As the bright morning light wavered through the window, Harry opened his eyes. He stared up at the ceiling for a second, wondering where he could be. He couldn't imagine where he was - this was not the Dursleys or Hogwarts or Diagon Alley. The room lay around him in bright fuzziness, and Harry reached out for his glasses.

There was no bedside table beside the bed. Down the wall, he could barely make out what looked like an old-fashioned washstand.

Harry flung off the covers and stuck his bare feet out of the bed. A sudden growl had him yank his feet back on the bed and dive under the covers.

Vampyr stood beside the bed, growling softly as he watched Harry. Under the covers, Harry pulled his knees up tight to his chest, trying not to breathe. The events of last night came pouring into his mind, like an awful Muggle movie that he wished he had never seen. He closed his eyes and tried to think of what to do next.

He had to get out of Snape's house. One way or another, Harry knew he had to leave. He could find someone - anyone - and beg them to help him get home. Surely he could find some nice lady on the road who would take pity on him and help him get home.

Maybe he could jump out the window. Harry flung the covers off and stood up on the bed. Vampyr growled and barked, but Harry had the feeling that as long as he didn't get off the bed the dog would not bite him. Harry stood tentatively, hoping the bed would not break. His right foot felt fine; he guessed the potion had healed it along with his arm. The nightshirt felt odd as he walked to the end of the bed. The nightshirt was warm and cozy, but his knobby knees and legs looked pale and too thin as they stuck out awkwardly.

He could see the window, but he couldn't quite make out the lock. There was no point in flying across the room for the window only to find that it was tightly locked when he got there.

Strong hands suddenly grabbed him from the back, and Harry gave out a yell as he was pulled off the bed.

"So," Snape whirled him around and sat him down on the bed firmly, "you think you'll spend the morning jumping on the bed? You think you're allowed to do whatever you please, you spoiled brat?"

"No," Harry shook his head, squinting to try to see Snape's face, "I was just -"

"Quiet," Snape snapped, "no one cares about you here. Take these," he thrust the pair of glasses in Harry's hand, "and get dressed. Then come downstairs. And if I ever find you jumping on the bed again, I'll hex both your feet off."

Snape whirled on his heel and stalked out.

Shakily, Harry put the glasses on. The room came into crystal-clear focus, and he noticed the old slats of wood cutting through the slanted ceiling. Most of the room looked like servants rooms that Harry had seen in old movie about the 1800's. The walls were white-washed, the bare plaster of the walls showing through in long cracks.

Harry didn't know that much about houses, but he guessed this one wasn't any too good or fancy. Even his cupboard at the Dursleys looked newer and better kept than this room. Harry had never guessed where Snape might live in his time off from school. In a very childish way, Harry had supposed that the teachers never left Hogwarts. That was all nonsense, he knew, but part of him never thought about teachers doing anything other than teaching, and another part of him wanted them to do nothing else. Snape belonged at Hogwarts down in the dungeons, not living in old houses with a really mean dog.

The thoughts shot through Harry's head as he hurriedly got dressed with the clothes hanging on the rod of the washstand. A green tee shirt and dark green trousers. All green - all Slytherin colors - yeah, he got what Snape was trying to do.

Vampyr had trotted out the door after Snape, but the dog returned to watch Harry pull the shirt over his head. There were no socks or shoes anywhere. The house felt warm enough not to need them, but Harry supposed that Snape had denied him to make sure Harry didn't run off too fast. It would be hard to go anywhere fast barefooted.

Harry tossed his nightshirt over the edge of the bed. He considered making the bed, but then abandoned the thought. Let Snape make his own beds. Harry had been forced to sleep here, and he didn't feel like being overly polite to his captor.

The stairs creaked noisily as Harry when downstairs, Vampyr leading the way. The stairs ended in a tiny hallway, and Harry followed the dog into the doorway on the left. It led to an old-fashioned kitchen with a table and three chairs at one side. Obviously, Snape's house didn't have a dining room. Harry wondered if the house only had two rooms downstairs.

Snape grabbed two chipped bowls off a shelf and jerked his head towards the table. "Sit down."

Harry took the chair nearest to him and got into it. His feet hung a few inches from the floor, but he tried not to swing his legs. Once satisfied that their captive wasn't moving, Vampyr slunk to a corner and laid down, putting his huge head on top of his paws.

