CHAPTER FIVE

Arrangements

It was in a detached manner that Harry found himself immersed within the swirling vortex of his chamomile tea, the light floral fragrance of it wafting through the air with a tincture of sugared honey. It felt warm in his hands, steam carrying up to his nose and blowing out to his sides. In its own unique way, its soft redolence was like a mellow embrace that soothed his senses, and for that, he couldn't deny the fact that he was immensely grateful for its aid in keeping his nerves down to a minimum.

Petunia was settled in the chair next to him, her own preferred tea being cupped between her hands. Harry couldn't help but notice the discreet way her hands shook, or the way she shot Dumbledore a look mixed with silent anger and repentance. He hadn't seen his aunt like this since he was little.

"Like I was saying before; your aunt, Harry, has agreed with me on my suggestion of sending you to a little summer camp up by—" Dumbledore paused, eyes averting to some corner of the roof with a pensive look in them before returning back to look at the two of them. "Well, it's up near the mountains," he batted a hand dismissively.

Does he even know where it is? Harry furrowed his brow with a wince. Is he just sending me wherever he wants without caring? He felt hurt at that.

Seeming to have picked up Harry's obvious discomfort at his own deliberate vagueness, Dumbledore gives a light chuckle. "Don't worry, an old friend of mine works up there. As for whether or not the summer camp is for muggles only, it isn't— which, inevitably means that you'll be able to socialise with other wizards and witches, not to mention that there might be other students from Hogwarts that might be attending as well."

Harry perked up at that, a smile crawling along his lips. "But, sir, who will— uh, who will be there?"

"A majority of students there will be in the years three to six, with a few exceptions to a handful of second years," Dumbledore threw a wink before elaborating further. "First years are, regrettably, not permitted to attend these camps because they're still learning the very basics of magic. For example: knowing how to wave their wands without causing explosions."

Harry smirked at the last bit, reminiscing on the few memories that he had of Seamus either setting fire to or blowing something up with only a wave of his wand. He didn't even need to sputter out an incantation. The last time he had seen Seamus pull a stunt like that was in the Great Hall with Dean, endeavouring to spell their pumpkin juice into rum, again. And, just like last time, the Gryffindor table endured yet another great bang from the same culprits. And then, like always, the red hourglass shrunk a good quarter of itself into oblivion.

"There'll be students from other schools as well, small ones, though. You'll find out all about them when you get there," Dumbledore dismissed with a small wave of his hand when Harry opened his mouth to question him. The Headmaster clapped his hands together rather abruptly all of a sudden, gaining a startling jolt from Petunia. He looked on at them with a twinkling smile that invoked a very nearly instinctive feeling of dread. "Now, seeing as your aunt has already filled out the necessary paperwork, Harry, I think it's about time that we send you off to your little vacation, yes?"

Nonplussed, Harry glanced at his aunt and then back at Dumbledore. He opened his mouth again, and once more — which was steadily beginning to grate on his nerves — was cut short when the door behind them was pushed open, the hinges screeching slightly. All four occupants — Harry nearly jumped when he realised that Madam Pomfrey was still by his side — turned their gazes towards the new arrival.

His signature sneer was already in place and one corner of his mouth was pulled up in an unpleasant snarl, which only seemed to deepen when he connected eyes with the Headmaster before dropping unceremoniously as they drifted down to a rather pale Petunia Dursley.

"You," she spat out viciously, a snarl of her own tugging along her thin-pressed lips. The grip she had around the shoulder strap of her handbag tightened considerably the longer she stared at him, her knuckles growing whiter. There was a rather calloused look about her that brought out the utter loathing she was holding in her eyes. Apparently, the feeling was mutual, for the man in front of them wore the same amount — if more pronounced — of animosity for her. "What are you doing here?"

"Tuney," a sinister and cold smile replaced his forgone snarl. Harry felt a shiver run along his spine at the sight. Snape never smiled. If he did, you run like hell and pray to Merlin or whatever god was out there looking out for you that you make it out alive. He wasn't the only one deeply disturbed by the man's smile either, his aunt had stiffened at his way of addressing her. "I would say that it's a pleasure to see you once more, but it really isn't, is it now?"

