Harry spent a good hour that afternoon curled up on a squashy sofa in the common room with the potions book, paging through it, turning it sideways and upside down to read the notes scribbled in the margins. Snape had crammed writing in everywhere—next to potion directions, in the margins above and beside lists of ingredients, literally wherever there was white space to write. Sometimes he altered the ingredients—suggesting a few less beetle eyes or a bit more armadillo bile. Other times he suggested the potion be stirred for a longer—or shorter—time, or with a figure eight motion, or that a lower or higher flame be used. Harry could truly see the future Potions Master in the making, and wondered if he would ever be as passionate in his life about something as Snape obviously was—or had been—about potions.

He ate dinner in the Great Hall at the staff table with the staff members that were in the castle. Besides Professors McGonagall, Snape and Dumbledore, only two others were present for the meal—Hagrid and Filch. Filch looked at him with obvious disapproval as he slid into his chair between Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape but Hagrid greeted him warmly—and loudly. Hagrid invited him to his hut after dinner, and he spent a happy two hours playing with Fang and admiring the giant hybrid fire lizard hatchlings Hagrid said he'd be using with the first and second years this term. The creatures were currently the size of nifflers and had bright orange, yellow or red stripes running from head to tail. Small flames shot out whenever they opened their mouths and Harry got burned more than once while helping Hagrid sort them into crates by color—the red were males, the yellow females and the orange, said Hagrid, were both. Harry made a note to look those up in the library when he had a chance.

He made it back to Gryffindor Tower before dark to find both Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape waiting for him in the common room. There was something incongruous about seeing the Potions Master in Gryffindor, and Harry wished he had a camera and could take a picture to show Ron tomorrow. Professor Snape stood up when he came in through the portrait hole, looking at him disapprovingly but with a trace of humor that had been totally absent in Filch's stare during dinner. Snape pointed his wand at the snitch-sized burn-hole in his new t-shirt and cast a quick and effective Reparo.

"You do realize that Reparo won't fix that burn on your skin under the hole, or those blisters on your fingers, do you not?" he asked.

"Um..yeah. Hagrid told me to ask you for some burn cream since Madam Pomfrey's not here. I didn't quite trust the stuff he wanted me to use—it was in an old tea cup and looked a bit…rancid." He smiled. "And thanks…for the Reparo. I'll be more careful tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" said Snape. "You liked fire lizards enough to spend more time with them?"

"Well, the orange ones anyway," said Harry.

Professor McGonagall snorted.

"Ron will want to see them," said Harry, "and Hagrid told me they'll be shedding their first skin soon and that he saves the skins for you for potions ingredients. He said you'd be 'drooling like a boarhound' to get hold of them."

"He did, did he?" said Snape as Professor McGonagall let out yet another quite unladylike snort. "Well, you and your friends can collect them and save me a trip, then," said Snape. "I'll get you a jar for them when I fetch your burn cream."

"You will need to learn the fire-proofing charm for clothing if you are planning to spend more time with Hagrid," said Professor McGonagall. "Student robes are imbued with the protection when they are purchased but Muggle-wear is not."

"OK, I will." He stood looking at his two professors for a moment. "Did you want something?" he asked at last, feeling awkward standing there with no one saying anything.

"Only to tell you to meet me at the castle entrance at 9:30 for our trip to Hogsmeade," answered Professor McGonagall. "We should be back in time for lunch, and your friends are due to arrive shortly after that." She eyed his repaired shirt. "And I'll teach you the fire-proof charm once your friends arrive. I have a feeling you'll all be needing it."

Harry grinned. "Right," he answered. "I'll wait for you tomorrow morning outside the Great Hall then."

"And Harry, we will begin weekly lessons on Animagus Transformation the second week of term," she added. "You will see time set aside for this on your regular schedule."

"Really?" Harry's face lit up and he glanced at Snape to judge his reaction. Snape remained impassive, but did not look disapproving.

Professor McGonagall bade them goodnight and left through the portrait hole, leaving Snape and Harry staring at each other from across the room.

"Sit down, Harry," said Snape. He himself settled into one of the low chairs in front of the fireplace, shaking his head in exasperation—feigned or otherwise—as the extremely worn and soft chair continued to settle, leaving his knees practically in front of his face. Harry tightened his lips so as not to smile and sat down on the couch, wedged himself into the corner in his usual position. The Half-Blood Prince's copy of Advanced Potion Making was still sitting on the table and Harry picked it up.

