A/N: This chapter has not be beta-read yet, so please let me know if you see any errors and I'll fix them as quickly as possible. Thanks.

Chapter 4

After the door swung shut behind him and Harry was sure he was long gone, he gingerly picked himself up off the floor. After he could breathe, that was. His stomach felt warm and swollen and hurt like hell to touch. Unable to believe what had just happened to him, Harry stood on the dirty floor contemplating his situation.

Never before had anyone hit him like Kirkpatrick had just done. Honestly, while living at the Dursley's, he'd had occasion to believe his Uncle might just do more than slap him, but he never had done anything worse. And it was probably the fear of what the other 'freaks' like him would do that kept him from it. But Kirkpatrick didn't have any such fears. Because Harry knew Snape wouldn't lift a finger to help him, even if he did find out his friend was doing more than just smacking him around and making him do all the hard work around the house.

Not knowing when or even if Dumbledore would show up didn't make him feel more confident in his situation either. He wasn't sure how he should handle the situation. He hadn't seen any owls, so it wasn't as if he could just owl one of his friends to help him. Not that they would believe him if he tried, though. The fact that he had treated his friends like less than people for the past week wouldn't endear them to his plight. They probably wouldn't even believe him either.

Feeling more and more despondent by the moment, Harry finally managed to make it out the door and forced himself to head towards the house. It was more the fact that Kirkpatrick would be coming back to the lighthouse at some point in the evening in order to sleep…he did live there as it were…that made him move.

Halfway across the stone walkway, Harry could see inside the kitchen window. Kirkpatrick was sitting at the table and Snape was up and apparently doing something over on the counter. He couldn't see what precisely, and honestly, he didn't care. He was more concerned with the man sitting.

Seeing as how he hadn't eaten since lunch, and even then he hadn't eaten much due to the nasty portions he'd been given, Harry was understandably hungry. And a little nervous about entering the kitchen due to the man sitting at the table. Had it only been Snape, Harry was certain he would have been able to saunter on in and make himself a sandwich, at least. With Kirkpatrick in the room, on the other hand, he wasn't sure what to do.

His need to eat, however, forced him to enter the room in which he wished was empty, and very slowly made his way towards the ice box. Opening it, he'd barely pulled out a package of sandwich meat when he felt eyes on his back.

"Did you finish shoveling out all the dirt already?" asked Kirkpatrick, his voice considerably low and menacing…at least to Harry's ears it was.

Harry stopped in his tracks. He hadn't even thought about it when he'd left the lighthouse. It honestly seemed like hours had passed him by when in reality it had probably only been half an hour, if not a little more, since he'd been sent back to finish what he'd started.

He slowly turned and faced the man sitting at the table. "I-I just wanted to come in and get something to eat," he said softly, even though the anger and fear he felt towards this man still coursed through his veins. "I'll finish after that."

"You weren't even supposed to come into the house until after you'd cleaned the first floor, or did you conveniently forget that?" he continued in his hard tone. "You'll have nothing to eat and you will return to the lighthouse this instant!"

Harry wanted nothing more than to throw the package of sandwich meat at Kirkpatrick's head in that instant. He stifled the movement; however, knowing the outcome would not be worth his momentary enjoyment of seeing the packaged meat slam into the man's oddly shaped head.

Snape, who had actually slipped his mind for the few minutes he'd been in the kitchen, deemed to make his presence known in that moment. "Potter, sit down and eat a sandwich, then continue out in the lighthouse."

Looking up in surprise, Harry noticed that Snape was giving Kirkpatrick a look…a look that Harry couldn't quite identify. The two men seemed to actually be glaring at each other.

Quickly, so he wouldn't have to be in the same room with two volatile men any longer than absolutely necessary, Harry threw together a hasty sandwich. He ate it just as hastily, almost choking in his effort to finish quickly, and followed it with a glass of water.

Once out the door, Harry heard Snape begin to talk, "I don't recall giving you permission to…" before he was out of earshot and unable to hear anything more. Assuming his Professor was angry at the man for presuming to boss him around when it was in fact Snape's job to boss him around made Harry just a little happier. But not by much.

His stomach still ached deeply and he would have rather been climbing into bed than climbing through the lighthouse door. It wasn't going to be pleasant, doing this job with the way he felt at the moment, and a few hours later he knew just how correct he was.

Feeling slightly out of breath and still in pain, probably more pain that he'd been in before, Harry looked around the room with a little bit of pride. He'd finally finished shoveling out the entire first floor. His stomach was killing him, his hands were blistered, and his back felt like his spine was about to come through his skin, but he was finally finished. And then he remembered the leaves.

