With tears of fury starring her eyes, Erin stalked off down the dungeon corridor. Oh, how she wished she had slammed that bloody door. It would have enabled her to siphon off a little of this anger. Now, all she could do was kick the stone wall, but unfortunately she knew that the stones would win the battle against her new trainers.

After she rounded yet another bend, Erin stopped and stared at the dim passageway ahead of her. Then she looked back the way she had come. Every bit of wall, floor and ceiling looked exactly the same as the bit before and the bit after. There was more than one passageway—she had noticed that when Dobby had guided her down here.

She was hopelessly lost.

A sob of frustration welled up and unable to control her emotions any longer, Erin moved sideways and slumped against the wall, tears streaming down her face. She hiccoughed and tried to gather herself together, but it was hopeless. The tears flowed faster and Erin covered her face and slid down the wall until she was sitting on the cold stones. Tears leaked through the fingers that were pressed tightly against her eyes and sobs rocked her body.

Everything that had happened over the last thirty-six odd hours suddenly welled up and overflowed…in spades: the fear that someone had broken into number four while Harry was there alone, seeing a broken and battered Harry being hovered over by a supposed assailant, waking up in fantasy land, finding out that her parents home had been destroyed, and finally, speaking to her parents yesterday…it was all too much. The wet eyes in the mall yesterday had obviously just been the very tip of the iceberg and she was now discovering just how big the submerged iceberg was.

And now bloody Severus Snape of the black heart, had pushed just that little bit harder than her obviously shaky emotions could tolerate and she had turned into a pathetic blubbering mess. A lost, pathetic blubbering mess!

All she had wanted to do was thank him for finding Pumpkin for her. Why did he have to be such an absolute…aagh! He was not going to reduce her to swearing. Well, bloody didn’t count. And if she started on anything worse than bloody, she wouldn’t be able to stop. He was just such a…such an…

Erin dragged in a shaky breath and tried to stop crying. But every time that she did, a burning lump that she could not swallow past would block her throat and she would start gasping for air like she was going to start to hyperventilate.

Erin sat hunched on the floor howling until she had no more tears left. And seem as they were all now on the outside, she desperately needed a tissue to mop them up. She had thrown a box of tissues in amongst the toiletries she had loaded her shopping basket with yesterday, but of course, they were in her room as she hadn't thought that she would need a tissue just to go and thank the Black-hearted Prince.

Silly me! You’d think I could have intuited that a meeting with that razor-tongued, disdainful, detestable, slithering snake-in-the-grass would definitely lead to tears.

Erin rubbed her very wet face against the knees of her jeans and sniffled to try and clear her nose. Nope, she definitely needed a tissue. She raised her swollen eyes and looked around at her dimly lit, dank and unwelcoming surroundings. How in the hell had she gotten herself so lost? Surely there couldn’t be that many different corridors down here. Sure, the castle was big, she had seen that yesterday when she had turned back to look at it while the snake was hailing that Knight Bus, but it wasn’t as big as a city.

But these corridors seemed to go on for ever. How was she going to find her way out? She could probably wander around down here until she collapsed from dehydration and died. She supposed one day, someone would find her bones. She imagined rats would make short work of her flesh.

And then Erin realised just how maudlin and ridiculous her thoughts were becoming. And she thanked Severus Snape for that! Taking a deep breath and girding her loins, Erin pushed herself back to her feet. She pressed her fingertips against her swollen eyelids again and massaged them gently, still sniffling. Then she gathered the length of her hair into one hand and rubbed the sensitive skin on the back of her neck before letting the red-gold curtain fall down her back again.

God, what kind of an idiot was she? Before coming down here, she had taken her hair out of the untidy ponytail she had gathered it into earlier and brushed it's luxuriant thickness until it shone like one of these torches in it's wall sconce. She hadn't placed any significance upon her action, but now as she started to retrace her steps—at least she thought she was retracing her steps—she realised belatedly and with a sense of dawning horror, that she had tried to make herself more attractive for Severus Snape.

And just how mortifying was that. Erin began walking more quickly, the soles of her trainers slapping angrily against the uneven stone floor. She was all kinds of a fool. She was attracted to him! What was it about that horrible, horrible man that made her feel that she had to fuss over her appearance for him? He had not intimated in any way that he found her anything more than a complete nuisance. Look at how desperately he had tried to avoid accompanying her to London yesterday. And look at how terse and disinterested and downright unpleasant he had been all the time they had been alone together. You would think that that might have been enough of a hint for her that the man did not think of her in a similar light. And she had fixed her bloody hair!

But he had gone out of his way to rescue Pumpkin.

Erin shut her eyes and shook her head. She was not going to think about the man in any positive light. So, he liked cats. It was cat’s owners that he found abhorrent. She began walking again, coming to a fork in the labyrinthine passageways and taking the left one. When you were as lost as she was, one way was as good as the other. Perhaps she should do what they told you to do if you were lost in the outback in Australia. Just sit and wait. Someone would find you. But walking was helping her to siphon off some of her anger.

