Harry listened to the discussion. Many of the techniques and terms that they spoke of were unfamiliar to him. Despite years of training, the older witches and wizards had infinitely more magical experience than him. Hours later, after talking through a cold dinner, the elders had formed a plan that they would begin implementing the next day. It involved setting up some sort of distortion glamour to interfere with Voldemort's wards as well as using Snape's dark mark to try and track him. Beyond that, Harry understood very little.
Once serious matters were wrapped up, Moody and Krux got into a nostalgic conversation about their time as Aurors. Harry's interest waned quickly, as his taste for stories of adventure was not what it had been when he was a child. Feeling restless, Harry got up to work on cleaning the dishes from dinner. Snape, also needing to remove himself from the conversation, settled down near Harry to take a needless inventory of his potion vials.
"Why?" Snape said in a low voice. Harry looked over, wondering if the man was speaking to himself. Snape continued to rifle through the potions, holding one up now and then to swirl it. "Why did you ask to come along?"
"Oh." Harry said in an equally low voice. "Uhm. The prophecy. It's clear that Voldemort is not going to wait to try and…er…rise to power. He is only going to gain more support and be harder to stop. I feel him." Harry felt as if he were babbling. He certainly had not meant to give Snape a thorough answer, but felt the need to explain himself. "It's very…distracting. I want to face him now. While I still can" Snape's eyes darted up to give Harry an ascertaining look. "I mean, one of us is going to kill the other. That means that this will not be over until one of us is dead. So, I need to fulfill that destiny. Do my best to kill him. If I die trying, it will at least open up the door for his defeat once my role is complete."
Snape snorted, shaking his head. For a moment, Harry thought he would not respond and he began to feel a little embarrassed for having said so much.
"Well," Snape snapped loudly, making Harry jumped. "Aren't we the little hero?"
Snape whipped his head toward the rest of the group as if to say something. When the older wizard froze, his look of disgust melting into one of anger, Harry followed the direction of his gaze. Everyone was looking at the two of them. McGonagall wore an amused smile.
"What?" Snape drawled.
"Nothing," The witch responded pleasantly. "It's just nice to see the two of you talking."
Harry thought that he actually heard Snape growl. The Potion Master was careful to avoid saying anything to Harry for the rest of the evening. Harry finished what cleaning he could in the cave and, taking soap and shampoo with him, went out to wash hastily in the creek that ran nearby.
That night, Harry meditated again, falling quickly and easily to sleep.
He dreamt of Hogwarts. The next day, all he would remember of his dream would be sitting down in charms class. Next to him, where Hermione normally sat, was his mother. He smiled and tried to say hello to her. The words came out all wrong. She looked at him with disgust and called him something nasty. Later, Harry had trouble remembering, but he thought she might have said Snivellus.
Harry awoke in the early hours of the morning to searing pain. His scar hurt so badly that he saw red, although he was still aware of his surroundings. For a moment, the pain eased. Harry whimpered in frustration when it began to build again. A minute later, Snape appeared above him, an unmistakable black and white blur in Harry's vision. Harry felt an odd disappointment to find that no one was sharing his pain. The blur knelt beside him and Harry felt something cold at the corner of his mouth.
After a moment, realization dawned and Harry parted his lips to accept the potion. It tasted strongly of cinnamon. Instantly upon swallowing the liquid, a sensation of warmth spread throughout Harry's body. His muscles relaxed and the agony in his head faded to a dull throb. Harry closed his eyes in relief.
"Thank you," he whispered into the dark, although he had no idea if anyone was still nearby.
Sleep claimed him quickly and Harry woke with the others later in the morning, feeling refreshed. His eyes sought out Snape when he first put on his glasses, wondering if further thanks were owed. Snape diligently averted his gaze from Harry, who immediately thought better of trying to talk to the older wizard.
McGonagall, Moody, and Krux ate quickly and readied themselves to go.
"Isn't Professor Snape going with you?" Harry whispered to Moody when the ex-auror passed nearby.
Moody shook his head, tapping his left forearm. "No. Too detectable."
Harry sighed. He would have liked to understand what was being planned, but did not want to delay the group. He certainly was not going to ask Snape for details.
Once the others left, Harry and Snape spent the morning in silence. Snape, despite his healed appearance, was still fatigued and spent most of his time resting. His clothes were still torn and filthy and his hair was greasier than ever, forming a stringy helmet around his skull. Harry wondered if the man had any sense of personal hygiene.
When mid day came, Harry hurried to begin preparing lunch. He was desperate for something to do and he wanted a chance to prove Snape wrong about his ability to cook. He rifled through the cooking supplies trying to find something more interesting than soup to make. As he searched, he began to feel some pain in his scar. It was not the searing pain that often woke him. It was, in fact, so mild that it was almost an itch. With the sensation came the familiar feeling that often accompanied "transmissions" from Voldemort. Harry was used to this, after years of receiving both intentional and unintentional messages from the Dark Lord. He had reached a point in his training where he was easily able to tune out these milder images.
