The stomach soothing solution had gone better than Snape had expected. Despite Harry’s OWL success and his performance in brewing the burn-paste, Severus had still expected to be required to dump out a potion gone horribly wrong. This potion was not up to the same quality as the first burn-paste, or even the second, to be honest, but it was definitely better than many of the potions Harry had made in class. Perhaps he would stage another practice run before he let the boy try on his own.

Severus crossed the room to the rack of cauldrons and selected one. Then he began collecting supplies, seemingly at random. Brewing had always helped him think, and Severus desperately needed to think. Potter’s apologies were unexpected and disconcerting.

He could accept that Harry’s childhood had not been the best and that the boy was neither spoiled nor as arrogant as his father had been, but he still would not have believed that a Potter would apologize to him. He knew that he had been wrong about the boy, but how could he have been that wrong. He was a spy for Merlin’s sake! His very life and the lives of others depended on his accurate character judgments! Harry had apologized twice. Three times really, if you counted that thing about his parents, though why he felt he should apologize about asking questions when anyone would be curious in that position Severus didn’t pretend to understand. Amazing.

He was still angry about the little brat looking in his pensieve, and rightly so. That was a horrible breach of his privacy and, in his mind, nearly unforgivable. No one should be able to see what he thought, no matter how vaguely. Granted, he had to put up with Voldemort looking on a regular basis, but Severus felt that was a sort of penance for the mistakes he had made, which were quite as unforgivable if not more so.

Given that Harry had apologized though, and that he, Severus, had seen more of Harry’s memories than Harry had seen of his, he was prepared to forget the incident. After all, it had probably hurt the kid more, and it wasn’t as though anyone had died.

Now that was settled, Severus still had half a potion to brew. This was handy because it meant that he finally had time to think about what Lupin had told him about Harry’s home life.

Harry’s relatives, his family, the ones who were supposed to protect him and keep him safe, had abandoned him. Severus wondered what that would do to the wards and blood magic that was meant to safeguard not only Harry, but his relatives as well. Abandonment and imprisonment, possibly neglect. What had those muggles done to the boy? And more importantly, were they likely to do it again? He would have to have another talk with Harry. This time, however, Snape was armed with a significantly better idea of what he was looking for. And forewarned was forearmed.

Harry was sitting on the bed in his room with the occlumency text in front of him. He had told himself that he was going to practice meditating and working through the fog, but in reality he was thinking about the weekend that had just passed.

Harry had loved having Remus come over. It had been nice to talk about his parents and Sirius. In a way he felt much less guilty now; certainly all that talking had been more beneficial than everyone telling him that it wasn’t his fault and that everything would be okay. How did they know, anyway?

Harry also felt better now that he had apologized to Snape and Snape had accepted it. Harry understood why his professor hadn’t just forgiven him. Memories were incredibly private, Harry appreciated that. It was lucky that Professor Dumbledore hadn’t got angry with him about that before; though if he had, Harry might not have looked in Snape’s memories. If he hadn’t looked, though, he wouldn’t know the truth about his father. Harry still wasn’t certain if that would have been a bad thing.

On the other hand, it was wonderful to see his parents, even if they were just memories, and now Harry had a better idea of why Snape hated him. Or, why Snape had hated him. Harry could have been wrong, but he rather thought that the dark wizard didn’t hate him now. If he did, he did an awfully good job hiding it. Harry found himself inordinately pleased at the thought that Snape no longer despised him. When he wasn’t being a mean git, the professor was actually almost likeable.

Harry was definitely pleased that Snape was helping him brew the potions. Harry thought the extra work had been really useful. He had learned a fair amount about the ingredients they had used and the most effective way to prepare them.

Harry stretched and yawned, then looked at the clock. It was nearly dinner time. Harry slid off the bed and made his way to the dining room. He would work on occlumency after he had eaten, he decided. No use trying to work on an empty stomach.

Harry walked into the dining room anticipating one of the lovely dinners he had got rather used to receiving at Snape’s house. For the first time since he had started school, and indeed since he could remember, summer was not synonymous with hard, sweaty work in the hot sun and not quite enough to eat or drink. It was nice. Something Harry felt himself luxuriating in and praying that he wouldn’t have to give up, although he knew he would.

