Not many people would have considered Severus Snape the type of person to keep a journal, but they would have been wrong. Each evening before retiring to bed, Severus sat at a great mahogany desk in the library and faithfully recorded the daily events of his life in a black leather-bound journal. Not all of the daily events of his life, of course...some things were either too personal or too dangerous to be written down, even in a private journal. But he did mention some of his thoughts and feelings, as well as more mundane topics such as lists of potions ingredients he needed to buy.

Eileen Prince had been the one who'd encouraged...required, actually...him to begin keeping a journal, as soon as he'd been old enough to scratch letters with a quill. She'd always written in a diary, as had her parents, and in her mind it was just one of the things a well-brought up young wizard did.

Severus himself wasn't sure why he'd kept it up after her death. Habit, he supposed. It surely wasn't that a journal could be any kind of substitute for a friend who would listen to his trials and problems. No, believing such a thing was the height of maudlin silliness, and Severus never entertained such thoughts. Still, there was a certain comfort in confiding, even to a journal.

Now, he frowned slightly as he stared down at the page he'd just finished. He'd written that one of his least favorite students was now required to live with him and had gone on at length about his displeasure at having his home invaded, how the surly brat had barely spoken and had wasted a perfectly good dinner. He had been careful not to mention Potter's name or any identifying characteristics, and he had not given any details about why the student had to live with him. But now he was wondering if even what he'd written was too much information, should the journal ever happen to fall into the wrong hands.

But how could he continue to write without any mention of the brat who was now in his charge? For that matter, while they could keep the slavery spell secret for the summer, it was going to be trickier in the fall when school started again and Potter would have to live with him in the dungeons instead of in Gryffindor Tower. Perhaps the slavery spell could be kept quiet, but he and Albus would have to think up some other explanation.

Yes, whether any of them liked it or not, within a couple of months people were going to find out that Harry Potter was living with Severus Snape. And what would that mean for his spying?

Severus sat up with a start. How could he possibly continue spying on Voldemort now? It would only be a matter of time before the Dark Lord discovered that Severus had become Potter's guardian, of sorts. He would demand that Severus bring Potter to him, and when Severus refused, it could only end in a messy, unpleasant death.

He would have to quit spying. It was the only way that he and Potter could both hope to survive. Severus bit his lip, as he pondered a future without the terrible tension of walking the line as a double agent. It would, of course, be a great relief. He would never have to attend one of those abominable Death Eater meetings again; never have to watch in silence as their innocent victims suffered, never have to kowtow to the monstrous vain beast who dreamed of domination, never have to feign comradeship with his despicable followers. Never again.

But there was a drop of anguish in his relief, too. Spying had been his means of atonement for his own past sins, and he flattered himself that he'd done some good with it, too. He was a good spy. No one else, or precious few, anyway, could have successfully hoodwinked the Dark Lord for as long as Severus had. He'd paid a high price for fulfilling his duties, but more than once he'd brought Dumbledore critical information that had saved lives and preserved freedom. And every time he'd remembered the people who had died because of him, and he'd promised them that their deaths had not been in vain.

But now he would be useless.

The clock hanging above the fireplace chimed, bringing him back to the present and reminding him that it was growing late. Severus closed his journal and put away his quill. He wondered if Albus had yet realised that his spying days were over. Well, the headmaster had said he would come by soon, when he'd completed whatever mission he was on for the war, and he and Severus could talk about it all then.

It occurred to him that he'd need to make sure he had plenty of his own special Healing Salve on hand. The Dark Mark on his left arm could become quite painful now that Severus would be unable to respond to Voldemort's summons. Regular healing salves wouldn't do a thing to ease the torment caused by dark magic, either. But Severus had experimented until he'd come up with a particularly strong one and he thought it would adequately numb the pain, or he hoped it would, anyway. He'd never actually had to test it before.

Well, no use dwelling on it, or on the long difficult day he'd had. Severus had learned long ago that fretting over matters was a waste of time. He'd just have to check on the Healing Salve in the morning, and hope that it would work as it was supposed to.

Severus went over to the fireplace and Flooed to his bedroom.

***

The sky outside his window was just beginning to lighten to a heavy grey when Harry woke the next morning. For perhaps half a minute, he gazed groggily around, feeling completely disoriented and wondering why he was in this unfamiliar room.

