Yesterday, Harry had taken the liberty of filling the larder with his own favorite foods. Snape hadn't given him a shopping list, so he'd reckoned Snape didn't much care what he bought, as long as he was fed. At least, Snape hadn't complained about the meals Harry served him.

So this morning, it was sausages and eggs for breakfast. With toast and jam. It was almost as good as Hogwarts food, even if Harry did say so himself.

When the tea was made and the sausages finished cooking, Harry took Snape some breakfast up. That was better than lurking around the kitchen, waiting to see if the old bat was going to come down. Snape didn't move as Harry silently padded across the room to put the tray in the breadbox.

After Harry had finished his own breakfast and cleaned the kitchen, he sat at the table wondering what he should do with himself. Inactivity seemed intolerable. Snape hadn't left him with any lists like Petunia would, if she were going to be gone for the day. Harry had read ahead in in all his classes and he certainly couldn't take his broom out.

Generally, Harry wasn't one to get lonely. At the Dursleys', being alone meant he got some peace and quiet. At school, he was always surrounded by people. Being alone was actually hard to manage and a mostly welcome respite from the constant jostle of people..

He wished Snuffles could have come with him, again.

At the thought of Snuffles, Harry's chest got tight. Dumbledore had said the dog was gone for good.

As though a bucket of water had been tipped over his head, Harry went cold, even with a warm breakfast in his stomach. Harry suddenly realized what the headmaster had been trying to say.

A sob escaped his lips, before he could stop it. The pressure in his chest made him suck his breath in sharply. He closed his eyes and bent his head to the table, more sobs followed though he desperately tried to swallow them down. The last thing he wanted to happen was to have Snape find him crying.

Harry put his hand over his mouth to stifle his noise, the way he might have at the Dursley's. He hadn't really cried in years.

It didn't matter, he kept telling himself, not at all. He had more important things to be upset about. Neville was dead and Ginny had tried to do herself in. The Weasleys wouldn't be able to take him, and Snape was stuck with him. It didn't matter that his bloody dog was gone too. He still had Hedwig and he'd always looked after himself.

His hands tingled as he tried to fight down his tears. His tea cup, on the table, shook for a moment before exploding into tiny pieces of ceramic shrapnel, that covered the table and spilled onto the floor.

Harry stared at the pieces. Standing suddenly, he picked up the saucer and flung it against the wall. The sound of the breaking ceramic relieved the pressure in his head. It felt so good, he picked up the plate and flung it too. Another outburst of magic made the teapot crack with a pop. Harry picked up the sugar bowl, just about to fling it too, when the kettle starting whistling.

His magic had apparently heated the water to the boiling point, without the need for a flame. It was the sound of the kettle whistling that brought him to his senses.

His wild anger was abruptly brought to heel by sudden terror. Snape was sure to hear him breaking up his kitchen. Plus, the last time he had done accidental magic, the Minister himself had come looking for Harry. The summer before that, Dobby had gotten him blamed for a hovercharm and Harry had been threatened with expulsion from school.

Harry stood listening, trying to hear over his hammering heart.

There was no sound from upstairs. Perhaps the silencing spells worked between rooms. Maybe Snape was still so exhausted that nothing was going to wake him up.

There was still no broom to be found, so Harry picked up what bits he could find, careful not to cut himself. He wished he dared use his wand, but he expected an owl from the Ministry any second as it was. What would Snape do to him if he was expelled?

The minutes ticked away, but there was no owl from the Ministry swooping in. Perhaps it was going straight to Snape?

Harry realized he was very cold. There was nothing he could do about owls from the Ministry anyway. The dull numbness he'd been feeling since yesterday reasserted itself as his adrenaline faded.

He threw the bits of teacup, saucer and plate into the rubbish, glad that he'd chosen to use the old looking place setting he'd found in the kitchen, rather than the good china he'd found in the small dining room cabinet. He had put Snape's food on that.

The house hadn't gotten any warmer, even with the sun shining through the kitchen window. Harry thought he remembered seeing something that looked like an electric thermostat in the hallway.

He shivered, getting up to look around the short, dark passage. He realized that even yesterday, he hadn't paid much attention to the house.

The kitchen opened onto the hallway, with the front door directly across from it. It had a thin red runner carpet over a wooden floor. The living room door was directly to the left of it, as he faced it and the stairs were facing the front door, with the dining room connecting the kitchen and living room. It actually looked a little like the front passage of the Dursley's house, only in reverse. A small cupboard that Harry hadn't taken any notice of was under the stairs.

