Harry came down the stairs slowly, so slowly in fact that to anyone watching it may have looked as if the boy had received some unfortunate news. One hand held the new broom to his chest; head bowed, each foot solidly planted on the stair before attempting the next step, the other hand clutching the handrail, only allowing his grip to lessen once his footing was sound.

He stepped into the living room, feeling giddy, silly, and sad all at once. He couldn’t help but feel the sadness, sad that the Professor had gone, and Harry so desperately wanted to thank him, to throw his arms around him and feel the mans strong arms holding him, perhaps a hand brushing against his hair, smoothing the unruly strands, knowing they would never co-operate but doing it anyway for no reason other than to offer the gentle touch of comfort. In that moment Harry wanted Snape back more than anything, which seemed awfully unfair considering he’d spent the last four days in agony in order to get the man to leave.

“New broom?” Craig asked, and Harry’s head jerked up at the voice. In his awe over the gift he’d completely forgotten about Craig. He must have looked a right nutter, standing in the middle of the living room cradling a broom like someone who’d gone soft in the head.

“Yeah.” Harry replied, smiling as Craig came over and admired it.

“Good Lord, a Velox?” Craig exclaimed. “Ernie’s been harping on about getting one of these since they announced them!” He glanced back at Harry, who was looking at him with his brow raised. “Ernie thinks he’s great at Quiddich.” Craig explained. “He used to be, but since the eye thing, well he’s not exactly a top-notch seeker anymore with just one.” Craig laughed as he continued. “Little bugger doesn’t let that stop him though. You should see him go, like a wild man he is. Never catches anything though. No depth perception.” he said, tapping at the corner of his eye. “I don’t think you can even buy these yet.” he said, running his index finger across the carved initials. He looked again at Harry and smirked. “Snape must really like you, kid. I’ve never seen him give anything like this to anyone, not even Ernie, and he’s his best friend.”

Harry slowly let the broom fall away from his chest, holding it slightly away from him as he admired it. Craig was right, Snape did like him, he liked him a lot, and the warm, silly feeling blossomed in his chest, and Harry giggled without trying, without meaning to, and loving the feeling that made him.

“Yeah, I guess he does.” he whispered.

“Well come on then, let’s go test it out!” Craig exclaimed, grabbing Harry’s arm and leading him out the front door and down the stone steps, almost pulling the boy along in his excitement. “Well, go on.” he urged, gesturing at Harry and then into the air. “Let’s see it.”

At the encouragement, Harry took only seconds to mount his broom, taking off with such an immense speed that his hands were literally ripped from the handle, and he found himself tumbling backwards into the grass, his broom landing almost thirty feet away.

Craig, who was in absolute hysterics, reached down and took Harry’s hand, pulling him to his feet.

“Oh hell, kid.” he spluttered amid the laughter. “That was the greatest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Harry dusted off his behind before running over to this broom, terrified at the thought of finding it broken. He lifted it gingerly, searching for any cracks or scratches, relieved at finding the broom still in pristine condition, and he let out the breath he’d been holding as Craig, who was still chuckling, came up behind him.

“Ok.” Craig announced, clapping his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Let’s try that again. This time without falling on your ass, ok?” Harry couldn’t help but smile. It never occurred to him to be irritated at the teasing, probably because Dudley had mocked him constantly at home, and if Harry had showed any form of anger, Uncle Vernon would have “knocked him down a peg,” as he put it.

Straddling the broom again, feeling a little tense now from thinking of his family, Harry clasped his hands around the handle as tightly as possible.

“Now, try to start out a little–” Craig started, but instantly the broom launched forward and Harry was gone. “slower.” Craig finished as he watched the broom soar into the sky, its speed almost unimaginable.

High above, Harry pulled up the broom with all his strength, coming to a jerky halt above the manor.

“Wow!” he exclaimed, panting heavily. The broom had taken his breath away in more ways than one, and he inhaled deeply, his hands shaking around the broom’s thick handle, and he forced himself to relent a little, his fingers aching from the death grip he had on it. The wind pulled at his hair as Harry surveyed the island. It really was much smaller than it felt from the ground, though it was not a small piece of land by any means.