"This is really great," he said, looking up at Snape. He knew Snape could see his gratitude because the Professor's gaze softened a bit. "It's really going to help me this year, I can tell already. Is it…is it OK if I tell Ron and Hermione where it came from? Hermione isn't going to like it—she's going to think I'm cheating by using it. She's really particular about fair play and all…"

Snape pursed his lips and didn't answer immediately.

"I understand if you don't want me to," said Harry quickly. "Tell them, I mean.

"There is much more than a book to consider," said Snape. "How much do you want to tell your friends about the time you spent with me? No—allow me to rephrase that. What is the minimum you will need to tell them?"

"I don't know," answered Harry. "I really hadn't thought about it much." He paused to think then said, after a moment, "That you're on our side, I suppose."

"And if I requested that you tell them nothing? That they go on believing I'm the bat of the dungeons who hates you and that you had a miserable time with me learning Occlumency?"

But Harry had not spent the past weeks with Snape without learning something about him as well and knew now that Snape wouldn't ask that of him.

"I'm not that good of an actor, sir," he answered honestly. "I would tell them that—lie to them, that is—if you asked me to, but I think they'd see through it. And Mrs. Weasley knows, after all, and Bill too…."

Snape was regarding Harry steadily. "You are well aware of my situation now, Mr. Potter. How do you suggest we handle this?"

Harry met his gaze. This was hard…really hard. He wanted to tell his friends everything—that Snape grew up with his mother, that his father was a Muggle, that he had a link with him now, that he used water as his Occlumency shield just like Harry, that he had black swimming shorts that came down to his knees, that his favorite Beatle was John… But what did he need them to know? What was the minimum he could live with?

"I need them to know you're on our side," he said at last. "And that you helped me this summer—that you don't hate me anymore and I don't hate you. I guess the details aren't important."

"I believe I can live with that," replied Snape, "and perhaps a bit more. I will insist on several restrictions—you have best friends, close friends and casual friends, yes?"

"So this needs to stay just with Ron and Hermione, right?"

"Are there others that need to know?"

"I don't know…I don't think so," answered Harry. "Maybe Ginny?"

"Seeing that Ms. Weasley will be here tomorrow with Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley, I suggest you include her as well and that you tell them what you need to tell them during this visit, when there are no other ears around to overhear. And Harry, that includes Hagrid."

"What do you mean?" Harry's face fell. "Isn't he part of the Order?"

"Yes, and don't look like that." Harry tried to change his frown into a more neutral look but only made himself look impatient. "The man is utterly good—there is not an evil molecule in his body. However, he is too trusting and quite gullible. He would never intentionally hurt you or anyone he loved, but he…well, he frequents the Village taverns and has been known to discuss matters 'up't the school.'" Harry laughed outright at Snape's spot-on impression of Hagrid.

"I suggest you impress upon your friends the need for utter silence on this matter—let them know that we have reached a truce, that I am working for the Order, and that my treatment of you must appear not to have changed. You will not be able to tell them anything about Shell Cottage should you even try—the Fidelius Charm will prevent that. And Harry, unfortunately you must not tell them about Professor Dumbledore. You must come to me if the need to talk about it should it become too pressing or disturbing."

Harry nodded, looking down at the book in his lap.

"What about the book?" he said.

"Tell Ms. Granger it is a gift from me and that I wanted you to have it. Leave it at that if you can. I guarantee that your Potions marks will improve if you pay attention to this book and Ms. Granger, being an intelligent witch, will notice. If she has issues with the book, or with your use of it, send her to me."

"Really?" Harry looked up and grinned. Hermione wouldn't stand a chance one-to-one with Snape. She was way too respectful of teachers to argue with him.

"Looking forward to that, are you?" answered Snape. He shook his head at Harry's smile. "I came here mainly to discuss with you the matter of what to tell your friends. But I would also like to remind you to continue your journaling and your meditation. Both are important and you are to devote 30 minutes each day—I suggest at bedtime—to these activities. Write about whatever strikes your fancy though I may, from time to time, suggest a topic."

Harry smiled again at the implication of what that meant—Snape would be watching him, would be paying attention to what was going on with him. And he would find a way to communicate…

"Finally, I have thought long and hard about how we can continue to communicate during the upcoming months without arousing suspicion. There are many magical ways of doing so—charmed mirrors, for example, can act more or less like Muggle telephones." Harry's face fell, but Snape hadn't noticed and was still talking.