So, she had definitely decided that not only was Severus Snape not interested in her, her attraction to him made her a total masochist. Did he have to emblazon the words across his forehead so that she would get the message? But why would he have to do that? Erin stopped walking again and gazed ahead of her, suddenly even more horrified than she had been when she had actually admitted to herself that she was attracted to the man. Did he know? Did the black-hearted Prince know that she was attracted to him?

Oh, please God, don’t let him know.

Erin continued to walk for another five minutes before she stopped and slumped against one of the damp walls again. More tears were on the way, but she dug her fingertips into her eyes again in an effort to stop them. What good would they do? What good had the last crying jag done besides to give her a headache to go along with her mortification? How was she going to find her way out of here? She had sent Dobby away after he had led her to Professor Snape’s laboratory. What had she been thinking? Probably that the man she had come to thank would take the time to walk back to the main part of the castle with her.

“Oh, Dobby! Why did I send you away,” Erin groaned. But then her eyes flew open and she yelped in surprise when a loud crack sounded right next to her. Dobby’s little face was shining up at her from beneath his teetering tower of knitted hats.

“Did miss call for Dobby?” the elf asked quietly.

Erin felt like throwing her arms around the little creature with relief. “Oh, Dobby, I am so happy to see you. How did you know to come?”

“Dobby heard you miss. If anyone wants Dobby, all they has to do is be calling Dobby. But Dobby is a free elf, and Dobby does not have to be answering every summons. But miss is a friend of Harry Potter’s and so Dobby is happy to be doing anything for miss.”

Dobby looked around at his surroundings. “But miss is a very long way down in the dungeons. Professor Snape’s laboratory is back that way. Miss is practically under the lake.”

Erin’s cheeks had reddened. “I know Dobby. I’m hopelessly lost. Professor…Professor Snape was too busy to see me back to the Entrance Hall.”

“But miss should have called Dobby right away.”

Erin thought of the state she had been in when she had left the black-hearted Prince’s lab. Her embarrassment increased. “I didn’t want to bother you. I thought I would be able to find my way out.”

Dobby studied her face in the dim light and his bat-like ears seemed to droop a little because of what he saw. He held out his little hand. “Dobby will be leading miss back to her room,” he said solemnly.

“The Entrance Hall should be fine, Dobby,” replied Erin, taking the little hand in her own. “I think I should be able to find my way to my room now.”

But Dobby had obviously decided that Erin needed a guide all the way back to the sixth floor, and fifteen minutes later, Erin was quietly shutting her door as Dobby disappeared with a loud crack back to the kitchens or wherever he had been working before she had dragged him away from his task. Ten minutes after returning to her room, Erin was soaking the dankness of the dungeons from her bones and skin as she luxuriated in a beautifully scented, hot bath, with a cold face washer over her face and her hair up in as untidy a ponytail as she had been able to manage—having finally consigned Severus Snape to the devil.

8888

Severus too had made use of the castle’s abundant water supply, but he preferred a long, hot shower. Being below the level of the lake here in the dungeons, the water pressure was forceful to say the least and he relaxed under the pounding needles of hot water as they massaged his shoulders and neck. He just stood with his head bowed and his hands against the tiled wall for ten minutes and let the needles do their work, and slowly, the tension of the last thirty-six odd hours began to ease.

Things weren’t as bad as they could have been, of course. He would still hardly be able to move after his prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse two nights ago, even with his own superior brews to dose himself with and the special muscle and nerve rejuvenator that he could soak in. Two tears from Fawkes and there was no lingering muscle ache, tremors, or headache. The tears had also seemed to dull his memory of the actual pain whilst he was under the curse, an effect for which he was profoundly grateful.

Idly, Severus reached for the sandalwood soap that he favoured and which he made himself, and began to work up a deep lather over his chest and abdomen. He wondered whether he would be able to get Albus to persuade that remarkable bird to offer up a phial full of tears. Merlin knew, there was a handful of very rare brews that were precisely that because they needed the addition of phoenix tears to make them their most efficacious.

With his post-cruciatus brew, all he would have to do would be to incorporate the smallest amount of phoenix tear to make it a truly remarkable potion. All he would need for each batch of potion was the thinnest stylet dipped into a phial of tears and then, wet with the merest trace of the tears, he would then dip it into the swirling current of brew after he had taken it off the flame and it had cooled slightly. Yes, that would definitely improve his formula fifty fold. And the infinitesimal amount needed for each batch would mean that the phial of tears would last for years. Drinking the whisky with the addition of two of Fawkes’s tears had not only banished his tremors and pain instantaneously, they had made him feel fitter than he had in a long time, and that affect was persisting.

Phoenixes really were the most amazing magical creatures

But would Fawkes be co-operative? Severus had never seen another phoenix in the whole of his life, so he definitely needed Fawkes to be willing to contribute tears, and for that, he had to keep on Albus’s good side. But to remain on Albus’s good side at the moment would require him to undertake a task that he wanted nothing to do with.