Calmer now, Harry tried moving the broom forward as slowly as he could, delighted when it obeyed, inching across the sky. He pushed a little harder, guiding it across the meadow, over a waving Craig, and back to the house, all the while pushing the broom a little faster. Once comfortable, Harry tried a turn, then another, each one more sharp than the next, then a slight incline, falling into a full downward spiral, faster and faster, plummeting towards the ground before pulling up and dashing into the sky, still spiraling, then coming out of the corkscrew maneuver and straightening out, urging the broom towards speeds he’d never thought possible.

He flew for what seemed hours, time meaning nothing to him as he looped and spun across the sky, in total control of the broom now, fearing nothing, completely confident in his abilities as he tore across the skyline. As he came about for another series of dives, he noticed Craig gesturing wildly, and he turned his broom, gliding gently to the ground where Craig was standing with an anxious look on his face.

“Jesus, kid, you’re giving me a heart attack!” Craig called.

Harry slowly drifted down, hovering with his feet brushing against the ground.

I’m sorry.” he said, genuinely apologetic that his display had startled his new friend.

“Hey, no worries, right?” Craig replied, giving the boy a nervous smile as he lowered himself to the ground. Harry slipped off his broom and joined him on the grass, letting the increasingly swift wind cool him. “I just don’t need Severus breathing down my neck if you fall off that thing. Remember,” he continued, his voice taking on the Professor’s unmistakable tone. “my medical skills are somewhat non-existent.” he drawled. Harry giggled.

“Oh I’m careful.” he grinned, knowing his flying abilities far surpassed the novice maneuvers he had just performed. “And anyway, you could just use Wingardium Leviosa, right?”

Harry was surprised to see Craig break into laughter at his statement, and he stared at the man in complete confusion until, through deep breaths and giggles, Craig responded.

“Not bloody likely.”

Harry was silent, baffled by Craig’s words. Would he really not save Harry if something terrible were to happen? Surely Snape wouldn’t have left him with someone who wouldn’t even use a simple spell to save his life! Tentatively, giving the man another chance at redemption, hoping this was just some bizarre prank on Craig’s part, Harry asked in a hushed voice.

“Did you forget your wand?”

Craig, who at Harry’s words ceased all signs of mirth, stared back at the boy, now with his own perplexed look.

“Kid, I don’t have a wand. I can’t do magic.”

Harry paused, then spoke sadly.

“Oh, you’re a squib.” he stated softly, not sure if the word would be taken as an insult or not.

“No.” Craig replied, looking at Harry as if he were a little dim. “I mean I can’t do magic. Not now, not ever.”

“Wait…you mean…you’re not a wizard?” Harry asked, his voice dropping to a whisper, as if he were repeating a terrible secret.

Craig smiled broadly and shook his head.

“Nope.” he replied nonchalantly, as if being a wizard was not such a big deal. He paused, and a look of disbelief washed over his face. “You mean Severus didn’t tell you?” he asked. Harry shook his head. “Well, hell,” Craig continued, running a hand through his hair. “no wonder you were confused.” He broke into a grin. “Come on, I’m getting cold. Let’s get inside.” Harry rose and matched his steps with Craig’s as they made their way across the meadow towards the manor. A rather cool wind had come up, and Harry’s eyes scanned the skyline, concern sneaking into his mind over the idea of another storm like the one he’d gotten lost in.

“So you’re not a wizard,” Harry started at they neared the front steps. “but Ernie is. Are your parents both magical?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Craig replied. “I’m adopted. Ernie’s parents both went to Hogwarts, but my Mum and Dad could have been Muggles for all I know. They kept those sorts of things secret back then.”

“I didn’t know witches and wizards were allowed to adopt Muggles.” Harry said, stopping as Craig pulled open the heavy front door. They stepped into the foyer and Harry slipped off his cloak, hanging it on the hook near the kitchen door.

“I guess they were back then.” Craig shrugged, making his way into the kitchen and opening the fridge. Harry followed, clambering onto the kitchen table and resting his feet on the chair, an act he would never have done had Snape been around.