"But anyone could use the mirror—it could be left out in the open unintentionally, or even stolen. It also requires words to be spoken aloud. It simply isn't secure enough. We could use school owls, but that would arouse too much suspicion—I receive owl post infrequently and any regular correspondence would be noticed. Patronuses are also not feasible—yours happens to be roughly the size of a hippopotamus and I believe even Binns would notice if a larger-than-life Stag came and spoke to me at dinner. No, I believe the best way for us to communicate is through your Defense homework assignments. I will expect some form of personal communication with every assignment you turn in. You will start each with 'Dear Severus' and end with 'Regards, Harry.' Oh please don't turn all green, Mr. Potter. My name is Severus, after all, though you've called me nothing but 'Sir' all summer. It is time we move away from this farce, don't you think?"

"Yeah, that would be great, Severus," said Harry. He was secretly pleased and that warm feeling in his stomach was back again. "I'm sure Malfoy and his bodyguards won't notice when I slip up in class and use your given name."

"You won't slip up," said Snape, shaking his head in that 'Why do I have to put up with such dunderheads?' way he had. "You will use 'Dear Severus' on the letters so that the charm I teach you will work appropriately. It will recognize the written phrases 'Dear Severus' and 'Regards, Harry' and replace those words and everything between them with text copied directly from the Defense textbook. Those are not phrases typically found on homework, though 'Professor Snape' and 'Harry Potter' would be. I will simply have to cast the counter-spell to read your original notes and will write my reply in the same way."

"That's brilliant, you know," said Harry. "Though Ron is going to go nuts wondering why I'm so anxious to get Defense assignments back."

"You will have to control that," warned Snape. "You never look at your work when I return it. You cannot start now. Simply shove it in that overloaded pack of yours and continue on to your next class as always."

"Wait, how do you…? You watch me?"

"I've been watching you since you were eleven years old, Mr. Potter," returned Snape. "What, you never noticed?" He tapped himself on the temple. "Spy, remember?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "That's kind of creepy, you know," he said. "I mean, watching what I do with my returned assignments? I think you'd get more out of catching me out after curfew, or with my invisibility cloak…"

"Yes, about that cloak…." interrupted Snape.

"No! I mean, I might need it," said Harry.

"I am not suggesting you turn it over to me," said Snape, sounding exasperated. "I am, however, suggesting you use it only for defensive purposes—to protect yourself," he clarified. "It may also come in handy if you absolutely feel you need to see me. But you must never come to me without warning—I sometimes have visitors in my quarters who would not understand why the Boy Who Lived is knocking on my door, and though these are infrequent, it is certain Slytherin students who represent the most danger. You will use that house elf who thinks so highly of you—Dobby—send a message to me first through him. And if he cannot find me, you are not to come looking for me yourself. Is that understood?"

Harry nodded. He didn't agree, necessarily, but recognized that Snape was making many more concessions than he had to.

"Now, go fetch the chess set while I get the burn cream and jar for the fire lizard skin. I believe a sound defeat will put you in a good mood for your journal topic tonight—why Professor Snape's restrictions are sensible and sound."

HPSSHPSSHPSS

Despite being exhausted, Harry had a hard time falling asleep. Gryffindor Tower normally was home to nearly one hundred students and even in his dorm room he was used to the breathing of four other people. He read several more chapters of To Kill a Mockingbird before picking up his journal and writing a new header on a clean page. He didn't exactly follow Snape's instructions, writing about what he thought about calling Snape "Severus" instead, and managing to fill his fifteen minutes and a few more with his thoughts on that narrow topic.

He did eventually fall asleep, however, but woke in time to have a shower and a quick breakfast before meeting Professor McGonagall. She looked him over critically but apparently found him acceptable. They started off at a brisk walk toward the castle gates, talking easily about this year's Gryffindor Quidditch team who might replace Fred and George Weasley as Beaters.

"I've made you captain this year, you know," said McGonagall as they crested a small hill and saw the Village of Hogsmeade laid out before them.

"What?" Harry nearly choked. He certainly hadn't been expecting that bit of news. "Captain?"

"It's not too much for you, is it?" asked his Head of House, looking at him with her eyebrows creased. "You do intend to play this year, don't you?"

"Of course! It's just that I wasn't expecting… No, it's fine, really. Thank-you. I think."

Professor McGonagall prattled on about tryouts and practice schedules until they reached Gladrag's Wizardwear. "In here, Mr. Potter," she directed. He followed her in and a male attendant, somewhere in age between Mr. Weasley and Professor Dumbledore, appeared out of nowhere. Professor McGonagall, in full lecture mode, gave him explicit directions on what they needed.

"Hogwarts robes and full uniform, Gryffindor House of course, school shoes, Quidditch shoes—he plays Seeker so as lightweight as you have them, one set of dress robes, two of casual robes and two cloaks—one lightweight for spring and fall and the other for winter. And he'll be doing a bit of growing this year and next so build in the extra fabric and expansion charms. Harry—did you get underthings this summer?"