Angrily, Severus rubbed the bar of solid shampoo that he had concocted for his own personal use over his hair, and then attacked his scalp with vigorously strong fingers. How he hated his hair with it's propensity to only remain oil-free for less than twenty-four hours. Usually, he did not let it bother him…he found that it added to the intimidation factor when dealing with his students. During the holidays, however, he took more care with his appearance. But as this last thought wafted across his consciousness, Severus paused in the action of drawing his fingers through the squeaky clean, long black locks and slumped against the cool tiles. He raised his face to the pummelling spray of water.

Who was he kidding? He normally could not care less about any aspect of his appearance, as long as he was clean and shaven. But in the last couple of days, he had washed his hair three times!

With a hiss of irritation, Severus twisted the faucets and shut off the water. As he stepped from the shower and reached for a towel upon which he had earlier cast a warming charm, he realised that his mental ramblings about phoenixes and potions had been a deliberate ploy to prevent his thoughts from dwelling on Erin Hanson.

There were so many reasons not to allow this woman a foothold in his life, not the least being the fact that such an attractive woman would never look at him in a romantic light. Then there was the inescapable fact that the Dark Lord would never stand for one of his Death Eaters having a relationship with a Muggle.

Severus didn’t even have to wonder about the form the punishment would take. If he wished to survive, he would be forced to torture and kill Erin—after she had been passed around for the other Death Eater’s cruel pleasure. If he refused to do the Dark Lord’s bidding, and accepted death for himself, he would still have to watch as Death Eater after Death Eater raped and tortured her before the final denouement, and then he himself would be disposed of in the cruellest, possible way.

Severus threw the towel aside in a fury and snatched up his wand. He didn’t have the patience to towel himself dry, and with an angry flick of his wand, he was instantly dry. Then he stalked into the bedroom and dressed himself in fresh robes, cursing Erin Hanson and his own foolish, youthful fascination with the Dark Arts and the Dark Lord.

8888

Thinking to spend the rest of the afternoon reading and imbibing a quantity of his favourite single malt scotch whisky, Severus stalked into his reading room, intent upon pouring himself a hefty measure of alcohol. He headed for the small, round, marble topped table where he kept his supply of alcoholic beverages and turned a squat tumbler upright. He stopped in the process of uncapping his favourite whisky however, when the green flames flared within his empty fireplace and Poppy Pomfrey’s face appeared. She caught sight of her quarry immediately.

“Severus, I would appreciate it if you could come and check on Harry for me. As he is your patient, I do not want to countermand your orders.”

Severus shut his eyes and took a deep breath. If there was one thing that he did not need at the moment, it was anything to do with Harry bloody Potter. “What is it Poppy? Apart from the potions I ordered for the boy, he only needs to remain resting in the hospital wing before he is released.”

“Yes…well, that is easy enough in itself. But though he is resting as you ordered, he is resting too much. He seems to have sunk into apathy. He did not eat any lunch and he is just lying there, sometimes sleeping, yes, but often just gazing into space. It is a little disconcerting because he seemed happy enough until Miss Hanson left this morning.”

Severus lips thinned. Another susceptible male who had apparently fallen for Miss Hanson’s charms. “What is it you think I should do Poppy?” he asked irritably. “Perhaps he is just tired.”.

Poppy’s green tinged face hardened—her lips thinning in a way that Severus remembered from his own student days. “Tired from what? Resting in bed. I would appreciate it if you could come and re-assess him…make sure that his significant injuries are still healing to your satisfaction…” her lips thinned even further. “After all, Severus, there is more to healing than just repairing physical damage.

“ think it is his state of mind that needs special care at the moment. And loathe as I am to push you and Mr Potter into each other’s company, considering your combined history, it was you who was there for the child when he was near death’s door, and you who was here when he found out about the demise of his aunt and cousin and the destruction of his home. You will probably be able to empathise more, having been a part of the whole terrible ordeal.”

Severus didn’t know if it was wishful thinking on Poppy’s part to imagine that there was any circumstance on Earth that could see him empathising with James Potter’s son, or if she truly did not know as much as she thought she did about his and Potter Junior’s combined history. But her ‘loathe as I am to push you and Mr Potter into each other’s company’ would tend to make that unlikely.”

“I doubt my speaking to Potter will have any positive effect, Poppy.”

“He needs to speak to someone and he will not speak to me,” she said in a snippy but determined voice. “As his primary carer, it is your place to speak to him. I will see you within the next couple of minutes.” And with that, she withdrew her angry visage from the fireplace.

Severus looked towards the bottle of whisky that he had intended to make significant inroads into. So, single malt...or Harry Potter. Decisions, decisions. But Severus wouldn’t put it past Poppy to come through the floo and lead him by the ear back to the hospital wing.

Well, perhaps a little Potter baiting would help keep thoughts of a certain Muggle at bay. This course of action also had the added benefit of not leaving him in dire need of a hangover cure. And bringing the Golden Gryffindor down a peg or two had always made him feel better before. But as Severus took up a pinch of green powder and transported himself to the hospital wing, he was a little shocked to realise that the prospect of baiting the boy no longer held quite the same appeal.

Poppy was standing in front of a glass fronted cabinet, sorting through her current stock of potions. As Severus spelled the ash from his black robes, she looked him over sternly, making him feel like the taciturn young Slytherin who had often taken up the matron’s time having hexes or jinxes reversed or lifted that James Potter, Sirius Black or occasionally Peter Pettigrew had ambushed him with.