Wow, Harry swallowed nervously, looking between the Potions Master and his aunt repeatedly.

Seeming to have gathered herself more confidently now, Petunia simply threw her hand up in the air at him and blew a short raspberry at the man. Screw manners, the bitter man simply didn't deserve them. "The feeling's mutual, Snape," she grounded out, turning her head back to the Headmaster who was watching the exchange with a great deal of amusement. "Don't you even," Petunia shot a warning glare at the old coot, scoffing and crossing her arms against her chest indignantly when he tossed his hands up in mock surrender, snickering under his beard.

"Thank you for coming, Severus," Dumbledore started, sliding a spare paper in between his fingers before launching it to the side of Petunia as it melted into the perfect transfiguration of a plush chair, making sure to add in the additional touches of colouring it a gentle shade of grey. Petunia did another one of her startled jumps, holding her hand against her heart. She watched with an unpleasant scowl plastered across her face as Snape lowered himself onto the seat, leaning back slightly with a rather smug smirk that was faint along his lips. Harry looked on curiously at the three adults.

"As you've already been informed of young Harry's… predicament," Harry made a face at the wording, which simply went ignored. "And as I'm sure that you will certainly agree to—" never mind the fact that this was more of an order than an act of goodwill, "—I entrust our young protégé over to you in escorting him into the designated camp." He clapped his hands together with a jovial chuckle that was so immensely out of place in comparison to the morose atmosphere that was rapidly expelling within the room. "A simple and easy-minded task, yes?"

They could nearly hear the ringing "Jolly good!" at the end of his sentence.

Snape was the first to break into the silence that had seemed to permeate through the air, his words wrapped in a cold vice. "Easy-minded task, indeed! A forewarning of these abrupt and last minute arrangements might have sufficed, Albus." The dour man ran a weary hand down his face and sighed loudly. "For Merlin's sake," he muttered. "The things I concede to carrying out for you."

Petunia inwardly jeered at the man and rolled her eyes at his theatrics, making a point to avert her eyes into one of the empty corners of the room. Concurrently, Harry shrunk back into the cushions of his chair with a nearly inaudible grunt, wincing slightly when he inadvertently applied a little too much pressure onto his right arm. Poppy was quick to lower herself down to his height, a reassuring hand holding onto his shoulder to keep him steady.

"Careful," she whispered distractedly, skillfully maneuvering her hands under his still injured arm and fixing it up into a more comfortable and stable position. Harry wanted to wave her off with his protests, no matter how weak and futile they may have been, but instead just settled with the fact that the woman would sooner silence him with a spell than let him slip away from her meticulous care, sinking further into the chair with a small pout visible on his face.

Once the matron finally deemed her patient properly adjusted, she reinstalled herself by his side and folded her hands together in front of her. It didn't escape her notice that the other occupants in the room had been watching the meagre spectacle with curious eyes. Harry looked up at his aunt, a small frown finding itself onto his lips when he took in the strange look on her face. She was bemused, that much was clear, but then there was also a hint of… amusement? Relief? Was that what it was?

Before he was able to muse on it a second more, Snape cleared his throat, demanding the attention of the room. And that he got.

"Am I correct to assume that you have all of your belongings at the ready, Potter?" The man didn't spit his name out with the venom that it was usually carried out in, but rather in a tone of neutrality — temporarily at least. Snape narrowed his eyes impatiently when it took Harry a moment to accumulate his gatherings, his mouth curling up into an unpleasant sneer. "Well? Unless you've miraculously lost your voicebox, I require a verbal response, Mr Potter."

There's the Snape we all know and love, Harry shuddered at the resupplying sharpness that was annexed to the man's already acerbated voice, opening his mouth to give a more sedated reply before the Headmaster suddenly decided to swoop in and come to his aid.