It had been difficult to go back to the Dursleys after the Weasleys, but he had rationalized that the Weasleys seemed to like him while the Dursleys despised him. The differences in care provided, therefore, were perfectly reasonable and only to be expected. That line of reasoning had collapsed when he had come to stay with his sour, sarcastic professor.

The man absolutely detested him and could hardly see him without sneering and making some disparaging remark, yet Harry had been given a comfortable room and plenty to eat. He had been allowed and even expected to complete his homework and behave like a normal wizarding teenager. It was slightly terrifying to know that this was what should be, and it made him even more resentful that the people who seemed to care for him, who constantly assured him that they did, kept sending him back to the relatives who clearly provided less than was necessary.

He knew, of course, that he desperately needed the protection that his mother’s sacrifice and his aunt’s blood afforded him, but intellectual understanding could not assuage the bitter emotions that Harry felt he was drowning in at that moment. When he stomped into the room and threw himself into the chair, he therefore took Snape by surprise.

Severus had assumed that Harry would be disappointed that Lupin was gone, but he had not been prepared for an angry, angst-filled teen who wanted nothing more than to explode at the man who had engendered such uncertainty in him. Severus had planned on discussing the child’s home-life but after one look at the sullen face just down the table decided that questions of a sensitive nature would be neither well received nor well answered that night. Accordingly, he said nothing.

He watched Harry pick at his food, a roast which was one of Harry’s preferred dishes, only occasionally putting a bite in his mouth before pulverizing his mashed potatoes and turning the meat into an amorphous, brown goo that only vaguely resembled the perfectly cooked beef Cinder had pulled out of the oven less than an hour ago. Severus also noted that Harry threw him furtive, expectant looks that seemed to reflect a vague sense of defiance.

At long last, the boy threw down his fork and glared at his professor. “Aren’t you even going to ask what’s wrong?” he demanded.

A somewhat startled Snape said smoothly, “Do you want me to?”

Immediately, the hard look on Harry’s face was replaced by something vulnerable and hurt looking. “I just thought you would,” he said looking down at his plate and giving a one-shouldered shrug.

Snape regarded him a moment longer before taking a breath and saying, “Harry, what’s wrong?”

He had nearly despaired of receiving an answer when one came, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Snape repeated in disbelief.

“No,” Harry said petulantly. “I’m tired, I’m going to bed. I’ll see you at occlumency tomorrow.” He pushed back his chair and hurriedly left the room, leaving behind his highly exasperated professor.

That night, Harry was plagued with recurring nightmares. They began as the Dursleys taunting him, but then Snape came. For a brief moment every time Harry hoped that his professor would save him, but every time Snape berated him and joined his relatives in telling Harry how worthless he was. For some indecipherable reason, the sarcastic barbs that fell from the dark wizard’s lips were more painful and disheartening than any of the others’ callous remarks.

Consequently, Harry slept through breakfast and found himself scrambling to get to his tutorial on time. He half remembered some of the things dream-Snape had said to him and the tiny voice in his head was murmuring that after the way Harry had behaved last night it would be reasonable to expect Professor Snape to be somewhat less tolerant, if not outright hostile.

It was not, however, a hostile Severus who awaited Harry, but one whose curiosity was severely piqued. He was very surprised when Harry did not come to breakfast; he understood from Cinder that it was a meal the boy usually took. His absence was at least partially explained when Severus caught sight of the dark circles under his charge’s eyes. He made a mental note to ask Harry about it later. It was possible that he would need to make a trip out specifically to pick up that journal instead of waiting until they went to Diagon Alley, as he had planned.

As he sat regarding the boy, Severus noted that Harry was fairly reluctant to meet his eyes. “Are you ready?” he asked neutrally. Harry took a deep breath and looked up, nodding.

“Legilimens.”

Severus found himself floating in a white, misty place. Suddenly the mists before him parted and he saw...himself. He watched as he belittled Harry. At first he thought it was a fragment of a class until he noticed the three figures beside him. He had seen these people before, though not in real life.