Severus looked down his substantial nose at her, no longer that vulnerable teenage boy. Poppy ignored the look and directed his gaze by pointing with her stern chin towards the mound of covers that was totally covering Potter’s small frame. Severus couldn’t even see that trademark messy hair.

It was three-thirty in the afternoon and though Potter had suffered terribly at the hands of his uncle, he had received the necessary care with little delay. Severus had ordered the bed rest, not to torture the boy, but because exhaustion was a typical side effect of trauma and the subsequent healing also used up a lot of energy. Despite this, the boy had seemed to be advancing just as Severus would have expected him to be early this morning when he had dropped the cat onto his bed. Then, it had been just after dawn, and Potter had been lying wide awake gazing at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. Hmm…Severus had not really thought about that then, but surely Potter should have been sound asleep.

And now he was buried under the covers when Severus would have expected him to be practically climbing the walls, demanding to be released from the hospital wing. One thing he knew for certain about Harry Potter was that he was definitely not lazy or a layabout…well, with anything that wasn’t schoolwork, anyway. Perhaps his present exhaustion had to do with the fact that he had been awake so early this morning, but then again, out of the ordinary sleeping habits could be a sign of something untoward.

Before he could sweep out of the office, Poppy put a bony hand on his arm. Severus looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Be gentle,” she said softly. “He’s been through a lot Severus, as none better than you knows. He might think he’s grown up, but he isn’t. And he has now lost the last of his family, and poor family though they were, following so quickly after the death of Sirius Black, it has to be having a major impact on him.

Severus didn’t answer, but Poppy must have seen something in his face, because she nodded and released his arm before turning back to her potion cabinet without another word.

Severus strode over to Potter’s bed, expecting the boy to stir when he heard approaching footsteps. But there was no movement under that mound of bedclothes. “Potter,” said Severus in a no-nonsense voice.

No response.

“Potter!” Severus raised his voice slightly and at the same time, he yanked the edge of the covers down. The boy’s eyes flew open but remained vague with the remnants of sleep. He had definitely been sound asleep and it was taking him a while to drag himself back to full consciousness.

Severus watched the green eyes that the boy had inherited from Lily, as they blinked owlishly several times before beginning to clear. Harry’s tongue flicked out to moisten very dry lips. For a moment, he seemed to be about to succumb to drowsiness again, but then Severus moved to pull the covers down a little further and Harry froze.

He flipped onto his back and blinked up at the black and white shape looming over him. Severus had no doubt the boy knew, even without the aid of his glasses, that he was looking at the looming form of his hated potions professor. Sure enough, Harry shot upright in the bed and scrabbled on the cabinet for his glasses. All he managed to do in his panic was nearly knock them to the floor and Severus clamped his hand around the boy’s bony wrist and then guided the suddenly frozen hand towards a wire earpiece. Shocked as he was, Harry’s senses quickly caught up and he grasped the earpiece. Severus let his arm go and Harry fumbled the glasses onto his face.

“What!” said Harry somewhat aggressively, but he seemed to realise how rude he had sounded without Severus’s raised eyebrow to point it out. “Sorry,” he then mumbled, his forehead and cheeks stained ruby red against the pallor of the rest of his face.

“What are you doing, Potter?” asked Severus in as indifferent a tone as he could muster. “I didn’t think to find you curled up like a foetus under a mound of covers on a hot…” he gestured out the window at the clear blue sky, “July day.”

“Well what else is there to do?” asked Harry belligerently. “You told me I had to stay in bed.’

“Staying in bed does not constitute sleeping your life away. You do know how to read, don’t you?”

“According to you, no,” said Harry pushing the boundaries and making Severus narrow his eyes. Harry back-tracked a little. “I haven’t got anything to read. I haven’t got my new text books yet.”

“And of course, you know the old ones by heart,” said Severus mockingly. “If you do not wish to read to garner some much needed knowledge, then perhaps you could read just enough to attempt to do some of your summer homework. I know that I set work that you should be able to make a fair showing of with the assistance of your fifth year text.’

“Oh, come on Professor,” scoffed Harry. “Since when has ‘making a fair showing’ where I’m concerned ever garnered me anything more than a ‘P’ when you’re marking my work?”

Severus crossed his arms and glared at the cheeky little snot. But as irritated as he was with the truth being thrown in his face so effectively, Severus didn’t feel as guilty as Harry obviously meant him to feel. The grades that Potter thought he had received were not actually the grades that were recorded in Severus’s own records. They were the grades the boy had actually earned, and on the whole they were more than average.

Severus had idly wondered on more than one occasion when he placed an ‘E’ beside the boy’s name in his records for some piece of work or other, just how well the junior Potter might do at potions if he was left well alone to get on with things without constant harassment.

Certainly, this nasty behaviour was ill befitting a teacher, but Severus had never pretended to be devoted to the job and Harry Potter had always managed to bring forth the tormented teenager Severus had once been because of the boy’s swine of a father and godfather. And as much as he had loved Lily Evans, the memories of the battleground that had constituted much of his time as a Hogwart’s student because of James Potter and his cronies, overshadowed the more gentle emotions brought forth by his memories of Lily.

