung open.

Inside, the kitchens were much less busy than during the school year. There were only a handful of House Elves down there and half of them were just sitting on stools working on little projects like knitting or polishing spoons. One stood by a spotless oven, wiping it down. At the sight of their visitors, they jumped up in excitement though.

"Professor Snape!" they called out nearly in unison. Dobby didn't seem to be there but Winky was standing in the corner, watching Snape with an expression of fearful hope. She showed no sign whatsoever of recognizing Harry at first.

Snape's eyes swept over the House Elves standing before him, all of them eager to serve. His eyes stopped on Winky and she swept a low curtsy.

"We require a light dinner," he spoke directly to Winky. The rest of the House Elves' ears drooped and they went back to their tasks, occasionally looking back up as though they were just waiting for the two of them to need something else.

"As you wish Master Snape. Is there anything special Winky can be getting you?"

"Whatever was served for dinner tonight will suffice." Winky went to work immediately and Snape led Harry over to the table and gestured for him to take a seat.

Snape leaned back in his chair and watched Winky warm their dinner up. When she was done, she set it reverently before his place. "Will Master Snape be requiring anything else from Winky?" Snape shook his head and she practically skipped off to get Harry's dinner.

Harry watched in astonishment as Winky returned and placed the meal in front of him. She was respectful and Harry even saw recognition in her eyes finally, but she was nowhere near as worshipping of Harry as she was of Snape. "And Master Potter? Does he be needing anything else?"

"No, thank you Winky."

He was confused when she nodded almost as curtly as Snape usually did and went back to her work in the corner. It looked like she was...

"Is that your shirt she's mending?" Harry exclaimed.

Of course, it was possible that it was someone else's. But how many other of the castle's current occupants had black frock coats with so many buttons.

Snape glanced over and then back. "It is," he answered as he began to eat his meal.

Winky might have brought them leftovers, but it seemed no less delicious than every other meal that Hogwarts served. There was a roast that was drizzled with some kind of mushroom sauce, roast potatoes and Yorkshire pudding. On a side plate she had stuffed green beans, biscuits and some kind of cheese and beef casserole. Harry now knew why Snape had stressed the word ‘light'. No doubt if he hadn't, Winky would have brought them all the leftovers she could find and then made more food for good measure.

Harry looked up at Snape from time to time during the meal. The man finished the roast, ate two roast potatoes and half the green beans. When he made it to the Yorkshire pudding, he took three bites and then set down his cutlery and sat back with his hands resting on his abdomen. Harry had already finished off the roast, the pudding, his potatoes and he was making progress on his casserole. Though he was feeling a bit full.

Winky jumped up when she saw Snape had stopped and brought him a cup of coffee and took away his plates with only a nod from Snape. When Harry sat back a few minutes later, feeling stuffed, she took his plates and then reappeared with a tumbler of juice.

"Is Master Potter wanting dessert?"

Dessert? That actually sounded quite good, even if he was full. But before he could even ask what was on the menu, Snape spoke up.

"That will be all."

Winky bowed low. "Thank you Master Snape." Snape nodded and she went back to her mending looking very pleased with herself. The last time Harry had seen her, she'd been drunk and crying.

Harry didn't know what to make of it. Snape wasn't nice to her. He was curt, bossy and, well, Snape-like. And she seemed to worship him if her expression was anything to go by. Harry made a mental note to ask Dobby about that next time he saw him. This was just weird.

Snape took his time drinking his coffee and Harry made another mental note; Snape enjoyed coffee...a lot. The only time he was still and relaxed for more than seconds at a time was when he was drinking a cup of coffee. The closest he got otherwise was when he was brewing. Although Harry had to admit, Snape seemed equally comfortable doing anything else. But when he was enjoying a cup of coffee, it seemed like he was taking the time to really relax. Harry felt something like relief that Snape displayed even this small sign of being something other than soldier or scholar.

"So," Harry said, starting to feel uncomfortable with the silence. Though he supposed Snape was as happy saying nothing as he was speaking. "Um, Winky seems happier."