He retreated and observed Harry for a moment. “I gather you did not sleep soundly last night?” he inquired.

“No, not really,” Harry flushed faintly.

Snape nodded acceptingly and said, “Take a deep breath. Calm down and focus yourself. I promise I won’t chop you up for potions ingredients until after the lesson.”

Harry looked up and noted the older wizard’s smirk in some consternation. Professor Snape had just made a joke to Harry Potter. Harry’s face split into a wide and somewhat manic grin before he shook his head slightly and closed his eyes. He took a few deep breaths, jiggled his shoulders and then opened his eyes. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Legilimens.” Snape found himself in the fog again. When there was no immediate clearing in any direction he picked one at random and began walking.

Suddenly, he was ambushed and he felt Harry trying to shove him out. After a few minutes’ struggle, he retreated. “That was good,” he commented. “Shall we try again?” At Harry’s nod there was a whispered spell and the older man once again tested the younger’s mental defenses.

They continued in this manner for some time, but at last Snape stopped. “You’ve made quite a lot of progress. I take it the book helped?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded enthusiastically.

“Good.” Snape watched him a moment before saying, “I did want to talk to you last night, but it seemed to be a bad time.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry blushed.

“What was wrong?” Snape asked, leaning forward slightly.

“I was confused,” Harry said slowly.

“About what?” Snape inquired, curiosity coloring his voice heavily. Harry shrugged rather than replying. Severus frowned a little and sat back slightly. “I wanted to discuss your relatives,” he said after a pause.

“Do we have to?” Harry questioned, grimacing.

“It would be better if we did,” Snape replied.

“I thought we dealt with them?” Harry evaded hopefully.

“I have more questions,” Snape said firmly.

“You talked to Remus, didn’t you?” Harry accused.

“Yes. I practically had to twist his arm to get any information. He’s promised to kill me if I use it against you,” he reassured the boy dryly.

“Well that’s comforting,” Harry remarked sarcastically.

“It would appear that I know rather more about your home life than the others,” Snape said delicately. “It would also appear that their attempts to deal with the situation have been rather less than successful. Therefore it is only reasonable to gather more information and formulate a new plan,” he concluded logically.

Harry looked at him measuringly. “No amount of argument is going to get me out of this conversation, is it?”

“No,” Snape assured him bluntly.

Harry sighed and his shoulders drooped. “What do you want to know?” he asked in resignation.

Snape leaned forward again and took a breath before starting. “First, I want to know exactly why you didn’t stay in Surrey this summer. I’ve already had Lupin’s account and I won’t hesitate to owl Molly Weasley if I must, so don’t skip the details.”

“Have I really been such an awful houseguest?” Harry asked plaintively.

“Not lately. Nevertheless I cannot help wondering why you never seem to spend the whole summer with a family you can only see for three months out of the year.”

“We’d rather not see each other at all, but none of us have much choice in the matter.” At Snape’s raised eyebrows Harry sighed and continued, “They’ve been all ready to kick me out a couple of times, but Dumbledore’s always made them keep me. This summer’s behavior wasn’t all that unusual for them, even if it was a tad unexpected.”

“What happened, Harry? The whole story.”

“What, from the beginning?” the boy asked incredulously. When he saw his professor’s nod he took a deep breath.

“Clearly they were unhappy when we left the station. But they had just been threatened by Moody when we left so that wasn’t too unusual. What I should have noticed was that they were not particularly vocal in their protests to me, but I was just as shocked as they were.”

Snape’s eyebrow went up at that, it almost sounded as if the boy didn’t believe himself worth it, or that anyone would make an effort to protect him, but rather than interrupt the boy he filed that note away for future consideration.

“The car ride home was pretty quiet,” Harry was continuing, “it wasn’t until we got home and Uncle Vernon announced their vacation that I had any clue. He said they were leaving the next day and I wasn’t to disturb their rest in any way. They gave me a long list of things I couldn’t do and a longer list of chores to do while they were away. We all went to bed and the next morning they took a cab to the airport.” Harry paused and shifted uncomfortably. Clearly he did not want to continue his story.