Severus now took a deep breath as his black eyes ranged over the rebellious young person before him. Potter was hunched in on himself, no doubt waiting for an explosion. None was forthcoming, Harry squirmed, uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny he was being subjected to. Severus was not surprised by this physical manifestation of nervousness.

Severus had never thought he would see a child beaten as badly as Potter had been by the man who was supposed to be his guardian. Vernon Dursley wasn’t a criminal, he wasn’t cruel to his wife and son; in fact, he indulged both ridiculously, especially the son. But to beat a child to within an inch of his life for being something he had no control over, especially when you were supposed to protect that child was abhorrent to Severus.

He knew there were some who would scoff at his supposedly benign attitude when his own treatment of the boy left so much to be desired; but he had never abused Potter physically. He had come close in his office when he had thrown him to the floor and then followed that up by throwing a full specimen jar at him, but he had definitely not aimed to hit.

It was the injured boy whom he had had to stun and carry back to Hogwarts with him that Severus first thought of now when he was near Harry…not the son of James Potter. Oh, he was still his usual acerbic self when others were around, he had to keep up appearances, after all, but really, most of the pent-up aggression and hatred that had first reared it's ugly head during his own school days had slowly dissipated.

It had started to fade when he had first seen the tortured boy clutching the dead body of Cedric Diggory outside of the maze and listening to Albus’s account of what the fourteen year old son of Lily Evans had suffered in that graveyard after the tri-wizard tournament lessened his aggression even further. As had hearing the tale from the points of view of his fellow Death Eaters; their cruel laughter and jeering remarks making him sick to his stomach at the same time as he had convincingly expressed his profound disappointment in not having been there to see it himself. Of course, what he had not said was that regardless of his torture and near death and after being a witness to the murder of a fellow student, the fourteen year old Potter had still escaped the clutches of the all powerful Dark Lord and his many powerful Death Eaters.

Yes, his and Potter’s backbiting and mutual aggression had continued unabated, but on Severus’s side, the show had mostly been for his Slytherin students, especially Potter’s contemporaries, whom he was aware would be reporting back to their Death Eater relatives…especially Malfoy. He could not have any of them expressing their concerns over the changes in Professor Snape.

But Severus really didn’t have much enthusiasm for Potter baiting these days, especially as the horrors that the boy seemed to encounter every year in one form or another, were becoming much more than a teenage boy should be expected to endure and remain sane. Of course, something good had come out of the horrific events in June…the imprisonment of Malfoy senior and other assorted scum.

Strangely, Black’s death afforded him no pleasure at all.

But of course, it had devastated Potter; Severus knew he had been almost insensible with grief. And regardless of that, Albus had insisted that he be sent home to those Muggles, therefore almost turning an already bad situation into an unequivocal disaster for the boy: nearly killed by a Muggle, nearly captured by Death Eaters, finding out his aunt and cousin were dead seconds before finding out that most of the rest of the inhabitants of Privet Drive were dead also, just because he had not been captured. It was really a wonder that the boy was functioning at all. Erin Hanson seemed to have brought Potter out of himself to a certain extent, but seemingly not enough to carry him when he was left alone to stew.

Severus dragged a chair out from the wall and seated himself. If he had been in the mood, he might have laughed at the look of shock on the young face. Severus was aware of Poppy shooting covert looks towards the pair of them, but as he had so far managed to restrain himself from putting his hands around the boy’s throat and squeezing, she had held her protective instincts in check and continued to at least look as if she was clearing her out of date potions from her stocks.

“Madam Pomfrey told me that you didn’t eat any lunch,” said Severus, conversationally.

Harry stared at him, amazed at this concern. He shrugged. “I wasn’t hungry. So what?”

“So, how do you expect to heal adequately without partaking of a diet rich in the essential nutrients.”

Harry snorted with laughter. “You sound like a TV commercial,” he chortled, but Severus noticed that he kept his eyes averted and that they were worryingly blank. “And I’m not concerned about not healing adequately Professor, because you are providing me with the necessary potions to bring me back to full strength and vitality.”

Severus stared, totally taken aback that Potter was actually mouthing off at him without the slightest trace of fear. The brave-to-the-point-of-idiocy- Gryffindor had always before been sensible enough to be nervous around him.

“Look at me Potter,” he said subduing a strange desire to laugh. There were a few seconds when Severus thought the boy would ignore him, but then he turned his head towards Severus. He raised his eyebrows in question.

“Potter, if you need to talk to someone about everything that has happened…”

Harry looked away again. “I don’t.” he said.

“Potter…”

“Professor Snape, you got me out of Privet Drive and you healed me because Madam Pomfrey wasn’t here. But let’s not pretend that you give a damn about me or anything that has happened to me.

“In fact, I’m sure you must have danced a jig when Sirius died. Two down, two to go. So, that leaves Pettigrew and Lupin. I’m surprised that you haven’t remedied that situation before now. I bet you’re clever enough to get Pettigrew away from Voldemort for long enough to off him. When you do that, let me know will you. I might even shake your hand for that one.”