Snape set both bowls and a pot with a ladle on the table. Snape scooped up a ladle-full of what looked like thick porridge and dumped it in one bowl. He grabbed a pewter spoon and pushed both the full bowl and spoon at Harry. "Eat," Snape ordered as he filled up the other bowl.

Hesitantly, Harry scooped up a bit of the porridge. He expected it to taste like one of Snape's potions - disgusting and vomit-inducing. But the porridge was just hot and slightly sweetened. Harry would have preferred bananas and cinnamon in it, like they served at Hogwarts, but he wisely kept that opinion to himself.

They ate in cold silence, the only sound the scrape of spoons against bowls.

Harry finished his and could not help glancing quickly at the pot. There was still some porridge left, and though he had been served a full portion, Harry still felt hungry. He didn't dare say anything though.

Snape suddenly yanked Harry's bowl over. The potions master jerked up another ladle-full of porridge and slammed it in Harry's bowl. Then he shoved the bowl back at him.

"Greedy child," Snape muttered as he finished his own bowl.

Harry wanted to protest, wanted to tell Snape that he was decidedly not greedy, but Harry just kept eating. The second bowl seemed to fill him up more than the first, and halfway through, Harry thought maybe he had had enough.

He opened his mouth to say so, but Snape gave him such a wrathful look that Harry hastily shoved another spoonful into his mouth.

"Asking for more and not finishing it," Snape growled.

"I didn't ask for more," Harry said around a mouthful of porridge.

"Shut up," Snape ordered.

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked after swallowing. "You have to take me back."

"Why?" Snape leaned back, crossing his arms. He was wearing a dark shirt and trousers, but Harry thought he looked just as menacing as when he wore billowing black robes. "Why should I take you back? No one will miss you."

"Yeah, they will eventually," Harry said weakly. "My aunt and uncle -"

"What?" Snape lifted his dark brows. "Those idiotic Muggles? They'll miss their darling nephew?"

"No, I'm not!" Harry protested. "They hate me."

"Good, then they'll be glad you're gone."

Harry blinked, feeling very scared. "Well, sch-school will start."

"That's weeks away," Snape informed him.

"You can't just keep me here," Harry objected. "You don't - don't -"

"Like you?" Snape suggested.

Harry winced. He had known it all along, but it stung a little to think that a teacher from Hogwarts would admit it so openly.

"Of course, I don't like you," Snape said coolly. He got up to pour himself a cup of tea and then sat back down with a full cup. "Why should anyone like you?"

"My friends do," Harry declared. "Ron and Hermione do."

"The red-headed idiot and the know-it-all?" Snape sneered.

Harry's face burned with anger. "They are not. And Hagrid likes me."

Snape snorted.

"And McGonagall," Harry continued. "And Dumbledore. That's five people. More than you'll ever have - no one likes you!"

Snape lowered the cup menacingly. Harry shrunk back in his chair. Without meaning to, he reached back and covered his bottom, remembering how much it had hurt last night when Snape was finished with him.

"That's right, Potter," Snape hissed. "You talk to me like that again, and I'll tan your hide right then and before you go to bed. We're in my house and I make the rules."

Harry wanted to scoff "Some house," but he kept silent. He didn't have a death wish after all.

"You don't talk to me like that," Snape continued. "You're all alone, and no one is coming to your rescue. Especially after what you did last night."

"What did I do?" Harry cried. "I didn't do anything."

"A report of underage magic use came through," Snape told him. "Before they could send you a letter warning you not to do it again, Dumbledore contacted me."

"Wait - they send letters?" Harry asked, confused.

"Yes, if the Ministry gets a report of underage magic being used, they owl a reprimand as a warning. Dumbledore contacted me, and I went to see if there were any real difficulties. I watched your house for a while, and then you came running out. Naughty boys who run away from home deserve exactly what I gave you."

"I didn't do any magic," Harry said, his heart thudding wildly at the idea of the Ministry sending more owls to the Dursley after last year's fiasco. "Dobby did it."

"Who?" Snape demanded.

"A little house elf named Dobby," Harry protested. "He came to my room, and said I couldn't go back to Hogwarts. I said I have to, and then he ruined the dinner party. It wasn't me."

"You're lying," Snape decided flatly, "Why would the Malfoys' house elf come visit you?"

"He belongs to them?" Harry blinked. "He wouldn't say who he belonged to. But he did come and he did the magic."

"I don't believe you," Snape shook his head.

