Harry was still muzzy from his nap in the car.  He barely noted Snape's dismissal of the driver, who was disturbed by the idea of forsaking his clients in the middle of the narrow, empty street. Snape had calmly reassured him that they would be met shortly by a local driver.  Harry didn't comment on Snape's surreptitious wand movements or the whispered spell that sent the driver on his way with altered, rather vague memories of his former passengers.

Harry stared around at their surroundings.  They stood on a worn cobblestoned street on the outskirts of what appeared to be a small village. . .although village was perhaps a generous label.  It was more like an untidy hodgepodge of tiny shops and cottages, scattered haphazardly around an old church and cemetery.  He could smell the sea and hear the faint sigh of waves in the distance. It was too dark to see much; light shone in the windows of a few of the cottages, and Harry could see more swaying lights, out on what he guessed were fishing boats beyond the quay.  But the buildings were quaint and rundown, some clearly abandoned, and a dull quiet enveloped the place with an almost wistful dreariness. Even in the murky light, Harry got an impression of a once-fashionable resort town that had outlived its popularity and fallen into faded obscurity.

When Snape turned and began stalking down the street away from the town, Harry stumbled after him.  He was too groggy to ask questions at first; keeping up with the professor's long stride took most of his concentration.   The cobblestones dwindled away after a short distance, replaced by a narrow dirt lane that wound its way up a long slope that stretched away from the sea.  The slow but steady climb was tiring but the cool night air did wake him somewhat, and Harry began to look around with renewed interest.

A crescent moon in the clear black sky provided enough light to see the road under his feet, but left the countryside around them shrouded in gloom.  Harry had a feeling there was little to see anyway.  The shoreline seemed to be strewn with modest beachfront cottages and caravan parks as far as the eye could see, but the slope was windswept and strangely desolate. The crown of the slope revealed more long, low hills, sparsely dotted with indeterminate clumps of shadow he guessed were farm buildings or cottages.  Although it was barely past nine by Harry's old watch, only a few lights twinkled in the dark landscape.  It seemed a sleepy rural setting, much quieter than he was accustomed to.

He glanced back over his shoulder as they crested the first rise, glimpsing the small cluster of buildings they had left below.  Beside the village, a white curve of beach glowed dimly in the moonlight. A pale glimmer of languid waves was all that defined the fathomless black void that was the night sea beyond.  The lonely sight made Harry feel small and isolated and he turned from the scene with a shiver.  He hastened to catch up to his silent companion.  Snape might not be genial or talkative, but his solid presence gave Harry a firm sense of familiarity and security, and he took comfort from the wizard's austere company.

When they had climbed the third slope, the lane turned south, mirroring the coastline for some distance until it faded out of view. To Harry's surprise, Snape left the lane and struck out across open land to the north.  Harry gamely followed him across dense grassy fields crisscrossed by a rambling network of low stone walls.  As he was scrambling over yet another of the seemingly countless rocky barriers, Harry twitched his nose and spoke for the first time since leaving the hired car.

"What is that smell?"

Snape reached for his arm, helping him over the crumbling stone hurdle.  "These are pastures," he replied blandly.

Harry brushed off his jeans and squinted at him. "Pastures?  Pastures for what?"

"Sheep, of course," Snape snorted softly as if the answer was obvious.

"Sheep? There are sheep out here?" Harry glanced around nervously, as if expecting to see a sudden stampede emerging from the shadows.

"Not in this particular paddock," Snape smirked slightly at Harry's anxious look.  "We're crossing only unoccupied enclosures. . .I have no wish to startle someone's flocks."

"Oh." Harry peered around suspiciously.  He wouldn't put it past Snape to lead him straight into a pen full of sheep just to prank him.

"There's no need to be fearful," Snape continued across the next field.  "They won't harm you."

"I'm not afraid!!" Harry snapped crossly, a bit embarrassed.

"The local farmers raise mainly Cheviot or Suffolk breeds," Snape lectured pedantically, ignoring his protest.  "These breeds are hornless, and quite docile.  You'll want to stay clear of the rams, however.  They are large and can be rather aggressive. This time of year they are kept away from the ewes, in separate enclosures. I recommend you stay out of their paddocks, if you don't want to end up knocked on your posterior and trampled on."

Harry was quiet for a moment, processing this interesting, if slightly alarming information. He wondered wryly if there was any topic the bookish professor wasn't an expert on?  He's worse than Hermione!  Where does a potions professor get off knowing so much about sheep, for Merlin's sake?  "Are there sheep on this farm where we're staying?"

