Though Harry was prepared for the landing this time, he still found himself staring at the pebbled ground on his hands and knees gasping for breath. He looked up to see Hogwarts castle nestled majestically amid the countryside, the moonlight painting it in a regal silvery hue.

He gave himself a moment to catch his breath when suddenly Snape reached down and took him by the arm, pulling him gently to his feet.

Harry tried to meet the man’s eyes, but he was still quite humiliated by their trip to Little Whinging.

“Thank you, Sir” he said softly, his eyes on the man’s chest.

“Let’s go Potter.” Snape replied, and started off towards the castle. Harry followed, stumbling every now and then over loose rocks as they made their way up to the front door of the castle.

Every so often Snape glanced down at the child as he tried to keep up with the Professor’s long strides. He noticed Harry rubbing at his temple, most likely a headache from apparating. He’d give the boy a potion once he’d spoken to the Headmaster.

Their footsteps echoed in the Great Hall as the pair made their way across the room and up the stairs, coming to a halt at the Headmaster’s door. The gargoyle statue looked at them with steely eyes as it waited for the password. Snape snorted. “Jellybabies” he snarled, completely unimpressed with Dumbledore’s choice of code this month.

Harry managed a small smile at Snape’s annoyance before grimacing and rubbing at his temples yet again. The headache had started to build after they arrived at Privet Drive, and was slowly blossoming into an intense migraine. It felt like sharp blades were scraping out the inside of his skull.

He hoped the meeting with the Headmaster went quickly so he could go back to his room and deal with his pain alone. It was getting harder to block it out, and his vision was starting to blur from the extreme throbbing. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on looking past the pain as he followed Professor Snape up the winding staircase to Dumbledore’s office.

When they reached the top the Headmaster’s door was already open. They walked inside to see the old wizard levitating a large trunk across the room. He opened the lid and placed several stacks of papers inside before closing the lid and shrinking the trunk down to matchbook size. He looked up and smiled.

“Severus, Harry, how lovely to see you!” he exclaimed, not seeming to be at all concerned to see Harry returned to the school on the first day of holidays. “Lemon drop?” he asked, motioning to the crystal bowl on his desk which was almost overflowing with tiny yellow sweets.

Professor Snape ignored his offer, and Harry smiled faintly and shook his head.

“No thank you Sir.” he replied, his voice weak. Dumbledore’s eyes clouded over with concern.

“Harry, are you ill?” he asked, glancing at Snape for his answer, as the man had obviously brought Harry to him for a reason. Perhaps this was it.

Harry balked at the Headmaster’s change in tone and he shook his head a little more forcefully than he would have liked. His head felt like it was going to come off his neck. He forced a bright smile at the older wizard.

“I’m fine, Sir.” he insisted. “Just a bit tired after my trip.”

“Which is why we are here, Headmaster.” Snape interjected, seeing Harry’s obvious distress. Something was definitely wrong with the boy.

Harry was grateful for Snape’s interruption, though it felt completely un-natural to feel appreciation towards someone he hated so much, and who in turn hated him. He’d noticed since they left Privet Drive however; that Snape had been noticeably more kind, which worried Harry more than anything. The only thing creepier than a mean Snape, was a kind Snape.

He fell into the chair behind him and closed his eyes. He rubbed at them with his fists then ran a hand through his hair. There was a dull thumping inside his head, and the whooshing of his heartbeat in his ears almost drowned out the two wizards who seemed to be embroiled in intense conversation. He opened his eyes to see Dumbledore smiling, waving an arm around the office whilst a furious Snape slammed both hands down on the desk, sending lemon drops cascading onto the floor.

“This is ridiculous!” Snape growled. “Professor, I have much work to do this summer. I cannot be expected to play babysitter to Potter. I have important potions to brew, many of which cannot be left unattended. I will not squander any more of my time with an impertinent Gryffindor!” he finished, almost shouting now.

Harry frowned. There was the Snape he remembered. Rotten to the core. He was going to get it now, yelling at the Headmaster like that, and Harry perked up in anticipation of Snape’s comeuppance. But Professor Dumbledore only smiled, his eyes twinkling merrily. He really could pass for a doddering old fool when he wanted to, Harry thought.

“My dear Severus,” he said calmly, waving his hand and sending the spilled sweets into the waste basket. “The castle will be completely empty, and the wards we will have in place will prevent him from moving even from room to room.” He glanced over at Harry, still smiling. “Now, I am sure Harry will be on his best behaviour, won’t you Harry?”

Harry nodded mutely. He’d missed much of the conversation due to focusing on his headache, and he wasn’t quite clear on what was going on. He was staying in the castle then? He’d be quite happy to remain in the Gryffindor bedroom for the summer. It sure beat a cupboard, and the house elves could bring him whatever he needed. A nice peaceful summer all by himself? It actually sounded quite lovely, well, minus the nightmares and his current pounding headache, but he’d gotten through worse on his own.

