“Minerva,” he said tiredly. “Before you even think about berating me, you might consider would you would have done had there been a malicious intruder trying to get into your house.”

The stern look left her face and for a second, left her looking completely astounded. However, the next moment her strict demeanour came back with a vengeance. “Be that as it may, Severus Snape, you might want to consider that the Headmaster rarely asks for things that have no importance, no matter how irrelevant they may seem. No,” she said sharply, raising her hand as he made to interrupt, “I’m not interested in your excuses, however valid they may be. The point of the matter is that Albus has just sent me an owl, urgently asking you to go to Privet Drive and ‘clear up’ for him. Now, I don’t know what that means, but I’m pretty sure you do.”

Severus stood frozen as he realised the implications of this message. Oh no.

“Thank you, Minerva,” he snapped as he turned and ran back towards the door. A sudden thought hit him. Drat! “Minerva, this may seem an odd request, but I must insist that you remain here until I am once again within the walls of this house. It is imperative that you do this!”

Minerva threw her hands up in the air. “Imperative indeed! Between you and the Headmaster, I shall never get any of my work done before the start of term!”

“Minerva…”

“Go, shoo!” She flapped her hands at him. “Far be it from me to stop you! I shall wait until you return.”

He nodded and bolted out of the front door again, sprinting down to the Manor gates where the Anti-Apparition wards ended, cursing Albus all the way. Skidding to a stop, he gripped his wand and turned on the spot, Disapparating from his home.

Severus always likened Apparition to having the floor abruptly fall out from under him, and then, a split second later, halt suddenly under his weightless feet; bringing him back to earth with a sharp thump. This time was no different from any of the others; but luckily, Severus was more adept at Apparition than he was at Floo travel.

Severus crept out from the lee of a darkened house, peering around Privet Drive, checking for anything out of the ordinary. To be honest, Severus wasn’t quite sure what to expect or, indeed, what was expected of him. Dumbledore had said to ‘clear up’, but what was he to do with Lucius and the Dursleys when he found them?

Pursing his lips in a determined scowl, he wrapped his cloak tightly around himself, hoping that if any Muggles spotted him he would simply appear to be wearing a very long overcoat. In summer.

Severus sighed. There are eccentrics even in Muggle culture, aren’t there? I just hope that if anyone spots me this time, they won’t stick around for a closer look.

He set off down the road towards Number Four, his head bent to conceal his identity from the few Muggles who still had their lights on. Maybe I’ll have an epiphany of what to do with Lucius while setting up protection wards around the house – after all, the blood wards did sod all, didn’t they? Suddenly feeling nervous, Severus quickened his pace. Yes, protection is a good idea. There’s no way I’m housing Muggles along with Potter. If I take measures to protect them, Albus will have nothing to complain about.

He stopped in front of the Dursley residence and looked up at the darkened windows. Everyone seemed to be asleep. He walked up the drive, past the car and to the front door.

“Alohomora,” he whispered, and the lock clicked almost inaudibly. He crept inside the silent house and shut the door behind him. Odd. It seems almost too silent in here. Severus crept down the hall, peered into a door to his left and felt his breath catch in his throat. The mess he had seen in the kitchen last time was still there.

Chills crept down his spine and he made for the stairs, no longer caring about any noise he might make. Then he was at the top of the staircase, opening the first door to his right, ignoring the locks on the outside in favour of checking the interior. It was completely empty save one small, single bed. Severus shut the door and opened the next one along the hallway.

The chills got worse. A big double bed sat in the centre of the room; immaculately made up and evidently not slept in. Severus whirled around and opened the door opposite; another single bed, only this one was surrounded by toys and games. Severus pursed his lips. Probably Potter’s room. The room next to that was obviously an unoccupied guest room and the only other room was the bathroom.

Severus stood on the landing breathing heavily. The house was deserted, but the car was still there, which could only mean…

Severus hurried downstairs, flicking on all the lights as he went, finding all the things he wished he could not. Signs of a struggle; smashing glass, smeared food, even in one instance blood.

Fool, fool, fool. You should have known better than to trust Narcissa Malfoy’s intentions… Severus gasped suddenly and sprinted from the house, down Privet Drive and into Magnolia Crescent, heading straight for a certain bush. Once there, he scrabbled underneath it, cursing as his hands failed to come into contact with the elder Malfoy.

Sighing, Severus sat back on his haunches and pinched the bridge of his nose. Too late. It was obvious now what had happened; Narcissa had subdued the Muggles, Stunned them and gone to find her husband once it was obvious to her that Potter was missing. Her husband retrieved, she had then proceeded to take the Muggles as compensation for missing out on the grand prize.

Severus slowly stood and trudged back to Number Four, cursing himself for missing the completely obvious. And to think; for a short time I had Lucius Malfoy under my power and I then let the opportunity slip through my hands!