"Yes, it's the main enterprise of the farm.  They grow some grain crops, and raise other livestock as well, but it's primarily a sheep farm."

Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust.  "If there aren't any sheep in this paddock, why does it smell so bad?"  He could have sworn he heard the man chuckle, but decided it must have been a passing bird or a field mouse or something.

"I suspect that a flock was only recently moved from this field.  Their waste is still fresh," Snape answered wryly.

"Waste?" Harry frowned, then gaped in sudden comprehension, halting abruptly. He raised one foot and glared at the dark smear on the bottom of his shoe with revulsion. "Ewww!" he scowled at Snape's amused sneer.  "You could have warned me, you know!"

"You could have watched where you were stepping," Snape countered mildly. 

"How?  It's too bloody dark to see anything out here!" Harry complained, balancing awkwardly on one foot while trying to scrape the other on the stubbly grass.

"Language, Mr. Potter," Snape scolded, grasping Harry's elbow to steady him. "What did you expect to find in a sheep pasture?"

"How would I know?" Harry whined, scuffing his feet fiercely and glowering.  "Sheep are a bit scarce in Little Whinging, in case you didn't know!"

"Then I am glad our excursion is proving to be so educational." Snape released his arm and strode off again, leaving Harry to stomp after him, grumbling under his breath.  If Snape heard Harry's unflattering and nastily inventive mutterings, he didn't acknowledge them.

When they climbed yet another stone wall, Harry was relieved to find a narrow dirt road at their feet. Snape turned right and followed it, Harry trailing tiredly behind.  It could scarcely be called a road, Harry realized.  It was more like an abandoned track or path, somewhat overgrown with disuse.  He could barely make out two ancient ruts that marked the passage of old carts or wagons.  A tall hedgerow of brambles grew wild along the left side of the track, apparently bordering a stream that Harry couldn't see but could hear gurgling in the dark.  His guess was confirmed when an opening abruptly appeared in the hedge, revealing a sturdy stone bridge that crossed the wide stream.  A gravel drive spread beyond the bridge, leading to several unlit buildings grouped together.  

Harry glanced hopefully at Snape, but the wizard continued past the bridge without comment.  Remembering a recent American film he'd heard Dudley talking about, Harry had an almost irresistible urge to start chanting "Are we there yet? Are we there yet?"  but he stuffed that urge away in that part of his mind where his especially daft ideas lived.  Snape would neither appreciate nor understand the reference, and Harry would feel like a fool trying to explain it.  Instead, he politely offered an observation that had occurred to him some minutes ago.

"I thought you said this place was only a 2 km walk."

"It is."

 "Surely we've walked that far already?"

"The property boundary is 2 km from the village," Snape replied calmly, giving him a wry look.  "We've been on the property for the last twenty minutes."

"Huh?"  Harry was too tired for eloquence.

"The cottage is about half a kilometer down this road," Snape said, his tone almost sympathetic.  "I know you're tired, but it isn't much further."  When Harry only nodded wearily, Snape seemed to feel a need to offer additional explanation. . . either that or he decided to talk to keep Harry awake a little longer.

"It was important for our safety that we not use any magic once we left the ferry - that's why I hired the Muggle car and driver.  But I didn't want anyone to witness our final destination. . . even memory charms, like Oblivate, can sometimes be overcome by a powerful Legilimens.  That's why I chose to walk from the village."

"A powerful what?"

"Legilimens. . . a person trained with the ability to extract emotions and memories from another person's mind," Snape waved dismissively.  "That is a subject for another discussion.  The point is, these measures ensure that no one can follow our magical signatures, or discover our whereabouts.  Once we are behind the wards on the cottage, our magic will be undetectable."

"You mean the wards don't cover the whole property?"

"There are basic protective wards around the entire property, to safeguard from harm everyone associated with the farm. But the stronger, more complicated wards...particularly the Notice-Me-Not and Muggle-repelling charms, are only on the main house.  Remember, the farm manager and his family are Muggles.  It would a bit difficult for them to run a farm they couldn't find, wouldn't it?"

Harry snickered at the mental image that comment prompted.

"The bridge we just passed leads to the  manager's house and most of the farm structures - the barns and such.  The working portion of the farm begins at the public lane and extends up to the main house wards. . . about 24 hectares - or 60 acres. The main house sits upon an additional 4 hectares - roughly 10 acres. That portion is not only warded and unplottable, it is protected under a Fidelius Charm.  Do you know what that is?"

