In the next week that followed, Harry had never been so bored in his life. Horribly, terribly, mind-numbingly bored. Snape did not do anything. He was not mean, cruel, snarky, vicious, sneaky, or anything else that made him interesting. He did not yell at Harry; he did not swat at him, berate him, scold him, judge him, sneer at him, nor criticize him. Snape had him study and do his chores and go to bed on time - nothing else.

Even quiet time every other day which Harry was sure he could escape became a non-issue as the day after his birthday, Snape told him to go upstairs.

"I'm too old for quiet time," Harry had argued. "And you said every other normal day so yesterday doesn't count."

"Go upstairs, Harry," Snape had repeated quietly.

Furious, Harry had stomped upstairs, banging his shoes on every stair. He had waited in his room expectantly, hoping Snape would barge in and shout out some dreadful punishment and Harry could protest and they would have something to do for the afternoon. But Snape stayed downstairs, and Harry finally settled into playing with his figurines and soldiers.

He had a feeling that twelve was really too old to play with toys, but since there was absolutely nothing else to do, Harry made up pretend stories about the dragon and unicorn destroying a town of tin soldiers.

When had Snape become normal and so boring? Harry wanted to talk to him, to get into the yelling matches they had when Snape would say the most hurtful things possible. Harry hated those hurtful things, but then Snape would feel bad afterwards and Harry would get hugged or spoken to kindly.

Harry was not sure why, but he was starting to crave the smalls bits of affection Snape gave him. Snape could be awful, but he would have moments of intense emotions when he said very strong things that showed Harry that Snape felt powerfully about him. After years of being ignored, Harry hungered for those moments, even if he were crying as Snape yelled at him.

He had a connection with Snape. Maybe because Snape had loved his mother; maybe because of the games they had played and the fact that he still called Snape Father; maybe because Snape was so lonely and Harry understood loneliness. Whatever the reason, Harry wanted Snape to talk to him, even if he said mean things.

Harry tried to initiate conversation, but Snape answered shortly and then fell silent.

A week after Harry's birthday, Harry was fed up. Snape had gone around all quiet, everything had been peaceful and calm, and Snape had not even tried to punish him. Snape had not laid a finger on him, not even a push towards the stairs at bedtime when Harry complained about going.

Harry wrestled and ran around with Vampyr everyday, letting the huge dog pounce on him and knock him to the ground, roughhousing for hours until Harry was exhausted. That was fun, but he missed human contact with Snape. Would it kill the mean, ugly bat to smack him on the back of the head once and while? Or grab him by the back of neck and march him outside when Harry groused about watering the garden? Or even nod at Harry when they were preparing supper together?

Harry glared at Snape across the living room, not even pretending to read his books.

Harry had read a book everyday, even long books 300, 400 pages long. Had Snape praised him for his hard work or declared that Harry had skipped pages because he was really too stupid to understand them? No, Snape had simply handed him another book and remained silent.

And it was not as if Snape were giving him the silent treatment; the man spoke when he had to, in a low tone, perfectly calm, which infuriated Harry to no end. Harry wanted yelling and excitement and angsty feelings, not calmness.

"I hate this book," he declared.

"You can get another one," Snape said from his desk where he was writing.

"I don't want to read," Harry said.

"You may go out in the yard and play until suppertime," Snape replied.

Harry set his book down with more force than necessary and went into the kitchen. Vampyr followed, ready for a romp outside.

"It's fun for you, maybe," Harry complained. "You're a dog. You just want food and water and someone to play with. I'm the one who's all bored and lonely."

Vampyr made a sad sound, nuzzling Harry's side.

"Well, he can't win," Harry announced. "I'll make him talk to me."

He looked around. He had to do something naughty and mischievous, but not outright harmful. Something to exacerbate Snape, not make him angry. Something that would annoy Snape, but could be cleaned up with magic fairly easily.

Harry smiled deviously. He crept to the cabinet where they kept the cleaning supplies. He took out the blackening powder for the stove and slowly opened the top.

Vampyr gave a short bark.

"Shh," Harry motioned for him to be quiet. "I know what I'm doing."

He began to sprinkle the black powder on the floor. It fell and lay on the floor, shining and dark against the wood. Harry began to walk around the kitchen, shaking out the powder. In two minutes, he had sprinkled powder all over the floor and the tin was still half full.

Putting away the tin, Harry stopped to grin at Vampyr. "This is the fun part."

Harry reached out with one shoe and slid his foot across the floor. It left behind a wide, thick smear of black. Harry swiped with his other foot - another smear. He began dragging both feet over the wooden floor.

Eight minutes later, the whole kitchen floor was covered in black smudges, smears, and footprints. It looked awful.

