Harry crumpled up a sheet of parchment and pushed it aside with a frustrated sigh. It was his fourth attempt to write a letter to Ron, and trying to come up with a reply that would reassure his friend and yet not give away any information about his new circumstances was beginning to seem impossible. He didn't want to lie to Ron and Hermione, but it was going to be hard not to.

After a while, he dipped his quill into his ink bottle and began again.

Dear Ron,

Sorry it's taken me so long to get back in touch with you, but things have been pretty busy around here. Don't worry; I'm all right. I woke up a few days after you guys had gone home, and I've been fine. Thanks for sitting with me while I was out of it, and yeah, Malfoy's definitely a jerk, but we've always known that, haven't we?

That's great news about your dad getting Cannons tickets. I know you'll have fun at the game. I don't think I can make it this time, but thanks for inviting me. Dumbledore thinks it's not safe for me to go out now, so I guess I'll just have to wait and see you back at school in September.

Harry carefully re-read the two paragraphs, checking to be sure they were sufficiently vague. Then he swallowed a painful lump in his throat as he wished desperately that he could have accepted Ron's invitation to go to the Chudley Cannons' Quidditch match and to spend the last half of the summer with the Weasleys.

He imagined being at the cozy Burrow, surrounded by the Weasley clan, noisy and rambunctious, loving and happy. They were the closest thing he had to a family of his own, and he missed them. But he had to live with Snape now, and in any case he didn't want to endanger the Weasleys so it was just as well really, that he couldn't be with them. Hopefully, the line about Dumbledore wanting him to stay away would be enough to deter them, but perhaps he should mention the invitation to Snape. It would be disastrous if the Weasleys showed up at Privet Drive, determined to rescue him from the Dursleys.

Harry allowed himself to remember Ron and the twins coming to save him in the flying Ford Anglia, and coming again with their father two years later to take him to the Quidditch World Cup. For just a moment, he wondered what might happen if he did tell Ron about the slavery spell. But not even the Weasleys could rescue him this time, and anyway, he'd promised not to tell.

Harry took a deep breath. It would be all right, he told himself. One day he'd be with people who loved him again. One day, he'd be with his real family and everything would be perfect. He'd just have to get by as best he could until that day came.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and stood up from the desk. He'd have to finish writing letters after breakfast. It was time to go downstairs now if he didn't want to be late. He glanced down, making sure his plaid shirt was neatly tucked into his jeans, and then slowly headed down to the dining room. He'd considered saying that he still didn't feel well and asking for another tray to be brought up to him, but he didn't think Snape would go for it again, so he'd reluctantly decided he'd have to go downstairs to eat.

The professor was already seated at the head of the table when Harry came in, but it was still a couple of minutes before eight according to the grandfather clock in the corner. Harry cast an uncertain glance at Snape as he slid into his seat beside him, but the professor didn't seem to notice. Norie smiled at him as she brought their plates in from the kitchen and Harry gave her a tiny smile back. The elf glared at Snape as she went by, but he didn't seem to notice that either.

At first they ate in silence, as they always had. Snape cleared his throat several times, but he didn't speak and when Harry risked looking over at him, the professor seemed intent on spreading butter and jam on his toast.

They were about halfway through, and Harry had managed to eat a few bites of his pancake when Snape abruptly spoke.

"How do you feel this morning?"

Harry stared at him, not sure what to say. But he was being ridiculous. It was a simple question. He ought to be able to answer without making a big deal out of it.

"Um, fine, sir. Thank you," he finally managed to say.

Snape nodded, and they finished the meal in silence. But then instead of stalking off, Snape spoke again.

"There are a few things we need to talk about. When you're finished, come to the library," Snape hesitated. "Please."

"I'm finished, sir," Harry mumbled, feeling a cold knot of dread settle in his stomach as he stood and followed Snape out of the dining room. Once in the hall, the professor slowed his own steps so they walked side by side instead of Snape leading and Harry trailing behind, but Harry barely noticed. He was too busy worrying.

What could they need to talk about? Had he done something wrong? He racked his brains trying to come up with some reason why Snape could be upset with him again, but he couldn't imagine what he'd done. On the other hand, when had he ever had to actually do something to offend Snape? Harry's mere existence offended the man. Well, with any luck, Snape wouldn't have to be offended by that for too much longer, Harry thought with a bitter little smile.

He couldn't help but pause in the library doorway and look over at the armchair and table near the fireplace. To his surprise, he thought Snape did, too, but the moment passed quickly and Harry decided he must have only imagined it.