"I'm telling the truth," Harry insisted.

"Quiet," Snape ordered. "You're not going to argue with me."

It was so beastly unfair. Harry felt like kicking the table legs, but he knew Snape would lose his temper, and more than anything Harry wanted Snape to keep his temper.

"So," Harry made his voice polite and calm, "why can't I go home? Dumbledore will want to know where I am. He'll be worried."

"No, he won't," Snape smirked. "After I put you to bed last night, I owled Dumbledore to tell him that his precious student was safe at Privet Drive and that all was well. Knowing you would be safe here with Vampyr, I went back to your relatives and told them that you would be staying somewhere else for the rest of the summer. Your uncle seemed relieved - apparently he sees you for the horrid little boy you really are."

Harry could help it - his foot flung out and solidly kicked the table. The bowls rattled, and the ladle slipped down into the leftover porridge, but Snape's dark eyes flared with anger.

He stood up, and Harry leapt out of his seat.

Harry dashed for the door, and he made it all the way into the hall before Vampyr jumped in front of him. The huge dog snarled and snapped his big teeth, and Harry jumped back only to find Snape grabbing his shoulders.

"Stop!" Harry cried, feeling dangerous close to tears. "Let me go. Please, Snape just let me go. I won't tell anyone, I promised you, I'll be good. I swear, I'll be good."

Snape made no reply. He marched Harry back into the kitchen and sat him down on the chair so hard Harry nearly yelped.

"You listen to me, Potter," Snape spat, grabbing Harry under the chin and forcing his head up. "I'm not going to tolerate your sulking. So unless you'd like another punishment so soon after your last, you better listen up."

Harry raised bright, defiant eyes up to Snape. "You can't keep me here. You aren't anything to me."

Snape seemed to swell with fury, and Harry hastily added,

"No, its just - you're not related to me, and -"

"Please," Snape scoffed, "as if I would ever be related to a Potter. In your father's eyes, I wasn't fit for him to wipe his shoes on!"

"Don't talk about my dad like that," Harry exclaimed. "He was good, and so was my mum."

"I never said a word about your mother," Snape said in a very tight voice. He dropped Harry's chin and turned away angrily.

Harry felt as if he were missing something, some part of the argument that changed the atmosphere, but he didn't know what. "I - what are you going to me?"

Not facing Harry, Snape put his hands on the weathered wood of the kitchen counter, and Harry could see the muscles of his neck tighten. Then Snape whirled around and fixed Harry with a cold glare.

"I think I'll keep you for the summer," Snape announced.

Harry's eyes widened, and his mouth fell open.

"Yes, the whole summer," Snape said, smiling evilly. "And who knows, come fall I may keep you here. No one cared about you for eleven years - why should they care now if you go missing?"

"But why?" Harry croaked, pushing back tears. "If you hate me, why do you want me to stay?"

"Oh, you're not staying here as a guest. No, Potter, no special treatment for our prince. I'm keeping you as a work boy. It will be chores and scrubbing and painting and working for you all day, and early bedtimes and plain food and no friends and no playing."

Snape was enjoying his cruelty far too much, and Harry could only sit there in horror. It would be worse than living at the Dursleys because they wanted to ignore him for the most part. Snape would want to see his misery and relish it.

"And that's just the beginning," Snape went on, smirking. "If you don't do everything perfectly, I punish you like last night, only harder. And I'll use more than my hand, I guarantee it. I've never had the money to afford a servant, but you'll do quite nicely."

Harry could only sit there, horrified.

"Of course, I don't expect you to work willing," Snape commented as if they were discussing a potion lesson. "But I guess that Vampyr will keep you on task. I imagine he'll enjoy spending his day guarding my new work boy."

With that announcement, Snape stood and motioned to the table. "Clean off this table and wash the dishes. There's a pump outside, and firewood in the shed you can use to heat the water."

Harry sat as if he had been turned to stone. It was one thing for Snape to belittle him and hurt him and threaten him, but to treat him like a servant -

"Now, Potter," Snape ordered.

Harry raised rebellious eyes. "Not in a hundred years," he decided. "You can take me and keep me here, but you can't make me work."

Snape raised an eyebrow. The room got very quiet.