“So you didn’t get to go to Hogwarts or anything?” Harry exclaimed, his voice taking on a sympathetic tone. He remembered his life before he’d found out he was a wizard. It was so exciting to find out he was something special, well it had been, until Uncle Vernon had started trying to beat the freakiness out of him. He could take the beatings he’d received before, but once he’d arrived back from Hogwarts they’d gotten so much worse. Being a wizard made his relatives hate him all the more, and he frowned, hoping Craig didn’t see the shudder that went through him at the recollection. He wondered if the Professor had seen that memory too.

“Kid? Hey!” Craig’s voice pulled him from the horrible thoughts of his family, and his head shot up in surprise.

“Huh? Oh, sorry, was just thinking.” he said hastily, hoping he hadn’t looked too stupid sitting there ignoring the man.

“Jesus, doesn’t Severus have anything good to eat in this place?” Craig grumbled, pulling out a handful of fresh carrots and waving them at an amused Harry. “Freaking carrots? You know, kid, I sure feel sorry for you being trapped here with Snape. The guy’s got no idea how to have fun.”

Harry grinned, unable to really refute the statement, but out of loyalty to the Professor, he remained silent.

“Della made pudding the other day.” he said suddenly, recalling the delicious dessert with its rich, warm treacle sauce. He slid off the table and darted to a series of low cupboards on the other side of the kitchen. “She must have gotten the ingredients from somewhere.” He opened each wooden door and reached inside, frowning as his search revealed nothing but packages of rice, whole wheat pasta, and assorted other lackluster ingredients. He sighed and pushed the cupboard door closed, turning back towards Craig, who was looking at him expectantly, and shook his head.

“Damn.” Craig whispered, tossing the carrots back into the fridge. “Oh. Oh! Wait, I just got the best idea.” he exclaimed, grinning. “Come on!”

Harry followed Craig into the living room where the excited man took a handful of floo power and stepped onto the hearth.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Harry asked worriedly as Craig reached out his hand. “We’re not supposed to leave the island, remember?”

Craig snorted. “Like anyone’s gonna find out.” he said, laughing at the concerned look on Harry’s face. “Come on, kid. Snape’ll suck all the fun out of you this summer if you let him. Do something fun for yourself for once, huh?”

“But you’re not a wizard!” Harry exclaimed, nodding towards the fireplace. “You can’t activate the floo.”

Craig grinned wickedly as he reached out and grabbed Harry’s hand, tugging him up onto the hearth. Grasping the boy’s wrist, he poured the gently shimmering dust into Harry’s small, upturned palm.

“You’re right, I can’t.” Craig said deviously. “But you can.” He looked down at Harry, who was looking back at him, his face a mixture of alarm and exhilaration. Harry’s eyes flickered to his hand and the small mound of powder, and he smiled uncertainly, watching the tiny granules slip off his palm and down to the hearth.

“I….I supposed we won’t be gone for very long, right?” he asked.

“Of course not.” Craig said reassuringly. “Twenty minutes there and back. Just enough time to pick up a few goodies.” He slipped his arm across Harry’s shoulders, not noticing the tremor. “Come on. Snape’s never gonna find out. I could really go for some hot fudge right about now. Couldn’t you?”

Harry nodded eagerly.

“Where to?” he asked, all trace of concern gone now. They would only be gone twenty minutes, and Professor Snape was half a world away at his lecture. Craig was right, how on earth was anybody going to find out?

“It’s called Russer Port.” Craig replied, as he pulled his arm from Harry’s shoulder and grasped the boy’s free hand. Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes tightly, hoping in the back of his mind that he wouldn’t have some kind of horrible flashback like the last time he’d traveled like this. He lifted his arm, and with a forceful motion he hurled the handful of power into the hearth.

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“Watch it kid, you’re getting marshmallow on the couch!”

“Oh, damn!” Harry breathed, grabbing a serviette off the coffee table and wiping madly at the thick, white dollop that was spreading into the sofa. Then, seemingly satisfied with the job, he tossed the serviette back onto the table where it landed amidst a jumble of open bags of crisps, half eaten packets of sweets, and various other junk foods.

“How do you like it?” Craig asked, nodding towards the bowl of ice cream cradled in Harry’s lap.