“What happened then?” Snape prompted him. He had the feeling Harry was glossing over things and he didn’t want the boy to stall on him.

“Well,” Harry began again hesitantly, “at first I was excited. I mean, I don’t usually get left home alone without,” he stopped abruptly.

“Without what?” Severus asked patiently.

Harry glanced up at him furtively and licked his dry lips as he stared down at the patterns in the wood floor. “Without being locked in,” he blurted out hurriedly. He said the words so quietly it was as though he hadn’t decided whether he actually wanted Snape to hear them. “Anyway,” Harry continued just a trifle too loudly, “I reckoned it might not be so bad, to have everything to myself like that. I went down to fix breakfast and that’s when I noticed that there wasn’t really much food in the house. A little after that the power went off, too.”

“And it didn’t occur to you to write to someone for help?” Snape broke in.

“Oh, it did,” Harry assured him, “but I didn’t want everyone thinking I couldn’t handle it. I could just see what you would say, about how I was so spoiled I couldn’t stand not to be waited on or being alone. So I didn’t write. I cooked the food in the refrigerator in the fireplace and got started on the chores.”

“Typical Gryffindor, motivated by foolish machismo. You just had to prove me wrong,” Severus sneered at him, but Harry privately thought that the man’s heart wasn’t in it.

“Absolutely,” Harry grinned cheekily at him.

“Brat,” Snape smirked. Harry’s grin grew broader. “So then what?” Snape asked.

“Then one day I fell asleep at the kitchen table over lunch and completely forgot to write the letter to the Order. The next thing I knew I was hearing voices and waking up to bluish wand light.”

“I see,” Snape said contemplatively. “And after that you were here.”

“Yes,” Harry agreed.

“While I am impressed that you were able to make plans for your own survival, I feel it is necessary to tell you that no one expects you to do everything by yourself. You could have, and should have, asked an adult for help.” Harry’s shoulders tightened before Severus continued, “Not that I intend to reprimand you for your very admirable behavior in a situation that was not at all your fault.” The boy relaxed. “I think, if you do not object overmuch, that this situation should be discussed with Professor Dumbledore.”

“I suppose I expected that, though he must know already. He’s Dumbledore for crying out loud, how could he not know? The man probably still knows more about me than I do.”

“That is entirely possible, and probably not that difficult,” the professor said with a hint of a smile. “But the fact also remains that you have not complained of your treatment. It is possible that he took the others’ tales as exaggerations or descriptions of isolated incidents.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s it,” Harry rolled his eyes and snorted contemptuously. “Besides, even if I did complain, what good would it do? I haven’t got any other relatives except Aunt Marge, and that’s hardly an improvement, not to mention the blood magic.”

“All very valid points,” Snape acknowledged, “but I’m certain that a solution could be found if it became necessary.” Harry looked unconvinced but did not reply. “Now, I believe it is time for lunch. After that perhaps we could take another look at that stomach soothing solution.”

“Could we?” Harry asked, face lighting a little.

“If you wish,” Snape said.

“All right,” Harry said. “What do you think is for lunch?”

Snape merely rolled his eyes in mock exasperation when he heard the question and waved his hand to shoo the lad off to eat. He shook his head slightly as he thought about the conversation he had just finished. It was another thing for him to think about. He had never expected his summer to play out in this fashion.

Lunch went smoothly. Harry suggested, and Severus agreed to, a scheme to spend the next morning out of doors. The potion brewing also went well; Severus was confident that he could have Harry try on his own the next day.

Really, he considered it a miracle that they were getting on as well as they were. He was slightly fond of the child, truthfully, and Harry seemed eager to please. Perhaps a little too eager, the boy was acting more like a lost puppy than the independent and high spirited young Gryffindor he recognized. Severus supposed he would have to find a way to reassure the boy that it was acceptable to be himself. How to do that he would have to consider. In my copious free time, no doubt. Ah well, Snape didn’t particularly mind being busy, especially when none of the tasks were life-threatening.

