Okay, first of all, to answer a review I recieved. It was brought to my attention, that Harry does indeed, have access to a Quidditch Pitch. Not true. Harry only has access to the pitch if he first asks Snape -- he isn't allowed to go there alone. And, since Harry wanted to be alone, he didn't exactly want the Potions Professor hanging around, watching him. And he didn't want to seek out the older man, asking permission, for that matter. Also, I know that the last chapter didn't start at the same place as the chapter before it ended, but y'all will just have to deal with that. I didn't feel that I could continue writing from where she left off, so I just jumped ahead to that night. Sorry if it was confusing for y'all.

Also, I got a semi-flame about how I should have mentioned that they are now in Hogwarts, what with my referance to library. Snape Manor has a library! I mean, come on. That place is frickin' huge. Certaintly big enough for it's own library. But, I degress.

Also, about Book 6. Snape does not have a manor, I know. Ooh, does that count as a spoiler? However, I am not completely disregarding book 6 with this story. Obviously this story is AU -- there's just too much of a difference between it and the actual book. However, some elements of the newest book will be added in over time.

I have writer's block. That is my only excuse for taking so long with this chapter -- anybody got any good suggestions for getting rid of this damned writer's block? Aargh. Hope y'all enjoy this, even if it is pretty short.

Now, on with the story!

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Harry watched as Snape leaned over the potion, slowly adding in some sort of white powder, before quickly beginning to stir the potion in a clockwise motion.

He, himself, was leaning back against a countertop, hands splayed behind himself as he watched the Potions Master with a slightly glazed look to his eyes. Perhaps if he had even a passing interest in potions this wouldn't be so boring ... but watching somebody drop ingredients in to a big round bowl and stir them togeather wasn't exactly his ideal way to spend his evenings.

Not that he would ever mention that to Snape. He wasn't suicidal, after all.

"Why don't you go work on your homework. This could take a while." Harry nodded his acceptance to the older man's words, pushing away from the countertop and quickly escpaing into the hallway, sighing loudly in relief as he closed the door behind himself. Maybe it was just him, but things had seemed ... tense, near the end there.

Shaking his head, he quickly escaped up in to his bedroom, ignoring his schoolbooks in favour of a quidditch magazine.

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It was only two hours later when a small house elf knocked timidly on his door, announcing that lunch was to be served. Harry sighed dramatically, before thanking the tiny creature and shooing it away, with a message for Snape that he would be down shortly. Great. Another wonderful meal where he was forced to eat until he felt like throwing up at any moment.

He wasn't quite sure why he was suddenty so agitated. True, he wouldn't mind a cigarette right now, but it wasn't so bad that he felt he needed to use those stupid carrot sticks that Snape had provided, now carefully tucked away in his desk.

Sighing heavily, Harry pushed himself up and off the bed, pulling on a sweatshirt to ward of the sudden chill that had swept through the room. Funny, it hadn't seemed that cold just a minute ago.

Rubbing tiredly at his eyes, Harry stumbled a little as he walked toward the door, waving from side to side before finialy catching himself on the doorframe. Yawning widely, with the back of his hand covering his mouth, Harry blinked a couple of times to clear his vision, before making his slow way to the dining room.

As they ate, Harry was careful to keep his eyes on his plate at all times, not daring to glance up at the potions professor. It was one thing while they were working on a potion, but there was nothing to stop a steady conversation now ... and nothing to claim he had been concentrating on, should his mind begin to wander as it had for the past couple of days.

Oh, he'd be the first one to admit that he wasn't exactly acting in character. He couldn't seem to concentrate on anything -- even reading books was beginning to get hard, eyes wandering down the page as he skipped entire paragraphs, to impatient to read it all the way through. He'd never exactly been a bookworm, but he'd always enjoyed reading to a certain extent. Now, however, he didn't seem to have any patience for it whatsoever.

At the other end of the table, Severus stared at his young companion over the brim of his coffee cup, lips pressed into a hard line.

He had to talk to Draco ... but he certaintly couldn't leave Potter here to fend for himself, especially not when there were far too many ways for the boy get access to his precious drugs. The temptation would just be too great.

The only other option was to take the boy with him, but even that seemed out of the question -- the less people who knew of his involvement with Potter, the better. Such an association would do nothing but bring his loyalties into question.

But where else could he stick the boy? The only other person he would have trusted to watch Potter sufficiently was Dumbledore, but the old man certaintly had enough to do, without being stuck with a troubled teen for only Merlin knew how long.

Forcibly relaxing his suddenly tense shoulders, Severus pushed away from the table with a soft sigh, meeting his young charge's eyes for a second before the boy once again lowered his eyes to his nearly empty plate. "Potter, follow me."

Harry glanced up at his professor, surprised, before quickly scrambling to follow the older man as he swept out of the room. Well, at least he didn't have to make himself sick eating too much again.