"Damn," he muttered, looking around at the leaves that were cluttered on top of what little furniture was downstairs. There were even more leaves piled up on the spiral staircase that led to the level above him. What leaves had been on the floor he'd already taken care of by shoveling it out with the dirt. Looking around himself in just a little bit of dismay, Harry went to get the bags.

……………………………………..

When he was finally, really, and truly finished with cleaning out the first floor of the lighthouse, Harry slid down to the floor in relief. His entire body was aching now, and all he wanted was to climb into bed and sleep for eternity. Like that was going to happen, but he could dream.

The light was long gone by that point.

Again, it was the idea that Kirkpatrick would be coming out soon that got him moving back towards the house. He was actually a little surprised that he hadn't come out already to see how he was progressing. It just seemed like something the man would do and that he hadn't come out yet was actually a bit disconcerting. It made him wonder where he was. Still in the house? Outside waiting for him in the shadows?

With these notions in his head, Harry started out the door with his eyes wide and looking in every direction he possibly could at once. He wished now that he'd been allowed to keep his wand during with him. Snape had confiscated it when he'd arrived, deeming it a house rule that no wands were allowed on minors. Seeing as how he was the only minor, Harry kind of thought the rule sucked.

The more he thought about Kirkpatrick, the more he began to wonder if he didn't deserve the bad treatment. Maybe it was his penance for getting Cedric killed. Maybe he did deserve it, but if he did, was it wrong of him to wish he didn't? It wasn't exactly a pleasant thing to be going through, and he didn't like this new sensation of fear that had taken place inside of him. He was used to the anger. Anger was easier to deal with, easier to control. The fear seemed to come out of him like a punch, when he least expected it, and it seemed that was the way Kirkpatrick liked it. Taking him by surprise.

So caught up in his thoughts, Harry didn't notice him until he was standing directly beside him. Kirkpatrick in all his menacing glory. Unintentionally, Harry took a step backwards, coincidentally in the direction of the lighthouse, instead of the house up ahead where he really wanted to be.

"What do you want now?" asked Harry, trying to hold onto his anger in the face of the thing he was beginning to fear.

When he saw the narrowing eyes at his tone, Harry internally cringed. "I thought we discussed this, Harry," the man said quietly. Deceptively quietly.

Harry wasn't sure what to do or say. What to do to make the man happy. What he should do to ensure the man wouldn't hit him again. And, even as he thought this, he couldn't help but want to mouth off even more. He didn't know what was wrong with him; he'd been using his anger as a shield for so long he wasn't quite sure how to shut it off. And it was about to get him into some serious trouble.

He started to try sidestepping the man, incongruously, of course, in order to start getting closer to the house. Not that getting closer to the house would really help him, he suddenly realized. It wasn't as if Snape would be any help. It was even possible that the Professor would start using the same methods Kirkpatrick had deemed necessary. Why he hadn't thought of this sooner was beyond him.

As if his thoughts had summoned the man, Snape suddenly appeared at the open door.

"Potter, it is past eleven o'clock. Come inside," he stated plainly, standing in the doorway and waiting for him to make a move. With Snape watching, Kirkpatrick backed off and merely stood watching as Harry went inside.

Harry wasn't sure if this was any better or not. Looking at him now, Harry couldn't really tell if the man would turn violent or not. He wouldn't put it past him, that was for sure, but for the time being, he wouldn't worry about it until it happened. He already had enough to worry about with Kirkpatrick.

"Clean yourself up and get into bed, Potter," Snape instructed when he apparently didn't go to his room fast enough.

"Yes, sir," he answered automatically, getting a surprised reaction out of the both of them.

"No attitude, Potter? I'm shocked," Snape said and Harry almost wished he hadn't.

"I could argue if that would make things more normal for you," he stated sarcastically and got a narrowing of the brow from Snape for his efforts. His attitude, as it were, was pretty much coming from an involuntary response inside of him. It was as if it kicked into action whenever he felt the need to throw up a defense. Keeping people from seeing how it was he truly felt.

Harry didn't wait for an answer or a reprimand from the man and quickly made his way into the bathroom to wash up. When he came out a few minutes later, Snape was no longer in the hallway so Harry went ahead into his bedroom and closed the door behind him. The room was dark as he hadn't bothered to turn on the light, but the little bit of moonlight that was filtering in through the curtains allowed him to see where he was going as he crossed the room to his bed.

He kept his pajamas under his pillow and he proceeded to undress and change into them. Once that was accomplished he climbed into bed and sat staring at the ceiling. Even after all he'd done that day, working that morning, attempting to escape, and finishing shoveling out the bottom floor of the lighthouse that evening, Harry still couldn't seem to fall asleep. He had thought he'd practically pass out as soon as his head was on the pillow. Unfortunately, this wasn't so.

