It wasn’t a Death Eater. It was worse.

It was Snape.

And the man sounded incredibly angry. Harry briefly considered just staying here and not coming out, but knew better. He stood from where he crouched, waving an arm.

“Here, professor!” he called.

Snape whipped around to glare at him as he picked his way through the boulders. The man crossed his arms, no doubt waiting for Harry to come to him so he could get properly yelled at.

Nothing new there, Harry griped as he approached, braced for a sharp admonishment.

“Potter, what in blazes were you doing over there?”

“I thought I should get out of sight, in case I was sent here by an enemy.”

“You thought,” Snape sneered. “Despite having been right under the Headmaster’s nose, you thought the Dark Lord sent you here.”

“Didn’t stop him in June,” he snapped, tacking on a hasty “sir” when the man’s face turned white with fury.

Surprisingly, Snape didn’t blow up at him. He just said, in a tight voice, “Come, Potter. We don’t have much time.” He turned and began walking.

Harry hurried to catch up, choosing to drop his anger in favor of asking the dozens of questions that had been running through his mind.

“Sir, what happened? Where are we? Did Dumbledore send me here—”

“Professor Dumbledore, Potter. Learn some respect—”

“Is everyone alright? What was that explosion in the Ministry?”

“That explosion was your distraction, Potter. The Headmaster is currently trying to convince a very angry Wizangamot that he has no idea where you are.” Snape gave him a side-eye. “Which, in a literal sense, he does not.”

“What?” Harry stopped where he was, staring at Snape in disbelief. “Didn’t he send me here?”

“I sent you here, Potter.”

Harry took a step back, eyes narrowing.

The man sneered and turned, crossing his arms. “Don’t panic. I’m here to protect you, Merlin help me. The Headmaster gave me this assignment in the event of a guilty verdict.” He began walking again.

Harry hesitated, then followed again. He was careful to stay out of arm’s reach, noting how the man’s fingers twitched. He was probably daydreaming about pickling Harry’s liver for a potion. “Where is ‘here’, anyways?”

“Somewhere isolated.” And that was all he would say.

Harry made a few more attempts at questioning, all of which were summarily rebuffed and sneered at. The only extra information he managed to extract was that Snape had been late in arriving because he’d been unexpectedly stopped and questioned. By whom, Harry didn’t know, but he grew tired of asking and getting no answer, so he quieted.

The trek across the landscape was no casual stroll. Harry was sweating in his dress clothes by the time Snape finally held up his hand for a stop. Feet aching, Harry sat on the ground. They’d been walking for several hours, and the sun had already reached and slightly passed its zenith. Snape barely spared him a glance as he removed a pouch from a pocket.

Harry’s eyes widened when the man’s hand plunged elbow-deep into the small bag.

“How…” he trailed off, not wanting to sound like an idiot, but Snape only said distractedly,

“Expansion charm, Potter.”

Potter this, Potter that. Harry wondered when they’d finally get to wherever they were going and he could get away from the surly Professor.

Snape’s hand emerged from the bag, holding what Harry was surprised to recognize as a Muggle protein bar. He tossed it at Harry, who caught it with a Seeker’s reflexes, and pulled out another one for himself.

“Eat up,” Snape said, sitting on a rock several feet away as if it physically pained him to be too close to Harry. “Unless it’s not good enough for the savior of the wizarding world.”

Harry could relate to the desire to be far away from his traveling companion as possible. He glared at him, opening the bar and eating it in several quick bites. He’d been too nervous to eat much breakfast, and seeing how justified his fears had been didn’t stop him from yearning for yesterday, when he’d been sitting around with his friends in Grimmauld Place.

“Why don’t we just apparate?” Harry asked, crinkling up the wrapper and stuffing it into his pocket.

Snape looked at him with apathy. “I would love nothing more than to hasten our separation, but the Headmaster has requested we remain uncontactable for a few days.”

“A few days!” Harry gaped, a worm of dread making itself unwelcome as Snape pushed himself to his feet.

“We fear the Ministry has been compromised,” Snape added, ignoring Harry’s distress. “So, as you still have the Trace, we will be unable to use magic at the moment.”

Harry wondered dully if he hadn’t actually escaped. Maybe this was his punishment. They decided that Azkaban was too good for him, so the Ministry engineered his own personal hell…

“Keep up,” Snape snapped, and Harry realized that he had already started walking again. Suppressing a grumble, he got to his feet and followed in his Professor’s wake.