Tuesday morning was another of the hot, clear days that meant drought in much of the country. Harry arrived at breakfast in high spirits and toting his broom. “To save time,” he said explanatorily when he saw the older man’s inquisitive look. The answer garnered him a small, indulgent smile.

Harry raced through his breakfast and sat impatiently while Severus finished his. When at last they were able to go out, Harry led the way, and he was on his broom and in the air almost before he was out the door, a feat which caused Severus to roll his eyes.

Harry was zipping about a little later, skimming the lawn and playing chicken with some of the larger rosebushes when he slowed slightly. Usually when he was in the air he was with the Weasleys or his house team. Harry loved to fly and he treasured the time he was allowed to spend doing it, but just now he was feeling a bit lonely. He wondered if Snape would fly with him. Maybe they could toss around a quaffle or something.

Harry looked down at Snape who was sitting comfortably with a thick tome on his lap. His professor could fly, Harry knew, but somehow it was impossible for him to picture Snape playing. Harry did a half-hearted barrel-roll and sighed. He spiraled in for a landing and walked toward Professor Snape who was looking at him curiously.

“Something wrong?” he asked as the boy approached. Harry shook his head. “Done flying?” Snape asked, head tilted to one side. Harry half nodded and stood staring at Snape. “What?” asked Snape gruffly; Harry’s stare was vaguely disconcerting.

“Nothing,” Harry said pulling his shoulders up and shaking his head a little, “I was just wondering,” he paused.

“Wondering what?” discomfort made his voice rough.

“Do you think,” Harry said, “we could go inside and brew a potion or something?”

Snape’s eyes widened slightly as he regarded the teen before him. He could not conceive that Harry Potter would rather go inside to brew potions than stay outside to fly. Why on earth was he even suggesting it?

It suddenly dawned on him that young Harry was rather isolated and might be lonely. Merlin knew Severus had been lonely often enough when he was younger. Obviously, therefore, what the boy really wanted was for him, Severus, to fly, too. The boy was trying to convince him to do something and, having given up on doing something he wanted to do, had decided to feign interest in something Snape wanted, or presumably wanted, to do. Well, the best way to teach Harry not to be so eager to please would be to take him up on his offer. Hopefully it would frustrate the boy and force him into saying something. “Good idea. You can try another batch of the stomach soother you’ve been working on.”

Harry’s face twitched a little and his smile was not so bright as usual as he said, “Ok,” a gesture which was not lost on Snape and made him smirk inwardly.

Harry didn’t particularly feel like studying just then, nor did he relish the thought of spending the whole sunny afternoon in the cold, dank basement. Honestly, Harry reckoned he was getting as pale as Malfoy.

“Very well,” Snape said, standing. “Come along, then.”

Harry followed along behind him, secretly wishing that Snape was just going to get a broom. Firmly he told himself to forget about it. He should be happy that the man who had once despised him was consenting to spend time with him rather than wishing for unlikely things. For the most part Harry listened to himself, but there remained a small corner of his mind that refused to give up hope.

Wednesday morning was another occlumency day. Harry made fast progress with the work. It surprised Severus, but Harry soon realized that now that he knew the basics it wasn’t difficult. And Harry could sense similarities between occlumency and the basic emotional control he had practiced at the Dursleys’.

Towards the end of the session, Harry tired and Severus was able to slip past his defenses. He glimpsed a few superficial memories and was just retreating when one caught his eye. He paused a moment and discovered it was the apology Harry had tendered him that weekend.

When he terminated the spell he found Harry glaring at him. “I thought we were past the rummaging through my brain stage?” he inquired testily.

“That one caught my eye,” Severus explained. “It’s not everyday a Potter apologizes, you know.”

“I am not my father!” Harry exclaimed archly.

“I know that. But did it ever occur to you to apply the principle to others?” Snape’s tone was cutting now.

“What?” Harry asked in confusion.

“Draco Malfoy is not his father either.”

“I do know that,” Harry said. “For one thing the Ferret is shorter.”

Severus nearly smirked but instead said, “I don’t appreciate that comment, Potter.”