Suddenly, the thing he had been trying to avoid since he'd come here, hell, since it happened, became something he couldn't seem to not think about. Any attempt to sway his thoughts in a different direction, even the not so pleasant direction of Kirkpatrick failed.

He thought about the night it happened. How Cedric had been with him, had been talking with him, and then suddenly he was dead. Right in front of him. And he hadn't been able to do a thing to save him. It should have been him, not Cedric. He shouldn't have had to die.

When he finally did fall asleep, it was with depressing thoughts of Cedric fluttering around in his mind and his sleep was anything but restful. And the nightmares caused him to wake up in a cold sweat on more than one occasion that evening. He even had to stifle his screams once or twice in the hopes that Snape wouldn't hear him and come asking questions.

The following morning dawned with a very tired and irritable Harry Potter sitting up in bed, having not accomplished much sleep at all. With dark circles already under his eyes, Harry tried to pull his lethargic body out of bed. All he wanted to do was just go the hell back to sleep…just minus the nightmares, though.

Knowing it wouldn't happen and he would just get into more trouble if he attempted to sleep in, Harry dragged himself into the bathroom and dunked his head into a sink full of very cold water. It served to wake him up, if only for a few minutes.

Out in the kitchen, Harry was disappointed to see that both men were awake and sitting at the kitchen table. Kirkpatrick was just finishing his breakfast and it appeared as if Snape had already eaten. Not sure if food was going to be an option this morning – Kirkpatrick had threatened to deprive him of it often enough already – Harry cautiously started helping himself to some eggs and toast. When neither of them protested, though Kirkpatrick really looked like he might, Harry quickly ate it before it was taken from him. Well, he ate some of it. His appetite wasn't much that morning. Not that he'd had much of one before, either.

"I think today you can assist in the house, Potter. In fact, if you're finished with your breakfast, you'll follow me into the basement," stated Snape, moving from his position by the counter.

His plate disappeared before his eyes and Harry was grateful that he had indeed been finished eating, otherwise he wouldn't have had a chance to do so. Supposedly, Snape hadn't really meant it when he'd asked if he was finished with his breakfast…oh well, Harry was too damn tired to care.

Kirkpatrick remained at the table as the two of them left the kitchen, but Harry could feel his eyes boring into his back until they were out of sight. In order to keep his mind off of the man he hated and despised, Harry started asking questions. Plus, he wanted to know to answers.

"I didn't realize there was a basement," he stated, merely wanting an answer.

"There is one," Snape remarked without further information.

Harry waited for a moment, figuring the Professor would continue. And when he didn't, "Well, where's it at?" he persisted, having never seen a door that he didn't already know where it led.

"In here," and Snape walked into his bedroom.

Stopping completely in his tracks, because hello, he wasn't allowed in the man's bedroom; Harry began to wonder if this was some type of trick.

From within the room he heard Snape's exasperated tone. "Potter, do you plan on standing in the hallway for the remainder of the morning?"

Well, truthfully, the thought had occurred to him, considering he was still in the hallway.

"Potter, move!"

Harry jumped and proceeded into the room where he saw Snape standing in his closet of all places. His wandering eyes had actually taken in the man's bedroom before he'd even saw Snape, and it was really a nice room. He'd been expecting something drearier, and not the almost Romanesque feel of it. Everything looked antique and expensive and hand-made, nothing like the rest of the house.

He had half a mind to ask the man about it, but thought he probably wouldn't get an answer anyways, and besides…Snape was looking more and more irritated now that he'd set eyes on him again.

The closet in which he was standing was a walk-in and set in the floor was a large panel that pulled up and revealed a long set of wooden steps that led into the darkness below. He wasn't sure how he felt about this. The man wasn't going to throw him down there without any light to work by, right?

Fortunately, Snape headed down the stairs first, and Harry quickly followed after him. The staircase was a little treacherous; as there were no rails and it wasn't enclosed with a wall on either side…it was wide open. At the bottom, Snape started flicking his wand around and various lamps within the basement began to light the room, making him feel less worried.

The basement was large, obviously covering the entire home above them, and there were many places where the light was unable to cast its glow and the shadows crept up the walls, making the smaller places seem a bit creepy. Portions of the basement were walled off creating small rooms or even tunnel-like areas. Harry hoped he wasn't going to be made to go into those areas. These were the places that were the most shadowed as well.

Turning to Snape he asked, "So, what am I supposed to do?"