Snape was right about one thing; for some reason he kept dwelling on his cupboard. He hadn't even had to sleep in it since he came to Hogwarts, so why was it preying on his mind so? It had never seemed like that big a deal before.

He spotted the small box on the wall, adjusted it up to 20 degrees. He hoped that Snape wouldn't complain that Harry was running the heat too high. At least he wouldn't have to build a fire in every room to make the place warm.

Harry was beginning to feel like Snape's dusty house had hope of becoming habitable, and was sort of glad that Snape was staying out of the way. He still couldn't find a broom to sweep with, but he did find a floor brush under the sink. While he was shopping yesterday, he'd bought a bit of the floor cleaner Petunia favored. Scrubbing the floor would be something to do, for a bit. Before he started on it, he went upstairs, changed into the pair of jeans he wore yesterday and dug out his dragon hide gloves, remembering how harsh the stuff was.

He smiled a bit grimly at himself, as he used the floor brush to attack the stains on the kitchen floor. He'd fallen pretty low to be voluntarily scrubbing a floor, but it was better than sitting around. Trouble was, scrubbing wasn't a task that would consume his brain.

His sleep hadn't been the slightest bit restful and that conversation in the middle of the night with Snape had just been weird. He had not expected to be offered tea and biscuits by the man, ever. Most especially not in the middle of the night. Rather than think about everything else, he distracted himself with the questions last night's conversation had brought up.

Snape had known his mother. Had been friends with his mother, by the sound of it. And he knew Aunt Petunia.

If Snape knew Petunia and his grandparents, it stood to reason that Snape had visited his mother at her house. At least it didn't sound like he'd only met them in passing at the train station.

Snape had never mentioned his mother before.

Mrs. Cook seemed like she might be a good source of information, if Harry made friends with her. Yesterday she had been very kind to Harry, showing him where the shops were. He could have found them himself, but she seemed very interested in talking to Harry. Elderly women often liked Harry, if only because he was polite to them.

Mrs. Cook had also shown Harry where the laundrette was the previous day and he was anxious to get some of his things washed. It would give him an excuse to get out of the house. However, he might get some awkward questions about why he was hanging about if he went out in the morning, when everyone else his age was in school, so it was probably best to wait until later.

It took the better part of the morning to get the floor something approaching clean, but it made the kitchen that much brighter, and he was able to pick up the bits of smashed crockery he'd missed. It was still a sort of grey, but the grime was mostly stripped from it. The sharp smell of the floor cleaner was almost comforting.

When Harry had heard Snape in the shower around noon, he took in the sandwiches he'd made. Snape's bedclothes were tossed around again. The man was sleeping very badly, by the looks of it. Harry wondered if it was a result of the spell he'd used or if the Professor was always a restless sleeper. Quickly, Harry stripped the bed and made it up with fresh sheets he'd found in a linen closet in the hall.

Not a moment too soon. Snape emerged from the bathroom just as Harry was headed back down the stairs. He seemed to be moving with more of his accustomed grace. He was in his dressing gown with his hair damp from the shower.

Snape gave Harry his "potion ingredient" look again, but asked civilly enough, "Are you all right, Potter?"

Harry nodded, glad that Snape hadn't witnessed his earlier bout of tears, and it didn't sound as though he'd heard Harry chucking teacups, "Yes, sir." he mumbled, putting his hands deep in his pockets.

Snape seemed like he was going to say something else, as he watched Harry with narrowed eyes, "What have you been up to?" he asked accusingly, after a minute.

Harry shrugged, "Nothing." Snape's eyebrow went up, "Sir." Harry added belatedly.

Snape made a noise in his throat, "I just received an owl." he said.

Harry felt himself go white. He stared at Snape, waiting for the axe to fall.

Snape must have seen Harry's reaction because he paused to look at him for a long moment, before continuing, "The Headmaster is going to be here tonight." the trade mark Snape-sneer was back. Harry hadn't realized that it had been missing in his dealings with the Potions Master, until it returned, "He wants to 'see how we're getting on'." Apparently, that bothered Snape for some reason, "He'll be here at eight o'clock this evening. Do try to be present." Snape looked Harry up and down, "And presentable." he sneered.