Harry grinned. Snape, who always wanted the kitchen tidy, would lose it. Of course, Snape could clean up the floor with a few swishes of his wand or make Harry spend all evening scrubbing it up, but just the sight of it would rile Snape up to no end.

Trying not to laugh, Harry tiptoed out to the garden with Vampyr. The dog had gotten his paws all in the powder, but seeing as he was black, Harry thought Vampyr could get it off on the grass without too much trouble.

"All right," Harry rubbed the top of the dog's head affectionately, "when he sees it, he's going to start yelling. Then I'll yell back and he give me some horrid sort of punishment. But I can pretend to cry or get all upset, and then he'll feel sorry. You'll see."

Harry leaned his head on the dog, wrapping his arms around the hulking body. From his sideways viewpoint, Harry could see the garden where he had planted all the new herbs after destroying the garden. Harry felt a tiny twinge of remorse at how awful he had behaved, ripping up the plants and the weeds. And Snape had been decent afterwards, getting all the poison ivy off him.

But the garden looked wrong. Harry raised his head back up so he could see correctly.

Then he sucked in a sharp breath.

The garden was wrong. The plants had finally broken the ground, and half the garden had green shoots in straight lines and rows. The other half had flowers scattered carelessly where Harry had flung them after he got tired of doing them right.

Snape would be irritated when he saw the kitchen floor. He would storm outside and see his garden with half the flowers planted wrong.

Harry bit his lip in fear. One naughty prank, Snape might let go by with a few scolding words and perhaps a swat or two to remind Harry to behave. But something like this, willful disobedience when Harry was actually fixing something he had destroyed -

"I can't stay," Harry whispered. He hugged the dog one last time with cold hands, and then Harry ran.

He climbed the tree limb and got over the wall. He was careful to reach the trunk of the tree before trying to climb down. He was not wearing the suspenders so nothing caught as he shimmied down.

Vampyr barked sharply, jumping up to see where Harry was going.

Harry reached the ground safely and ran for the road. He kept running, casting fearful glances over his shoulder, expecting to see Snape charging after him any moment. But the road behind him remained empty.

Still panicking, Harry turned and ran into the woods. He ran until he could not see the road anymore, until he was completely surrounded by trees with the grey sky overhead.

Harry stopped, panting for breath. The woods were eerily quiet around him, the trees rustling. Scared he would turn around and find Snape behind him, Harry found an old oak tree and climbed up until he was about seven feet above the ground. He straddled a large limb and leaned back against the trunk.

What could he do now? He had done two bad things - three, now that he had run away. He would just have to live in the woods. That wouldn't be so bad, would it? People lived in the woods all the time and ate berries and roots and mushrooms. They slept on leaves and crawled in caves when it rained. They got water from streams and made clothes out of animal skins.

Harry looked around. He did not see any mushrooms or caves or streams or animal skins. Maybe he had to go farther into the woods to find those things.

He glanced to the right, the direction he would have to walk to go deeper into the woods. Harry had also heard scary stories about people getting lost in the woods, who were found dead, eaten by animals or starved to death.

Maybe he could live in the woods near the road. That would be a better idea. He could beg alongside of the road for food and clothes. Maybe he could even steal things from Snape's house when Snape went back to Hogwarts. Harry felt sad at the thought of living in the woods alone when Snape got to go back to school, but maybe that was the awful truth of the matter: you lived and died alone while everyone else got to have fun.

A padding sound made Harry jerk his head up. Vampyr was coming towards him, just the big dog running over the dead leaves.

Harry smiled; he would not be all alone. Vampyr could live with him.

The dog reached the tree. Growling, it leapt up and tried to bite at Harry's leg.

"Hey," Harry yanked his foot up, glaring down at the dog. "Stop that."

Vampyr barked angrily.

"He wants me to come back, doesn't he?" Harry shouted down. "Well, I know what's going to happen to me when I get there. I don't want to face the rage of Snape, so I'm not going back."

Vampur barked and growled and snapped, but Harry refused to budge.

"This is what's called a stalemate," Harry informed the dog. "I won't come down and you won't let me go, so I guess we'll just stay here forever."

Harry proceeded to stay up in the tree forever - well, not forever, but certainly longer than he planned on staying up there. Vampyr got tired and lay at the bottom of the tree, panting.

Harry got stiff and uncomfortable on the limb. He tried switching positions, hanging both legs over the side, but that didn't help. He kept thinking of the comfortable chair he had in sat in to read; why hadn't he stayed in that chair instead of causing trouble? Even if Snape had found out about the garden, Harry would have been sitting in that chair, reading, when Snape barged back into the living room. Harry could have apologized, taking full responsibility for his actions. What was the worst that could have happened then? Snape yelling at him? Snape swatting him a few times? Snape ordering him out to garden to pull out the extra plants to straighten the rows? Even if all that had happened, Harry would be finished with all the unpleasantness and sitting down to a hot supper instead of staying in this stupid tree.