Snape ushered him into the room, and then he did the lead the way, not over to the chairs by the fireplace, but to another pair in a far corner of the room. He sat in one, and gestured for Harry to take the other.

Harry perched on the edge and clasped his hands together nervously, braced for the coming tirade. But when Snape spoke, he caught Harry completely by surprise.

"As you know, before Draco Malfoy's attack, you were the sole heir to both the Potter and the Black fortunes. Either one of those inheritances alone is a great amount of money, and combined they made you one of the wealthiest young men in Europe."

Harry blinked, not sure how or if he was supposed to respond. The truth was, he'd never really thought much about his money. He'd been grateful for the Potter gold, but only because it meant that he could provide for himself and not have to depend on anyone's charity. He'd always visited Gringotts on his annual trip to Diagon Alley and withdrawn enough money to buy his school supplies and a few decent outfits to wear, and to have a little pocket money left over for the Hogsmeade weekends.

Other than that, he'd never spent much time dwelling on the amount of money in his bank vault. He'd never really thought about being wealthy. Certainly he'd never had any urge to show off or gloat like Draco Malfoy did.

And as for the Black family fortune...well, Harry really didn't want to think about that. He didn't want Sirius' money. He wanted Sirius.

He realised that Snape was still talking and forced himself to pay attention.

The professor actually looked uncomfortable. "Now, of course, that money is legally in my name, but it is rightfully yours and I do not intend to spend any of it."

Again Harry wondered if he should say something, perhaps thank Snape, but before he could decide the professor was continuing.

"However, I admit I'm not comfortable giving you carte blanche over such vast wealth while you are still underage. It is rare for young wizards to have authority over their monetary inheritances. Normally they are dependent on their parents or guardians, but obviously, your Muggle relatives were unfit."

He paused again. Harry didn't want to just keep sitting there like a lump so he nodded in agreement.

"What I have in mind," Snape went on, "is to give you a monthly allowance until you come of age, and for us to periodically discuss financial matters so you can learn the best ways to manage your wealth. According to the dictates of the slavery spell, I cannot legally give the money back to you, but when you are of age, we will go to Gringotts and I will authorise you to spend the Potter and Black gold as you wish."

"Thank you, sir." Harry bowed his head, hoping Snape wouldn't see the pain that he knew must show on his face. Snape really was being very fair and generous. Harry knew that and was grateful. But it really hurt, too, to be reminded of how unjust everything was, and how dependent he was on Snape's mercy.

A heavy silence fell between them for a few moments; then Snape said briskly, "On average, most of my older Slytherins receive fifty galleons a month for pocket money. Does this seem a fair amount to you?"

Harry did some quick thinking. Over the course of a year, fifty galleons a month would end up being considerably more than he'd ever spent. The only thing that concerned him was that it was already July, so there was less than two months before he'd need to replenish his school supplies. He usually spent about two hundred galleons then, but he was also buying clothes and shoes. He hadn't grown much lately though, so he might not need to do that this time, and he could always owl-order some things later after he'd received more money if he didn't have enough to buy everything in one go.

He didn't want Snape to think he was ungrateful so he quickly nodded and said, "Yes, sir. Thank you."

"Very well then. I'll arrange to have fifty galleons withdrawn this morning. I'm not sure if it would be safe for you to leave Prince Hall right now, but I do have catalogues from many of the shops in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. You could owl-order anything you might want."

Harry didn't tell him that he would need to save it all for school supplies, but Snape's next words stunned him.

"Of course your allowance is not to be spent on school textbooks or clothing or other such necessary items."

Harry gaped at him. "But...how then...?"

Snape frowned slightly. "It is not your responsibility to provide for yourself, Harry. It never should have been. You are a child, not an adult. From now on, I will buy the things that you need. You will use your allowance to buy the things that you want."

Harry could only stare at him in amazement.

"Also, while I do want you to show some common sense and restraint, but if now and again, there is some item you would like to purchase and it costs more than your allowance, you may come and speak with me about it, and perhaps we could make some arrangement."

These last few sentences were spoken quietly, even a little hesitantly, almost as if Snape were trying to give him some type of peace offering. But that was impossible, wasn't it?

Harry looked at him uncertainly and finally repeated, "Yes, sir. Thank you."

There was a long pause and Harry wondered if he could leave, but it would be rude to ask and he certainly didn't want to make Snape angry, especially when they had actually been having a civil conversation for once.

"What are your plans for the day?" Snape asked.