Then it hit him with all the force of a rampaging mountain troll. He was Snape's slave and he had to live at Prince Hall. Harry squeezed his eyes tightly shut, as if that would somehow shut out the truth, and wished more than ever that he could just go to sleep and never wake up.

But of course, he couldn't. Life went on whether he wanted it to or not, and lying in bed wishing otherwise wasn't going to change a thing. There was a soft whooing sound and Harry reluctantly opened his eyes and looked over at the desk to see a pale fuzzy owl-shape sitting on the perch in the cage, Hedwig wanting her breakfast before falling asleep for the day.

Harry sighed and reached for his glasses on the night table before slipping out from beneath the warm quilt and going to get a box of owl-treats from his trunk.

"All right, all right, here you go," Harry told her as he poured the treats into her cage.

Hedwig's amber eyes regarded him solemnly, and Harry lightly stroked her feathers, as much to comfort himself as to please her. She nipped at his hand lightly, affectionately, before beginning to eat. She always had seemed to have an uncanny knack for knowing when something was wrong.

The air was chilly in the pre-dawn darkness. Harry shivered and wondered if he should just go back to bed. There were still almost two hours before breakfast and the bed was warm and comfortable. But he might get back into a sound sleep and not wake up in time, so he finally decided to just go ahead and get dressed.

He crossed over to the wardrobe and opened the top drawer, studying its contents thoughtfully. He didn't have many summer clothes. He'd never bothered to buy much because he'd always known that by the time the weather was hot he'd be back at Privet Drive, wearing Dudley's old cast-offs.

He did have a few things, just because he'd bought them to wear on the weekends at Hogwarts in early September and the last weeks of May and June, but it was probably not enough to get him through a whole summer.

Or maybe he was worrying for nothing. He was a slave, after all. Snape might not mind a bit if Harry went about in rags. On the other hand, Snape did seem to like things to look presentable. He'd warned Harry to keep his room neat, and the house elves were clean and smart.

There was just so much he didn't know! He didn't know if he should dress in his work clothes, Dudley's ill-fitting hand-me-downs, or if he should choose something nicer, like he'd worn yesterday, or maybe a compromise like jeans and a casual shirt, but ones that fit him and weren't stained from hours of toiling in the Dursleys' home and yard. He didn't want to offend Snape by being too casual, but then again, the professor might think he was being arrogant if he dressed too nicely. Harry pressed his hands to his face and wished he could just scream from sheer frustration.

Eventually he chose a red and white striped shirt and a pair of jeans, along with socks and his slightly scuffed trainers. He sighed as he studied his pyjamas and the clothes he'd worn the previous day. He knew the charms to clean clothes, but of course he couldn't do any magic in the summer. At the Dursleys', he'd cleaned his clothes (and theirs) the Muggle way, but he doubted he'd find washing and drying machines at Prince Hall.

Well, his pyjamas and old clothes couldn't be very dirty. Harry decided he'd just fold them and put them away for now, and talk with Norie and Zan later. Perhaps they'd be willing to clean his clothes if he helped them with their work.

Next, Harry made up his bed, being careful to tuck the corners of the sheets tightly and to smooth every wrinkle out of the quilt. He plumped up his pillow and set it against the headboard. Then he went back to the wardrobe and dug around until he found an old T-shirt that he didn't mind using as a rag and dusted the furniture. He stuffed it into the unused bottom drawer of the wardrobe and finally looked around the room to survey his work.

Satisfied that even Snape would find nothing to complain about, Harry checked the clock and seeing that there was still an hour before breakfast, decided to go ahead and begin his school assignments. He grimaced slightly as he took out his Potions text and some parchment and a quill to take notes. He'd never started on his summer homework right at the beginning of the holidays. Hermione would be proud.

Hermione. Ron. Harry froze and wondered how in the world he could ever explain things to them. How could he bear the shame of telling them that he was a slave now? Snape's slave, at that? How could he bear their horror and pity?

But he was going to have to tell them something, or if Snape wouldn't let him talk with them, someone else would have to. What if Snape really wouldn't let him see his friends anymore? Next to Harry, he hated Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Ginny most of all the Gryffindors. It would be just like him to forbid Harry from seeing them.