Snape took out his wand, his long fingers holding it delicately. "Do you have any idea the power a wizard has? I'm not talking about the silly spells you children perform at school, the ridiculous hexes you play on each other. I'm talking about true power, magic at its deepest core. Magic strong enough to torture, strong enough to maim, strong enough to kill. I know enough spells to make a full-grown man to beg for mercy, scream for death, and here you sit, a little boy with no wand, and challenge me?"

Harry looked around the kitchen, wishing he had something to help him, something to get him away from Snape.

Snape, tired of waiting, grabbed Harry by the arm and bent him over the table, stomach down.

"Hey!" Harry protested, his nose mere inches from the pot of porridge.

"You have two choices here," Snape said from somewhere above him. "I can give you a whipping and then you can get to your chores. Or you can apologize very nicely and then get started."

Harry took in a deep breath. Snape's hand rested on the middle of his back, and Harry knew he could not fight off Snape, considering Snape was bigger and had a wand.

"Well?" Snape landed his hand on Harry's bottom in a firm swat.

"Ow!" Harry huffed. "Fine, fine, all right. I'm sorry. There."

"Now, now, Mr. Potter," Snape tutted in a truly evil tone, "you can do better than that. How about ‘Please, forgive me'?"

"Please forgive me," Harry grounded out between clenched teeth.

"‘For being such a naughty, disobedient brat'."

"For being such a naughty, disobedient brat," Harry spat out the words.

"‘Please, forgive me, Professor Snape'."

"Please, forgive me," Harry intoned.

Snape spanked him again. "‘Professor Snape'."

"Professor Snape," Harry said, trying not to squirm. Part of him wanted to die from embarrassment. Another part of him wanted to kick Snape in the kneecap.

"Are you ready to get to work?" Snape demanded.

"Yes," Harry growled. He sensed Snape raising his hand again, and Harry quickly added, "Sir. Yes, sir."

"Good," Snape jerked away from him. "Get to work."

Harry stood, rubbing his stomach were it had been smashed against the table.

Snape turned to leave, and Harry suddenly burst out, "Wait!"

Snape turned around ominously.

"What about my owl?" Harry asked.

"What about her?" Snape sneered.

"I left her there, at my relatives," Harry continued, trying not to sound pathetic. "Please, let me go get her. She'll starve without me. They won't feed her."

"Then she'll have to starve," Snape shrugged.

Harry felt a ripple of rage blaze through him. He grabbed an empty bowl off the table and threw it at Snape. The potions master stepped out of the way, and the bowl clattered to the floor without breaking.

Vampyr jumped to his feet and began snarling at Harry.

"You would let Hedwig starve?" Harry cried, his bottom lip trembling. "What did she ever do to you? How - how would you like it if someone did that to you? Let your - your dog starve?"

Snape seemed to hesitate; Harry would have sworn Snape was going to say something not so terribly mean. But then the potions master gave a nasty shrug and left the room.

Harry took a step towards the hall. Vampyr came towards him, the dog's teeth bared.

"I'm not going anywhere," Harry said, his voice high-pitched and worried. "I'm getting to work. But I hope your stupid master falls over dead and no feeds you."

With that angry proclamation, Harry picked up the bowl off the floor and began clearing away the rest of the dishes. He piled all off them in the wash basin and looked around for a water bucket. He found an empty bucket in the corner and he took a tentatively step towards the outside door.

"I need to pump water," Harry told the dog. "I have to pump water to heat."

Harry very slowly opened the door and felt relieved when the dog didn't jump to attack him. For a moment, Harry had been sure Snape had given him an impossible chore - needing to get water and wood to wash the dishes but unable to get both necessities because of the dog.

Harry stepped out into the warm sunshine with Vampyr right behind him. A cluttered little garden lay behind the house, littered with pots, shovels, and a broken wheelbarrow. As Harry headed towards the rusty pump, he glanced back at the house. It looked even smaller in the daylight with a tangle of vines crawling up one side. The worn stones felt cool to his bare feet, the sun not high enough to heat the stones or evaporate the last of the morning dew.

Harry began to pump the water, the handle squeaking as he pushed it up and down. Water finally spluttered out of the pump faucet, clear and cold. Harry kept the handle going up and down until the bucket filled.

As he worked, he glanced around the garden, taking in every detail from the crumbling stone wall to the rotting wooden gate. A large oak tree stood to one edge, its branches low enough for Harry to climb up.

He didn't care what Snape said - the moment Snape wasn't watching him and Vampyr was not there, Harry planned to run as far and fast as he possibly could.