A/N: Okay, huge, HUGE apologies for the ridiculous delay in getting chapter four out. I hope none of you have unfollowed the story thinking this is how it is going to be all the way through - my only excuse is that I have moved back into my uni flat, and uni has also just started so I am a bit all over the place with getting things done.

Sorry again for the huge delay, I also had a bit of a block with this chapter as I realised I found it difficult to not make something wild and crazy happen in every chapter, and actually write some developmental stuff! But I hope you all enjoy, and thanks to all who left lovely reviews!

To Floyd In The Sky: Sorry about the shortness, I'll be trying from now to keep the chapters much longer :) I can't wait to see Draco either! I'm really excited about writing his character ha :) Hugs to you too!

To GalynSolo: Thank you for taking the leap! I'm honoured that my fic has interested you :) I have not read many Harry as a werewolf stories either (actually, thinking about it, I don't think I've read any!) but the idea just kind of came to me.

On with the show...

3: In The House Of The Serpent

"Three broken ribs, two cracked; a punctured lung; dislocated shoulder; infected lacerations on the back and shoulders, and finally, a werewolf bite. All have healed fully, but scars will remain from the infections and the bite." Madame Pomfrey sighed and dropped her notes to one side.

"He will awaken soon, Severus," she said softly, "please be gentle, anyone in this situation would suffer mental and physical ramifications once they realised what had happened to them, and Mr. Potter has already had so much happen to him..." she trailed off. 'Poor child,' she thought with a slight hint of despair.

Severus' blank, cold expression did not change. "I have said it before, and I will say it again, Poppy; if Potter was stupid enough to ignore Dumbledore's instructions and willingly put himself in danger, then it is his own fault. There will be no pity from me," the potions master said sharply.

Madame Pomfrey sighed again, and decided that she would make her visits quite regular once the sleeping boy awakened.

Ignoring Severus' last comment, Madame Pomfrey began to collect her things. "As I said, he will awaken soon. If it does not trouble you too much," she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice, "please inform me as soon as you can." Her tone gave no room for argument.

"I will."

"Goodbye, Severus."

"Goodbye."

And with that, Madame Pomfrey flooed out of Severus' Manor for the third time that week. A few minutes went by, but Severus stood in the same place, pondering as he looked over Harry's slowly breathing form.

"Well, Potter. It seems you have, yet again, found a way to make my life living hell. Congratulations," Severus sneered. 'Stupid brat,' he thought to himself, 'does he ever think about anyone but himself?'

"Hortensius!" Severus spat out. The dark-haired boy, even though he was unconscious, still managed to work him up into a bad mood.

With a loud crack, a small brown lump appeared at Severus' feet. If a chubby, jolly house elf could exist, it would be Hortensius. The stout house elf (stout, even for a house elf!) hid a round belly underneath a fairly well-kept black jumper that reached down to his knobbly knees. Large, amethyst eyes looked up at his master, "yes, Master?" he spoke smoothly.

"Potter will be waking soon. As soon as he does, or makes any sign of waking, you are to immediately alert me. Is that understood?" Severus glared down at the house elf, but Hortensius was too used to his master's up and down moods to notice. Of course, his master never really showed anyone his "up" moods, and really, only his house elves were privy to the Potions Master's real emotions.

"Yes, Master, Hortensius understands."

"Good." With that, Severus swiveled on the spot and stalked away. His robes thrashed around behind him, in a recognisable style that would always and forever scream "Severus Snape".


Harry woke with a start. His breaths were coming in short, sharp breaths. He had dreamt about a white dog... maybe a wolf? And there were some vicious crows. He felt like he could feel their sharp beaks on his skin. He moved to sit up, and was immediately greeted with a pounding headache, and lots of pain.

He groaned loudly, "ouch."

Slowly, he sat up against the headboard. He was lying in a gorgeous room, in an equally gorgeous, and soft, double bed. Harry did not know where he was, but if this was hell, he did not want to leave.

A loud crack sounded, causing Harry to almost jump out of his skin. "Potter is awake," a soft voice said, coming from his right. His gaze shot towards the floor. He saw a curiously well-dressed house elf, with humongous light purple eyes.

Harry squinted, "who are you? Where am I?" His voice came out raspy, as if he had not used it in a while.

"Name is Hortensius. You are in my Master's house." The house elf spoke softly, almost sweetly.

"You speak quite well for a house elf," Harry whispered, not quite fully awake yet.

The house elf grinned at him, obviously happy at the compliment, "Master... I means, my master likes it when we speak well," he bounced a little in his spot next to Harry's bed, his eyes just coming up past the top of the mattress. It made Harry giggle slightly.