A sharp pain, even worse than the one he'd felt when Sirius died, stabbed into his chest and brought tears to his eyes. Because out of all the horrible things that could possibly happen, or had already happened, the very worst to Harry would be to lose Ron and Hermione. They were his family.

All of a sudden, Harry wished fiercely that he'd gone to sit with them at the Feast that last evening at Hogwarts. It would have saved him from this cursed spell, and it would have been an opportunity to be with the only people in the world who truly loved him.

Well, if Snape did forbid him to see his friends, Harry would just have to try to sneak around and do it anyway. That was the one thing he couldn't obey Snape in, no matter what the professor did to punish him. He couldn't lose Ron and Hermione on top of everything else.

Swallowing hard, Harry took his materials over to the desk and moved Hedwig's cage to the corner. He didn't know how he was going to manage here, but he'd just have to take things one step at a time, and right now he'd go ahead and study. He tried to force all other thoughts from his mind and concentrate on learning the characteristics of the Draught of Living Death.

Like dinner the night before, breakfast was a tense, silent affair. Snape concentrated on eating his eggs, bacon, and toast, and left the dining room as soon as he'd finished without so much as a glance at Harry.

Well, at least he hadn't complained about Harry's clothes so jeans and casual shirts must be all right to wear. Harry looked at his own half-eaten plate without interest and laid his fork down. It was almost funny in a way, when he thought of all the times he'd gone hungry at the Dursleys' and here he was unable to eat the delicious food set before him here, but he just didn't have any appetite. After a few bites, he still began to feel queasy and it was better to stop than to risk sicking up.

"Are you's all finished, Master Harry?"

Harry looked up to see that Norie had appeared at his side. He nodded. "I'm sorry, Norie, but I just can't eat any more."

She sighed and clucked at all the uneaten food. "We'll say nothing about it this time, child, but you's going to have to eat more. We's not wanting you to get sick."

Harry wondered if he could explain to her that that was the problem...if he kept eating, he might get sick, but instead he just nodded unhappily.

She patted his arm. "You's still fretting, aren't you, Master Harry? But there's no need, truly. Everything's going to be fine."

Harry gave her a hopeless look. How could she say that? Surely she understood how terrible it was to be a slave, how he felt so crushed and defeated and despairing, how nothing could ever be fine again.

But maybe she didn't. After all, most house elves didn't seem to want freedom, even if they had horrible masters. Harry never had understood that, but it did seem to be true.

Norie patted his arm again. "Now, just lets me take the plates down to the kitchen, and then Zan and me will shows you around Prince Hall."

Norie snapped her fingers and all the plates, cups, silverware, and napkins piled onto a tray. Another snap and the tray floated away down the stairs to the kitchen. An instant later Zan appeared and the two elves led Harry out of the dining room.

They spent most of the morning touring the manor house. Prince Hall seemed huge to Harry, though Norie and Zan said it was rather small compared to many others, with only forty-seven rooms. Old Master Jeremiah Prince, and now Master Severus, too, could have easily afforded an even larger and grander place. But old Master Jeremiah had been quite proud of his lineage and Prince Hall had been the family estate for hundreds of years. Master Severus just said the place was plenty big enough for him, and he liked its isolation.

"There's being one little village a bit to the east," Zan told Harry as they explored a second floor corridor. "Muggle, of course. But nothing else for miles and miles. Not that it matters. Prince Hall is under the Fidelious Charm, and only a couples of wizards besides Master Severus can comes here."

Well, Harry did feel slightly better at that news. He'd been wondering how safe Prince Hall was, since it couldn't be under blood wards like Privet Drive. But if it was under the Fidelious Charm, perhaps it would be all right. Of course, the Fidelious Charm had been a tragedy for his parents, but Harry knew that with a trust-worthy Secret Keeper, it should be secure.

"Who's the Secret Keeper?" He asked.

"Master Severus, of course," they both answered together.

Harry nodded. He'd expected that, but he'd wanted to know for sure.

"Who else can come here?" He wanted to know next.

"That headmaster of your school, Professor Dumbledore, and a very nice medi-witch, Madame Pomfrey," Norie said.