Harry was completely bewildered by the question. Why in the world would Snape care about his plans for the day, unless maybe he had something he wanted Harry to do?

"I was going to finish writing to my friends and then study," he said slowly. "But if you wanted me to do something else..."

"No, that's fine."

But mentioning letters had reminded Harry of something. "Um, sir. I thought I should tell you. In his letter, Ron invited me to stay at the Burrow the last part of the summer. I've done that before, you see. Of course I've told him that I can't this summer, but well, sometimes the Weasleys have just shown up to rescue me, even if my aunt and uncle wouldn't have wanted me to go, and I thought maybe Dumbledore or somebody should make sure they don't end up going to Privet Drive anyway."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Harry wished he had chosen different ones to explain. Saying that he'd gone with the Weasleys against his relatives' wishes made him sound like a disobedient spoiled brat...just how Snape already thought of him. There was no way Snape could understand or believe how the Dursleys had abused him.

But Snape didn't say anything about Harry being spoiled or thinking he was too good to follow rules. Instead he nodded.

"That was wise of you. I'll mention it to Albus." He regarded Harry thoughtfully. "What did they rescue you from?"

"Oh, well...I just meant..." Harry's voice trailed off uncertainly. He really didn't want to have to tell Snape about the Dursleys. Snape wouldn't believe it...he just accuse Harry of trying to play on his sympathy (as if Snape had any), or if by some miracle he did believe it, he would be sure to mock Harry and ridicule him.

"I paid a visit to your relatives immediately after the end of term, to inform them that you would not be arriving back in London on the Hogwarts Express," Snape said quietly. "I have already surmised that I was mistaken about the way they treated you."

"Oh." But he still didn't want to tell Snape any of the details. There was no point in handing the man ammunition to use against him. Harry studied his clasped hands and hoped that Snape wouldn't insist.

There was awkward pause and then Snape said, still in the same quiet tone, "Well, I have potions to brew and you have letters to write. I shall see you at lunchtime." He stood and swept out of the room.

Harry gazed after him a moment before heading back upstairs to his room.

***

The week passed.

Severus kept a close watch over the boy but he was careful not to let Harry know it. He was surprised at how much time Harry spent in his room, poring over his schoolbooks. He was certain that the boy had never been such a dedicated scholar before, but now he would give even Granger a run for her money.

His plans to get to know Harry were progessing slowly. It was hard when the boy spent so much time cloistered in his room. Severus considered requesting Harry to do something with him, but he just couldn't think of anything they could do that wouldn't seem like a chore and he certainly didn't want Harry to think spending time with him was a punishment. Not anymore.

Severus tried to talk with the boy at mealtimes, but that was awkward, too. He didn't know what to say, and Harry always looked as if Severus were about to beat him every time he spoke. Severus had to wonder about that. The boy had never been so cowed at Hogwarts. But then he hadn't been a slave at Hogwarts, either, and since coming to Prince Hall, he had suffered terribly because Severus had lost his temper and punished him unfairly, no matter that Severus had not intended for him to suffer. Severus supposed he couldn't blame Harry for being nervous around him.

There was also the fact that Harry was surely grieving for his dead godfather. Severus and Sirius Black had despised one another, but he knew that Harry had been close to Black, and it occurred to him that the man's death was likely taking a toll on Harry's emotions, too.

He tried to think of some way to begin making amends, something that might lift Harry's spirits a little, and when it finally came to him, it was so simple and easy that Severus had to shake his head in disgust at himself for not thinking of it sooner. Of course, though, he had little experience in trying to comfort people or cheer them up.

After lunch that day he asked Harry to come up to his room afterwards, pretending not to notice the look of confusion and anxiety that played over the boy's face at his words. They walked upstairs together...Severus had made a conscious effort to walk alongside the boy for the past few days, and when they entered the sitting room that connected with Severus' bedroom, he went over to a wardrobe in the corner and took out a broomstick and a long silvery cloak.

"By rights, these belong to you," he said, walking over and handing them to the boy.

Harry slowly took them, gazing at his Firebolt and invisibility cloak in amazement. He blinked several times and swallowed before looking up at Severus, meeting his eyes for the first time in days.

"Thank you."

Severus had had doubts about returning the cloak...in the past, he had highly disapproved of the way Harry had used it to sneak about, and he had fully intended to lecture and warn the boy about using it wisely. But somehow, looking down into Harry's shining eyes, he couldn't bring himself to ruin the moment. He could save the lecture for later, he supposed.

Instead he replied softly, "You're welcome."