“It’s brilliant!” Harry replied, smiling as he took another heaping spoonful of the rich vanilla ice cream which he’d smothered in melted fudge and gooey marshmallow topping. “You were right, melted marshmallow is the most brilliant thing ever!”

Craig laughed as he scooped out the last of his own sundae and slid the empty bowl onto the coffee table.

“Could you imagine Severus doing this?” he snorted, picking up a large bag of crisps and pulling out a handful. “Sitting in his living room eating sweets and crisps, chatting over ice cream instead of coffee?”

Harry almost choked on a mouthful of ice cream. His eyes widened and he swallowed hard before breaking into laughter at the thought of Professor Snape huddled over a large bowl of ice cream, a copy of the Daily Prophet in one hand and a spoon laden with hot fudge in the other, and he clutched his bowl carefully, not wanting to slop the entire thing onto the couch as he giggled. He didn’t know any good cleaning charms yet. He looked over at Craig, who gave the boy a broad smile before offering Harry an open package of crisps.

“So, if you’re not a wizard, how come you work at the Ministry of Magic?” Harry asked, taking the bag, abandoning the ice cream for now in favour of a handful of the spicy cheese flavoured crisps.

“Ernie got me the job.” Craig replied, his voice taking on a pensive tone. “I always wanted to go to Hogwarts, ya know? It sounded like so much fun. Ernie was always coming home on holiday talking about all these new spells he’d learned, and what was I doing? Learning boring old math and social studies, that’s what.” He paused, and for a moment Harry wasn’t sure the man was going to continue. He popped a few crisps into his mouth and waited. “Anyway, I always wanted to be a part of it, cause it seemed so damn exciting.” Craig continued, shrugging. “I guess you could say I was jealous, I mean can you imagine? I was the only Muggle in a magical family. It wasn’t like they could exclude me from their world, so Ernie taught me potions, but I never really could get into it. I helped him for a few years, you know, mashing eyes and stuff, but I wanted to do my own thing, so, last year Ernie got me a job in the Muggle division of the Ministry. It’s cool I guess, I help agents going undercover with silly stuff, like Muggle money, clothing, things like that.” Craig tossed a few sweets into his mouth and chewed silently for a moment before turning back to Harry. “Bloody idiots they are sometimes.” he said, smirking. “They’d be wearing their underwear over their trousers if I told them to.”

Harry broke into giggles, and Craig followed suit, and soon the pair were roaring with laughter as Craig recounted some of the wild pranks he’d pulled on unsuspecting Ministry agents.

It was hours later, quite some time after the nine o’clock bedtime Snape expected of Harry, when the two abandoned the mess of the table and took the stairs to the second floor.

“You gonna be ok?” Craig asked as he stopped at the top of the stairs.

“Oh yeah.” Harry replied, stifling a yawn. “I’m so tired. I don’t think I’ll have any problems sleeping.”

“Sounds good.” Craig smiled. He reached out and smacked Harry lightly on the shoulder. “See you tomorrow, kid.”

Harry watched as Craig entered the Professor’s room and closed the door behind him before he walked sleepily down the hall to his own room. Too tired for a shower, he slipped into his pajamas and brushed his teeth before collapsing on top of the bed, exhausted. He really was so very tired, but in a great way. He’d had so much fun with Craig that he’d forgotten to be worried about nightmares. Yawning again, Harry slid under the covers and pushed his face into the cool pillow. He smiled against the fabric, loving the feeling of being happy and content. It had been so long since he’d felt this way. He felt it with Snape, and now with Craig. It was as if everything was going right for once, as if finally all those prayers had been answered, and the feeling was absolutely magnificent. He never wanted to lose it.

Not ever.

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The nightmares woke him only once that night, but it was a horrendous, unbearable dream. Uncle Vernon was mad, about what Harry had no idea. He couldn’t quite make out what it was because Vernon was screaming so loudly and with such rage, that his words were getting all mashed together.

Harry had just come in from the back yard, dripping with sweat after a hard afternoon’s work in the garden, his skin red and stinging from fresh sunburn.

“You little bastard!”