He was hungry - it had to be almost seven now. It was still bright outside, but night would come eventually, and Harry did not want to sleep in a tree. For one thing, he would probably fall out and hurt himself, and then Snape would be livid. Snape did not want him in trees at all since he had hung upside down from the one next to the garden. Ugh, that was the fourth bad thing Harry had done, and staying in this tree was number five.

With a sigh, Harry slipped off the tree. He hung from the branch for a second and then dropped the last few feet. But what Harry had forgotten was the fact that he had been in the tree for several hours and his feet had gone numb. When he dropped, pain slammed into his feet and legs, and he fell over in agony.

For a second, he lay on the ground, tears gathering, trying not to sob. Vampyr was beside him in a second, licking Harry's face and nudging gently against his shoulder.

"It hurts," Harry swallowed hard as he rolled over on his back. "Ow, that really hurts."

Vampyr kept trying to comfort him, and Harry finally sat up. It was his own fault he had dropped from the tree instead of climbing down - something else not to tell Snape ever.

Harry managed to get to his feet and began limping towards the road. Vampyr kept close beside him, and Harry wished he were a little smaller so he could ride the dog like a horse.

By the time they reached the road, Harry's feet were back to normal and he was back to dreading what Snape would do. Harry wished he could pretend to be sick or hurt, just so Snape wouldn't slaughter him. Harry meant to climb the tree to get back in the garden, but Vampyr herded him to the front door, pushing against Harry when he tried to head towards the back.

Harry reached for the door latch, praying the door was locked fast and then he would have to go back to live in the woods. But the door was unlocked and Harry trudged inside glumly with Vampyr right beside him.

The living room was empty so Harry dragged his feet back to the kitchen. Snape was sitting at the table, calmly eating soup and bread. The floor was spotless again, and a bowl of soup waited at Harry's place.

Harry stood in the doorway for a second, waiting for the storm to break upon him. But Snape kept eating as if nothing had happened. Harry started for the table, but then thought he had better wash his hands first. Then he sat down at the table and slowly picked up his spoon. Snape said nothing.

Harry's soup was still warm and he ate it all, careful to look down at his spoon bowl. Snape got up once he finished, and Harry cringed, but Snape went to get him some more food and then got up to get Vampyr a piece of meat.

Once finished with his second bowl, Harry carried his bowl and spoon to the wash basin. Outside the window it was still light, and Harry could see the water bucket beside the garden, meaning Snape had watered the garden himself. So Snape had seen everything and done nothing so far.

Trying not to show his terror, Harry began washing the dishes himself. After that he went to the living room to read though he had trouble concentrating on the words once Snape came in and sat down without a word. When the clock struck nine, Harry got up without being asked and went upstairs. He took a bath, careful to wash himself thoroughly, and got in his pajamas. He was in the middle of brushing his teeth when he saw Snape in the mirror, standing in the doorway grimly.

Harry nearly choked on the toothbrush, but he managed to finish brushing and rinse out his mouth. Then he took a long sip of water. He had barely set down the cup when he felt cold, hard fingers close around his ear.

Snape lead him out of the bathroom, down the hall, and into his bedroom. Harry went along, not even complaining at the awful grip on his ear. Snape let go of his ear and went to close the door, shutting Vampyr out in the hallway. Harry gulped as he realized the dog could not protect him from Snape's wrath.

Snape crossed his arms and leaned against the wall for second. Harry wanted to crawl under the bed.

Snape pulled out his wand and swished it. The hairbrush on the bureau leapt up and flew to Harry. Harry instinctively covered his head, protecting his face. The brush had a different target as it flew around him and firmly thwacked his bottom.

Harry squealed and jumped away. The brush followed, popping him soundly. Harry tried ducking and jumping and leaping away, but each time the brush found his rear and smacked him again. Harry flung his hands back to shield himself, sure Snape would not let the brush hit his hands. But rather than stop, the brush lowered a few inches and began popping against the back of his thighs.

"No-o-o!" Harry wailed, bouncing up and down on his toes in desperation. "I can't stand it - it's - ha!"

Struck with an idea, Harry dashed to the bed, dropped to the floor, and tried to crawl under it. He hoped there would be enough room to squeeze under and leave the brush behind. He managed to wiggle his torso under the bed. Then he felt himself being dragged backwards by an invisible force.