Harry suddenly looked mock thoughtful, and after that stinging denunciation, Severus actually found himself slightly afraid of what else might spew from the boy’s lips. Sure enough, Harry surpassed his earlier effort. “Come to think of it though, I imagine Pettigrew more than redeemed himself in your eyes by handing my mum and dad over to Voldemort. So I suppose you’d pat him on the back, rather than kill him.

“But there’s still Remus. Surely you could think of a way to kill him without raising suspicion. A man of your cunning.” That mock thoughtful look again. “Let’s see…you’re both members of the Order. You must see Remus pretty soon after the full moon when he’s sick and weak. It wouldn’t be difficult to off him then, would it?”

“Harry!”

Harry’s head snapped around. Professor Dumbledore and Erin were standing, rooted to the spot a few steps away from the end of Harry’s bed. The colour that had risen in Harry’s cheeks during his little speech leeched away to leave him chalk white. He swallowed audibly when he saw just how angry his headmaster was. Harry had never before seen him so furious.

And then his eyes flicked to Erin. She didn’t look angry…well, why would she? She didn’t really know what he had been talking about, after all. But Harry was sorry to see her looking upset. He supposed he could understand that. She had just heard him talking about ‘offing’ people. Madam Pomfrey had obviously heard too, because she was standing beside Erin, looking horrified.

Albus moved to the end of the bed and glared down at Harry, palpable waves of fury radiating from him. “I would not have believed that you would say such things, Harry. You will apologise to Professor Snape. Now!”

Harry dragged his eyes away from Erin and focused on Dumbledore. Amazingly, the headmaster’s overt fury seemed to calm Harry. But he didn’t do as the old man had ordered him to do. Instead, he calmly pushed the covers back and slid off the bed. He snatched up his wand and would have stalked off if Dumbledore had not erected a shield charm that Harry just bounced off.

He raised dead green eyes towards Dumbledore. “This is getting really old, Professor,” he said in a voice that was just as dead as his eyes. “Let me out.” Albus realised that he and Harry were replaying the events of several weeks ago when he had refused to let Harry leave his office.

“And just where do you think you are going to go, Harry?” he asked in a voice just a little less angry than it had been seconds before. Harry ignored the question and attempted to climb over the bed next to his, but the shield charm seemed to totally surround him.

“LET ME OUT OF HERE!” bellowed Harry, and he raised his wand and yelled, “Reducto!” the shield shimmered slightly as the reasonably powerful Reductor curse hit it, but it did not weaken in any way, and the two women gasped.

“The only place you will be able to go, Harry, is back to bed. The shield encompasses you and your bed.”

“You have no right to keep me here,” bellowed Harry, pointing his wand at his headmaster for emphasis. “I want out.” His voice cracked and tears suddenly welled in his eyes. He ignored them. “I’ve had it with everything, including this place. I WANT OUT!”

Everyone just stared at him. Severus, who had still not recovered from the impact of Harry’s invective, was now standing beside Dumbledore, watching the frustrated youth as he stalked up and down beside his bed. Obviously Poppy had been correct to be worried about Harry’s state of mind. He seemed to be at the end of his tether and Severus really couldn’t have been more shocked. With everything that had happened to Harry, he had always seemed to bounce back to being his usual irritating, Gryffindor self.

Suddenly Harry stopped in his tracks. He stood irresolute for a moment, and then he seemed to become boneless. Erin and Poppy both drew in distressed gasps as Harry staggered. He would have fallen but he managed to grasp the bedcovers. Erin made to rush forwards but Dumbledore held out a restraining arm, not that she would have been able to get past the shield charm anyway.

They all watched with varying degrees of distress as Harry used the covers to haul himself back onto the bed. Ignoring everyone’s presence—it was almost as though he had forgotten anyone was there watching him—he curled on his side, moving like a little old man, and pulled the covers back over his head.

Dumbledore seemed to wilt before Severus’s eyes and Severus summoned a chair from across the aisle and guided the old man into it. When a sob sounded from behind his shoulder, he turned to see Erin with tears flowing down her face and Poppy looking close to tears.

“What happened to precipitate that outburst, Severus?” asked Dumbledore in an exhausted voice.

“Poppy asked me to talk to Potter because she was worried about him. He wouldn’t talk to her.”

“That’s right Albus,” confirmed Poppy. “Severus was being very patient. Harry was the aggressive one, I’m afraid to say.”

Albus shook his head and rubbed his forehead. “He has finally reached the end of his tether. I have to say, I was surprised when he was able to pull himself back up after Sirius died and after I revealed the…” Suddenly he stopped talking, and Severus knew it was because of the presence of the two women.

“Well,” he continued. “Drastic action needs to be taken, I’m afraid.” He stood up and with a wave of one gnarled hand, he removed the shield charm. Then he resolutely walked to Harry’s bed and pulled the covers down just enough to be able to retrieve the boy’s wand. Harry didn’t stir, and Dumbledore waved his hand over the boy’s head before placing the hand on his head, and running his fingers through the messy locks, in a loving gesture.