"Madame Pomfrey can come here?" Harry asked in surprise. He knew that she and Snape got along all right, but he hadn't thought they were close enough that Snape would give her access to come through the Fidelious Charm.

Norie and Zan looked solemn.

"Professor Dumbledore's had to brings her a few times when Master Severus was badly hurts with his spying," Norie said softly.

"Oh," Harry said quietly.

Norie came close and took his hand. "Sees, Master Harry, I tolds you Master Severus is a good man. He's just doesn't always knows how to show it, but that's not his fault, is it, what with being raised by his parents and old Master Jeremiah, that awful man."

Harry looked at her in surprise. "I didn't think house elves could speak ill of their masters."

Norie humphed. "Oh, we's can speak ill of Master Jeremiah alls we want, nows that we is free."

Harry stared. "You're free?"

Both elves nodded.

"We's served as slaves when Master Jeremiah was alive," Zan explained. "But when Master Severus inherited, the first things he does is free us. Me and Norie wasn't pleased at first, either. But Master Severus says we's can live here for as long as we wants. He just doesn't want us to be slaves."

Harry blinked. Somehow, he'd automatically assumed that the elves were slaves, too. It had never occurred to him that Snape would have freed them. A painful lump came to his throat. It wasn't that he wanted Norie and Zan to be slaves; it was wonderful for them that they were free. He just wanted so badly to be free again, too.

"Shall we's go on, Master Harry?" Zan asked softly.

Harry nodded and they continued the tour.

When they'd finished going through the inside, Norie and Zan took him out to the grounds. Harry thought to himself that while Snape might could afford a larger estate, it would be hard to find one grander than Prince Hall.

The inside was beautiful, with all its spacious rooms and priceless antiques and heirlooms, and from the outside Prince Hall was impressive as well. It was made of grey stone, rose three stories high, and was surrounded by an expansive, emerald lawn on three sides. A wide gravel path ran from the front of the house out through the distant wrought-iron gates, and was bordered by enormous, ancient oaks; their intertwined branches forming a shady canopy over the path.

Formal gardens were laid out neatly behind the Hall. Great flowering rosebushes, delicate irises and lilies, and colourful rhododendrons bloomed alongside twisting brick paths lined with stone benches, goldfish ponds, and burbling fountains.

It was almost lunchtime when Norie and Zan had finished showing him around, and when they looked at him expectantly, Harry could only shake his head in wonder and say, "It's beautiful."

***

When he looked back at his first few days at Prince Hall, Harry always thought they seemed to pass in a sad haze. He saw Snape only at meals. The professor seemed eager to avoid him, and Harry was just as glad to return the favor.

He spent most of his time either studying or visiting with Norie and Zan. They were all that got him through those first days. They were so kind and helpful that Harry found himself confiding in them, things that had taken him years to tell Ron and Hermione. He didn't know why he did...it wasn't like him to open up so quickly, but maybe it was just because he already felt vulnerable, or that Norie and Zan were genuinely interested in helping him, or maybe because he thought they would understand. They didn't say much, but every now and then, they would give hints that they had suffered, too, when old Master Jeremiah Prince had been alive.

Severus finished his breakfast and stalked out of the dining room, away from the Potter brat who was still wasting half his food. Normally he'd take his time eating, perhaps skim through the Daily Prophet while nursing a second cup of coffee. But like so much else in his life, all that had changed these past couple of days.

He could barely tolerate the brat's presence, so he hurried off to his lab or to read in the library after meals, but he couldn't help feeling resentful. It was his home, and now he almost felt like a prisoner in it. He scowled as he entered the library. Just wait until fall. Draco Malfoy was going to wish he'd never been sorted into Slytherin.

Severus picked up a book and flung himself into a leather armchair, but he was much too tense to settle down to reading. He considered going down to his laboratory and brewing a new potion...that often had a calming effect on him, but he was running low on several basic ingredients and he decided instead to visit the apothecary in Diagon Alley. There were others closer to home, but the shop in Diagon Alley was by far the largest and most completely stocked, and with the Floo, distance was a moot point anyway.

He called for Norie and when she appeared, he said, "Norie, I think I'm going to London for a while, to shop in Diagon Alley. It's possible that Albus or Poppy may come by. Albus should be finished with his mission any time now, and I sent a message to Poppy yesterday that she could come and pick up a book she wants to borrow. If they come, tell Albus to try again this evening, and tell Poppy the book she wants is in here."