The bellow caught Harry off guard, not because of the words, he’d been called that particular name hundreds of times. No, it was the fact that it was Uncle Vernon screaming at him, and it wasn’t time for Uncle Vernon to be home yet. Usually it was Aunt Petunia who would screech at him, telling him to hurry up and get his chores done or else Vernon would lay into him when he got home, though even after completing his huge list of jobs for the day, Uncle Vernon had no problems punishing Harry regardless.

Harry froze. Uncle Vernon, home early, and screaming at him. Nothing good could come of this situation, and for an instant it all felt terribly wrong, more wrong than usual, and very, very terrifying.

Suddenly Uncle Vernon’s chubby face appeared at the back door.

“Get in here, boy!” he hissed, face red, gleaming with sweat. Slowly, hands already shaking, Harry obeyed, eyes wide, like an animal on the highway caught in the headlights of a huge truck barreling towards them.

He hadn’t even made it into the kitchen before his uncle grabbed him fiercely around the neck, his thick fingers digging into his flesh. Arms instinctively flailing to his throat, Harry kicked wildly, desperately trying to free himself from his uncle’s hold.

“Bastard!” Vernon repeated, screaming the words mere inches from Harry’s face before throwing him to the floor, then bending down swiftly and pulling the boy to his feet. “It’s your fault!” The punch was fast, before Harry even had time to register the fist coming towards him, and he fell limply to the floor, blood spilling from a split lip. Dizzy with fear, Harry moved his hands to his face, a flimsy defense from Vernon’s meaty fists, but it was all he had against the monster. He was punched several more times before he felt the hands again, this time grabbing him around the wrists and dragging him down the hallway towards his cupboard. Harry almost smiled in relief. This hadn’t been such a terrible beating after all. He’d spend the rest of the day in solitude of course, and likely without any food, but he’d be ignored for the most part.

A frantic jolt went through him as Vernon dragged him past the little door, still screaming profanities, and Harry’s legs jerked under him, as he tried desperately to pull himself to his feet as he was pulled violently towards the stairwell. At Harry’s struggling, Vernon paused to backhand the boy across the face, sending Harry crashing against the wall, blood spattering across the gay wallpaper, and it un-nerved Harry all the more when his next thoughts were if Aunt Petunia would be angry that he’d bloodied the stairwell, and not whether he’d make it through this alive.

Unable to keep himself upright, his head swimming with pain, Harry lurched up the stairs, his legs gaining hold for only a second before being yanked up and into the hall. Uncle Vernon was wild with rage, and Harry was still in the dark as to what he had done to cause such extreme fury in the man.

“Unle Vurn...” Harry whispered, unable to speak over his swollen tongue, mouth coated with blood, face numb from the repeated strikes. He felt cool tile beneath him, and he realized that Vernon had taken him into the bathroom. Suddenly there was a cracking sound, and Harry flinched wildly, awaiting the pain, but there was nothing. Moments later, the hands around his neck again and he was being lifted, face down, and the toilet came into view. Harry recoiled, every ounce of strength he had suddenly burst out of him. He struggled ferociously emitting a terrifying screech, a high pitched, jagged, scream forcing its way from his lungs as his head was plunged into the toilet bowl. The frigid water caused him to gasp involuntarily, and at once his mouth was filled with water, choking him, and his arms whirled madly, floundering, grabbing at anything in a desperate fight for breath as Vernon screamed at him over and over. Finally, when the fire in his lungs was near torturous in its intensity, Harry’s head was lifted from the bowl, and with one swift movement he was thrown against the bathtub, his head slamming into the porcelain with a sickening crack, and his vision swam. He lay panting, coughing, bleeding as he fell to the floor, not even possessing the strength to lift his head as he vomited onto the lavender tiles, blood and bile collecting in his mouth, and he managed to turn his head to avoid choking as he threw up again.

Vernon stood in the doorway, wiping the string of spittle from his chin as he stared down at his nephew in disgust.

“Clean this mess up.” he barked, slamming the bathroom door, and Harry heard the heavy footsteps in the hall, and the muted voice of his uncle casually calling out to Aunt Petunia asking what was for dinner.

He awoke from the nightmare in hysterics, screaming, crying, and frantic.