Harry blushed, the knees of his jeans were filthy where he'd been on them scrubbing the floor. They were also the same ones he'd worn yesterday as was his T-shirt, so they were pretty dusty as well. Harry wasn't used to having clothes that it was even noticeable that they were dirty (at least not Muggle clothes).

Harry nodded, "Yessir." he muttered sheepishly.

"I trust you can keep yourself occupied for the afternoon?" Snape asked.

Harry nodded, although for perhaps the first time in his life, he was running out of things to do. Harry found he could get the housework done very quickly when there was no Dudley to sabotage him.

He thought he could get started organizing the cookbooks. He'd found that there were about two dozen on a bottom shelf in the kitchen. They were printed on yellowing paper with very ordinary recipes.

In the front of one was an inscription, To my Eileen.

Harry wondered who Eileen might be.

No way he was going to ask Snape.

Harry thought it might be all right if he tidied up the back garden. Mrs Cook was the only one likely to see him-and even she'd have to be looking. Tall hedges obscured the view beyond the stone walls. The house on the other side was empty and an alley was the only thing on the other side of the tall wooden fence that ran across the end of the garden.

Like the rest of the house, it had a feeling of long neglect. A little stone path, over grown with weeds and half buried under soil, led to a dusty garden shed full of cobwebs and rusty tools. Harry had dug through the carelessly piled stack the day before. They were actually decent tools under the grime and rust.

"All right then, Potter." nodded Snape, "I..." he hesitated, "I do appreciate that you have behaved yourself, thus far."

It was odd to hear Snape say something that could be almost interpreted as praise. Snape didn't know about the accidental magic, then. Probably Dumbledore was coming to tell him himself, Harry mused gloomily.

Snape was already looking tired again, "I'll leave you to it." He turned to walk back into his bedroom, pausing at the door. He clicked his tongue and huffed irritably. In a voice, Harry was accustomed to hearing from Potions class, he said, "If you are going to be here, I would expect the Headmaster would appreciate a late supper. However, please remember that not all of us are partial to the overly sweet monstrosities Dumbledore prefers." and he shut his door before he'd even finished his own sentence.

Another hot ball of anger ignited in Harry's stomach. That was a trick of Petunia's, to speak into the air rather than at Harry.

Harry prevented himself from stomping down the stairs, with an effort. Snape was just a git. But that left him wondering what he was going to serve Dumbledore that Snape wouldn't hate.

It didn't matter, Harry had decided by the time he'd showered and changed into something clean. He'd just get frozen meat pies like Petunia did when her book club met. And a fruit tart, and then they could please themselves. Petunia used to say that it didn't matter what you served, as long as it went on the good china.

At four o'clock, Harry had finished the polishing the silver he'd found in the drawer of the dining room cabinet. He really wished Snape had a vaccuum cleaner, but at least the dining room floor was bare wood. He used a cloth to pick up some of the dust. And there was a tablecloth in the drawer as well that Harry put on the table

He put a note onto the kitchen table, letting Snape know he was out at the shops, just to be safe.

It took him only a little while to find what he was looking for. He bought enough frozen pies that he could serve them for dinner on a night he didn't feel like cooking.

Heading back, he passed by a group of boys playing football in the the park. Harry sighed, wishing he could be playing Quidditch, instead of stuck here.

Mrs. Cook was just getting off her bus as Harry made it to Spinner's End. She saw Harry and smiled widely, reminding Harry of Molly Weasley, "Hello, Harry," she said, juggling several packages..

Harry had his shopping in one bag, "Do you need help?" he asked politely, seizing his chance to be friendly.

"Thank you, dear," smiled the old woman, "So how are you getting on? Been doing some shopping, again? And how is Professor Snape?"

"I'm fine, thanks." Harry replied, "Professor Snape is feeling better, I think." Harry had told Mrs. Cook that Snape was down with a bad flu and that's why Harry was doing the shopping.

"Well, if you need anything, you just come to me, mind." the woman shook her head, "So unfortunate that he had to become so ill when he had you to look after. I hope you're not sitting in front of the telly eating crisps all day."

Harry hastened to reassure her, "The Headmaster's coming to visit this evening to check on us. And Professor Snape doesn't own a telly, but he's got loads of books." the last thing Harry needed was Mrs. Cook inquiring too closely about Snape and Snape's house.

She nodded, "I'm not surprised. He was the same as a boy, you know. And his mum, Eileen, was such a brilliant woman."

One mystery solved, Harry thought, now there was only about a hundred more to go.