Harry grew serious. “I met Malfoy the younger the first time I went to Diagon Alley. I disliked him very quickly because he was a prat. I didn’t meet Mr. Malfoy until just before second year. I did not judge the son by the father.”

“Perhaps not, but you did just say you disliked him very quickly. What gave you the right to judge him so quickly?”

“He insulted Hagrid,” Harry replied matter-of-factly.

“He insulted Hagrid,” Severus repeated disbelievingly.

“Hagrid was the first friend I had. Besides, Malfoy said people who didn’t grow up in the wizarding world shouldn’t be allowed to attend Hogwarts!” Harry cried defensively.

“I see. So you’re saying it’s his fault you hate him,” Snape said skeptically and with a bitter edge.

“Not precisely; but he didn’t set himself up to be my best friend. And it’s not like I run around hexing him just for being alive.” Snape raised his eyebrow. “Our loathing is mutual. He’s drawn his wand on me as many times as I’ve drawn on him. I never hex him until after he’s insulted me or my friends.”

“Ah, and that justifies your actions completely,” Snape said sarcastically.

“Better to finish it than to start it,” Harry said grimly. “At least I don’t walk about looking for fights.”

“Humph,” Snape snorted. He was just opening his mouth when the door creaked open and Cinder stepped in.

“Excuse me, sirs,” she squeaked, “is sirs not wanting lunch today?”

“Yes, I think lunch is a great idea!” Harry exclaimed, standing.

“We’re not finished yet.”

“Look, its not the same between me and Malfoy as it was between you and my dad. I’ll try to stay out of his way more if you want, but I can’t promise that nothing will happen. I can’t let him win outright; he already rides roughshod over most of the school’s population!”

“Odd, he said the same thing about you,” Snape commented.

To his surprise, Harry laughed. “I bet!” the boy said before turning to search for the lunch Cinder had promised him.

Severus sat some little while longer pondering the conversation and especially the last comment before rising and finding his own meal.

Harry and Severus got through Thursday and most of Friday in much the same way, each carefully avoiding the topic of Draco Malfoy, though for vastly different reasons.

At dinner on Friday evening, there was a sharp tapping at the dining room window. A large owl with malicious yellow eyes and particularly sharp looking talons and beak swooped in when Severus opened the window. It alighted in front of his place and screeched at him impatiently when he did not take the letter from its leg fast enough. Snape’s face had gone very still when he caught sight of the owl and he now sat eyeing the letter with narrowed eyes and curled lip.

Harry looked askance at him until he was distracted by a second assault on the window. This time Pigwidgeon fluttered outside and Harry hastily let him in. Harry had to chase the hyper little owl around the room, but once he caught it he found that he had letters from Ron, Ginny, and Hermione.

Ron’s letter was full of the good cheer that Harry had come to expect from his friend.

Harry, mate!

How are you? I can’t believe you’re staying with the Greasy Git instead of with us. Lupin came back acting very strangely, you don’t suppose Snape did something to his potion, do you? Every time we ask him how you are he just gets this odd little smile and says that you’ll be fine. What does that mean, I ask you! Fred and George say to tell you if you need anything from the shop feel free to owl them. Just don’t do anything to get turned into potions ingredients. Think we could meet up at Diagon Alley again?

Ron

Hermione’s letter reflected her bookish nature as much as Ron’s had reflected him.

Dear Harry,

I hope your summer is going well and that you aren’t brooding too much. I also hope you’ve got your schoolwork done; the new term is only a few, short weeks away. How did you do on your OWLs? I got all O’s, of course, though I was quite nervous about a few of them. I’m staying with the Weasleys again this summer, so do owl and tell us when you’re going to Diagon Alley. If Professor Snape will allow it, it would be great to meet up there. See you soon!

Love,

Hermione

Ginny’s letter, though entirely unexpected, was welcome, even if its message proved to be a bit less comfortable than the others’.

