Professor Snape looked over at Harry as he moaned, and rolled over in his sleep. They had traveled for another few hours, still getting seemingly nowhere, before they had decided on staying the night there in the forest. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have said it was the size of the forbidden forest, but as they were quickly finding, it was bigger.

The boy moaned again, and Snape wondered just how badly he was hurt. He would certainly let him get nowhere near him to check his wounds, with no way to heal them. It was pure stupidity if you asked him, but, no one had.. It was only the two of them out there, with no magic, no idea how they had gotten there, and what was worse, no idea how to get back.

He supposed of course, that they would eventually make their way into some sort of village or town, or run into some kind of people, who could tell them just where they were. But until then, he was stuck there. They, were stuck there.

He reached up and rubbed his right eye, trying to ward off sleep. With their resident hero asleep, it would do no good for him to be unconscious if a death eater, or some wild animal came strolling along to kill them, or in the animal’s case, have a late dinner.

The morning dawned grey, and Snape stretched, after having slept sitting upright with his back to a tree, his useless wand in his hand at his side. Quickly, realizing that he had fallen asleep without intending to, he looked around, and nearly sighed, when he saw the Gryffindor, still asleep, chest rising and falling peacefully.

Again, he tried a simple incantation, knowing the attempts would be futile. He was almost tempted to simply throw the wand at the ground in his frustration, but refrained from doing so at the notion that they would eventually get back, and he would need his wand then.

“Still not working?” a groggy voice came from his right.

Snape didn’t look over at him. “No,” he told him, forcing down the snide remark that had come into his mind just then.

Harry didn’t roll over to look at him. Instead, he picked up the wand that lay beside him in the dirt, and tossed it over his shoulder at his professor. It landed a foot away, before rolling over to him, and the Potions master looked up.

“Do you always treat your wand so harshly?” Snape inquired as his picked it up and tried the same spell.

“It’s useless,” Harry said tiredly.

“Even so, it may not be later.”

Harry looked over his shoulder, “Well, unless you want me to throw it at someone, or stick it up some troll’s nose…” he had accidentally stuck his wand up a troll’s nose in his first year, trying to save Hermione. In the end, Ron had knocked it out with a spell he had squabbled over with her just that day.

Snape narrowed his eyes at him. “If I see any trolls I’ll be sure to let you know,” he told him, voice lowered to tell him he hadn’t found that incident amusing.

Harry rolled his eyes, and eventually, sat up with some difficulty.

“So what are we doing?” he asked his Professor.

“We will come to a town eventually.”

“Brilliant,” Harry said under his breath. Even if he was alone he could have figured that one out. What good was having an adult around at all if they weren’t good for getting you out of these kinds of messes.

“Potter!” Snape growled, “Why do you insist on being so insolent?”

Harry yawned, “It’s the company I keep.”

Harry’s ribs ached as he walked. He wished not for the first time that he had decided to keep his wand on him at all times, at the Dursleys, instead of wandering down to the kitchen to find a bite to eat when he thought no one else was home. Maybe then he wouldn’t have walked in on Dudley and Piers trying to walk out the front door with Aunt Petunia’s antique desk.

Even as he thought about it now, his ribs ached more from where Dudley had slammed him against the wall with all his weight, as he threatened him not to breath a word.

Unaware of it, Harry was being watched by his Professor, who wore a very odd look indeed. It was almost as if he were trying to decide something. Harry looked up after he stumbled on a small root, and the expression on Snape’s face vanished instantly.

“What was that for?” Harry asked him, mistaking the look for one of anger.

“What was what for Potter?” he asked him.

“You were giving me the: It’s-all-your-fault, look,” he told him, wondering just what he had done now.

Snape didn’t respond for a moment, which seemed to make Harry angrier. “I haven’t said anything is your fault,” he corrected him.

Harry shook his head though and stopped walking. “Sure you have… loads of times. Every day, in fact,” Harry pointed out.

