Harry groaned softly. He felt like he’d been run over by a steamroller, or some other form of construction vehicle; leaving his body aching and exhausted. In fact, so great was the effort needed just to crack open his eyelids that Harry experienced a moment of panic.

Then, his eyes opened and light flooded his vision; the brightness temporarily blinding him. Harry groaned again and hauled himself up onto his elbows, trying to work out where he was. No bed at the Dursleys’ could ever be so comfortable.

Suddenly, it all came flooding back; Shadow, Malfoy, his ankle. Harry jerked himself upright with a gasp. Malfoy must have got me after all! And now I’m his prisoner! Harry blinked and frowned as, for the first time, he truly took in his surroundings.

He was in a fairly spacious room, bedecked in green and mahogany, and complete with a truly comfortable four-poster bed, upon which Harry was currently lying. He sighed and buried his head in his hands. If I’m Malfoy’s prisoner, he would hardly care about giving me nice accommodations. I must be missing something.

Another frown and a bitten lip later, Harry had the answer; strong arms and the camphor smell given off by a magical fire which clung to a set of dark robes. Somehow, someway, Harry had got himself rescued by Snape. Again.

Harry buried his head even deeper into his arms and pretended not to exist. It’s really hard to hate that man when he goes and does things like this.

Harry snorted. Actually, knowing the old bat, he’s probably gone and locked me in!

From under the crook of his arm Harry spied his glasses on the side table. Reaching out, he grabbed them and slipped them on, revelling in his ability at being able to see the room properly. He slid out of bed and gasped sharply as his weight landed on his left ankle. Wriggling back up onto the bed Harry pulled the end of his pyjama bottoms up and looked at the injured joint.

The bone appeared to have been straightened back into place, and the swelling had gone down dramatically. Harry sighed in relief. He was healed.

He had experience with broken limbs that were healed magically; they generally were tender and weak for several days after being healed and he was always told not to put too much strain on them.

Stretching his foot out in front of him, Harry wiggled it from side to side. Despite the fact that it wasn’t healed up to the standards he was used to, the repair wasn’t half bad. Snape must know more than we credited him for, Harry thought. After all, it must have been Snape who did it. I can hardly see him asking anyone for help, and even if he did, it would have been Madam Pomfrey he asked, wouldn’t it? And I can tell this definitely isn’t her work. I should know after all!

Smiling wryly, Harry slid off the bed again and very gingerly put his left foot back on the floor. No pain. Harry nodded; he would have to be very careful from now on, unless he wanted to damage it again. Hobbling slowly to the nearest door, Harry reached out and turned the handle. The door didn’t budge.

Harry sneered at it rebelliously. I knew it! I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist letting me know I was completely in his power. As if I would go wandering ‘round his house in my condition! The sneer grew less pronounced. Nice house he has here, though, if this room’s anything to go by!

Turning around, Harry half-hopped towards the en-suite bathroom he had spotted to relieve himself. However, before he even moved three steps, the door he had just turned away from banged open behind him.

“Potter!”

Harry rolled his eyes heavenwards. Oh dear God!

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing out of bed? Couldn’t amuse yourself for more than two seconds after waking, so you decided to go exploring? Well let me tell you something, boy; not in this house! Get back in bed this instant!”

Harry had whirled around near the beginning of this speech, and was currently staring at the six foot two apparition, which was bedecked in voluminous, black robes; a nasty sneer marring the harsh face. Harry sighed softly. Not even five minutes awake, and already someone’s back to calling me ‘boy!’ Did I do something really evil in a previous life? All right, Harry, polite, be polite, and maybe he’ll go easy on you…

“Please, sir, I just needed to-“

“Silence! Not another word, boy, until you’re back in that bed! And probably not even then!”

Yeah right, Harry, as if! “But, sir, if you would let me—ack!”

Professor Snape grabbed him firmly by the arms and hoisted Harry over his shoulder. All Harry could do in response to this shock was gulp and stare in alarm over the back of his captor’s shoulder. Surprisingly, the only thought Harry could bring to mind at this moment was; I didn’t know Snape was that strong!

The next second he was plunked unceremoniously back on his bed and the covers were shoved up to his chin. Harry, wisely, stayed silent. He was pretty sure that Snape wouldn’t appreciate the only comment in his mind at the moment, which was, at present, ‘eep!' Gathering himself, Harry decided to have one last try.

“Professor Snape, sir-“

This time Snape didn’t even bother to speak; the fearsome glare he sent Harry’s way said it all. Harry snapped his jaw shut and bit his lip, not even realising that his hands were frantically twisting in the duvet cover. However, a cool hand over the top of his own brought this small fact to Harry’s attention.

Snape’s hand jerked back immediately, almost as though he hadn’t meant to touch Harry at all. However, the contact had the desired effect; Harry’s hands stopped moving. Harry held his breath as Snape began to speak.

“Due to several of the potions I gave you last night you can not have any food until at least lunch time, during which time I will bring it to you and you will eat it! I am not interested in whatever reason you have been starving yourself for; you will eat everything I bring you and that is final!”

Harry had a hard time preventing his mouth from falling open. Snape thinks I’m anorexic? What the hell gave him that impression? Harry’s sharp ribs grated against his wrist as he shifted in place. Oh, that’s why. Of course, precious Potter’s relatives would never starve their only nephew! Harry didn’t even realise he was sneering slightly as he thought this.

Snape did, though.

“Additionally, you shall remain in bed until that time! I will not have you wandering around and injuring yourself further! To ensure this, I have spelled the bed to alert me whenever you leave it. And even when you’re better, don’t presume I’m going to allow you to wander about my house, sticking your fingers in where they don’t belong!”

