Two

Something was poking him uncomfortably in the back, which was not a pleasant way to be awakened. Neither was realizing that his whole side now ached from lying on the hard floor all night. With a small groan, Harry Potter opened his eyes and winced as he sat up. The world around him was still blurry, so he felt around for his glasses and was glad that something was righted again out of everything that had gone wrong lately. He reached around himself to feel what was bothering him and found his wand stowed in his back pocket.

Gazing around the mostly dark room, Harry noticed Ron and Hermione still sleeping not far away. Hermione was sprawled out on the couch's cushions, which Ron must have gallantly offered her the night before; Harry couldn't remember. Harry took in the detail of Ron and Hermione's out-stretched hands clasping each other, and he felt odd. Unsure of what to make of the romantic development between his best friends, Harry decided to leave the room and explore the rest of the house.

Now standing, Harry reflected back on the last several days. It didn't seem possible that so much could happen in such a short amount of time – how he had been kissing Ginny only a couple of days ago in her bedroom and celebrating his birthday with his friends. That, Harry knew, had been one of the few good things in his life of late. Being chased down by Death Eaters as the Order tried to transport him safely from Privet Drive to the Burrow, the loss of Mad-Eye Moody, the attack during the wedding and being further pursued in the café, and finally, the old hag Auntie Muriel's questioning of Dumbledore's character – all these events weighed on Harry's heart.

He crossed through the hallway toward the front entrance, where Harry previously thought Dumbledore's ghost had greeted them.

Dumbledore, thought Harry.

With the late headmaster's name whirling through his weary mind, Harry wondered how Dumbledore thought he was supposed to forge onward with the little knowledge he had about the Horcruxes. He didn't even know where to begin, and without Dumbledore, Harry felt lost. He didn't wish to think poorly of the aged wizard. However, Muriel's words and Rita Skeeter's announcement of the upcoming publication of her biography on Dumbledore caused doubt, that unwelcome visitor, to knock on the door to Harry's thoughts.

Harry took in the disheveled and ransacked house again, grateful to have some time to himself to think about things. He knew Mundungus Fletcher had scoured the house in the past year, filching Sirius's (and therefore his) possessions. It was obvious that Grimmauld Place had gone neglected without the Order meeting here, but did that account for the disarray of the place at present? Despite whatever Hermione had tried to reason, Harry highly suspected that Snape had been here.

Thinking about Dumbledore usually led to thinking about Snape, for Harry had a difficult time separating the two. Dumbledore's blind conviction of Snape had ultimately led to his murder at the wand of the man he had told Harry countless times that he trusted.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs now, Harry thought he heard a faint bump upstairs. He frowned and held his wand aloft, taking the steps one at a time, slowly and carefully, deliberately not causing a sound. If he was right about Snape being here, what if he was still inside the house?

Harry glanced briefly downstairs at Ron and Hermione's sleeping forms and decided he would leave them undisturbed. Neither of them understood the full magnitude of Harry's hatred toward Snape, of his blatant desire to make the traitorous man pay for every evil thing he had done in his abysmal life.

Upon reaching the door to Sirius's bedroom, Harry pressed his ear against the door. He heard rustling from within and knew without a doubt that someone was inside. He longed to be in possession of Moody's magical eye right about now so he could look through the door, but seeing as he had no such appendage, Harry grasped the handle and turned. He peeked through an inch of the crack he had created between the door and the frame and stifled his gasp as his eyes settled upon the very person he inferred to be there.

Snape's back was facing him. He swiped his arm across his face and stood, and Harry thought he heard a sniff. Suddenly, Snape was turning toward the door, but Harry reacted with lightning speed as he raised his wand and Disarmed Snape, causing the man's wand to fly from his grasp as his body was flung backward into the wall with a resounding thud. As Snape realized he was not alone and struggled to reach for his wand, Harry was already across the room, aiming his wand between those two black eyes. Such ferocity glared at Harry; he wondered if Snape might curse him with his gaze alone if he could.

"Don't you dare make one move, you bloody coward," challenged Harry. He then cast a spell on the room to keep anyone outside from overhearing any conversation that was about to occur.

"So like your father," Snape sneered, "calling me the coward when I'm the one who's Disarmed and you aren't."

Harry jabbed his wand into Snape's nose, detesting the hooked feature as much as he did the man. "Shut up about my father. Another word about him, Snape, and I swear I'll-"

"You'll what?" Snape asked darkly. "Kill me?"

Harry faltered. It was one thing to speak of killing, but to actually do it was quite another. Harry thought of Draco Malfoy and his inability to murder Dumbledore, despite his big-headed talk to the contrary. If Draco wasn't a killer, then Harry didn't think he was. As much as Harry wished Snape harm, he wasn't going to be that person.

"I'm not like you," Harry spat. "I'm not a murderer. What are you doing here?"

"That is hardly your business, Potter," Snape continued to sneer.

"You will answer me, Snape, especially seeing as you're trespassing on my property. Now, I'll ask again. What are you doing here?"

"How touching. Black left you this filthy, abandoned house in his will, did he?" Snape asked in mock sympathy. "It's about as useful as he was-"

Harry silenced Snape with his wand. Snape glared at Harry and made to physically attack, but Harry, having the man at his mercy, bound Snape with ropes.

"How does it feel to be the one on the ground, Snape?" Harry posed angrily. "You had your chance with me after you killed Dumbledore, but seeing as you were too cowardly to use it-"

Harry wasn't expecting what happened next. Somehow, Snape was free of the ropes, and he was standing, advancing on Harry. He roughly grabbed the younger man by the collar and pulled him close, shaking him so hard that Harry lost the grip he had on his wand.

"You will not call me coward again, Potter," Snape said menacingly, now nose-to-nose with Harry.

Harry felt Snape's breath hot on his face. He wished, once again, that he was more skilled than Snape with a wand, but Snape was obviously powerful enough to do wandless and nonverbal magic. Harry hated him all the more for it.

"You never fought fairly," Harry hissed. "You've hated me from the moment you laid eyes on me, and for what? Because of my father? If you hate me that much, why not just be done with it and kill me? Isn't that what you want?"

Harry had purposefully been locking his eyes on Snape's, refusing to blink, and Snape had been glowering back fiercely, but something shifted in those black eyes, and Snape's grip on Harry loosened. Confused, Harry made to speak again, but Snape cut him off.

"You know nothing," Snape whispered bitterly.