Norie nodded. "Of course, Master Severus." She tilted her head at him. "Perhaps Master Harry might likes to go with you's. Young people often enjoys outings, and I'm sure he's lonely with only me and Zan for company. You's should be spending time with him."

Severus glared at her. "I'm sure that Potter and I are both better off avoiding one another as much as possible, and I'm not about to ruin my trip to Diagon Alley by bringing along that conceited little brat."

She frowned. "Master Severus, that's just wrong. Master Harry is not conceited or bratty. He's a wonderful child, and he's suffered lots from those horrible peoples he's used to live with."

Severus frowned back at her. The problem was, he couldn't really argue with her. He had been wrong, at least about Potter's family. It did sound as if they had mistreated him. But he was still a Potter, and he was still a brat. Severus refused to think otherwise.

He settled the matter by simply getting up and sweeping off to the fireplace. "I'll be back by dinnertime."

***

Harry was curled up in the same chair, reading, that afternoon. It was the first time he'd come to the library since Norie and Zan had shown him around the Hall, and he probably wouldn't have dared to now, except that he knew Snape was away and wouldn't be back until dinnertime.

He'd already finished most of his school assignments and since Norie and Zan were busy, it seemed like a good opportunity to explore a little on his own. He'd paused at the library doorway, awed by the room lined with shelves filled with leather-bound books. The walls were paneled in dark wood, where they weren't filled with books, and wine-red velvet drapes hung at the tall windows. A great desk and several small tables were scattered about, and some stuffed leather armchairs. Harry couldn't resist coming in and looking about.

His first thought was that Hermione would think she'd died and gone to Heaven if she ever saw this room. Then he went over to the bookshelves and began browsing. Before he knew it, he'd found a title that looked interesting and sat down to read.

The Floo roared to life, and Harry looked up in a panic, afraid it was Snape coming home early, but Madame Pomfrey stepped out instead.

"Mr. Potter," she smiled and came over to clasp his hand as Harry stood to greet her. "How are you managing, dear?"

Harry swallowed hard as he considered how to answer. "All right, I guess," he said quietly after a minute.

She studied him carefully and gave his hand a squeeze. "It'll be all right, Harry. Severus really is a good man, if you give him a chance."

Harry wished everyone didn't feel the need to keep telling him that, but it would be rude not to agree so he only nodded.

"Is Severus about?" She asked.

Harry shook his head. "No, ma'am. He went to Diagon Alley for the day."

"Oh," Madame Pomfrey looked disappointed. "He said I could borrow a book, and I was looking forward to reading it. It's a very rare journal written by the Healer Romano. You've heard of him, haven't you, Mr. Potter?"

Harry thought the name sounded familiar so he nodded again. "I think so. He said the book is in here somewhere, if you want to look for it."

Madame Pomfrey glanced around and then walked over to the desk by the window. "Oh, here it is."

She picked up the black leather-bound book lying atop it and started back to the fireplace. "I'm sorry to run, Harry, but I'm in a tremendous hurry today. I'll invite myself back to tea soon, though, and visit with you and Severus again."

She happened to idly open the book and then paused, realising that it wasn't the Romano book, but was filled with Severus Snape's handwriting instead. She immediately set it down on the little table beside Harry's chair.

"Oh, this isn't it, after all. I wonder..." Spying a similar-looking volume on another table she went over and examined it. "Oh, good, this is the one I'm looking for."

She laid her hand on Harry's arm and said softly, "I'll try to come back tomorrow, dear, if Severus agrees."

Harry nodded. "Good-bye, Madame Pomfrey."

After she'd gone, Harry settled back in the chair and began reading again. He meant to put the book back on the shelf and be out of the library long before Snape returned, but the story was so interesting, and it was so nice to have something to distract him from his own messed-up life, that he lost track of time.

When the Floo flared again, Snape stepped out. He scowled as he saw Harry looking up at him anxiously, but then his eyes fell on the journal on the table beside the boy, and his expression changed to unadulterated hatred and rage.

He grabbed Harry and shook him so hard that Harry's teeth rattled. "What the hell have you been doing!"