"Of course, his father, Toby, worked at the mill, but we all knew that Severus was far too clever for that. And then, I don't think Eileen's would have been happy with that, either. I have an idea that her family was a bit posh, you see. We were never sure where Eileen came from. She never said, but she was a sweet girl, for all that." Mrs. Cook paused for breath, "But listen to me, I'm sure none of this interests you, dear. You're very tolerant of an old lady."

Harry gave her a smile, "No, it is interesting. Professor Snape never talks about himself."

As they came to her door, she fumbled around in her bag for her keys, "I'll make us some tea, shall I? Or is the Professor expecting you straight back?"

Harry shook his head, "That'd be great." he said, sincerely. Now that he had someone to give him some information, he wasn't going to let her stop.

She took off her coat and put it in the hall closet, and turned to take Harry's, then beckoned hin into the kitchen.

Mrs. Cook's house was built on the same basic plan as Professor Snape's, but it was in immaculate order. She led him into the kitchen which was much more modern and up to date that the one next door. She indicated the table to Harry, "Just put the things there, then." she said.

Harry put her packages on the table, taking a seat.

Mrs. Cook busied herself with the teapot, "So are your parents abroad, or something? Is that why you're staying with Professor Snape?"

Harry was tempted to just say "yes", but then all kinds of questions would follow, "No." he told her quietly, "My parents died years ago. Car wreck."

Mrs. Cook turned from the sink to give him a sympathetic glance, "Oh, I'm sorry dear." she said.

"I used to live with my Aunt and Uncle, but they had to go away. They couldn't take me." Harry thought that sounded better than saying they didn't want him back. A lump came to his throat at the thought of that.

"Used to live?" Mrs. Cook was still looking at him.

Harry felt his cheeks get hot, as he went over what he just said in his head, "Well, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon...they..." Harry stumbled over his words, horrified to realize that his eyes had started to overflow. He didn't know what was wrong with him.

Mrs. Cook turned back to the sink and washed some cups left in there. Harry took a few breaths, swiped at his cheeks.

After a moment, Mrs. Cook said, "I knew a Petunia once." she spoke slowly as though thinking something through, "Your mum...would her name have been Lily?"

Harry started, "Yes. How did you know?"

"I thought you looked a bit like an Evans." She sounded satisfied.

"Sorry?"

She turned back to look at him, "An Evans, dear." She looked at him a little oddly, "I can't imagine there would be two other sisters named Petunia and Lily. And, I heard Lily was killed in a car wreck." the last was said very gently.

Aunt Petunia never told Harry about his grandparents.

The old woman went on, "They lived two streets over. Mr. Evans was a foreman at the mill for years. Vi and I were great friends. She got friendly with Eileen next door, when Lily was chosen to go to the same school as Severus. Professor Snape, I should say." She smiled at Harry, "Well, I daresay, that explains why you came home with Professor Snape."

"It does?" asked Harry, confused.

"Oh, yes. Severus and Lily were inseparable. For years. I know that Toby...that was Professor Snape's father...sort of hoped it would turn into something more," she paused, "But, Severus was never one to be involved with girls. I imagine his studies kept him occupied."

Harry's mind whirled.

Inseperable? Snape and his mum?

But Mrs. Cook was continuing, "Haven't seen Petunia since she married. She was always one to put on airs. She was friends with my Angie until she left school. Of course it was hard for her, after her mam and da died. Lily was still at school and they had the most dreadful argument at the funeral. Lily cleared out that night and Petunia put the house up for sale. Petunia never spoke to Angie much, after she married. I think she was ashamed of where she came from, to be honest. We only found out that Lily died because Angie ran into her once, when she was up in Surrey." Mrs. Cook looked at Harry with sudden comprehension, "Oh, and I remember now-Angie said how put upon Petunia was that she got landed taking care of her nephew."

Harry just stared at the woman not knowing what to say.

A firm knock at the door saved Harry from having to reply.

"Oh, excuse me, dear." Mrs. Cook said as she went to go get the door.

The door opened, and Harry heard Mrs. Cook say, "Well, hello Severus. So nice to see you."

Harry closed his eyes, wondering how much trouble he'd be in. "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Cook." he heard Snape say, stiffly, "Is my student here?"

'Why, yes he is. I was just making a cup of tea, why don't you come in?" Mrs Cook replied.

Snape answered, "Thank you, but I'm afraid we don't have the time, just at the moment."