Harry nodded, his face growing grim.  "My parents were under that charm.  It didn't save them," he grumbled darkly.

"Their Secret Keeper betrayed them," Snape agreed sourly, then he stopped and turned Harry to face him, searching his countenance with an odd expression. "That won't happen here," he claimed firmly.

"How do you know?"

"Because I am the Secret Keeper," Snape replied.  "No one can find the cottage unless I tell them where it is.  Only you and I will know its location, and even when you know, you won't be able to tell anyone.  Only I can do that."

Harry studied the unfamiliar hazel eyes that stared back at him and wished he could see behind the glamour  to the coal black eyes he trusted.  "What about the farm manager. . .he must know where it is?"

"He and his family know a house lies beyond the gates, but they cannot see it or speak of it.  Even if one of them could get past the Muggle charms and wards, they still couldn't see it. . .they would only see ruined foundations of a cottage believed to have burned down a century ago."  Snape squeezed his shoulder gently, his transformed face a mask of detachment. "I don't want you to be concerned.  As long as you are behind those wards, nothing can harm you.  No one will know where you are, except me."

Harry nodded thoughtfully.  "And your friend."

"Friend?"

"The man who owns the house. . .he knows we're staying here, right?"

"He does, yes. . .but even he cannot tell anyone.  And he wouldn't betray us if he could."

Harry squinted at him.  "You must trust him a lot."

Snape almost smirked.  "I trust him as much as I trust myself. . .perhaps more."

This was good enough for Harry, and he said so.  As Snape resumed their trek, Harry trudged willing beside him.  He realized that for all his moods and tempers, Snape had really gone to a great deal of trouble to protect him.  He felt a strange warmth spread through his chest.  He wasn't quite sure what to make of this, but he decided to enjoy it while it lasted. 

To Harry's relief, the worn track finally came to an end in front of a large rusty iron gate.  A tall stone wall spread out on either side, disappearing into the surrounding darkness.  A tarnished padded lock hung from the gate.  Snape turned to Harry and spoke slowly and quietly.  "Listen to me carefully.  Our safe haven is Fen Barrow, Lower Killegran, south of Knockroe Way. Can you remember that?"

"Uhm. . ." Harry blinked dazedly at him. 

Snape sighed.  "Never mind.  I'll write it down for you later and you can memorize it."  He turned back to the gate, which Harry discovered was no longer tarnished and rusty, but gleamed shiny black in the moonlight. The padlock had also transformed, into a white marble plaque with letters etched into it in a language Harry didn't recognize.  "Put your hand next to mine, palm against the marble," Snape instructed.  As soon as his palm touched the cool marble, Harry felt a weird flare of energy race down his arm and over his body like a cold flame.  He gasped, but didn't remove his hand until the energy faded and Snape dropped his own hand from the plaque. "You are now keyed to the wards," Snape explained, pushing open the gates without effort.  "You can come and go without my assistance, and the wards will notify you if any danger arises."  He turned to Harry with a fathomless expression, his voice low, lacking any hint of sarcasm. "Welcome to Fen Barrow, Harry."

----- ----- ----- ----- -----

Harry stepped through the gates and stared wearily down a long dusty drive between two rows of trees.  He could barely make out some sort of structure huddling in the dark at the end of the driveway.  He heard the gate shut behind him and Snape sighed very softly. He could have almost cried with relief when Snape declared, "I believe we'd best speed this up now, before you fall asleep at the gates, eh?" and slipped his arms around Harry. 

With a swift squeeze and a sharp popping noise, Harry found himself stumbling a bit in Snape's grasp, in front of a simple, moderately-sized cottage.  The walls were gray stone and it had a steep, thatched roof with two small dormer windows. There was a stone chimney on the left side and a small window on the right, and in the middle was a plain wooden door painted a deep scarlet.  Much to Harry's surprise, it looked like a perfectly ordinary cottage - similar to scores he had seen scattered across the Irish countryside on the drive down from Dun Laoghaire. "What? No dungeon? No moat?" he muttered wryly to himself.

"What was that?" Snape asked.

"Nothing."

When Snape opened the door to usher him in, Harry's final reserve of energy seemed to give out at last, and he staggered into the tiny foyer with bleary eyes.  He almost didn't notice the tiny house elf dressed in a bright green pillowcase, bouncing slightly on his toes in front of them.

"Welcome, Master Westlake!" the elf crowed happily.  "It is excellent to be seeing you again!"

"Thank you, Mercup.  It is good to see you as well," Snape replied, closing the door and setting down his travel bag. "Mercup, this is my ward, Master Cary Westlake."