"Aahh," Harry scrambled to grab onto something, anything. He grabbed one of the bed feet and wrapped both arms around it, trying to pull himself back under the bed. But he was already far enough out that the brush could continue paddling him.

"Snape, make it stop," Harry yelled. "I don't want to be spanked. Please! I didn't do anything wrong."

The painful swats stopped, and Harry smiled in relief, glad that it was over.

"You didn't do anything wrong?" Snape growled.

Harry's smile dropped. Strong hands grabbed him around the waist and yanked him up off the floor. He was sat down on the bed and Snape loomed over him.

"You have been a naughty little boy and naughty little boys get the hairbrush when they act so atrociously. What on earth possessed you to blacken my floor like that?"

"That was just a prank," Harry confessed. "Just to - to be a prank."

"And the garden? All the plants flung about haphazardly?"

"Well, that was earlier when I was cross with you."

"And then you climbed a tree and ran away?" Snape crossed his arms. "So I had to send Vampyr to bring you back."

"He didn't bring me back. I came back on my own. I was going to live in that old oak tree forever, but I came back."

"You climbed another tree?" Snape's eyes looked even blacker.

"You were being boring here and not talking to me," Harry mirrored Snape's stance, crossing his own arms. "I thought mucking up the floor might get you to talk to me, do stuff."

"You realize I'm about to beat the life out of you," Snape threatened.

"I already got the hairbrush," Harry pouted.

"Something's wrong with you. You have a death wish or suicidal tendencies. After all I've put you through so far, you thought it would be amusing to provoke me?"

"No, I just wanted you to be - you know. I would have cleaned up the kitchen."

Snape snarled something incoherent and sat down on the bed. He reached for Harry.

Harry leaned back. Then he gave in and started to lean himself over Snape's lap.

"What is wrong with you?" Snape snapped, reaching one hand out to smack Harry on the back of the head. "You beg me for mercy and the next moment you seem willing to take any punishment I dish out. Honestly, Harry, you are the strangest boy I have met."

Scrunching his face into a scowl, Harry pushed his shoulder against Snape hard. "I'm not strange. You're strange!"

"I give up," Snape threw his hands into the air as he leapt to his feet and began pacing. "I was a monster to you, and you were miserable. Now I'm trying to just let things go, and you're causing trouble and destroying gardens and pushing me. Have you lost your mind?"

"Maybe," Harry retorted. "I just wanted you to talk to me."

"For the last time, I don't care about you!"

"Liar," Harry stood up on the bed. He forgot he was just wearing a nightshirt and that his bare feet and knobby knees were sticking out. He forgot that Snape was much bigger and stronger. He forgot that he was just a little boy who had gotten himself into big trouble.

"You'll be sorry you said that," Harry yelled as he swung his fists towards Snape. He missed, of course, and fell off the bed. Snape caught him with one arm, and Harry hung on his arm a second, feeling Snape's strength against his thin chest.

"Wicked, completely wicked," Snape declared as he swung Harry towards the bed.

A moment later, Harry found himself flat on his back with Snape tucking the covers over him tightly.

"You obviously are very ill," Snape bent to tuck the edge of the covers under the mattress. "I will take your temperature and give you a Calming Drought and see that you get a full night's sleep. Tomorrow, you will rest and take it easy, if I don't keep you in bed all day."

Harry blinked away angry tears. "I'm not sick. I just want you to talk to me and - and hold me like you do sometimes. Why can't you do that? Why can't you like me? What did I ever do . . . to you?" Harry meant to say more, but he found himself unable to speak.

"Merlin, you drive me to insanity," Snape said as he yanked the covers up and pulled Harry in for a rough, firm hug. "There - you got what you wanted."

"That wasn't what I wanted. I want to stay here."

"You are staying here," Snape raised a frantic hand to his forehead. "I'm letting you stay. What more do you want from me?"

"I don't want to leave," Harry threw caution to the wind. "Even when we go back to Hogwarts, I want to come back for the holidays."

"What makes you think I'm letting you go back to school?" Snape asked bitterly.

"I want to stay here," Harry raised his voice. "All right? It'll be our pact. I don't tell everyone what you did to me, and you let me stay."

"Harry, Harry, you only have a little over three weeks and then school starts. Three weeks, and then you could escape me forever. Why would you want to come back?"

"Because you need me," tears spilled down Harry's cheeks. He leaned forward to wrap his arms around Snape and bury his face in Snape's shoulder. "You need me just as much as I need you."

Snape made a movement to pull away, but Harry refused to let go, holding on for dear life at the one thing he wanted, the only thing he had ever wanted with such fierce desperation that it scared him almost as much as the thought of losing Snape.