Harry glanced toward Snape, wondering if the older man was feeling it too. Snape's eyes caught his and looked away quickly.
Harry continued fiddling with the kitchen supplies for a minute before he worked up the courage to speak.
"Do you feel him?" He asked.
Snape sighed in irritation. "You know I do, Potter."
"No," Harry responded. "I mean, beyond the physical sensations. Can you tell what he's feeling sometimes? See what he's seeing."
Snape was silent for a long time.
"I do not see how that is any of your concern."
Harry had a rude reply ready to give to that comment. He wanted to tell Snape that it was, indeed, not his concern. That there was no chance that he, or anyone else, could possibly have any concern about Snape. Harry bit his tongue for as long as he could.
"Damn it!" He snapped finally, taking a step toward the older man. "Why do you have to make this difficult?"
Snape looked at Harry, raising an eyebrow.
"We are both stuck here, Professor," Harry went on. "We both have to sit here doing nothing while the course of our lives and the fate of the wizarding world is decided by outside forces." Snape snorted and muttered something about 'dramatics'. "Why do you have to make it harder?"
"I am not the one making this more difficult," Snape replied evenly. "You are the one who insists upon talking to me."
Harry made a (rather immature) noise of frustration.
"I am not one of your little friends, Potter, make no mistake. I am not your confidant, nor am I responsible for your entertainment. My only obligation to you consists of making sure that you do not wander off and get yourself killed."
Harry considered this, tempted to walk out and leave Snape to explain. However, his desire for security outweighed his desire to annoy his Potions Professor. Harry realized, after a few moments, that he was still face to face with Snape. He sighed and turned away, catching Snape's satisfied smirk out of the corner of his eye.
Some time later, McGonagall entered, followed by Moody and Krux. She shook her head at Snape.
"It is not going to work," She told him. "We are going to have to do this simultaneously. There is no way for us to cast anything in the vicinity of that building without a good chance of alerting You-Know-Who to our presence."
"Tomorrow, then." Snape said. "We will have to do it quickly. Get there and get started."
McGonagall and nodded her agreement. "However," She added. "I still do not feel comfortable having you anywhere near that place. If you are detected…well, it's just not a good idea. You and Moody will remain behind and work on getting through to…him. Krux and I will take the physical approach. Once we get the glamour in place, we will gather what information we can and meet back here. I will need you three," at this, she met Harry's eyes. "ready to head out quickly, if we need to."
"Are we going to walk back the way we came?" Harry asked.
"Possibly," McGonagall responded. "If the Death Eaters are alerted to our presence, we will most likely be apparating instead."
Dinner was prepared and eaten in near silence. Harry glanced at his companions from time to time, trying to get a read on the situation. Although, he was starting to understand their intentions a little better, he still had very little idea of the implications of their plans. Obviously, Snape was going to try and either distract, or gain information from, Voldemort. The Potion Master's Occlumency skills would serve well, not to mention his direct connection to the Dark Lord through the mark on his arm. Harry wondered what would happen if their attempts to infiltrate the Death Eater camp were detected. Were they in immediate danger of being caught and killed tomorrow? Would their actions force Voldemort to begin his war earlier than planned?
When the inhabitants of the cave prepared for bed, Snape looked over to Harry and waited to catch the younger man's eye. Harry had just eased down onto his sleeping mat. Once he had Harry's attention, Snape shook his head, gesturing to the floor near his own mat. Harry gave him a quizzical look, earning him a roll of Snape's eyes.
"I do not feel like crawling across the floor every night" Snape said, gesturing at the potions box.
"Oh," Harry said softly, gathering up his sleeping mat and moving it to Snape's side of the cave. He placed the mat several feet away from his professor's, hoping that the man would not snore again.
Harry did not even attempt to meditate that night and it took some time for him to sleep. Once again, that sleep was disrupted by intense pain. Harry had the presence of mind to attempt to stifle his cries. He was partially successful, turning his head into his mat and moaning loudly. After what seemed like an eternity, he felt something cold being pressed into his hand. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Harry lifted his head and downed the contents of the vial.
Warmth flooded his body. Harry felt relaxed and very drowsy. He squinted into the darkness and made out the fuzzy shape of Snape's hand held out to him. Harry handed Snape the empty container. Due to his lack of sight and fatigue, it was necessary for his hand to remain skin to skin with the older man's for several seconds to ensure that the glass would not drop. Snape's hand seemed far too cold to Harry. Harry felt a reaction to this touch that was unsettling. He dropped off to sleep before he was able to analyze it.
That night, Harry dreamt vividly of kissing Draco Malfoy.