Dear Harry,

It seems like forever since I saw you last, even though it’s only been a few, short weeks. Listen, Harry, I know this probably isn’t your favorite subject, but when we all meet up again, Ron and Hermione and me, at least, and probably Neville and Luna, too, you’re going to have to tell us all the whole story. Starting with what happened after you chased Bellatrix Lestrange out of the room. You’ve been so close-mouthed about it all I know that you’re hiding something big. Don’t put it in an owl, though. We deserve to hear it in person, and there’s no telling if owls are safe or not. Constant Vigilance, as Mad-Eye would say. Well, hopefully we can meet up in Diagon Alley. Gred and Forge say to owl if you want anything, but for Merlin’s sake don’t run us into negative points yet; no sense making it easier on the Slytherins!

Ginny

Harry laughed a little when he read Ginny’s letter. He could just picture the petite red-head flourishing her wand over her head as she shouted ‘CONSTANT VIGILANCE!’ Severus had opened his own letter and was scowling at it when Harry’s laugh made him look up. He realized that he couldn’t remember the last time he had heard Potter laugh freely. Too often it was an adult’s laugh that fell from the youth’s lips, strained or bitter, forced or mocking, much like his Slytherins’.

It really was a pity that wizarding youth, who should have been able to stay innocent longer, grew up so quickly. Perhaps, when all this was over...

”Something wrong?” Harry interrupted his thoughts when ho noticed the dark expression on his elder’s face.

“No,” Snape said shortly as he tucked the letter into a pocket. “Letters from the Weasleys?” he inquired, attempting to distract Harry.

Harry threw him one last curious look before he replied. “Yes, from Hermione, Ron and Ginny.” Snape nodded as Harry continued. “Actually they want to know when we were planning to go to Diagon Alley. We all meet up there usually.” He had a slightly wistful expression, as though he half thought he wouldn’t be allowed to see his friends.

Snape regarded him a moment and said, “I was planning to go on the twenty-fourth. Usually I would move back into the castle immediately after that. We will have to ask Albus about arrangements for the last week before term starts; I doubt the ministry will want you in Hogwarts before your peers.”

Harry frowned but nodded. “May I write that I’ll be on the Alley then?”

“I suppose. Will you be sending the letter with your own owl or,” his eyes found and tracked the still-swooping Pig, “that creature?”

“Hedwig, probably. Unless you think she’s too recognizable?”

“She should be fine.”

“Right. I’ll write the replies tonight and send them off tomorrow.”

Snape nodded and said, “Excuse me,” as he swept from the room. Harry gazed after him then at Snape’s plate, which was still half full of food. Harry heaved a sigh and turned back to his own meal as he began planning out the responses to his friends’ letters.

Severus strode hurriedly to his study and locked the door behind him. He sat down at his desk and pulled the letter he had received from his pocket. It was from the Dark Lord, he had known that the moment he had seen the owl hovering outside the window. The evil wizard was asking about Harry’s progress.

The response had to be a carefully crafted mélange of truth and fiction. Too much of either would reveal his position as the spy in Voldemort’s ranks. Severus put his fingertips together and began plotting.

Some time later Severus locked both the original letter and the final copy of his response in one of the drawers and walked tiredly up to his bedroom. Just as he passed Harry’s room the door opened, startling him. He recovered quickly enough not to send a blasting curse flying at the boy’s head. “Potter!” he exclaimed.

“Sorry professor,” Harry said sheepishly.

“I presume there is some reason why you attempted to frighten me? A deep-seated death wish, perhaps?” The letter had reminded Severus of who and what he was. It had been foolish of him to think he could actually grow closer to the boy. Potter. It would be safer for everyone if he withdrew, drove the boy away. It shouldn’t be hard, all he had to do was go back to treating the boy, Potter, the way he had. And ignore Harry—Potter’s—protests.

That was, assuming he made any protests.

“Actually, yes, I do have a reason. I wanted to ask you about the letter. What did it say?”

“That is none of your business, Potter,” Severus said disdainfully, drawing himself up to his full height and glaring down his nose at Harry.

“I think it is,” Harry protested.

“Oh, really? I suppose you expect me to bow before the Great Harry Potter and tell you everything you want to know?”