Suddenly Snape grabbed his arm and jerked Harry out of the chair. Harry turned around and gave the Headmaster a smile and a nod before Snape dragged him out the door and down the stairs.

He pulled out of Snape’s grip as they burst out into the hallway. The Professor didn’t even look at him as he continued down the hall at a clipped pace. Harry could see the man clenching and unclenching his fists. Whatever he and Dumbledore had spoken about, Snape was livid because of it.

Harry suddenly stopped. Where on earth were they going anyway? This wasn’t the way to the Gryffindor tower.

“Sir?” he called hesitantly. He flinched as his raised voice caused waves of pain through his head. “Sir, my trunk?” Snape stopped abruptly and spun around, his eyes boring into the boy.

“Um, I can take it up to my room, Sir.” he offered. He didn’t want to say anything to piss Snape off anymore than he already was. After years of dealing with Uncle Vernon, Harry was well practiced in handling someone who wanted to hurt him.

Snape’s eyes narrowed and he took a few steps towards Harry, who instinctively took a few steps back, his eyes widening in fear.

“Mr. Potter, were you not listening to anything that went on in Professor Dumbledore’s office?” Snape asked; his fury evident in his tone. Harry didn’t answer, but shook his head slightly. He’d been too busy trying to keep his head from exploding from the pain.

Snape paused. Harry didn’t look so good. In fact, he looked like he was going to pass out any moment. His eyes were glassy and his breaths came in short, rapid gasps. His face glistened with sweat. Then he remembered; he was going to get Harry a headache potion. The pain the boy was surely feeling must be almost blinding now. Snape cursed under his breath, earning a shudder from the boy.

“Mr. Potter.” Snape said softly. “You will accompany me to my quarters where I will give you a pain potion. The headache you are undoubtedly battling is an after effect of your first apparation.” He paused before he spoke again because his next words were ones he didn’t say very often. “I am…regretful for not having tended to it sooner.”

Harry nodded slowly. If he hadn’t been in such colossal pain he would have been shocked at Snape’s attempt at kindness. He followed Snape as he began to wind down the corridors into the depths of the castle, finally stopping at the door to Snape’s quarters.

The Professor muttered a password and pushed open the heavy stone door, and Harry found himself standing in a dark hallway.

“This way, Mr. Potter.”

Snape’s living room was different than Harry imagined, but of course Harry had imagined chains and torture devices lining the walls, not dark wooden bookcases filled with tomes. There was a fireplace, which Snape lit with a flick of his wand as he walked into another room, presumably to get Harry’s potion. A beautiful mahogany coffee table sat in front of a worn but comfortable looking brown couch, which, to Harry’s surprise, had a forest green and cream coloured knitted afghan thrown over it. He never saw Snape as an afghan kind of person. It must have been a gift from one of the Slytherins.

Two tall antique lamps flanked the couch, their shades intricately decorated in warm golden brown beadwork, and a very old straight-backed reading chair sat close to one of the bookshelves. A woven oriental rug covered the floor, its colours complimenting the rest of the décor. Harry raised his eyebrows as he looked around the room. It felt bizarre to think it, but Snape sure could decorate.

Just then the Professor returned holding a vial of blue liquid. He handed it to Harry who looked a little nervous at the idea of taking a potion made by the man.

“Perhaps you should sit down?” Snape asked, motioning to the couch, and Harry obeyed, sinking into the cushions warily. He sat staring at the vial for a moment, then deciding the pain in his head outweighed the risk of drinking Snape’s potion; he tilted his head back and downed the contents of the vial in one gulp. He grimaced at the foul taste before handing the vial back to the Professor. Almost instantly the pain in his head began to recede.

Almost a minute went by before Harry realized that the Professor was standing staring at him oddly. Snape lifted the vial and looked at it in the light as if to make sure it was empty. He looked back at Harry, who was now starting to feel very anxious at his teacher’s strange behaviour. Snape sighed.

“Mr. Potter, kindly do not fight the effect of the potion.”

Harry frowned. What on earth was Snape going on about?

“Um, it did work, Professor.” he said, confused. His head really did feel loads better.

Snape’s brow furrowed as he continued to stare at the boy. He glanced at the wall clock above the mantle, then back to Harry again, then at the empty vial, then again at the clock, and then back to Harry, who by now was almost beside himself with apprehension. Harry stared at Snape with fear in his eyes. He could see the man’s foot tapping impatiently. What the hell was he waiting for?

Suddenly fatigue hit Harry like a brick wall. His eyelids drooped and he slumped sideways into the soft couch cushions. His body felt as if it were made of lead. He didn’t even have the presence of mind to panic.

“Ah” Snape said matter-of-factly. “There we go.”

Harry barely felt Snape remove his glasses then pull the afghan off the back of the couch and drape it over his prone body. His vision swam as he watched Snape cross the room and disappear through a door.

He didn’t even have the strength to scowl as he fell into a deep sleep.