Already the next morning Harry could tell that his wounds were better off. Whatever had been left of the welts after the belt had healed and the skin around the wounds left by the buckle was not as red and sensitive as it had been yesterday. Even so he decided to take a risk and reached for the little basket containing the healing salves.

The salve felt cool against his skin and he imagined there was a tingling sensation of magic. He suspected the salve was meant for smaller wounds but it seemed to speed up the healing anyway, so this time he used a slightly thicker layer. If Snape noticed he would just have to come up with something, which would be easier if he did not bear the marks of what he wanted to hide.  

Breakfast was an awkward affair.

Oddly enough Snape seemed even more displeased to see Harry than he had the day before, and Ian shifted between glaring daggers at him and ignoring him completely. Harry thought that it was a weird mixture of his life at Hogwarts and his life with the Dursleys – the food was great but he also had that distinctive feeling of being unwelcome that he associated with the Dursleys.

Towards the end of the meal Professor Snape straightened further in his chair and gave Harry the same look Aunt Petunia often did. Instinctively Harry knew that it meant that he would be doing chores.

-           “Now Potter, you may not be used to it but most people have to earn their living. I will expect you to do chores around the house in order to earn your stay here.”

Though Harry felt like replying with something rude he bit his tongue. Answering back would not result in anything good. And it wasn’t as if he was unused to doing chores anyway.

-          “No objections? Make no mistake Potter, I will not have you laying around the house doing no good! That means you will be spending the majority of the day doing chores.”

-          “Yes sir,” Harry replied, reminding himself that though Snape had yet to raise his hand against Harry he did not want to take the risk. “What would you like me to start with?”

Snape looked at him as if trying to judge if he was being disrespectful. Harry had his face lowered but met the eyes through the fringe of his hair, trying to look both stoic and respectful. Snape would not break him!

-          “To start with you can mow the lawn. After that you may sweep the floors – in the areas where you are allowed, that is. Any questions?”

There were lots of things Harry wanted to say but the tone in Snape’s voice made it clear that any objections would be torn apart and punished.

-          “Do you have a lawn mower?” Harry asked, wondering if wizards even had such things or if such chores were usually done by spells.

-          “I do,” Snape answered, in a tone that made it utterly clear what an idiot he thought Harry was being at the moment. “You will find it in the shed in the back yard.”

Harry nodded and turned back to finishing his breakfast. He had barely swallowed the last of the milk when Professor Snape spoke again.

-          “I suggest you get started, before the sun gets any higher.”

This surprised Harry. It almost sounded like the man cared that Harry would not have to mow the lawn while the sun was at its highest, and thereby hottest. From experience Harry knew how painful it could be and tried to avoid it, as often as he could. The Dursleys naturally never cared about Harry’s comfort, the most important being that his chores were done. This just made it all the more surprising that Snape pointed such thing out to him, almost as if he cared whether Harry got sunburned or not.

That was, or course, utterly ridiculous. Snape cared no more for Harry than he did for a troll or a flobberworm. In fact he might even care more for the troll and the flobberworm, as those were creatures with parts that could be used in potions.

Pushing his confused thoughts to the back of his mind Harry quickly cleaned his dishes and put them away before heading to the back yard. Like the front the back yard was orderly but not sterile. There was a garden plot, surrounded by a neat fence, which seemed to contain rows of different herbs. A tree was growing there as well, its shadow falling over the house.

The shed was in the back of the yard, surrounded by bushes of berries which did not seem quite ready to be picked yet. Harry looked curiously at the berries but they did not look like anything he would find in Aunt Petunia’s garden and he did not know what they were.

When his eyes fell on the lawn mower, Harry had to question whether his Professor was being serious or not. His Aunt and Uncle, whom both cared very much for what others would think of them, took pride in keeping themselves with the latest of everything, even if it was just such a simple thing as a lawn mower. The same thing could obviously not be said about Snape.

At first Harry barely understood what it was that he was looking at. It looked like an iron cylinder on wheels, with a handle sticking up from it. And ancient lawn mower, the kind that did not even have an engine. Uncle Vernon would have hidden it away in the back of the garage, too afraid of what the neighbors would think should they see it to even throw it away.