Then with a sigh, he turned to face the others. “Poppy, please drop everything else and just sit with Harry for the time being. I have cast a light Somulus Charm so that he remains asleep. Severus and Erin, could you please come with me? I would like to discuss something with you both.”

Severus immediately scowled. He had a very definite feeling that he was not going to like what Albus had to say. And what was more, now that the crisis was over for the time being, he had become aware of Erin’s presence. Oh, he had of course known she was here before, but Harry’s atypical behaviour had pushed every other thought from his mind. Now though, he noted that she had changed her top and she had put her hair up. He wished she hadn't. He liked it down.

Erin looked positively alarmed when Geppetto asked her to accompany him and the Black-hearted Prince. When she had met the old wizard as she was coming to visit Harry minutes earlier, she had not expected to find the prince here. But even his unwelcome presence had been forgotten when she and Professor Dumbledore had entered the hospital wing to hear Harry ranting about ‘offing’ people. And she had been rooted to the spot when she had heard Remus’s name and then Harry saying something about him being weak and sick after the full moon. That had reminded her of something that the Selwyn man had said that she had wanted to ask about, but with everything else that had happened, she had forgotten.

But then Dumbledore had admonished Harry and everything had deteriorated. Erin’s heart had broken because it was obvious that Harry had more problems than the ones she was privy to, and the recent happenings were apparently the straws that broke the camel’s back. Harry had reached his limit of endurance. It seemed that he was on the verge of a breakdown.

Erin took a deep breath and after casting a determined look at Professor Snape’s scowling face, she followed quickly in the old wizard’s wake. She heard the Black-hearted Prince follow.

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For such an old man Professor Dumbledore could certainly move. Erin had to practically run to keep him in view and all the time she hurried up staircases and along corridors, she was horribly aware of the Black-hearted Prince sweeping along in her wake. The back of her neck prickled where she was sure those black eyes were boring into her.

Finally, they arrived in front of an ugly, stone gargoyle. Erin wondered why they weren’t continuing down the corridor but she had her answer when seconds after Dumbledore had stopped, the ugly statue moved to the side, revealing a staircase. That wouldn’t have been so very surprising, except for the fact that the circular staircase was made of stone, and they were revolving upwards, like a circular escalator.

Dumbledore stepped onto the moving staircase and after a short pause, Erin followed. By the time she stepped off the stairs into a small antechamber, the headmaster had thrust open a polished oak door and was striding across a beautiful, circular room towards a majestic desk. Erin stood in the open doorway and looked around the most fascinating room she had seen since she had been here at Hogwarts. Her wide green eyes had come to rest upon a magnificent scarlet and gold bird, the size of a swan, sitting on a large perch slightly to the side of, and behind the desk. She had never before seen a bird like this one and she wondered what it was.

“In your own time, Miss Hanson,” said a drawling voice behind her. Erin jumped and turned. The Prince was standing behind her, and as she had stopped in the open doorway, he could not get past. She jumped to the side, her cheeks burning. She could have kicked herself. So much for not letting him get to her again.

“Please, Erin and Severus, take a seat. We have much to discuss.”

The scowl that had appeared on the austere face in the hospital wing contorted the pale features again. Severus strode across the room, but did not sink into one of the sumptuous armchairs in front of the desk. Instead, he stood with his arms crossed, each hand thrust into the opposite sleeve of his flowing black robes.

“Please sit down Severus, you look like a lonely book end,” said Dumbledore, his voice exasperated. Erin didn’t wait to be chastised to sit down and Severus threw himself into the other chair, rather like a petulant child.

“I know that I’m going to hate what you’re going to say Headmaster,” said Severus. Much as I have hated most everything you have said to me in the last few days.”

“Then prepare yourself, Professor Snape, because I am about to assign you baby-sitting duties again.” There was no hint of the benevolent, humorous wizard, now. Severus had not seen his boss look this serious since he had ordered Severus to go to Privet Drive to check on the boy. But the younger wizard was already shaking his head.

“And if I refuse?”

Dumbledore had been leaning forwards with his hands clasped on his desktop. At Severus’s words, he closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. After a long moment, he opened his eyes again and pinned Severus with their bright blue intensity. “As much as I wish to say that this is an order, Severus, I cannot. This is a duty that will need your total co-operation.

“Harry needs total rest and relaxation, right away from everything he knows and everyone that he knows.”

“If you force us together Albus, it will be a disaster. Chances are, we will kill each other within a day. Why can’t Lupin…”

“Remus is too close to Harry, Severus. He does not need cosseting and indulging. As well, Remus has his own health problems. You are a healer. I am sure you agree that Harry still needs medical supervision and too, he needs someone he can vent upon.

“You have already witnessed the sorts of behaviour that may occur. He needs to get on top of his anger and I have faith that you will be able to help him.

“You know my patience is extremely limited Albus, especially where Potter is concerned.”

“Yes, but while he is angry with you for keeping him prisoner and with me for sending him to the prison in the first place, he will not be reliving the terrible happenings that have turned him into the angry, embittered young man we just saw.

“Also, isolating you together would be a good opportunity to make a fresh assault upon the obstacle course that was your Occlumency lessons together.”

