Disclaimer: No recognisable characters, places, or events belong to me. They all belong to J.K Rowling.
Author's Note: This is my first Harry Potter story ever. I've been dying to write one and I figured I'd try my hand at it. I had originally posted the first three chapters in 1st POV but after much editing and re-working I decided I like it better in 3rd person POV. Sorry for any confusion to any who was reading this.
Chapter 1: The Only Choice
"There's only one logical thing left to propose, it seems," Snape's voice sneered from the back of the room. Harry had almost forgotten his least favorite professor was there (much like the members of the Order seemed to have forgotten that he was in the room). And seeing as no one had addressed him in some time, he'd almost started to let his mind wander. It didn't seem important that they were discussing how he was going to spend his summer. Being the esteemed Harry Potter didn't seem to matter to anyone here; no one was going to listen to what HE wanted. If they did, he'd already be on the way to the Burrow with Ron and Hermione, and this meeting would not be taking place.
But the Order had decided that they couldn't endanger the Weasleys by placing Harry with them again, and as much as he hated to agree, he didn't feel right putting his best friends in danger yet again. The ordeal they had gone through in the Department of Mysteries was fresh in everyone's mind, and as much as Harry was extremely grateful to his friends for their loyalty, he never, ever wanted to put them in danger like that again.
Grimmauld Place had been ruled out right off as a place to stay, and while Harry understood and appreciated the sentiments behind it, part of him wished that they would reconsider. Sirius would be glad that they were putting the place to good use, and now that it was his, Ron and Hermione and Remus could have given it a makeover with him and -
"Potter will have to accompany me to my summer home."
There was silence in the room, and all eyes were on Harry. All of them, except Snape's, he realized with distaste. There was no love lost between him and the greasy Potions professor, but he could at least attempt eye contact once in a while, no?
The green-eyed boy flushed slightly as he realized that everyone was waiting for him to say something. The look in Professor McGonagall's eyes made him realize that she was expecting some kind of protest. Remus's eyes were filled with near pity, and Dumbledore ... Dumbledore wore his familiar serene expression, his eyes not quite twinkling, but not quite still, either.
But Harry didn't have it in him to make any kind of argument. This time last year, he would have been on his feet in an instant, spurting accusations of Snape being on Voldemort's side and unfit to be a member of the Order. Truth be told, he still didn't trust Snape entirely, but he knew that he wouldn't be turned over to Voldemort. He might, however, be killed just as pure entertainment for the twisted professor.
Also, staying with Snape would help appease his sense of guilt, just a little bit. If something were to happen to any other member of the Order, he'd blame himself endlessly. But Snape - he chose to work for both sides, and if something happened, it wouldn't necessarily be Harry's fault. For once.
He sighed and ran a hand through stubborn dark hair. "If that's what you think is best, Professor Snape."
It was almost worth the look on the scowling man's face - he swore that Snape had to bite his tongue to keep his jaw from dropping, but he composed himself rather quickly and raised an eyebrow at the rest of the Order.
Remus Lupin was, not unexpectedly, the first to speak. "If you harm him at all, Severus -"
"I assure you, Lupin, that if I was planning on handing him over to the Dark Lord, I would have done it by now. The boy has been nothing but a nuisance to me for the past five years." His face was pulled back into a sneer as he stared at the ex DADA teacher. His dislike of werewolves was very well known to everyone, and Remus was no exception to that dislike, valued Order member or not.
"That's not what I meant, and you know it, Severus," Remus snarled, tensing up, but McGonagall laid a hand on his arm warningly.
"Severus will behave as he is expected to, being a valued member of The Order Of The Phoenix. Now, Severus, besides us, does anyone else know the exact whereabouts of this summer home that you speak of?"
Snape pinched his lip and didn't quite look her in the eye.
"Severus?"
He sighed audibly and answered grudgingly. "The Malfoys know of it's whereabouts. Lucius was the one who suggested the land to me."
"The Malfoys!" Harry gasped, staring in horror at the rest of the Order. "The Malfoys are probably worse that Voldemort! If they were to stumble upon me, they wouldn't even wait for him to get there! I bet Draco would off me before his father even had a chance to say a word!"