"Welcome, Young Master!  Welcome to Fen Barrow!" Mercup chirped, snatching up the carryon.  "Can Mercup be getting the good Masters anything?  Some tea?  A light supper, perhaps?"

Snape stared critically at Harry's pale face.  "Are you hungry, Cary? Or would you rather go right to sleep?"

"Not hungry," Harry yawned, peering about with drowsy curiosity.  He had a vague impression of stone floors, low ceilings with exposed beams, and white plastered walls, but was too tired to really take in his surroundings.

"Right," Snape said crisply.  "I would very much enjoy a cup of tea, Mercup, but first I think I'd best get my ward into bed."

"Yes, Master Westlake!  Mercup has your rooms all ready.  I prepared the east room for the young master, just as you requested, sir.  May Mercup help the young master retire?"

"I can handle it, thank you.  Perhaps later you can unpack for Master Cary. . .everything in the bag belongs to him," Snape replied evenly as he guided Harry across the foyer.

"Of course, Master Westlake. I'll do that as soon as your tea is ready, Master Westlake," the elf nodded happily and popped out of sight.

Harry blinked up at the open wooden stairs before him.  They were narrow and steep, almost like a ladder and Snape put a steadying hand at his back as he started up. It's like climbing up a lighthouse or into a tree house, Harry thought dazedly.  They reached a small landing and turned right, climbing again to a narrow hallway at the top.  Snape opened a door to the right.  "This is your room, Cary," Snape stated succinctly, emphasizing the name slightly.  Harry nodded, understanding that they were to use the aliases from this point on.  He followed the wizard into the room and stared around gawking in amazement.

The room was oddly shaped, but fairly roomy.  The wood paneled ceiling was steeply slanted in the front and back. The furnishings were simple and homey, painted white, which lightened what otherwise might have been a dark room.  To the left of the door, a wrought iron single bed nestled under the eaves, with a matching nightstand beside it.  Across from the door, a large antique wardrobe stood against the outer stone wall.  Harry peeked around a corner to the right to discover a small desk, chair and bookcase, snuggled into a nook in front of the dormer window. The bed was made up in soft white linens and a bright quilt in splashes of red, blue and tan.  The floor was fashioned from wide wood planks, highly polished, and set off with a red and tan braided oval rug. A red and blue striped valance hung over the dormer window, with a matching cushion on the chair. The bright colors and white furniture gave the cozy room a cheery, inviting effect and brass oil lanterns burned warmly on the desk and night stand. 

Snape stood by the door, watching Harry's reactions. "I hope the accommodations will prove satisfactory," he said coolly.

Harry beamed at him.  "It's brilliant!"  He glanced back at the bed and looked up, gasping in amazement. "A skylight?!"

Snape smirked, pleased by his enjoyment.  "The cottage is quite old, but was renovated in the last decade. Most of the original charm was carefully preserved, but the owner did add a few contemporary innovations, including modern wizard plumbing and two skylights to bring a bit more light into the upstairs."

Harry grinned.  "It's wonderful!  I'll be able to see the stars right from my bed!"

"That door leads to your bathroom."

Harry opened the door beside the desk which lead to a small, old-fashioned, but very pleasant bathroom.  The tiles, sink and toilet were white, as was the interior of the claw-footed tub, but much to his amusement, the tub exterior had been finished in a bright cobalt blue. A matching blue rug graced the floor and fresh blue towels hung ready for use.

"Oh, sir!  I don't know what to say!" Harry stared about, hugging himself with excitement.  "It's the grandest room I've ever seen!"

"I hope it will prove comfortable," Snape demurred.  "My bedroom door is at the end of the hallway, if you should need me in the night.  Our two suites make up the entire first floor.  I will give you a tour of the whole house tomorrow, but if you should awaken before me, you'll find the dining room on the ground floor - left at the bottom of the stairs.  Now, why don't you get yourself ready for bed?" Snape suggested, in a tone that indicated he expected compliance.  "You should find all the essential toiletries in the bathroom.  I'll locate some pajamas for you and send them in directly."

"Yes, sir!"  Harry hurried off to the bathroom, eager to prove he could obey and was worthy of all his professor had done for him.  He found a new toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo and soap in the cabinet above the sink, just as Snape had predicted. The tub looked inviting but he was too tired to bother so he settled for a quick wash up.  He had just finished brushing his teeth when a set of the new pajamas he had bought in Liverpool popped into the room and neatly hung themselves on a hook by the door.  Harry changed quickly and went back into the bedroom, his dirty clothes bundled in his hands.  "What should I do with these, sir?" he yawned.