Shutting the front door behind him, Severus locked it once more and set about making the place look respectable. It was the least he could do after making such a monumental mess up. Stopping by the sitting room, Severus paused, puzzled by what he saw. Instead of flicking off the light switch and leaving, he stepped further into the room and over to the mantelpiece.

Three Dursleys stared back at him, frozen mid-smile from the many Muggle photos on the mantelpiece. Severus frowned at them. Where on Earth is Potter in all of these? For not a single shot showed the green eyed boy. Severus moved to the next room, searching for more photos, searching for proof of the boy’s existence in this house, and feeling slightly more desperate each time he found nothing.

In a last ditch attempt to locate something of Potter’s, he opened the cupboard under the stairs and looked in, scoffing at himself the second the door was open.

 But there was something there… Peering closer, Severus made out a childish scrawl written in Muggle crayons on the underside of one of the stairs; Harry’s room.

Severus’ hand trembled slightly. Harry’s room. Dear Merlin, no. Very slowly he shut the door and climbed the stairs. Enough, Severus, you’re overreacting; every child has a hideaway. But why then were there no photos of him? Or any evidence that he lived in this house at all?

Severus stood and stared at the door to the right of the stairs; stared at the many locks and remembered that this was the same room whose window was wide open on the night Potter made his escape. Severus stepped forwards and pushed open the door; bare room, single bed. Nothing else, save for a large wardrobe and an old desk. He walked in and felt something crunch under his foot.

There on the floor was an owl pellet, and next to it, tucked down the side of the desk was a piece of parchment. Severus tugged it free and stared dully at Potter’s half-finished Potions essay.

By now, Severus was ready to consider that he had made colossal error in judgement.

HPSSHPSSHPSS

Harry woke and peeped out from under his lashes at a blurry needle of moonlight speared across his bed. For about two seconds he wondered what had woken him, before imperceptibly stiffening with realisation. Somebody was in the room with him.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for them to go away. He knew the Dursleys hated him doing his homework in the dead of night, but he had been only sleeping this time, honest! The only thing was, the person in his room with him didn’t have Vernon or Dudley’s heavy breathing, but neither did they possess the quick, fidgety movements Aunt Petunia made when she checked on him. In fact, this person was remaining completely still and silent, and it was only Harry’s long experience of being wary which had alerted him to their presence.

Harry took a slow breath and delved his imaginary fingers down into his magical core. He had been doing this almost constantly since he had first discovered it – like picking at a new scab, unable to leave it alone – and he was now able to locate it and select a strand with no problem at all. The difficulty now lay with pulling the strand out so that it could be used. He was still depleted from using the spell on Shadow, and didn’t have the strength to make a new ball of magic available to him without damaging himself.

Harry was willing to try this if it saved his life, but only as a last resort. Keeping the strand he had selected ready for use, he slowly opened his eyes and peered around the room. Maybe he could reason with the person, or at least, buy himself enough time to yell for Snape… oh.

Sitting in the chair beside him, twirling a piece of parchment idly between his fingers, was Snape. Harry released a shaky breath and let go of the magic. It was nice to know he wouldn’t have to fight for his life. Unfortunately, he now might have to fight for something else, because why else would Snape be in his room?

“Professor?” he whispered; his voice rough with sleep as he reached for his glasses. “What are you doing in my room?”

Snape shot him a glance that seemed surprisingly soft, which could, of course, be blamed on the moonlight. “Go back to sleep, Potter.”

“Can’t. It’s creepy with you sitting there and watching me.” Shit! Did I really say that out loud? From now on I must make a resolve not to speak for at least half an hour after waking. Harry shut his eyes and waited for the verbal killing blow that Snape was sure to deliver.

It did not come. Harry opened his eyes again and stared askance at his Professor. The Professor stared back; before asking the very last question Harry would ever have expected.

“Where did you sleep at the Dursley residence?”

Harry blinked. “Oh, I had a bedroom.” Of course you had a bedroom, you dolt! All normal people sleep in bedrooms. Only creepy little nephews have to sleep in cupboards. “It was upstairs, to the right of the staircase.”

Snape nodded, as though something he had already suspected had been confirmed. “Indeed. You left your Potions essay behind.” Snape laid the parchment he had been fiddling with on the bedside table. His next words were said almost gently. “Next time don’t try to get out of writing about Austin’s second principle by simply leaving your work behind. Now, sleep. I expect to see you dressed by eight o’clock tomorrow.”

Then Snape stood, walked to the door, and left.

Harry stared after him, then at the parchment on the side table. “Oh, holy shit. He knows.”

Shadow looked blearily out from the other side of the mirror, pyjamas rumpled and dark hair tousled. ‘Busted. By Snape.’

They shared a grim look and Harry tried to stop his hands shaking. “God knows how he expects us to sleep after that.”

Shadow nodded and groaned as he buried himself deeper into the covers. ‘I’m going to pretend that conversation never happened, though I doubt that tactic will work. Night, Harry.’

“Night, Shadow.”

Both boys lay awake for a long time afterwards; staring at the ceiling and trying to think of nothing.