“Sir?” he croaked, looking at the empty chair next to his bed, and his heart twisted at seeing it empty before he remembered that Snape was gone and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. Feeling terribly alone, Harry sobbed uncontrollably into his pillow, clutching the corners in his small fists, wishing that he would feel the Professor's heavy hand on his back rubbing gentle circles, or pulling him up by the shoulder and drawing him into an embrace, comforting him, speaking in that low, soft tone, the one he used when he knew Harry was upset.

After a while the tears subsided, and Harry laid shuddering, emitting little hiccoughs of distress as he slid out of bed, grabbing his wand and releasing the silencing charm with a swish and a whisper.

He walked over to the curtains and pulled them aside a little, staring out into the gardens. He felt so closed in when he woke up from a nightmare, like he was trapped in his cupboard. Looking out the window at the wide expansive grounds seemed to help. It let him know he wasn’t confined in the tiny space he had come to fear so much.

After a few minutes his breathing slowed to normal. He glanced over at his bed and his stomach clenched at the thought of sleeping. The clock on the bedside table read 3:41am. He figured he’d gotten almost three hours sleep. Not bad considering the last few days he’d functioned on less than that.

Yawning, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and went into the bathroom where he ran a sink of cold water. He dunked his head, gasping at how frigid it was against his heated skin. He grabbed a towel from beside the sink and dried off his face and hair.

Feeling almost refreshed, he wandered back into the bedroom, once again drawn to the window like a moth to a flame. He pulled his trunk over and sat down on it, folding his arms and resting them on the windowsill.

Yawning again, he rested his chin on his arms and stared out into the night sky, waiting for the sunrise.

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The next day passed quickly, something Harry was grateful for, having missed the Professor more than he thought, especially after last night, and his stomach flip flopped in anticipation. Craig made breakfast, a terrible mistake that was supposed to be French toast, and Harry poked at it with his fork, trying to figure out a way to get around eating it, thankful that Craig swept his plate away, shrugging as Harry burst into giggles at the botched meal. Harry took over then, and soon the pair was enjoying French toast, this time without the blackened edges and soggy middle.

After breakfast Craig strolled out into the brilliant sunlight, Harry following on his broom, and after a few hidden glances, Craig begged for a ride on the precious Velox, a wish Harry was all too eager to grant. Feeling quite important, Harry instructed his friend to keep a tight hold around his waist as he set off into the sky, laughing as the man’s hands dug into his torso in fright as he maneuvered the broom through a series of twists and turns.

Lunch was an assortment of leftover crisps and sweets, followed by the remaining ice cream, and Harry couldn’t help but remind Craig that this was hardly the kind of nutrition Snape had been referring to when he’d made Harry promise to eat, and Craig had replied with a scoff, reminding him that what Snape didn’t know, couldn’t hurt him.

The rest of the afternoon was a hurried mix of hiding evidence of the banned junk food and of having visited the mainland, and it was almost dusk when Harry leisurely glided in circles around Craig as he wandered the perimeter of the island. They discussed anything and everything, laughing till near tears at some of Craig’s dirty jokes, though only after Harry swore not to reveal any of the filthy tales to the Professor.

Harry turned in early, finding himself more tired than usual after all the activity of the day, though he was especially nervous about sleeping after the nightmare that had caused him such terror the night before. Craig must have noticed his anxiety, asking him multiple times that evening if Harry was ok, and that he looked a bit worried, and Harry had shrugged and shaken his head, insisting he was fine, though he was sure the Professor had at least told the man something about his past. He’d planned to stay up as long as he could in his room, and the little twinge of excitement at knowing Snape was only a few hours away from returning made the darkness easier to bear, and at some point Harry had slumped over his Transfiguration textbook and was now sprawled across his bed in a deep sleep.

He was woken from his slumber by a frantic Craig gripping his shoulder, shaking him roughly. Still clinging to sleep, Harry focused on Craig’s face, blinking heavily as his eyes accustomed themselves to the intense radiance of the bedside lamp.

“Was gonon?” he managed groggily, rubbing at his eyes with a loose fist.

“I’ve been contacted by the Ministry.” Craig explained, a hint of worry in his voice, and Harry realized the man was holding his bag, with his jacket slung over his forearm.