There were no other lawn mower in the shed, and a quick look around the yard assured him that there were none out there either. Therefore Harry dragged the thing outside, trying to figure out how it worked.

He was positively surprised when he began pushing the mower across the lawn. Though the design was obviously outdated it had also been improved with spells, it seemed. The blades were sharp and easily cut through the grass while the wheels moved effortlessly and even seemed to move on their own if there were an uphill tilt. All in all mowing the lawn was no more taxing than it usually was and Harry managed to finish the chore before the sun became too hot.

If Snape was at all surprised to find that Harry had completed the task without whining he did not show it when Harry returned inside. The man merely gestured towards the cupboard under the stairs, returning to whatever book he was reading. In the cupboard Harry found the broom he would need to sweep the floors.

The day progressed slowly, with Harry doing the chores he was directed, Ian avoiding him and Snape reading his book whilst obviously keeping an eye on Harry.

They did not hear from Mrs. Figg. This did not seem to improve Snape’s mood at all.

About an hour before dinner Snape told Harry to go take a shower. Harry was surprised but obeyed none the less. Regular showers were a privilege he mostly only found at Hogwarts and he was not about to refuse it.

Removing his shirt he looked his back over in the mirror, relieved to find the wounds looking even better than they had that same morning. Trust Snape to have good-quality potions. It was irony, really. As much as Snape hated Harry he had, unknowingly, provided Harry with exactly what he needed.

As he showered Harry found himself pondering the situation he was in. He was actually living, however temporarily that arrangement was, with his father. A father that hated and despised Harry, despite never having bothered to get to know him.

When he was younger Harry had sometimes dreamed that his parents would one day show up on the Dursleys’ doorstep and explain that there had been a mistake, that they were not dead at all and that they wanted their son back. From the very first moment Snape had made it clear that no such thing was going to happen, and there was still a part of Harry that hurt from the obvious rejection. He did not know what he had done to deserve his father’s hatred.

Suddenly feeling tears in his eyes Harry bit his lips and tried to focus on something else. He was such a baby sometimes!

So what if Snape hated him? That wasn’t Harry’s problem! He was doing just fine on his own, than you very much. As soon as the Dursleys returned Harry would go back to them and everything would be back to normal.

He looked forward to it. At least in the Dursley household he knew what to expect. Mostly. Or so he had thought, but he hadn’t foreseen them dumping him either, had he? But that was extreme, even for them, and he was sure they would have returned for him sooner or later. Right?

Yes, he told himself. His Aunt and Uncle definitely would have returned for him. It was just that Harry was too stupid to stay in one place so that they knew where to find him. Instead he had walked off because he was hungry. He was such an idiot! A stupid freak, just as they always told him. Had he just acted differently they would have been able to find him and everything would have been fine.

He had only himself to blame for the situation he was in right now.

Despite his internal rant there was still a part of him that was not completely convinced, somewhere in the back of his mind. He tried to ignore it but it was rather persistent, reminding him that if nothing else he got a lot more to eat where he was now. Snape let him eat three full meals a day, something that he rarely was allowed at the Dursley’s. They may not be starving him, but he was not exactly encouraged to eat either. He was often hungry in the summer.

By the end of the shower he had developed a headache. Living with Snape may have its advantages but it also meant bigger risks, and he had yet to figure out whether the advantages were worth the risks.

Sighing he exited the shower and dried himself. He hesitated a moment but ended up putting another layer of the salve on the wounds. Right now the wounds were the biggest risk, he thought. He could not let Snape know about them, or how he had gotten them. He didn’t know how the man would react but he was sure he would never be allowed to live it down. The taunting would follow him for years!

Quickly he pulled on his clothes and threw the used towel in the laundry basket, after taking the time to dry his hair again. Then he spent some time trying to make it stand out less before he decided that it was time to head downstairs and see if he would be given dinner today as well.

If it was because of his distracted thoughts or the headache the thoughts had caused Harry had no idea, but when bringing the little basked back into the cupboard his hands slipped. He fumbled with the basket, feeling as if his heart had suddenly caught in his throat, desperately trying to catch the little jars and bottles.