"You'll find a hamper on the floor of the linen closet in the bathroom.  If you put your soiled things in there, Mercup will tend to them,"  Snape motioned him to the bed.  "I'll take care of them this time - you get into bed.  You're nearly asleep on your feet," he scolded mildly. 

Harry happily complied, noting that Snape had unshrunk his trunk and placed it at the foot of his bed.  His new robe and slippers rested on top.  The soft bed proved every bit as comfy as it looked, and Harry slid under the clean sheets with a contented sigh.  The quilt was warm and smelled of sunshine and fresh air and the fluffy pillow was like laying his head on a cloud.  Harry gazed up at the skylight with a blissful smile.  He knew the cottage didn't actually belong to Snape, but he still hadn't expected to be given a bedroom that was so cheerful and pleasant. He had been a bit surprised when Snape didn't sneer at the bright colors and homey décor.

Not Snape, he reminded himself.  I have to stop using that name.

He drowsily studied the wizard when he returned from the bathroom and stopped to extinguish the lamp on the little desk.

"Sir? May I ask you something?"

Snape stalked over to the bed and looked down at him suspiciously.  "What is it, P-Cary?" Snape corrected himself irritably.

"What should I call you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're supposed to be my guardian, aren't you?  What name should I call you?   I can't just call you Sir, or Professor.  If I've lived with you since I was five, then I would call you by something more. . .um, familiar, wouldn't I?"

"Hmm," Snape stared at him with a frown.  "Yes, I see your point.  We shall have to address this."  He startled Harry by sitting on the foot of his bed and settling his long robes tidily about himself.  "I agree a more informal title would be appropriate," he said thoughtfully, "but I won't consent to allow you to call me by my given name - even if ‘Charles' is a pseudonym.  I don't approve of children addressing their elders by first names.  It's disrespectful and unseemly."  He tapped his lips with a finger pensively.  "Is there some form of address that you'd prefer?"

Harry shook his head.  "I don't know.  The only guardians I ever had were the Dursleys." He scowled. "I just as soon not call you ‘Uncle' if that's all right."

"No, I understand why you would not," Snape agreed.  "I expect the reminder would not be pleasant. I'd rather avoid that association as well."

"What do wards usually call their guardians?"

"I expect ‘uncle' is most common as an affectionate title, although they may not be actual kin,"  Snape mused.  "Still, most such cases do involve blood relationships, where one might use the appropriate title, such as godfather, or grandfather or the like."

"You're not old enough to be my grandfather!' Harry snickered.

"Technically. . .mmm, perhaps not," Snape agreed, deciding not to correct his assumption.  "Godfather is quite common in wizarding society, although it doesn't carry the same religious connotations as in Muggle society, but I'd rather not use that."  He didn't offer to explain his reason, and Harry knew better than to ask.

"What did you say was Charles' and Cary's relationship?" Harry asked with a frown.  "I don't quite remember."

"Your father was my first cousin," Snape replied a bit brusquely.

"That would make us second-cousins, right?  Perhaps I could call you Cousin," Harry exclaimed hopefully.

"Yes,. . . yes, that would do nicely," Snape seemed almost pleased.  "You should address me as ‘Cousin Charles' in public situations - particularly in front of other adults.  Informally, you may shorten it to ‘Cousin' - but no cheeky diminutives or impertinent nicknames!" he warned darkly.  "The first time you dare to call me ‘Coz' or ‘Charlie' or some other such undignified nonsense, you will find yourself scrubbing cauldrons for a week!  Is that clear?"

"Yes, Cousin Charles," Harry answered meekly.  Only the tiny gleam in his eyes betrayed his amusement.

"If you should happen to slip and address me as Professor, that can be easily explained away.  I am supposed to be a teacher as well as your guardian, and you attend school where I teach.  If the situation was genuine, you would not be permitted to address me familiarly in class, and would have to address me as Professor, any other student would.  It would be understandable if you sometimes confused the two."

"Actually,  sir, most Muggle public school teachers are just called Mr. or Miss," Harry offered uncomfortably.  "They aren't called Professors like at Hogwarts. . .that's usually just at University."

"Indeed," Snape scowled in disapproval.  "Most disrespectful. . . .still, there's no accounting for Muggle customs. . .quite lacking in etiquette, if you ask me."  He thought for a moment.  "If it should come up, then we shall say I taught at University prior to taking the  Belmont post.  You still address me as Professor out of the deepest respect for my advanced learning and reputation as a scholar," he announced smugly.

