When Dumbledore had asked Snape to look in on Harry Potter, Snape wanted to refuse. He had wanted to tell Dumbledore to ask someone else from the Order, or even the head of the Gryffindor house. Anyone but himself, but as much as he wanted to protest Snape did not.

Almost immediately after he’d received the assignment he went to Potter’s home in the muggle world. Snape took in a deep breath, rapped politely on the door and waited.

As he waited Snape glanced about at the flowerbeds. The beds were well-kept, but in Snape’s opinion utterly useless. There was not a single useful herb or root in the entire garden. Nothing that could be considered helpful in the slightest. Snape sneered at the flowers for being an utter waste of time and effort and rocked on the heels of his boots.

Finally the door opened and a plump muggle peered out. The fat man started when he recognized what Snape was.

“You, you’re here for the boy?”

Snape folded his hands behind his back as his harsh gaze scanned over Vernon. After a moment Snape met Vernon’s nervous eyes and Vernon quickly looked away. Vernon forced himself to smile as he reached for the door handle to invite Snape inside of the house. His hand trembled slightly as he made for the knob and he dearly hoped that Snape hadn’t noticed.

As amusing as it was to frighten a muggle relative of Potter without so much as a harsh word, Snape only really cared about completing his task. He would look in on Potter, see to it the boy was doing well and chastise him for not writing to the Order as he had been instructed. Simple.

The muggle was rambling on about Potter’s clumsiness. Snape looked around the house as he followed the fat muggle toward the stairs on which Vernon said Potter had injured himself in a fall. Oddly enough they did not go up the stairs, but instead Vernon led Snape to the cupboard beneath the stairs. Perhaps, Snape mused, he had frightened the muggle more than he’d realized and now what Vernon wanted was a stiff drink to bring him courage.

Snape watched with mild interest as Vernon huffed and puffed to reach whatever bottle he had stashed in the recesses of the cupboard. As Vernon retreated from the little cupboard Snape realized that no bottle of scotch or brandy would call for this amount of exertion. A muffled cry from within the small room killed the tiny amount of amusement that Snape had been entertaining.

He realized that he knew that voice. Potter. The Boy Who Lived, crammed into a space that was not fit to house a small dog. Snape watched quietly as Vernon pulled the boy from the cupboard. Potter looked dazed. Snape kept his face emotionless and waited for the boy to recognize who he was. Harry seemed to have recovered from being shocked by the light, and by the look on his face Snape had no doubt that he had been recognized.

*********************

“Potter, kindly explain to me why you refuse to eat. You obviously are in need of the nourishment.”

Two days had passed and Harry had refused to eat or drink anything that Snape had offered to him. Harry had been drinking from the tap and sleeping a lot to pass the time. It was a dull way to live, but the only way he could see to keep control of things.

Snape believed he understood the reason behind the boy’s behavior, but he was not amused in the slightest. The boy was testing his patience and his own willpower. Sooner or later one of them was going to have to give in to the other’s wishes.

Harry refused to answer. Whatever drug he’d been given had worn off over the period of his two day fast. He could control his tongue once again and he was triumphantly exercising the right to keep silent.

Several minutes had passed before Harry spoke of his own accord. “Professor, despite your basic opinion of myself and many other students I am not stupid.”

Snape frowned, felt himself bristle a tiny bit and then something clicked. Potter was teasing him. The boy was trying to irritate him, probably to change the area of focus.

Snape soothed any annoyance he’d been feeling with a deep breath. He was an adult and he was not going to let a boy have control of things. Potter was not going to manipulate him.

“Potter,” Snape said sharply. “Kindly stop skirting the issue with this useless drivel and answer my question. Why are you refusing to eat?”

Harry looked at Snape with a glint of defiance in his sharp green eyes. “The reason that I’m refusing Professor is because I can, and there is nothing that you can do to stop me.”

“Potter,” Snape said softly, his eyes glowing with some dark amusement. “You assume far too much. There will be an end to this foolish behavior one way or another.”

Harry watched as Snape left the room closing the door behind him. What could Snape do to him? If he didn’t want to eat tainted food then that was it; he wasn’t going to eat it no matter what Snape said. Harry watched the door for a long while after Snape had gone and felt something other than hunger in the pit of his stomach.