Crash! The first jar hit the sink, and Harry immediately knew that he would be in trouble. Crash, crash, crash! There was no way he was getting away with this. Crash, crash, crash!

One by one the jars and bottles broke, splattering its colorful content across the floor, along with glittering shards of glass. Absurdly it almost looked pretty.

Uncle Vernon would kill him, he thought, vaguely aware that he was panicking. Uncle Vernon would kill him and then Aunt Petunia would revive him just so that she could kill him herself. How could he be so stupid and make such a mess in the bathroom?

The sounds of the breaking bottles and jars had not ended before he could hear steps in the staircase. Instinctively he backed away from the door, just moments before said door flew open to reveal a very furious looking Snape.

Last year when he and Ron had flown Mr. Weasley’s Ford Anglia and crashed it into the Whomping Willow Harry had thought that Snape looked pretty furious. However in comparison to the Snape standing in front of him now, Harry realized that Snape might as well have taken them both for ice cream back then. Snape was furious with him.  

-          “Potter!” Snape hissed.

It seemed the man was so angry he could not form any other words, just glare murderously at Harry. Harry stood frozen in place, too shocked to move. What would he do now? This could not be happening! He had no idea how to explain anything!

-          “What happened?” Ian’s voice asked from somewhere behind Snape, who was blocking the doorway.

That seemed to break whatever trance Snape had been in and the man quickly entered the bathroom, whipping out his wand. Harry flinched a little, even though Snape merely waved it towards the mess Harry had just made. The bottles and jars repaired themselves and the now useless potions disappeared.

For a moment Harry realized that he might be in bigger trouble than he had first thought. Uncle Vernon could cause plenty of pain with his belt if he wanted to, but somehow Harry believed that Snape could do even worse, especially if he had his wand.

-          “Really, Potter?” Snape asked, turning to Harry. “Snooping around in my cupboards, are you? Stealing my things? Breaking them for fun?”

His throat suddenly seemed impossibly dry and he tried to swallow, but it seemed useless. There was a huge lump in his throat and a feeling akin to dread was spreading through his body.

-          “Did I not warn you that theft would not be accepted in this house, Potter?”

Snape’s voice was calm and silken, the tone sharp as a dagger.

-           “What were you planning to do with my potions, Potter?” Snape asked, taking a step closer to Harry.

Harry could not reply. His brain had yet to start to function again and he just waited for the moment when the first strike would fall. Years of experience had taught him that things like this did not go unpunished. Whether he was grabbed by his ear and thrown into his cupboard, or beaten by the belt, mistakes like this always cost him.

-          “Answer me Potter!” Snape’s voice lashed out, louder but not yet above normal conversation.

A moment later a dark clad arm shot out and Harry felt his arm gripped tightly in a thin, almost claw-like hand. Instinct took over and he allowed himself to be pulled closer. At this point resisting would only make things worse.

He had closed his eyes in anticipation for the blow he was sure would come, but it never fell. A few moments later Snape spoke again, his tone just as dangerously calm as it had been before.

-          “Speak, Potter! What do you have to say for yourself?”

Only one thing came to mind and he struggled to form the words, his voice coming out trembling and a bit higher than usual.

-          “I-I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t me-mean to…”

He faltered there, unsure of how to continue. Snape would not need him to repeat his crimes, and Harry was quite sure that doing so would only increase the man’s anger.

-          “I’m sorry sir,” he finished lamely.

Time seemed to have stopped around him. Harry was not sure what would happen now. Whether he was thrown into his cupboard or beaten he was usually never given the chance to explain himself, or to apologize, and he was not quite sure what Snape expected him to do.

-          “This will have consequences, Potter,” Snape stated, his tone having changed from dangerously calm to one that challenged Harry to object.

The hand around his arm let go and he could feel Snape’s robes swish against him as the man passed him to perform new cleaning spells further into the room.