Harry stared, all attempts at holding his mouth closed long since forgotten. That evil Git! But Snape wasn’t finished.

“Any attempts to subvert the rules at this point will result in me feeding you the strongest sleeping potion in my stores, so that I will not have to deal with you and your bratty attitude. Is that understood?”

 Harry nodded dumbly, ears ringing with the implications, and desperately trying not to say something which would escalate the situation. Evil, evil Git! I hope he chokes on his own potions fumes!

“Now, I don’t want you feigning illness any longer than is necessary. It is best if you drink plenty of liquids at this point to aid your recovery, otherwise you’ll be laid up in bed for much longer.” Snape looked as though this would be a very favourable option, but all Harry had eyes for at that moment was the tall glass of water that had appeared in Snape’s hand.

Now that Snape had mentioned it, Harry’s throat felt as though it were about to dry up. I’m so thirsty! He may be an evil git… but he’s giving me water! Maybe I didn’t really mean that bit about the potion fumes. Then the glass was in his hands and Harry gulped down the water without pause for breath. As soon as he had finished, Snape began speaking again.

“I have confiscated your wand and Cloak to prevent any mischief you might come up with, with them in your possession, but I have no reason not to give you this.” Snape took hold of the glass again and pulled a little wooden box from out of his pocket, setting it on the bedside table as he vanished the water glass. “Remember, stay in bed!” With a dramatic swish of his robe, Snape left the room.

Harry sighed. I really wish he’d let me ask if I could use the loo. Still, I suppose I’ve had plenty of practice at the Dursleys’, Harry thought bitterly. He reached out and picked up the unfamiliar wooden box, and then, with a jolt, he knew exactly what it was.

Harry stared at his shrunken trunk and scowled. Snape probably thinks this is really funny. Ha, ha, hilarious, you greasy git! Thanks a bunch for returning all of my belongings in a form that is no use to anyone but a really tiny pixie!

 Harry placed the trunk in his palm and stared at it for a moment, before whispering, “Aconite,” at it. The tiny catch clicked and the lid popped open, leaving Harry staring at things, which were now more appropriate for a doll’s house. Snape really does hate me. He’s probably still getting back at me for the werewolf incident.

At this thought, Harry’s heart squeezed. Sirius. What would Sirius think of all this? Well, he certainly wouldn’t stand for Snape acting like a total jerk, but… What if he finds out I’m not James Potter’s son? What then? Would he still care then? Harry scrubbed a little of the wetness off his face, determined not to think about how it got there. God, Sirius, I hope you’re safe! Please stay safe for me; I still need you. Even if you can’t be here with me.

Biting his lip, Harry rolled over and closed his eyes tight shut, praying for sleep to take him. His now-closed trunk was cradled to his chest.

HPSSHPSSHPSS

Severus stared at the door, his arms folded, waiting for Potter to get out of bed and turn the handle.

However, five minutes later, Potter had yet to appear, and Severus was almost certain that a while back he had heard a stifled sob. What’s going on? Slowly, carefully, Severus turned the handle of the door, inched it open, peered inside and stared. By the looks of things, Potter was sound asleep. How is that even possible? Will wonders never cease?

Severus crept back into the room and around to the side of the room that Potter was facing, approached the bed, and stared down at the sleeping boy, for Potter was, indeed, asleep. Severus rolled his eyes and reached out to pull off Potter’s glasses, which were currently digging into the side of the boy’s head. Stretching over the boy he put them back on the bedside table, but when he glanced down, this unique vantage point revealed something else that Potter had fallen asleep with.

The shrunken trunk was clutched to the boy’s chest, held tight with both of his hands. Severus frowned. Honestly, what kind of behaviour is that? He slipped his own fingers around the trunk, preparing to prize it out of the pincer-like grip, when Potter whimpered loudly and clutched it closer.

Something glistened on his cheek when he moved. Severus leaned closer once more and gasped silently.

So, Potter had been crying! Over what though? Severus’ frown deepened. Was it over his trunk? I was only trying to show the boy I wasn’t about to steal his belongings! And who knows what mischief he might get up to with what’s inside it? Another look at Potter’s frowning, tearstained face had Severus cursing under his breath. I can’t believe I’m going to do this! He’s spoiled enough as it is!

Yanking the chest from Potter’s limpet grip, Severus ignored the resulting whimper, set the trunk of the floor and hissed, “Engorgio!” Severus watched with grim satisfaction as the trunk took on its original size. There! Now there’s nothing you should be whining about, Potter! Another whimper from the bed proved otherwise.

Severus turned to find the sleeping boy slowly clawing at the mattress, as if he were trying to find something. Muttering a curse, Severus walked back over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it.

“Go back to sleep, Potter; there’s nothing for you to worry about until lunch time.” Severus muttered. Potter stilled, for a minute, as though listening, before going back to groping at the mattress. “Oh, for-!” Severus stretched a hand out and ran his fingers through Potter’s unruly mop.

The boy flinched a little, but then leaned into the hand like a cat, a soft sigh releasing formerly tense muscles.

“That’s it, Potter, sleep.” The child’s hair was surprisingly soft, and Severus found he didn’t mind running his fingers through it a couple more times. God forbid he’d ever do it when the child was awake of course! Severus slowly stood up and walked towards the door once he was certain Potter would not wake.

A flash of brown hair in the mirror opposite the end of Potter’s bed made Severus freeze, and then whirl around to face the rest of the room. Both Potter and I have black hair. Who’s in the room with us?

A slow stare around the room revealed no one, and a look back in the mirror only showed Potter’s sleeping form. Severus shook his head. I must have imagined it.

Why though, he thought as once more he shut and locked Potter’s door behind him, did I imagine I saw Potter with brown hair?