"Ah, yes, Harry did say you were expecting company this evening." she paused, to ask Snape something in a low voice that Harry didn't catch.

Harry stood up, moving closer to the door, to hear what they were saying, "A conversation for another time." Snape replied, almost as softly. He raised his voice, "Mr. Potter? Come along, the Headmaster will be here early. He just phoned." there was the slightest of hesitation before Snape said the word "phoned".

"Yes, sir." replied Harry, sighing. He was glad he'd decided to do frozen pies, if the Headmaster was going to turn up early.

Snape stood on the steps in a black jumper and his wool trousers, still leaning heavily on his cane. His hair was pulled back again. Harry had to think it was because in Muggle clothes, If Snape wore his hair falling about his shoulders, as he usually did, it would make him look like an aging hippy.

Harry must have smirked involuntarily at that thought, because the Professor scowled at him and said, "Something amusing you, Potter?"

Harry shook his head, "No, sir." he replied meekly.

Snape made a non committal sound in his throat, turning back to Mrs. Cook, he said, "I hope he hasn't been troublesome."

"No, no. He helped me bring my shopping back. And it's so nice to meet one of Violet's grandchildren." the woman cheerfully replied.

Snape looked at her sharply, "I beg your pardon?"

She smiled more widely, "Now Severus, it's not as though the boy doesn't look like an Evans. With those eyes? You can't miss it."

Snape gazed beadily at Harry for a second, then completely floored Harry by smiling a little at the woman, "No, I suppose one can't."

"Well, get on with you both." She said, kindly, "But, why don't you come over for tea on Sunday? I'd love the company."

Snape cleared his throat, "If we're still here. It's quite possible we'll be returning to school before then."

"Of course." she nodded, looking a trifle disappointed, "Well, just let me know." she said recovering.

Harry grabbed his shopping from off the floor.

They didn't speak until they were inside Snape's house. Harry couldn't gauge how much trouble he was in. Stony silences were so common with Snape.

The minute they were in the door, Snape rounded on him, "What the hell were you thinking?" he hissed, "Have you no sense of caution? Are you trying to get killed?" He didn't wait for Harry to reply, "You have a powerful dark wizard after your blood. What were you thinking?"

"Erm," Harry began, as the Professor turned to walk into the living room, and sit down heavily in the armchair, "She...ah...she did ask me to come in. She was really nice. I thought it would be rude not to. I didn't say anything..."

"She could have easily been Sirius Black, polyjuiced or she could have been Imperiused by him. Are you so starved for affection that you follow the first person who says a kind word to you into their home?" Snape continued to glower at him.

Harry couldn't think of a thing to say. It never occurred to him that he could be in danger from an old lady. Snape always managed to make him feel utterly pathetic.

"I...no sir," Harry replied quietly.

Snape closed his eyes. Harry guessed that he was lucky that Snape still seemed so debilitated. It seemed like he didn't even have the strength to give Harry a proper telling off. Snape opened his eyes to fix Harry with a glare, "Go. Get out of my sight, until the headmaster comes." he growled.

Harry nodded, quickly. He took the things to the kitchen, hastily turning the oven on and putting the frozen pies in them. He put the tart in the fridge. If the Dumbledore didn't show up by the time they were ready, Harry would retrieve the breadbox from Snape's room to keep them warm.

He put a kettle on, thinking perhaps the Professor could do with some tea. That sometimes worked with Petunia, if not Vernon.

He heard Snape moving around in the dining room, "I assume someone taught you to count?" Snape called loudly, "There are going to be three of us here tonight."

Harry had set two place settings at the dining table, assuming that Snape wouldn't want him eating supper with them.

Harry nearly went in to ask Snape about it, but then he remembered that Snape said he wanted Harry out of his sight. Harry wasn't stupid enough to question the man's orders to his face.

And then, Snape said, "If I have my way, this will be your last evening here. I'll have the Headmaster take you in hand, and you can work in the kitchens at school."

Well, thought Harry irritably, So much for "Our home" . That didn't take long. Ungrateful git.

For some reason, the thought of going back to Hogwarts with the Headmaster didn't make Harry as happy as it should have. He was tired of other people sending him here and there. He also remembered what Molly Weasley had said the other morning, about Dumbledore sending him to the Dursleys in the first place.

Harry's stomach was bubbling with hot, acid anger again. He waited until he heard Snape's footsteps go up the stairs, before he went into the dining room to lay another place at the table.