"As you can see, no one has used the basement in quite a while. I mean to turn it into my laboratory while we stay here this summer. What I want from you is to clean off the counters in the main area here, sweep and mop the floors, and dust off the shelves on the wall over there. Also," he stepped closer to one of the smaller rooms, almost the size of a closet, but without a door, and continued. "I plan on using this room for storage. You don't have to bother with anything else down here except the main room and this small storage room. Clean them to my standards and without slacking off and you can have the rest of the day to yourself once you are finished."

Harry stood with his mouth standing slightly agape. "Have the rest of the day off?" he asked incredulously. "It will take all day to even finish what you want me to do!"

"If you start straight away and stop your incessant whining, you'll be finished well before dinner time," Snape corrected him.

Glaring at the man, Harry looked around the room in frustration. He was so sick of getting the crappy jobs. "What am I supposed to use to clean with?" he asked resignedly, with a touch of his usual irritation.

"Everything you'll need is underneath the stairs," he pointed towards a small door that was indeed set underneath the stairs. "I'll check on you later."

Before Harry could protest, Snape was already up the stairs and shutting the door behind him.

"Perfect," he muttered to himself. The small door seemed oddly menacing and Harry honestly didn't want to open it. Knowing Snape would be less than pleased with him and he didn't want to have to deal with him if he was pissed off, Harry moved to open the door. Plus, he really wanted the rest of the day off. So, getting finished as quickly as possible while doing the best job he possibly could was at the forefront of his mind.

Upon opening the door, he was struck with just how much it was like his own cupboard under the stairs at the Dursley's. It was almost uncanny how much it looked like his own. The shape and size were exactly the same, even the color of the walls were the same. If he had seen a small cot resting in the center of the room, Harry thought he would have ran screaming in the opposite direction. He looked down, almost expecting to see it, and was shocked when he didn't. Sitting where he had expected the cot to be was the cleaning supplies Snape had told him would be in there. There was a broom and a mop leaning against the opposite wall and Harry grabbed the broom straight away. But upon second thought, he grabbed some cleaning solution and rags instead. He would dust first.

Shaking just a bit and feeling stupid for it, Harry stepped backwards out of the room, hardly able to tear his eyes away from it. He just kept thinking his Uncle would be waiting around the corner to throw him in there and shut and lock the door. But his Uncle wasn't here and neither was anyone else for that matter. He was completely alone in the basement.

Dusting the counters gave him something else to think about and the soothing motion finally calmed his racing heart and he gave himself a goal to meet. He intended to finish wiping down and dusting the main and storage rooms in the next hour and a half, if not sooner.

He managed it but just barely. He had continuously interrupted his motions by glancing around the room and peering into the dark shadows. Sometimes he just felt as if someone was watching him…other times…he was almost positive of it. Once he'd even taken down one of the lanterns and walked into one of the darkened rooms to see if anything was there. The room was bare and within was the only window he had seen in the basement. It was high and he had to stand on a stool he'd grabbed from the main area to look outside, thinking someone was out there. But no one was and he'd replaced the stool and the lantern and gotten back to work. But the feeling was still there.

Trying to just ignore the feeling, figuring he was just imagining it, Harry grabbed the supplies he'd taken out and went to retrieve the broom and the mop from the cupboard under the stairs. He felt dread swell in his chest and he berated himself silently for it. He was by himself here, his Uncle Vernon wouldn't be caught dead here, and it was stupid to be feeling like this.

But as he had to crawl inside to reach the mop bucket, Harry had that intense feeling that someone was watching him again. He spun around, landing on his arse, and his breath caught in his throat as he saw the silhouette against the door of someone standing just beyond the cupboard.

Using the stick of the broom as a weapon, Harry flung himself out of the cupboard, completely ready to attack whoever was standing there. Honestly expecting it to be Kirkpatrick, or more irrationally…his Uncle, Harry was unprepared when Snape snapped his wrist up and caught the end of the broom before he could nail him in the side of the head with it.

"Potter!"

For a moment, Harry actually struggled to get the broom back, before Snape tore it out of his grasp.

"Calm yourself, Potter!" Snape yelled at him.

Getting his wits about him, Harry finally controlled his rolling emotions, building his anger within him like a shield.

"Well if you wouldn't stalk around down here and spy on me!" he yelled back furiously, figuring now that it had been Snape who had been watching him earlier.

Snape didn't reply, he merely stood and looked at Harry with something on his face Harry couldn't quite identify. Almost as if Harry was some new type of undiscovered potion ingredient that he'd just unearthed.

"You're frightened of the cupboard."

It was a statement not a question.