"And... who is your Master?" He asked next, tentatively, as he was not sure he wanted to know.

"Master is Severus Snape, Potio-"

"Snape!?" Harry yelled in shock, or tried to anyway. His voice came out as a raspy and squeaky whisper as it broke.

Hortensius looked at him disapprovingly, and was about to speak when, "Yes, Potter. Problem?" came from the doorway. Harry immediately tried to push himself further into the bed; he was sure he could feel his life leaving him slowly under the current glare the potions master was directing towards him. 'This really is hell.'

Severus strode into the room, and stopped by Harry's bedside, next to Hortensius. "Thank you, Hortensius. You may go. Have lunch prepared in fifteen minutes."

Hortensius bowed, and left the room with another loud crack. Harry grimaced as the noise ripped through his aching head.

"Well, Potter, it seems as if you've landed yourself in trouble, again." Severus raised an eyebrow. Harry bowed his head, not wanting to speak or look at the frightening man. Why was he here?

"Well? Cat got your tongue? Have you lost the ability to speak as well as think?" Severus said, snidely.

Harry pursed his lips, his professor seemed to be on top form today. "Why am I here?" he whispered.

"I cannot hear you when you mumble into your hands, Potter. Look at me when you speak to me."

Harry breathed out, and looked up into the black eyes, "I said, why am I here, sir."

"What do you remember, boy?"

Harry's eyebrows drew together as he tried to remember. "Um... Dudley was chasin- er, I mean I was in a forest and got lost. I er... fell asleep, and then when I woke, there... there was something with me." Harry stuttered as blurry images of a tall, clawed monster flashed through his mind. "I was attacked, and there was a lot of pain... I can't remember much else. How... how did I get here?"

Severus ignored his question, and quietly said, "you were in a forest... and you fell asleep?" He could barely contain his anger. This... stupid boy, was supposed to save them all, and yet, here he was wandering into forests and falling asleep when there were countless dark wizards, including the darkest, most vicious wizard of their time, after his blood. Severus felt like breaking something.

Harry swallowed nervously, and turned his face away from the anger; without telling Snape the true story, it seemed like he had just left the protection of the Dursleys' and had casually walked into a forest, gotten lost and fallen asleep like some blundering idiot. Over his dead body, though, would he ever tell Snape the true reasons to how he had ended up in the forest. 'As if he would believe me, anyway.'

Severus suddenly leaned in, grabbed Harry by the chin and forced him to look into his eyes. Harry flinched and made a garbled sound, panic written all over his face. "Listen to me, Potter. You do not deserve anything good in life. You do not deserve friends. You do not deserve your fame. I cannot believe that an utter imbecile such as yourself could ever hope to hold even the tiniest of chances against the Dark Lord. You disgust me. It seems life has already decided that you do not deserve a family," Severus hissed furiously, anger overtaking reason and logic.

Harry felt like a stake had been put through his heart at that last comment. He did not react, however; he was used to those words - "you do not deserve...". 'Been living with the Dursleys for more than fifteen years, haven't I?' he thought, sarcastically.

"Yes sir," he said, automatically.

Severus was slightly taken aback, and released his grip in shock. Harry bowed his head again. Severus was not used to this submissive boy who suddenly seemed so vulnerable. He felt a jolt go through his heart, feeling like he regretted his last comment. He mentally shook himself, and straightened up. "Well, now that we have established that you are a moron with no hope of survival, you need to eat. You have been in a healing sleep for eight days, and need to regain your strength."

Severus studied the boy further; he had not reacted to his last insult at all, and simply sat with his head bowed. "Potter!" he barked, "Are you listening?" The boys head lurched upwards, and blank green eyes met Severus' onyx ones. "Yes, sir."

"There are some clothes for you in that wardrobe," he pointed at a large floor-to-ceiling mirror that had a handle on it. "Once you are ready, call for Hortensius and he will lead you to the dining room where you will eat."

The black-haired man stalked towards the door, "do not take forever, Potter," he said pointedly, as he walked out. A faint, "yes, sir" followed him through the door.

Severus noticed that Harry's voice sounded completely blank, and remembered also that the boy's usually vibrant and mischievous green eyes had looked empty; they looked almost... dead. Severus felt strange chills course through his spine at that thought before he almost immediately shook himself. 'You're getting soft in your old age, man. Do not forget how much danger the boy has stupidly put himself, and the rest of us, in,' he told himself. With one last mental shake, he set off in long strides towards the dining room for lunch.


