Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter series, but surely I can wish.

Ebony Scales: For those who have reviewed this story, I thank you. I update as soon as I find the time and the inspiration. I just started on a new story, so when I'm not working on one, I will most likely be working on the other. I have caught up too far on the typing, so updates will be irregular.

Barbed Roses

Chapter 7: The Discomfort of Change

Severus strode through the halls with purpose, the chill of the morning having little impact on him. He breezed past the staff office, where many of his colleagues usually migrated each morning to enjoy a cup of coffee with a companion. He never was one for such things; for the most part, idle chitchat was not something that he was able to endure without lashing out at whoever thinks to bore him with the inane facts of their lives. Severus was currently making his way towards the Hospital Wing. The Potter brat was being released today and the unsympathetic professor had the 'pleasure' of guiding the boy to his rooms.

The Potions Master was a bit more irritable today than usual. The full moon had been three days ago and he had barely gotten the wolfsbane potion to Lupin on time. The whole episode with Potter and the Dursley's had left the first batch ruined beyond saving, leaving very little time to remake it and get it to Lupin. During the last two days, Severus had been stuck restocking the infirmary's medical potions at Pomfrey's insistence. It wasn't that he disliked making potions. No, Severus loved brewing, but certain things were not as enjoyable any longer. So many years of repetition had dulled the excitement of the art. If Severus had the time, he would much rather experiment in order to create new or better-working cures and treatments.

Snape stalked into the infirmary with a dark expression. The –Boy –Who –Lived was sitting on the bed, dressed and, apparently, waiting for his arrival. Snape raised eyebrow at the boy before sweeping back out of the room, figuring the boy would follow.

Harry slipped off the bed and hurried after the striding form of his professor. He silently prayed he would not actually have to spend time with the older man. He knew his luck would run out and he would end up pissing Snape off if he was forced to be around him.

A little immaturely, he wondered if living with the surly professor would give him better opportunities to prank the man. Harry tossed away that train of thought before it could get any further. He knew upsetting Snape was a bad idea, especially while he was under the man's care. By now, he knew well enough not to provoke people who had power over him, certainly not when he might not be able to fight back.

Harry was brought out of his thoughts when he noticed Snape had stopped walking and was looking impatiently at him. Embarrassed, Harry picked up his pace to catch up. Reaching his professor, he looked around for a painting or door that would lead into Snape's quarters.

Nothing.

He wondered if Snape had finally cracked. The man was looking expectantly at the stretch of wall in front of him. As if detecting his derogatory thoughts, the Potions Professor turned and scowled at him. Harry stared resolutely at the wall, not wanting to risk peeking at Snape.

The older wizard focused his gaze back on the wall, looking for the carving guarding the entrance to his chambers. Once he found it, Snape pressed a fingertip to the head of the carving and spoke softly, being careful to not allow Potter to hear mostly out of spite.

Harry watched as his professor pressed a finger to the wall and murmured what Harry assumed to be the password. Cracks appeared on the wall, shaping the outline of a door.

Snape pushed forward on the door and walked into the room that was revealed. Harry followed uncertainly, hoping he wouldn't have his head bitten off for some perceived wrongdoing. The room was rather dark, though this was not unexpected; these quarters were located in the dungeons after all. The décor did nothing to brighten the surroundings. In fact, the rugs and chairs situated on the floor in front of the fireplace, being a dark indigo color, only added to the dark and somewhat dreary atmosphere.

Severus turned to consider the boy he would be forced to baby-sit until the start of term. He was not happy with the job, but he had done many other unpleasant tasks in the past. This would hardly compare. Potter was currently looking around the room in interest. He snapped the boy out of his visual exploration with his sharp voice.

"This is my sitting room. You will clean up after yourself when you use it." Pointing to a hallway on the right, he continued.

"Down there is your room, which is the first door, a bathroom, and my room, at the very end of the hallway. Do not enter my room without my permission, which you will not get." Harry watched as his professor gestured toward a doorway out of the sitting room and informed him it led to the kitchen.

"The door in the kitchen leads to my lab. You are not to enter it under any circumstance. If I ever find that you have entered it, I am sure I will be able to find a fitting punishment," he warned. Harry got the sudden mental image of being cut up and used in a potion.

'Well, no pissing off the Potions Master,' he thought to himself.

Harry sat in his new room, looking through his books. Snape had dismissed him some time ago, locking himself in his lab and leaving Harry to occupy himself. Harry was getting desperate to find something to end his eternal boredom. After the mini-"tour" of the quarters, the professor had informed of the rules he would have to abide by. The Gryffindor had to tell Snape where he would be any time he left Snape's quarters. He also now had a curfew of nine o'clock. After the lecture, the Boy-Who-Lived had just shut himself in his new room.

It wasn't all that bad, if you discounted the dullness. The room was a nice size, as was the bed and dresser. The walls didn't seem nearly as dreary as those in the sitting room, though they were still a dark indigo, with similarly dark wood trim. Maybe it was just the fact that he got his own room that made it so much more welcoming. He wasn't sure.

Harry sat back on his bed, giving up on the fruitless search for some form of entertainment. He considered just sneaking out, but he didn't feel up to dealing with an irritated Snape just yet. When boredom finally got the best of him, he pulled out last year's transfiguration text and started on his summer work.

…

It had been hours since he had shown the Potter boy his living quarters and hours since he had last seen the brat. He almost groaned at the damage that must have been done to his rooms during the time he had left the boy unsupervised. Severus wearily cleaned his workstation and relinquished himself to the horrors that lay beyond the door to the rest of his rooms.

Once he had left his lab, he was almost astonished with what he found. Everything was peacefully silent. No excess noise anywhere. Snape automatically figured something was wrong; nothing was ever quiet with adolescents around, he knew that from all of his years as a professor. As he reached the door to his guest's rooms, he listened a bit more closely.

Nothing.

Snape knocked lightly twice before opening the door himself. He never was one for waiting patiently and these were still his quarters. He almost rolled his eyes at the scene that met him. The Boy-Who-Lived was asleep over some parchment with textbooks piled on the floor beside the bed.

The Potions Master did not stay long. If the boy wanted to be up all night, far be it for him to ruin his plans. Either way, it didn't affect any of the professor's arrangements, as long as the blasted boy didn't get up in the middle of the night and wander off. Severus made his way back to his lab, intending to spend the remaining daylight hours bending over his bubbling concoctions before turning in for the night.

…

When Harry awoke, it was just beginning to get darker outside. A breeze swept through the room, tugging at the window curtains. Harry had taken full advantage of the window while he was working on his summer work. He couldn't be happier with his room now, especially given what he used to have as a room. An open window had always made a room seem less confining, and certainly less stifling. The thing that made the boy wonder was how he was able to open it and actually get a breeze. He was aware that magical windows could show the weather as it was outside, but never would have thought one could be opened. He knew the window had to be magical since he was sure that he was below ground level.

Harry shifted in his bed, growing restless. He did not feel like going right back to sleep, having just woken up. The boy got up and walked to the door of his room. Being uncertain if he would be yelled at for leaving the room, he hesitated before opening the door and making his way to the sitting room. The fire was still crackling away in the hearth, shedding a dim light throughout the room. Harry walked up to the sofa sitting in front of the fire. With nothing else to occupy himself with, he gazed at the fire. Lost in his thoughts, he never noticed as his eyes drifted shut into a troubled sleep for the second time that day.

…

…

…

Ebony Scales: Okay, please review. If anything seems inconsistent, feel free to point it out, otherwise, just give your opinion on the story so far.

(Edit 1/29/15) I've added a bit to this chapter, but not too much.