“You’re leaving?” Harry asked, confusion replacing the bleariness as he pulled himself upright.

“Yeah, there's been some problems, something about my team needing an immediate infiltration.” Craig said quickly, hoisting the slipping jacket back up onto his bent arm. “I gotta go, but Snape’ll be back in like four hours. You’ll be ok for four hours, right?”

Harry nodded, a pang of sorrow piercing his chest at the thought of Craig leaving. The last two days had been fantastic, a whirl of laughter and utter silliness, emotions much more fitting a twelve year old than the habitual dread he had existed in, and though things were better now, Snape wasn’t exactly what one would call fun.

As if in response to Harry’s thoughts, Craig crouched down and offered the boy a bright smile.

“I had a really good time the last few days, kid. You know, for a wizard,” he paused and gave Harry a wink. “you’re not half bad. Now don’t do anything stupid, like burn the place down.” Craig said with a smirk. “You don’t wanna get in trouble. I’ll leave Severus a note downstairs, ok?”

Harry nodded and broke out into a smile as Craig stood and walked quickly to the door. He slowed, stopped, and stood for a moment, unmoving, and Harry narrowed his eyes a touch as Craig turned back to him, his mouth open as if to speak, and they stared at each other for a moment before Craig finally spoke in a hushed tone.

“I’m sorry, kid.”

“It’s ok, really.” replied Harry, touched that the man would feel so remorseful about leaving him unexpectedly, and he smiled, a genuine, proud smile at his importance to another person, and he looked back at Craig expectantly.

“Maybe, when you’re done, and if you want to….well maybe you could come visit again before I have to go back to school.”

Craig nodded briskly before turning away from the boy. Then, on what seemed a second thought, he turned back and gave Harry a small smile.

“Sure thing, kid.”

With that, he turned and walked hurriedly down the hall, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he disappeared into the darkness.

Harry sighed heavily before reclining back onto his pillow and staring up at the ceiling. He would never get back to sleep now, a habit from his nights of restlessness and endless pacing to stave off sleep, though he did try, lying quietly with his eyes closed for what seemed forever before turning the bedside lamp back on.

Suddenly the house felt very lonely, very empty, and very frightening to a young boy with an active imagination, and every creak and groan of the ancient building did nothing to soothe Harry’s nerves as he conjured up images of dark wizards stealing across the meadow towards the manor, wands at the ready. He reached over and grabbed his wand, his fingers closing around the thin length of Holly, his eyes glued to the curtains as he slipped off the bed and slowly made his way towards the window. He stood motionless, unable to even raise his hand, rapid breaths hitching in his throat, and in an instant all he wanted was Snape, because Snape would lay that heavy hand on his shoulder and tell him he was being silly and dramatic, and at the same time that no one would harm Harry while he was around, and he’d mean it, promise it, fight for it, and Harry would believe it like he believed in sunlight.

But Snape wasn’t here. Craig was gone, and so was Della, and four hours hadn’t seemed very long at first, but now…

Forcing himself to infuse with courage befitting a Gryfindor, albeit a terrified one, Harry snatched the curtain and pulled it aside, revealing a very empty front lawn, splashed with silvery moonlight, trees gently swaying in the cool summer breeze.

Not an evil wizard in sight.

Harry let out a weak, relieved chuckle and let the curtain fall back against the large pane of glass. He turned to survey his room, his eyes coming to rest on his battered trunk. He could always pass the time by reading one of his textbooks, he thought. Hopefully it would keep his attention enough that he wouldn’t jump at every tiny noise.

Just then, a dull thud sounded from deep within the manor. Harry froze, and time seemed to stop as he stood listening, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him, when the thud sounded again, louder this time, more distinct.

Quickly, Harry ran to his bed and clicked off the lamp, standing still in the darkness as the shattering of glass echoed down the hall.

Oh God.

Wired with fear, Harry moved without a sound towards his bedroom door. He bent down and lined his eye up with the keyhole, staring down the shadowy corridor, the soft, scarce candlelight hampering his vision even further as he tried to discern any movement in the hall.