"You read my mind again! I told you to stop that!" yelled Harry.

"Actually, Potter, I didn't need to use Legilimency. You're projecting your fear rather well on your own," he informed the teen.

Harry sputtered for a moment, trying to come up with something that would make sense for why he wasn't too fond of the cupboard. Something other than the true reason, but nothing would come to him that wasn't just as screwed up as the truth.

"I-I'm not afraid of it," he said instead. It wasn't an excuse or anything quite as interesting as that. But denial was always a good defense when nothing else would work. He couldn't get the truth out of him.

"Potter, you don't seem to understand that you can't lie to me if you already gave away the truth," said Snape calmly, his arms crossed against his chest.

"I'm not lying!"

Snape looked exasperated. "Don't be dense, Potter. Just moments ago you claimed I had read your mind when I stated you were frightened of the cupboard. If you were in fact not frightened of the cupboard, then why would you say such a thing?"

Harry stood and stared at the man at a complete loss or what to say. He'd stepped right in it this time and couldn't talk his way out of it.

"Just leave me alone!" he yelled instead and started sweeping up the floors, hoping the man would do as he'd asked.

Harry didn't hear anything after a moment and looked around to where the man had been. He wasn't there any longer. Sighing in relief, he turned back around to continue what he'd been doing when the broom suddenly was yanked out of his hands. Snape was still in the room, in front of him in fact, and looking determined to do the opposite of what Harry had asked of him.

"You realize I can not help you unless you tell me what is wrong," Snape sat on the stool he'd used earlier to look out the window.

"Like you care," spat Harry.

"Actually, you're right. But, you're here in order for me to help you, and I won't be able to accomplish that unless you talk," Snape answered stoically. "So talk."

Harry grabbed the broom back out of the man's hands and started sweeping again, the strokes angry and uneven, sending the dust flying up into the air. "I'm not talking to you!"

Snape wrapped his hands around Harry's and the broom and held them still. Harry struggled for a moment but when he realized he couldn't pull his hands out of the man's grip, he stopped. "Just leave me alone," he said resignedly.

"Tell me why you're frightened of the cupboard and I'll leave," he shot back at him.

Harry glared and made a last futile attempt to pull his hands from Snape's. Then he sighed angrily. "Fine, you jerk. My Uncle would lock me in the cupboard under the stairs whenever I did something wrong or sometimes just for the hell of it!" When he looked into Snape's eyes he could tell the man thought he was lying.

"You don't believe me," Harry said softly. He didn't know why he even thought the man would. And Snape even made him tell. "Why'd you make me tell if you weren't even going to think for a second that I might be telling the truth!" he yelled, trying again to yank his hands away and failing. "Use your stupid legilimency if you don't believe me!"

Harry was surprised when the man actually did as he asked. He could feel Snape's presence in his mind and he intentionally let Snape see the times when his Uncle had shoved him in the cupboard. And there were many, many times that it had happened.

Snape still looked disbelieving when he finally made eye contact for more than just seeing in his head.

"How can you see that and not believe it happened? It's not as if my memories can lie!"

Snape let go of Harry's hands. "I'm not disbelieving that your Uncle didn't put you in the cupboard. I'm disbelieving that Albus Dumbledore would leave a child in such a household," he answered before walking up the stairs without another word.

Harry watched him leave, speechless. What the hell?

He cautiously climbed the stairs and looked into Snape's bedroom, expecting him to be there, but he wasn't. Climbing out of the closet, Harry walked down the hallway and into the living room. Kirkpatrick suddenly came out of the kitchen, where he always seemed to be, and startled Harry.

"Where's Snape?" he asked guardedly.

"He left, said he had something he had to do. He probably won't be back until tomorrow," he said, looking a little too happy about it. "Now, aren't you supposed to be cleaning the basement?"

Harry watched Kirkpatrick with apprehension and a little bit of anger. Wanting to avoid another confrontation like the one out in the lighthouse, Harry quickly made his way back to the basement. At the bottom of the steps he heard a sound coming from the doorway that sounded suspiciously like the lock clicking into place. Running back up the stairs Harry tried the door and found his suspicion confirmed.

"Damn it!" he said heatedly, slamming one hand against the door. He figured he wouldn't be let out anytime soon. At least it wasn't the cupboard, he thought ironically.

So much for having the rest of the day off.

……………………………………

A/N:

I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, so I hope you all like it. Shoonasasi, please let me know if it is okay!

Please review. It would be really awesome if we could get above 200 reviews…we have 139 right now, I think. I won't hold my breath or anything, but it would definitely be nice…

Lilynette…I'm expecting that review!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!