Snape glared at his stupid student . "Actually, Potter, I'm sure Lucius would restrain Draco and summon the Dark Lord. It would not be wise to inflict the wrath of the Dark Lord by denying him his prize."
Harry could only gape at him, jaw slack, and then chanced a look over to Remus, begging him with unspoken words. They couldn't be considering letting him go with Snape now! He hadn't been worried, but now ... Draco Malfoy blamed him for his father's upcoming stint in prison, and would want revenge. So would Lucius Malfoy ... but Draco's would be a lot longer and torturous than his father's. Lucius Malfoy had always seemed the type to find the easy way out.
Dumbledore finally spoke. "My dear Severus, on how many occasions have the Malfoys visited you at your summer home?"
"Once. By invitation."
"And could they, if they so choose, show up without invitation?"
Severus sighed and shoved a piece of hair back while Harry stared at the floor. "Yes, Headmaster. But I highly doubt they will. It is my knowledge that the Dark Lord will be staying at Malfoy Manor this summer while he prepares himself for certain ... activities. Lucius will not leave his side, and in turn, neither shall Narcissa or Draco."
Dumbledore considered this. "Very well. I don't see any other choice, really. Anywhere else poses even more of a threat. Harry, are your trunks ready?"
He reluctantly nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Severus, are you ready to leave immediately?"
"I will need a mere ten minutes, Headmaster." At Dumbledore's nod, he glided down the stairs, his robes billowing behind him. Harry assumed he was heading for the dungeons, though how he planned on getting there and back in ten minutes was beyond him.
Remus pulled him to the side. "Harry, are you okay with this? I'm sure we could find something else, there has to be something ..."
"Remus, please. I can't put anyone else in danger, and you know that. Not after ..."
He trailed off, neither of them needing reminding of what exactly had happened a mere three weeks before. Remus instead pulled Harry to him tightly, and he hugged the only person left in his life that he could count as a father figure.
"You really don't like Snape, do you, Remus?" Harry questioned softly.
"It's never been about like or dislike, Harry. It's about trust, and I have a hard time trusting someone who hated your father as much as Snape did."
It made sense. But ... "He loved my mother, though."
Remus sighed and patted Harry's hair, as if he were five. "I know, kid. I know. It's the only reason that I am willing to give him a chance."
Snape was back in the room too soon, hovering Harry's two trunks and his smaller, silver one behind him.
"Ready, Potter?" he asked, even though it didn't seem like he really expected an answer at all.
Harry faced the group of people who were assembled behind him. Tonks, Remus, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Bill Weasley, Shacklebolt, and Moody. All of them trusted members of the Order. He could trust them with his life, but he'd never want to burden them with his feelings. He pasted a smile on, and waved his hand awkwardly.
"Well, see you, then," he managed, "thanks for, well, everything."
"If you need anything, Harry, don't hesitate to get in touch with Mcgonagall. It's not wise for you to send owls or use the Floo to talk to anyone else, on the off chance that the Ministry is monitoring Floo addresses. But Snape is a teacher and has every right to be in touch with other teachers, so it wouldn't be as suspicious. Remember that."
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Snape was looking at Remus with poorly disguised disdain. "I'm ready, Professor."
He nodded, and threw a handful of Floo powder into the fire. He spoke an address into it, and then Harry was nudged forwards into the flames and everything else disappeared.
*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*
The first thing the Gryffindor noticed, once he'd d found his feet (he'd never been any good at travelling by Floo. Thankfully, he HAD gotten better than the first time, when he'd found himself in the very undesirable Knockturn Alley instead of Diagon Alley ... no, now it was just the landing that he couldn't get), was the view. He scrambled upright in front of large windows, overlooking the moors, and in the distance, a body of water. He didn't know enough about Scotland to know which body of water it was, but it was sparking and beautiful.
He felt suddenly homesick for Hermione's know-it-all-ness, something he hadn't even realized he could be homesick for. Wasn't homesickness for places? Or maybe it was just a longing for something familiar, and if 'Mione's bookworm ways weren't familiar, he didn't know what was.