"If you say so," Harry agreed dubiously. "Perhaps I had better just be very careful not to make a mistake in front of other people."

"That would be best," Snape had to agree. "And now, you must go to sleep.  We have had an exhausting, absurdly  eventful day and you are barely recovered from your injuries as it is," he rose imperiously.  "I would not be the least bit surprised if you suffered a relapse, and I shall be forced to nurse you back to health again!" He glared at Harry as if daring him to become ill.  "Can I trust you to remain in bed throughout the night, and not go wandering about?"

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded and yawned again. 

"If you need anything, you may call for Mercup.  If you have another nightmare, do not hesitate to come to my room.  Do you want a sleeping potion?"

"No, sir. . .thank you.  I expect I'm much too tired even to dream."

"Very well," Snape reached for the bedside lamp and hesitated.  "Do you wish me to leave the lamp lit?"

"No, sir," Harry scowled.  "I'm not afraid of the dark. . .I'm not really ten, remember!"

"I understand that.  I was simply concerned you might be alarmed if you were to awaken in a strange room."

"Oh.  No, sir.  I'll be all right."

"Very well, then.  Goodnight. . .Cary."  Snape turned down the lamp and started for the door.

"Oh!" Harry sat straight up in bed with a start. "I forgot!"

"Forgot what?"

"I meant to. . . that is I forgot to. . ." Harry stammered, overcome with embarrassment.

"What is it, Pot--Cary?" Snape snapped tiredly.

"I'm sorry,' Harry muttered unhappily. ‘I just...I meant to thank you, sir. . .for everything you've done for me today...for nicking me from the Dursleys, and protecting me and buying me all those new clothes. . ."

Snape sighed. "You've already thanked me, child.  I told you it was enough."

"But it isn't!" Harry protested.  "You took me shopping and bought me fish and chips and took me on the train, and the ferry, like a real holiday! . . . and then you brought me to this house and gave me this brilliant room, and . . and. . no one's ever, ever done so much for me before and I don't know how I'll ever thank you enough and..." To Harry's utter shame, tears started rolling down his cheeks and a hard lump formed in his throat.

"Oh, Merlin!" Snape hissed uncomfortably, and closed the door, striding to Harry's side with a look of near panic on his face.  "Now, now, silly child, there's no need to get yourself all worked up," he fussed, sitting beside him on the bed.  He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and shoved it into Harry's hands. "Calm yourself, child. . . hush your waffling, now."

"I'm sorry," Harry whimpered.

"I know," Snape reached around and awkwardly patted his back.  "You're overtired, that's all.  You're just exhausted. . .not surprising after such a day!  It's enough to make anyone a bit weepy and skittish."

"I am tired," Harry admitted tearfully.  "I didn't mean to go all puley on you and spoil everything."

 "You didn't spoil anything, foolish child!  I understand that you're grateful and I appreciate the sentiment, but you needn't go on about it!  What little I've done is not nearly as noble or as special as you give me credit for!"

"It's special to me!" Harry sniffled.

"I know. . . .that's the injustice of it. . ." Snape sighed.  "Treatment any normal child would expect as entitlement, you've been denied. . . taught to believe you don't deserve even the simplest acts of kindness.  Listen, we will talk about this some more when you are rested.  For now, I want you to lay back down and try to get some sleep.  Will you do that?"

"Okay," Harry blew his nose and slid back under the covers.  He didn't even object when Snape ‘tucked' him in, like a little child.

"Don't fret about anything," Snape ordered gently.  "Just close your eyes and let it all go."

Harry closed his eyes with a sigh.

"That's right. . ." the deep soothing voice caressed his ears like velvet. "Clear your mind. . .don't think about anything except the softness of your pillow. . .the smell of the sheets. . .the feel of your pajamas against your skin. . .that's right...don't think.......just feel. ....."

----- ----- -----

A bone-weary Severus Snape descended the stairs, heading for the lounge and the much-needed tea that he knew awaited him.  As he sat and breathed in the warm comforting scent, he wondered darkly if the boy's Muggle relatives were ‘enjoying'  his revenge curse.   Perhaps leaving the Dursleys alive had been unwarranted mercy.

Too bad Muggles can't be sentenced to Azkaban.  I would love to see at least the two adults Kissed.

He snorted cynically.

I wonder. . . if a Dementor were to suck out Vernon Dursley's soul. . .would anyone would notice?