"No need to worry, Severus," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as they typically did, stars practically dancing around in his iris'. "His belongings have already been sent over to the camp," he turned to Harry this time, his smile widening a fraction with a sort of child-like thrill of excitement. "You've been paired up with another young man — a little older than you — in one of the cabins, next to the lake, I should think. Brilliant view you'll get from there, especially when night falls. All the stars, the mountains, oh—"

Snape was quick to interrupt when he realised that the old fool was going to continue on with his mindless ramblings, just barely stifling the instinctive impulse to roll his eyes at Dumbledore's inane antics. "Albus," he hissed. Dumbledore's eyes had wandered off to some corner of the room, mouth comically hanging open like some stereotypical school girl fantasizing the perfect boyfriend. To Snape's relief, much like the rest of the room, Dumbledore was quick to snap back to reality. Annoyingly, he only gave a hearty chuckle as Snape heaved a sigh that he felt wouldn't be the last.

"Right, right. Apologies," he bowed his head slightly, though the smile never left his face. "I trust that you are ready?"

Harry, still processing the concept of what exactly was happening and partly miffed that his belongings had been moved without his consent, simply nodded, still in an undetermined daze. "Yes, sir," he added quietly, remembering Snape's previous words.

"Right then," Dumbledore turned his gaze to Snape expectantly, and this time the man really did roll his eyes before lugging himself up from the softness of his chair, a frown painted across his face as the contented comfort it brought with it was snatched away from him.

Poppy hovered her hands around Harry's form as he tried to get up himself. "I'm fine," he murmured feebly, tightly seizing the armrests of his chair and nearly digging his nails into the leather material. He tried to shoo her lingering hands away, but that only proved her to be more adamant in her actions, her hand coming to rest on his back. Now he just felt like an old man — no offence meant to Dumbledore.

Snape was watching on, a certain furrow that seemed to keep making a reappearance creased along his forehead. It was… odd, strange; to see the boy so exasperated, so fragile, feeble. He made to step around the three seats, coming up to stand behind Petunia's chair, hands flexing at his sides for the sole purpose of seeking to do something. The woman leaned out of her seat when she noticed him standing behind her, wariness and alarm written all over her face. Snape sneered.

Once Harry was on his feet and Poppy was no longer floating around him like some flustering mother hen, Snape planted a firm — yet admirably soft — hand on the boy's shoulder. The groove on his forehead only deepened when he realised the actual severity of just how bony and skinny the boy's shoulders felt. Dear Merlin.

What was the muggle phrase again? All skin and bones.

"Come, Potter," Snape vehemently refused to admit to the fact that his voice had come out softer, distracting himself with steering the short boy towards the already lit fireplace. Emerald flames flickered out from the wood as they entered, albeit slowly.

Petunia shot up from her seat now, the chair scraping against the wooden flooring. Harry looked over the shoulder not having a hand on it with a frown, gazing at his aunt expectantly. Her mouth opened, but words didn't come for a minute.

"B-Be," she started in a stutter, taking a deep breath to keep her composure. "Be safe, Harry."

Come again?

Harry gaped openly at Petunia, snapping himself back together when he felt Snape give a gentle squeeze to his shoulder. "Thank you," he whispered quickly, turning back around as they entered the fireplace, ignoring the glances Snape was shooting in his direction.

Dumbledore stood in front of them now with his eyes twinkling brighter, having removed himself from his own chair with little discomfort unlike the previous two. Snape's face remained impassive, but Harry looked mournful. He held out a small oval-shaped ceramic bowl, this one shallower, bearing a generous amount of floo powder within its confines.

As soon as Snape had grabbed a fistful of the powder, Dumbledore leaned in slightly.

"Remember to have fun, Harry."

And it was with rekindled silent happiness blossoming in his chest that Harry and his snarky professor were swept away into a whirlwind of dust particles and green flames wrapped around them.

A/N: Sorry, the italics don't automatically link up for me on this site for some reason. I tried fixing it the best that I could, but if you find any mistakes, please tell me so I can make amendments. Thank you! Also, updates will be slow, I'm sorry!