The attendant had, by this time, determined that this would be one of his biggest sales of the summer and was practically fawning over them. He had also, it appeared, figured out that his customer was Harry Potter. Harry quickly assured Professor McGonagall that he had plenty of pants and socks and such. The loss of this potential sale didn't appear to faze Mr. Nathaniel Nettlebug (if his nametag was to be believed) and he soon had Harry on a raised dais in a curtained-off area in the rear of the shop where an enchanted tape measure was aggressively measuring him as he stood in his t-shirt and boxers with his arms held out.

Fortunately, that part lasted only ten minutes and he put his jeans and shoes back on with relief and trailed after his guardian giving input, when asked, on colors and fabrics. Harry soon learned that he'd have robes for casual occasions such as trips to Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley or visits to friends' homes for special occasions.

"Can't I just wear my school robes?" he asked.

"Of course you can wear them," answered Professor McGonagall. "I assume you have been these past years. However, most students prefer to put away their school robes on the weekend and wear their casual robes. You have noticed, haven't you? The different colors and styles?"

Harry nodded. He had noticed, of course, Malfoy had silver robes that were fitted at the waist and hung open from the waist down. Worn over trousers, they looked decidedly non-Muggle and reminded Harry of a frock coat with tails. Cho had worn the wizarding equivalent of a dress last year on their Valentine's Day date. Even Ginny and Ron had casual wizarding clothing for weekends. It had just never occurred to him that he only ever wore his school robes over either his uniform trousers and shirt or over Dudley's over-sized cast-offs.

"You are nearing the age of your majority," said Professor McGonagall an hour later as they walked briskly down the cobblestone street. She had paid what Harry considered an incredibly hefty sum for the hand-tailored clothing and had directed it to be sent to Hogwarts in her care. "It will no longer be appropriate for you to appear in Wizarding public in Muggle clothing. It may feel strange, at first, but you will grow accustomed to it over time."

She turned into The Three Broomsticks and Harry followed her without thinking.

"Hello Professor McGonagall, Harry," said a voice to their right and suddenly two people launched themselves at him and he was being hugged by both Hermione and Ginny.

"Harry! You look fantastic! What happened to you?" exclaimed Hermione, letting go of him while Ginny went in for a second hug.

"Yeah, mate," said Ron. He was trying to duck around Mrs. Weasley, who was glancing around at the other patrons and looking a trifle embarrassed. "New clothes, new glasses and I swear you're even taller."

Harry kept one arm around Ginny while he touched the rectangular frames of the glasses Snape had transfigured for him back at Shell Cottage.

"Yeah, it was time for a change, wasn't it?" said Harry, smiling broadly at his best friend. "But what about you? You sound like an American. And what's that shirt? What are Red Sox?"

"It's a professional baseball team, Harry, over in the States," answered Hermione. "You really do look wonderful. You don't stand a chance of convincing us that you were tortured all summer now."

"Only mental torture," he responded. Ron had tossed him a blue cap with a red B on it and he put it his head on as they all settled in around a table and Madam Rosemerta took their drink order.

"The glasses are great, Harry," said Ginny, reaching out to straighten the frames on his nose. "They make you look older."

"Thanks," he said. "I mean, that was a compliment, right?"

They laughed and talked through lunch and then Mrs. Weasley left to apparate back to the Burrow while Ginny, Ron and Hermione shouldered their backpacks and joined Harry and Professor McGonagall on the walk back to Hogwarts.

Hermione was expounding on the American Revolutionary War and someone called Paul Revere while Ron made faces behind her back and Ginny managed to look both interested and amused, when Harry was suddenly nearly crippled with intense, burning pain in his scar. They were inside the gates, close to Hagrid's hut, and he dropped to the ground on his side, drawing up his knees, unbelievably on auto-pilot and trying very hard to concentrate on his Occlumency barrier without slipping into it…not just yet.

"Harry!" exclaimed Hermione, while Ginny dropped down beside him.

"Get back!" exclaimed Professor McGonagall. "He needs space now, and quiet!"

Harry ignored his friends, tuning them out, eyes squinting against the pain while he looked up toward the castle doors, waiting.

"Harry, occlude!" urged Professor McGonagall. She, too, looked toward the castle where a figure, all in black, had appeared on the steps and was now hurrying down toward them.

"It's Snape!" hissed Ron.

Snape slowed only slightly as he passed them, pausing to address Harry firmly.

"Occlude, Harry. Now!"

Unbelievably, Harry seemed to relax, and Snape continued running down the hill and out the gates where he disapparated with a crack. The sound seemed to echo back up to the hill long after he was gone.