Harry stared blankly at the doorway that his professor had just vacated. His mind was quiet, and he felt calm. Too calm. It was almost as if he had suddenly been placed in an emotionless bubble where nothing could get to him. Words bounced off his bubble, thoughts were prevented from entering. Harry sat in his bubble for a good few minutes, before he softly and slowly landed back on Earth.

Harry suddenly registered that Snape was waiting for him, if he was not already. He had no idea how long he had been lost in his mental black hole, and he started to panic. 'Shit! Why do I always get myself into these situations?' He thought to himself as he threw back the covers and jumped out of bed.

He attempted to anyway. He swayed dangerously on the spot as dizziness overtook him, and had to sit back down on the bed to calm himself. He closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the nauseating feeling to subside.

A minute later, Harry opened his eyes again and let out a deep breath, standing up slowly this time. He may have been healed, but obviously he was not fully recovered.

He eyed the room up quickly, not having paid any attention before. For Snape's quarters, it was decidedly un-Snape-like.

The walls were a warm cream colour, and the floor was made of a light wood. Harry noticed happily that the wood was nicely warm under his bare toes. The wardrobe Snape had shown Harry was made of a darker wood, which contrasted nicely with the floor and the walls. Harry walked towards it now, and opened it. One pair of black trousers and one black shirt were hanged in there, and Harry raised an eyebrow. 'Ah, there's the Snape I know.'

He got changed, and looked at himself in the ornate mirror that was hanging on the wall next to the wardrobe. The clothes fit perfectly on Harry's small frame. The material of the trousers was soft as a bunny rabbit, and it felt like silk, but not quite as flimsy. The shirt was a typical black, collared shirt, but again the fabric felt deliciously soft against Harry's skin.

Surprised, Harry thought he had never looked better. He had never worn such nice-feeling clothes either.

"My, my, don't you look scrumptious!"

Harry stumbled backwards in fright, shocked by the sudden female voice. He looked around wildly, but there was no one there. "What the…?" He mumbled.

"Over here, boy." The voice came from in front of him. With a jolt, Harry realised it was the mirror talking to him. He looked to the top of the mirror, and saw a frowning face set into the golden frame of the mirror.

Harry looked on in quiet amusement, 'it's like I'm in some sort of Disney film,' he thought to himself.

"Stop gawking, child. Have you never seen a talking mirror before?" The mirror appeared to sigh, before continuing its tirade, "No matter, what kind of hairstyle do you call that!? Sort that out at once, young man!"

Harry bristled slightly, "It's always been like this, and I can't seem to change it. When my a-aunt…" a lump formed in Harry's throat at the thought of his relatives, but he quickly quashed the rising feelings before they could get the better of him.

He cleared his throat, "Er… someone tried to cut it a few times. It just grows back overnight."

The face of the mirror raised a golden eyebrow, "well, that sounds like the definition of stubborn. No matter, I have a simple solution for that." The mirror screwed up its face in concentration, and all of a sudden, Harry felt a chill spread around the top of his head, as if someone had dropped a very cold water bomb on him. His eyes widened at the feeling, but it was gone as rapidly as it had appeared.

"There, that's better," the mirror said. Harry stared into the mirror, not believing his eyes. His hair actually looked okay… good even. Whatever the mirror had done, his hair had calmed down. Now that it was not flying in every single direction possible at the same time, it reached past his ears, and almost to his shoulders. "It's a bit girly…" he mumbled, ruffling it about so it looked a bit less neat.

"We'll deal with that later. Should you not be getting to lunch, young one?" The mirror replied.

Harry's eyes widened, he'd forgotten he was probably late.

"Err… Hortensius?" He called out, voice still slightly raspy. Immediately, the round house elf appeared with a crack with reverberated through Harry's still aching head.

"Is Potter ready for lunch?" Hortensius asked.

Harry nodded, "Er, yes. Please take me to the dining room?"

"Of courses, follow me please." The house elf started to waddle away from Harry, and Harry looked on amusedly.

Hortensius disappeared around the corner, and Harry stumbled into action. He caught up with the waddling house elf who was moving faster than Harry thought possible for a creature so short and round.

Following Hortensius towards the man he felt was going to be the death of him, he sighed, and shook his head.

'Honestly, how the bloody hell do I get myself into this situations?'


A/N: This seemed so much longer in Word! Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter. Was it a little slow? I don't want every chapter to be all action and no progression, but what did you think?

Also, to those who want my explanation of the dream sequence, I will be putting it up soon, perhaps next chapter, so keep your eyes peeled :) I've also got some possible art pieces that I'll be uploading throughout this story. I like using visual aids, so I might as well put them online for you guys aswell!

Thanks for reading! I promise to have chapter five up by this weekend!

miniroll love xxx