Snape glanced over to the corner where Winky was working. He made a noncommittal sound in his throat and went back to paying attention to his coffee.

Harry didn't try to speak again. It was clear Snape didn't feel like it and anything Harry had to say or ask wouldn't put him in a better mood. Harry had learned the hard way that personal questions were not welcome.

After five minutes, Snape set his cup down firmly and stood. Winky shot out of her chair and ran for the door, her bare little feet slapping loudly on the stone floor all the way. She said nothing as Snape left but bowed low. Harry followed behind, still wondering what Snape could have done to Winky to affect such a change.

When they made it back to their rooms, Snape told him to get to bed and took himself off. Harry went to his rooms and settled on his bed, thinking about all he had learned that day. He wondered what Ron and Hermione would say if they knew what Harry was doing with his summer. He could just imagine it. "What did you do this summer Harry?" "Oh, you know, the usual. Rabastan Lestrange caught me and Voldemort tried to break into my head. Then Snape rescued me and that was wicked. Then I spent the summer with Snape and we're like chums now." Harry snorted. Yeah right.

Then he slapped a hand to his head. He had never written Ron and Hermione! Snape said he could if he didn't say where he was or who he was staying with...or give any information that would help someone deduce his whereabouts. He wondered if Snape would want to read it first.

Harry was tired though; mentally and physically. His muscles were starting to ache from being thrown around by Snape in that duel, if you could call it that. And his head was starting to pound from all the emotional ups and downs of the day. He was sincerely surprised he hadn't died of shock when Snape had fooled him with that killing curse.

He'd just get up early and write Ron and Hermione before breakfast. Then he could ask Snape if he could send it while they ate. He was eager to hear back from them. He wondered what they were up to. Hermione was still in Italy according to the Headmaster. He'd wager she was having fun. And Ron was probably playing Quidditch with his brothers and sister if they were in.

Usually those thoughts filled him with jealousy. But right then, Harry didn't mind so much. Sure, he'd like to play Quidditch. But staying with Snape was turning out far more interesting than any other summer he had ever had. And it wasn't nearly as bad as he thought it would be. Snape wasn't easy to talk to and they had already had words, but really, this was far more than he had expected of Snape. The man even referred to this place as ‘our rooms'. The only other place that anyone had ever called ‘ours' had been the Gryffindor common rooms.

Yes, he would write Ron and Hermione tomorrow morning, maybe read some more of Snape's book during the day and see what Snape was up to. Maybe if he got lucky, Hagrid would be back tomorrow or the next day.

Harry thought about all that as he turned down the lamps and got ready for bed. He climbed under his covers stiffly, wincing as his muscles protested. He yawned as his head hit the pillow. This bed really was very comfortable. It was far better than his lumpy old mattress at the Dursleys. And the food here was better too, in quantity and quality; even if Snape didn't make a big deal out of meals like Molly Weasley did. His mind was drifting through these thoughts as he slipped closer and closer to a calm sleep.

And then he remembered, I used magic today. OH NO! It's the summer holidays. Harry groaned as he shot up in his bed. Was he going to be expelled or have to go to a trial now? He allowed the worry to work on him, turning the blood in his veins to ice. What would he do if he couldn't go to Hogwarts? That was just unthinkable. And whom would he stay with? Could he still stay with Snape even if he wasn't a student?

An image of Snape kneeling before him covered in blood, and chasing the Dark Lord out of his mind flashed through his head. Snape. Snape would take care of it. He wouldn't let Harry be expelled, not when he had offered to teach him. In the back of his mind was the thought that Snape wouldn't let it happen just because he cared about what happened to Harry, even if Snape didn't like him...yet. Intent Spells couldn't lie right? But he didn't latch onto that thought because if felt so slippery to him, as though if he grabbed it, he'd find out it wasn't true at all. For some reason, the very idea filled him with sadness.

He'd ask Snape in the morning, but just then, he felt much better about it. No matter what happened, Snape would figure something out in the morning. This time when Harry's head hit the pillow, he fell asleep within minutes.