Harry was confused. What was Snape doing? As furious as he had seemed just a few minutes previous Harry had expected a slap at the least, but so far Snape had only touched him to pull him closer. His arm did not ache the way it would if there were a bruise forming, suggesting that even in his anger Snape had not hurt him.

-          “Go downstairs Potter,” Snape ordered in a carefully controlled voice. “Dinner is on the table. Eat and then go sit on the sofa in the living room until I say otherwise. We will discuss this, but not when I feel like throttling you.”

Slowly he moved to obey the order, feeling even more confused than he already was. He was going to get to eat, even after this? Snape did not want to punish him while he was angry? Neither of it made any sense to him. It was exactly the opposite of how he was used to adults acting.

He had no idea of what he ate for dinner that night. It tasted nothing and he struggled to swallow what little he ate. Then he sat down on the sofa, as directed.

When after twenty minutes the only thing that had happened was that Snape and Ian passed through the room to get to the kitchen, Harry slowly began to relax somewhat. Maybe Snape wasn’t going to kill him after all. Whatever punishment the man was planning it would probably be awful and make him wish that the man had just killed him, but he would survive. In other words, it would likely be just like detention – only in summer and outside of school.

Almost an hour had passed before Snape entered the living room again and came to stand across from Harry. Harry almost had to wonder if the man had taken a calming draught because there were no signs of the fury he had seen before – only the usual distaste and superiority.

-          “As your relatives have clearly failed to teach you right from wrong, Mr. Potter,” Snape began, “I have decided that I shall have to be the one to do so. Therefore, to repay me for the potions you ruined and the hours of work you wasted, you will spend tomorrow cleaning out the basement.”

He paused there, probably waiting for Harry to object. Harry did not rise to the bait, even though he wanted to object that it had only been an accident. Snape didn’t care that Harry hadn’t meant to destroy anything. Most likely that was a chore he would have been put to do anyway. After all, Snape had told him that he would be doing chores to earn his living there.

Compared to what he would have gotten at the Dursleys’, had he made a similar mess of their bathroom, he was getting away easy. Which just made it all the more confusing that Snape was being almost… nice to him, despite the unfairness of the whole situation.

-          “You will find that it is tedious work that will take the majority of the day,” Snape continued. “Possibly more, considering your inexperience in similar chores.”

Little more was said that evening.

The next morning after breakfast (another meal Harry was allowed, even though he was positive that the Dursleys never would have been so kind) he was shown outside and to the short side of the house, where the door to the basement was. He had noticed it the day before when he mowed the lawn and vaguely wondered what it was.

Snape unlocked the door for him and stepped in first, casting a lumos to light up the space. Harry followed, curiously looking around. There was one single room, where the floor and walls were made out of stone while the roof was made of wood.

-          “As you find such pleasure snooping around among other people’s belongings it should be no trouble for you to clean this room,” Snape said, gesturing towards the shelves lining the walls. They were covered in dust and spider web.

-          “What is all of this?” Harry asked, before he could think better of it.

Glancing around the room he could almost swear that he saw shadows moving from within some of the jars. On a closer thought, he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know what all of it was, but Snape was already smiling maliciously at him.

-          “Potions,” the professor told him. “Ingredients. This is my own, private storage of potions ingredients. I suggest you to be careful with how you handle them, as some of them might react badly with each other, or even with air for that matter.”

So Snape wanted him to drop a jar and get poisoned by the fumes, then. That made a lot more sense to Harry.

-          “I want this room clean, Potter,” Snape explained, waving his wand and summoning a bucket and rags. “No dust, no spider webs, jars orderly stacked on the shelves. Is that understood?”

Harry looked around the room, realizing that this would take hours to do, if not the whole day. But he didn’t really have a choice, did he?

-          “Yes sir,” Harry replied with a sigh. Hopefully he would not be so clumsy as to destroy anything again.

Snape glared at him another few moments, as if trying to determine whether Harry was going to do anything stupid or if he was actually going to do as he was told. Then the man nodded once and left the basement, leaving the door ajar so that it let in the sunshine. The lumos remained in the room, spreading enough light for Harry to work in.

With another sigh Harry filled the bucket with water and got started on his cleaning.