Harry only had seconds to admire the view, before the Floo roared to life again and Snape stepped out beside him, placing their trunks on the floor beside them. He cocked an eyebrow at the ashes on Harry's knees but didn't say anything.
There was a sudden urge to say something, to admire the view, to tell him he was fine, even to thank him for what he was doing, but the words stuck in his throat.
After a minute of uncomfortable silence, Snape turned abruptly and headed down the narrow hall. Harry followed, hauling his trunks with him. The room had a bed not unlike the one he used at school, and a small desk, a chair, a fireplace, a small wardrobe, a wooden door that most likely led to a bathroom, and thankfully, more of the breathtaking view.
"I could have brought your trunks for you, Potter", Snape said neutrally. "You didn't have to lug them behind you like a common slave."
Harry bit back the first retort that popped into mind, but didn't stop the second. "It's quite all right, Professor. I'm used to summers with no magic, remember? I live with Muggles."
Snape simply sneered. "I'm assuming this room will meet your needs. You can either take your meals with me, or make your own, providing you clean up after yourself. I assume that isn't too much to ask of the Golden boy?"
Harry glared, but didn't rise to the bait. It was too early in the summer to piss him off. "Not at all, sir."
"Very well. I will leave you to get settled in. You should find anything you might need in the wardrobe. Your trunks may be stored in there, and your broom as well. And your owl -" a knocking on the window interrupted him, and he opened it. "- your owl has arrived."
"How did she get here so fast?"
"I gave her this address this morning, Potter. I knew what the outcome of the meeting would be." The finality of his tone booked for no arguments and no questions, and he swept out of the room, closing the door behind him with a sweep of his wand.
"Show-off," Harry muttered, and flung himself onto the bed. It was surprisingly soft, even though it was decorated with green and silver - Slytherin colors.
Hedwig hooted, and the boy cracked an eye open. She hooted again, ruffling her feathers. He sighed and sat up and ran a hand down her soft back.
"It'll be okay, girl. It's just two months. We've survived the Dursleys, we can survive this."
She nudged his hand with her beak, and then hopped onto the top of the dresser. He closed the window, shivering slightly. Scotland, it would seem, was colder than England, and the last thing he needed was to get sick and piss off Snape by being a normal human being. He wrapped himself in the traitorous green blanket and fell asleep, dreaming of silver orbs and shimmering veils and big, black dogs.
It wasn't a pleasant sleep, but it was sleep.
*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*
Severus looked up from eating as the Potter boy stumbled sleepily into the room. He'd been right, then, assuming that the foolish child needed the sleep. He looked less tired, although his eyes were red. He wisely chose not to comment on it, and instead summoned another place to the table as he sat down across the table.
"Potter," he finally acknowledged, feeling like he had to say something.
He looked up, barely meeting his black eyes. "Professor. You could have told me a time for meals - I would have cast a Tempus."
Severus scoffed at the idea of him worrying about being on time for meals. "You needed the rest, Potter. I didn't fancy you falling asleep on a plate as you've done at the Gryffindor table on several occasions."
Harry's cheeks turned slightly red but he didn't comment. It wasn't the first time today that Severus had realized he'd held his tongue - something his idiot father had never quite managed to do.
He passed him some of the bread and pasta wordlessly, and he spooned them onto his plate. They ate in silence, and when they were finished, Severus rose and started clearing the table. Dumbledore, and Lucius Malfoy alike, had offered him the services of a house elf, but he'd refused time and time again.
He realized with a start that Potter had started filling water into the sink, rinsing off the plates and bowls and empty the scarce bits of leftovers into the waste bin.
It was his turn to hold his tongue, as many unpleasant remarks were forming as he watched the Chosen One scrub pots and pans. Instead, he simply brought the remaining dishes to the counter, and cleared the table with a flick of his wrist.
"Thank you, Potter," he said, somewhat stiffly.
He looked up, surprised, and nodded. "Thank you for the food, sir."
Severus nodded as well, and headed into the study to start marking exams. If Potter needs me, he can find me, he thought. Neither of them were stupid enough to pretend that they were going to enjoy each other's company, so he assumed that for the most part, he would be able to go about failing the ignorant first years in peace.