The silence was literally deafening, and Harry finally understood the oxymoron as he crouched at the door, barely allowing himself to breathe as he strained to pick up any sound, his body tingling as every nerve labored under the strain of such intense fear. He hadn’t felt like this since last summer, when Uncle Vernon doled out a beating Harry thought would be the death of him, every pore struggling, straining against overwhelming terror.

It was then, staring into shadows of the hall, the merging of silhouette and candlelight making it almost impossible to make out any form, that the narrow keyhole went black. Gasping, Harry had but a second for his mind to make sense of it before the door flew open, sending him sprawling backwards, the force enough to knock him the several feet to his bed where his head met the wooden frame with a nauseating crack.

His vision shaken, blurry from the blow, Harry threw up a hand in defense, realizing that he no longer held his wand, his fingers intuitively curling around nothingness as a dark figure stood silent, unmoving, looming as Harry fought to gain control, and after a few moments the figure swam into view and the image cleared.

Staring down at him, with that familiar glower, eyes narrowed spitefully, lip curled in a wicked sneer, was Snape.

“Oh my God!” Harry shouted; blind terror and surging adrenaline rejecting any attempt at calm as he hurled the words at the Professor. If his limbs would have obeyed him, he’d have stood and punched the Professor right in the face.

Snape’s cruel smirk widened as he took in the frightened child, but he made no move to assist.

“You scared the hell out of me.” Harry said breathlessly, reaching tentatively behind his head and gently touching the sharp painful spot there. He drew his hand back, not surprised to see his fingertips stained with blood, and he winced at the sight.

“I’m bleeding!” he declared hotly, lifting his hand to show the crimson stained fingers.

As soon as he met the man’s eyes, time slowed. The look of offence on Harry’s face melted into one of utter horror as he immediately realized that the look on Snape’s face was identical to the one plastered across Uncle Vernon’s just before he…

Oh God.

With lightening speed, Harry managed to bolt halfway to the bathroom before Snape’s fingers dug into the tender flesh of his upper arm, and Harry yelped in pain as he was pulled back towards the Professor, whose eyes were blazing with a sickening excitement. Harry could smell the alcohol on his breath as he was pulled towards the man; too stunned even to fight back as Snape drew him closer.

Harry didn’t need to guess what was coming, and he closed his eyes as Snape’s hand came down full force across his face, sending him to the floor in a heap. Pushing himself up on his hands, he tasted the familiar metallic tang of blood on his tongue.

He managed to desperately blurt out the word Professor before he was jerked violently to his feet, the hand coming down again hard against the same cheek, pain spreading like fire across his skin, and Harry could do little but allow a mouthful of blood to trickle over his swelling lips as he lay panting on the hardwood, burgundy streaks smeared across the floorboards, blood and saliva pooling beneath his head.

The beating continued, Snape dragging a stumbling Harry to his feet again and again, barely giving the boy time to cry out a desolate plea before bringing a fist down against the frail body.

Then, as abruptly as the attack had begun, it was over. Harry heard Snape’s heavy footsteps cross the room, the door slamming behind him, and the light metal click of a key in the lock before Snape’s own bedroom door slammed shut moments later.

Forcing action through the nearly unbearable pain, Harry uncurled laboriously, cringing as every muscle, every bone, every hair screamed excruciatingly at the movement. He felt tears prickle at his eyes as he dragged himself towards the bed, and it took only seconds before his vision distorted as the tears spilled down his cheeks, his face hot, swollen, numb, and he knew it was just a matter of time before the deadened nerves reawakened and the real agony began.

Spotting his wand under the bed, he reached out a shaking arm and drew the precious rod to his chest, then with choking sobs; Harry crawled slowly to the corner furthest from the door. He slumped against the wall, exhausted, shaken beyond comprehension, and he lifted a weak hand to wipe the blood and tears from his face with his sleeve, wincing as his gentle touch caused waves of pain through his head. Trembling, he raised his wand and pointed it at the door, his jerky breaths and weeping echoing in the silence.

It was a few hours later, when the sun began to seep through the trees and splash against the closed curtains, that he heard the familiar grating sound of the heavy stone dungeon door being pulled open, and then being pushed closed, and he knew that Snape was heading down to his laboratory.

It was only then that he lowered his wand.