“Don’t be stupid, of course I don’t want that! I just want to know about the letter. It has to be from Voldemort, and I highly doubt he’d mail you directions to the next revel, so it’s got to be about me. I want to know.”

Severus was taken aback by the accuracy of Harry’s guesswork, not that he was going to tell him that. “Actually, Potter, it’s from a cousin of mine.”

“Sure it is,” Harry snorted, “and Voldemort wears pink panties with ruffles. And what’s with all this ‘Potter’ stuff? Did I do something wrong?”

For a moment Severus was caught between wanting to reassure Harry and trying to expunge the vision of the Dark Lord in frilly, pink knickers from his mind. After a few long moments he jerked back and said, “What makes you think you’re right?”

“My scar started burning the second you opened the window, so it had to be Voldemort. Like I said, I doubt he’d send you a letter about the next get together when you’re supposed to be teaching me the Dark Arts.”

“It was from the Dark Lord,” Severus admitted after consideration.

“Okay, what’d it say?” Harry asked.

“I’ll tell you when and if you need to know, Potter,” Snape replied coldly as he turned on his heel.

“But—I don’t understand,” Harry spluttered behind him.

“I wouldn’t expect you to, Potter,” Snape called as he entered his bedroom. He spat Harry’s last name like it was something foul-tasting and slammed the door behind him.

Severus leaned back against the wood and exhaled loudly. He hadn’t dared look back at Harry as he left, not after the way he’d looked when he asked if he’d done something wrong. No, not Harry, Potter, he reminded himself.

And it was better this way. It would have been impossible for them to behave civilly when they returned to Hogwarts without drawing unwanted attention, and who knew if Potter would have been up to acting appropriately. It truly was better to get this idyllic vision out of his system before term started. But why didn’t he believe it, he wondered.

Harry stood in the hall where Snape had left him. His mouth was slightly open. Why, in Merlin’s name, was Snape acting that way? Unless the letter had affected him, too? Perhaps he was sick? Harry straightened his shoulders and walked up to his professor’s bedroom door. He rapped firmly on the wood.

With a silent groan, Severus pulled himself up and answered the door. “What do you want?” he asked, sneer fixed in place.

“I want to make sure you’re all right. You’ve been acting oddly all evening, since the letter came.” Severus blinked before he could respond.

“Yes, Potter, I’m fine.”

“Then why-“

“Why what, Potter?”

“Why are you being such a git?” Harry exclaimed.

Severus shot bolt upright for a moment then leaned menacingly toward Harry until their noses were mere inches apart. “What did you call me, Potter?” Harry’s eyes grew very round. “I suggest you go to your room, now,” Severus growled.

Harry stared at him, took a step back and shook his head a little, then turned and hurried to his room. He heard Snape slamming the door again and he couldn’t resist the temptation to slam his own door. He hadn’t been expecting that sort of response. Certainly not after the way they had been getting along lately. Harry frowned.

Maybe Snape was just worried about something. Or maybe he had realized that he was being nice to Harry Potter and decided that had to change. Perhaps the best summer in Harry’s memory was over. Harry looked at the wall nearest Snape’s room. He’d just have to wait and see how the man was in the morning, he decided.

Harry didn’t see Severus the next morning. He wasn’t at lunch, either. In the mid-afternoon Harry decided to go looking for Snape. He found the door to the basement laboratory locked. Harry supposed he’d found his professor and sat down to wait in the hall.

Severus had owled his reply to the Dark Lord early that morning and locked himself in the laboratory immediately after. A little before dinner time he finally emerged, only to find Harry sitting on the floor waiting for him. “Potter!” he shouted, “Did I or did I not give you strict instructions as to your location when you arrived here?”

“Yes, but-“Harry began as he jumped to his feet.

“I don’t recall asking for your excuses, Potter.”

Harry looked at him in shock but rapidly flushed with anger. “You know, last night I thought you were just sick or something, but I guess I was wrong. You really are a miserable, greasy git!” The boy spun on his heel and ran.

“Potter!” Snape bellowed. The infernal brat didn’t stop. Severus huffed and whirled back into his lab.

Harry ran all the way back up to his room.

Neither of them went to dinner that night.