Twin slashes of colour appeared across Severus’s cheekbones but Dumbledore held up his hand before Severus could offer up his own stinging assessment of those Occlumency lessons.

“I know Harry was lackadaisical when it came to practise, my boy, but the reason for that was probably more my fault than it was his. He was desperate for information and as no-one was willing to give it to him, he decided to keep an open connection with the source every time the opportunity arose.

‘And Severus, if I was to employ Legilimency against you now, would I find memories of a sensible, mature man conducting exemplary lessons in the art of occlusion, or would I find a man doing his best to turn those lessons into torture sessions?”

The red slashes had spread to encompass Severus’s forehead and his neck. When he opened his mouth again to retort Albus forestalled him once again. “I do not wish to resurrect these unpleasant memories, Severus. What has happened cannot be undone. There was fault on all sides—yours, Harry’s and mine. But as your Occlumency and Legilimency skills are by far the most superior of anyone I have ever known, you are the best choice to instruct Harry in the art.”

“The boy will never be an Occlumens, Albus. He is far too transparent. And as for my being the best choice of teacher…it was a skill that came to me naturally. For me, it is as natural as breathing. Much like flying is for Potter, I imagine. I cannot fall back on my own experiences in learning the skill because I cannot remember a time when I did not have the skill. It was only after I realised that I had the talent that I set about trying to improve it by utilizing certain disciplines.”

“Then it is those disciplines you must try to convey to Harry. Though I agree with you he will never be a master of the art, any level of competence would be better than the total lack of guile and the utter transparency he demonstrates now. A good beginning, when the inevitable tantrums finally stop, would be for you to prove to Harry that he can trust in you implicitly.”

“After the last five years, I doubt that can happen,” muttered Severus.

“I disagree. You have seen firsthand that many of your preconceptions of Harry and the life he let away from Hogwarts were totally erroneous. And yet, despite a childhood deprived of the memory of his parents and spent suffering at the hands of the people who were supposed to care for him, he has encompassed the magical world with a fervour that is to be envied.

“You know the terrible burden that has been loaded onto his narrow shoulders Severus, and you know the losses he has suffered over the years. He blames himself for everything that has happened and we both know that he is totally blameless. But now that the truth is out, he will not rest until he can fulfil his destiny, or die trying.

“That is why he wants out, to try and protect those he loves, and even total strangers. But he is not ready to meet his destiny and he needs to heal from the mental wounds he has already sustained before we can even attempt to prepare him for what he must one day eventually face. He needs a strong person who will not be sidetracked to help him and you are just that person.”

“So you believe wholeheartedly in this prophecy, Albus?” asked Severus, not entirely successful in his attempt to hide his scepticism.

“I do.”

And now Dumbledore turned to Erin who had been sitting as quietly and as inconspicuously as she could whilst the two wizards argued back and forth. The conversation had been very intense, but she had not doubted that Professor Dumbledore would triumph. Severus was not happy by any means, but it seemed he had been convinced.

Erin had been wondering why she was here, and why she had been privy to this conversation, much of which she did not understand, but it seemed that Dumbledore had not forgotten she was there after all. It appeared as if Dumbledore had a need for her services too.

“And whilst Severus is providing the strength, Erin, I hope that you will provide the stability.”

Before Erin could make any sort of comment at all, Severus froze, and then snapped his head between his boss and the woman sitting quietly next to him. He had been gazing blindly out of one of the mullioned windows with his fingers interwoven and the tip of his extended index fingers tapping against his thin lips, obviously thinking on Albus’s words.

Now he sprang out of the chair and glared at Albus. “You cannot seriously be considering what I think you are considering.”

Albus looked back calmly over the top of his half moon spectacles, his own hands clasped together in front of his face. “It is the perfect plan, Severus. Harry will benefit greatly from both your presences.”

Severus had begun to stalk back and forth in front of the desk, shaking his head so that his raven hair brushed against his collar and shoulders. “Potter and I, if we must embark upon this ill-fated journey, will be best left to our own devises,” he bit out through lips that barely moved.

“Now Albus was shaking his own head. “I disagree. Erin will be a necessary buffer…shall we say, the softening influence between Harry and yourself.

Severus let out a noise like an angry snake and leaned across the desk, his arms rigid as his knuckles pressed against the polished mahogany surface. His face was very close to Albus’s but the old wizard was not intimidated by the angry snarl adorning his potion master’s visage. He gazed serenely back.

“This is utterly preposterous, old man,” he said in a sibilant hiss and then he lowered his voice even further to add, “and more than a little irregular. A woman alone in an isolated house with a bachelor and an impressionable teenage boy.”

“If Erin does not object, my dear boy, I do not see what you have to worry about. He stood and patted Severus on the shoulder, leaning forwards himself so that his mouth was close to Severus’s ear. “You need to start thinking like a twenty-first century wizard, Severus. It is only three and a half years away, after all.”

Albus walked around his desk and took a totally bewildered Erin by the arm and led her back towards the oak door, leaning down to expound upon his grand plan, and leaving Severus leaning across the desk, rigid with fury and trying to control the impulse to draw his wand and blast the old fool all the way back to Camelot.