Snape’s lips curled into a thin smile as he remembered the last thing he had caught Harry doing. If it hadn’t been the last night of school, he would have given him detention for wandering around the halls so late… or would he? He shook the notion off that he wouldn’t have, just because of his loss. Not only was he breaking rules that more often than not were bent for him, but he was too accustomed to breaking rules, and now that he thought about it, he should have given him detention for the next, term.

Harry didn’t like the look on the Potion Master’s face.

“I’ve not wrongly accused you of breaking rules Potter,” he said calmly, continuing on to what he hoped to be the edge of the forest.

That was a lie, Harry thought to himself as he half jogged the few steps to keep up, even if he didn’t know it. But he had to know it; everybody else did. Snape always played favorites with his own house, while everyone else got in trouble for sneezing at the wrong time.

“That’s a load of-”

“Potter,” Snape warned him.

“You heard me,” he said angrily. “You play favorites, and so hardly anybody in your house gets into trouble when they’re actually doing bad stuff, while you’re out there picking on me! I’ve gotten more detentions than any other Gryffindor I bet,” Harry finished. He shook his head though, “Except maybe Fred and George,” he added.

“If you get detention, you deserve it,” Snape told him.

Harry shook his head. Snape was almost worse than the Dursleys… almost.

This time it was Snape who stopped, and looked over at Harry. “Potter, you cannot tell me, that you have not broken a countless number of rules deserving of punishment,” he didn’t even have to think for a second to list them off, “Wandering around after hours, sneaking into the forbidden forest, stealing, lying, disobeying the Headmasters direct orders, put in place to keep you safe.”

Harry shook his head, “All of those except stealing,” he said.

Snape stopped his rant and almost took a step back. He hadn’t expected Harry to admit to any of them. “What?”

“All of those except stealing,” Harry repeated. “I never stole anything.”

“You broke into my office and stole Gillyweed Potter,” but Harry shook his head.

“No?” Snape asked him. Harry shook his head again.

“I didn’t do that.”

“Then pray tell, just how did you get your hands on such an ingredient needed for the tournament, which just happened to go missing from my stocks when I checked?” Snape thought he had him caught now.

Harry of course knew how he had gotten the Gillyweed for the Tri-wizard Tournament in his fourth year, but if he told now, he would get Dobby in trouble.

Snape’s lips formed a smile again, which seemed to change Harry’s mind though.

“One of my friends brought it to me the morning of the tournament,” he said flatly.

Snape’s eyes widened. “Having Ms. Granger steal things is worse than the original offense Potter,” he informed him.

Harry shook his head though. “It wasn’t her, and I didn’t ask anyone to do it. I couldn’t figure out how to compete in that event, and that morning, a house elf brought it to me so I could save Ron.”

Snape looked as if he didn’t believe the story in the least. “A house elf?”

“Yes.”

Snape shook his head, clearly telling Harry that he didn’t believe him again.

“I don’t see why everybody insists that I’ve done stuff I haven’t!” Harry half shouted, as he walked off again.

This wasn’t the response Snape had expected. Guilt, admission that he had done it maybe, but not that. He followed, and quickly caught up with him, his legs being longer and being able to take larger strides.

“I didn’t do it,” Harry told him again.

“Did you take the desk?”

Harry stopped, dead in his tracks for the second time that day. He looked up at him, a little confused. “What?”

Snape was studying him now. “You were talking in your sleep,” he informed him, eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out what was going on in Harry’s mind, without actually diving into it.

Harry stared him straight in the eyes, and said, “No,” before walking off again, more slowly this time with the relief that he had only been talking in his sleep, and that was the extent of the Potion master’s knowledge of the incident.

Harry didn’t know for how long they walked before he stopped, unable to go any further. He hadn’t realized it, but he’d been walking extremely fast, probably just to show Snape he could still do better than him, even injured. By the end of the day, they were at the edge of a massive hill… more like a mountain, once Harry thought about it, looking down into a valley covered with trees.

Snape’s footsteps announced his presence behind Harry, and he turned just in time to see the expression on his face. It was one of utter confusion. Harry grinned at the pricelessness of it, before he expressed aloud the expression for the Professor.

“Where the heck are we?”

Snape shook his head. He hadn’t a clue.

Again, Harry settled down, his back against a tree, as he tried countless spells, and got no results.

Snape disappeared for a quarter of an hour, and came back with a number of different leaves and herbs. Harry watched as he dug a shallow hole in the ground, and began chopping up the leaves with a knife Harry had never seen him carry before, before he lit a fire in what was to be considered the crudest of ways (like a Muggle), and stirred the ingredients together. He disappeared several more times, coming back each time with a little water in his cupped hands. Finally, Harry got thirsty enough just watching him, and followed him on the fifth trip, to a shallow running stream.

“What are you making anyway?” Harry asked, speaking for the first time since the argument, not counting of course the question he’d asked.

Snape didn’t look at him, and instead pulled more leaves from a pocket, and added them whole to the concoction. “It’s complicated Potter,” he told him with a sneer.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m not a complete idiot you know.”

Snape looked up at this, his eyes asking if he was sure about that. Harry exhaled and rubbed his forehead again. Of course he was asking the wrong person, who thought he was a complete idiot.

“Try me,” Harry finally said, staring into the mess of leaves, and what seemed like a variety of moss with dirt and water.

The Professor glanced up at him, before he said, in a tone that told Harry he was annoyed, “It’s a simple healing potion Potter that takes a relatively short time to make… a few hours at the least. It contains several ingredients, that separate are as good as poison if ingested, but together make a salve that will take care of most of those cuts and scrapes.”

It seemed to Harry that he finished all of this in one long breath, though he had spoken slowly.

“Oh,” Harry said.

Snape nodded. Just as he thought. The boy didn’t need to know. He looked up at Harry again, and stopped stirring for a moment as he considered him.

“So what were you dreaming about?” he asked him. He had been curious about it all day, especially with the reaction Potter had given him, but felt he would get no information by pushing the subject.

Harry frowned. “It’s complicated,” he told him, not realizing what he’d said.

Snape nodded. “Try me.”

Now Harry’s frown turned into a glare as he stared at his Professor, who stared right back.

“Are you mocking me?” Harry asked him.

Snape shook his head and went back to his stirring. “If you choose to view it as such, mocking, than yes.”

Harry could tell, it was going to be a long night. He wasn’t going to tell him anything… he wouldn’t care anyhow.

The sun set, and as he watched the potion simmering, turning into a thick brown goop, turning green, Harry’s eyelids began to get heavy. He fought the urge to sleep, and dozed off a couple of times, waking abruptly when his chin hit his chest. From a few feet away, Snape watched this with some amusement. Though he didn’t know quite why the Gryffindor was trying to fight off sleep, he was nonetheless, and not doing a very good job of it. After another hour, he was out completely, and the Professor settled in against his own tree for another sleepless night.

Harry woke, drenched in cold sweat. He opened his eyes, and looked around the dark clearing. It was still night, or early morning. The fire had gone out, and he could no longer hear the potion simmering. He exhaled heavily, and let his head fall back to rest against the tree. He could see the still shape of Snape across the clearing, asleep. He was grateful, because he’d been dreaming of a lot of bad things, and was probably talking in his sleep again. The last thing he needed, was his enemy feeling sorry for him, because he was reliving the battle at the Ministry, or the broken ribs from Dudley and Uncle Vernon.

Across the clearing, Snape watched as Harry drifted back off to sleep, silently this time. Quietly he wondered how Potter could think it was his fault that Black had died… and also, what his punishment had been for the stolen table at his aunt and uncle’s house. He only had to guess though, to get it right. He wondered if the Headmaster knew.