AN: Hi ya'll! Hope you are doing well. I have a long weekend so I'm enjoying some relaxation before my finals this week! After that I get three weeks off before I start some summer classes, so Im looking to update more a week during that time! Right now I'm listening to the OoTP audiobook to make sure I remember to cover the important stuff! As I said previously the summer will take up quite a few chapters because I have some fun things planned :D

Let the Snape slumberparty beginnn. I'm sure he will love having a chaotic roommate ;)

The water fell from the slightly rusted faucet, filling a tub that looked as though it had never been used before. Snape straightened himself and reached into a cupboard, pulling two, very soft looking towels from it.

"Are you going to drown me in the bathtub now," Penny said, arms crossed, her mood still sour.

The glint in Snape's eyes elicited a scowl from her, causing the corners of his mouth to twitch. After setting the towels down, he turned back and retrieved a small basket which he thrust at her.

"Don't tempt me," he warned.

"What's this?" Penny asked, confused by the objects wrapped in pretty colors and bows within the basket.

"Why does it not surprise me that you do not know what soap is," Snape said, taking a strand of her red hair between his fingers and giving it a look of utmost disgust.

A giant grin spread across Penny's face as she looked between the basket and her Professor, trying hard to suppress her laughter at the absurdity of the situation.

"Be sure to wash thoroughly ," Snape said, letting go of her hair and making to move past her.

"Not even a house tour and you're forcing me into the tub? Where are your manners."

He stopped just beside her and turned his head ever so slightly to look down on her with that contemptuous expression of his.

"I have no use of pleasantries. You will do as instructed while here, no questions, unless you'd prefer I return you to that half-breed of course," he said, returning to the demeanor of severe potions master who did not tolerate misbehavior.

"I suggest this one," he said after a moment's pause, and handed her a very pretty bottle with a yellow label that read 'ylang ylang.'

"There's just the minor technicality that I don't have any of my own clothing to change into," Penny called after him as she popped the lid open and smelled its contents.

She had to give the man some credit, it smelled amazing.

"I"ll leave something outside for you." And he shut the door with a snap.

Penny submerged herself into the scalding hot water. It was curious to think of Severus Snape as a melt-your-face-off kind of shower man. She'd imagined him as a man who hated all nice things, including comfort and would have opted for the cold shower. The man never failed to surprise, that was for sure. Penny did her best to scrub the disbelief from her, along with the filth of the evening's experience. She rubbed herself raw trying to remove the memory of that horrible boy's hands on her. The situation, though had only occurred less than an hour prior, already felt so far away, as though experienced in some other life. Her brain did not seem able to catch up with the day's events, and some part of her felt like she would open her eyes and be at the Dursleys.

She pinched herself a few times to no avail. Snape really had dragged her back to his own home. But why? He'd been so infuriating, why had he relented? Was this just a pit stop? Perhaps he put her in the tub to distract her while he summoned Lupin. It'd be rotten if he had, but she tried not to think about that. Instead, letting her aching limbs and brain drift off to the glorious fumes of ylang ylang.

When she felt like she'd probably been in the tub too long, she got out and dried herself, breathing in deeply the hint of bergamot on the towel. Was that what it was, his laundry detergent? Wrapping herself tightly, she peered out the door and found a neat pile of clothing on the floor waiting for her. She snatched them and shut the door quickly.

What had Snape pulled for her to wear? Surely he lived with no one else, what would he have that'd fit a girl her size? The shirt was a tattered black t-shirt that definitely did not look like it would fit him now. Paired with it was slim grey sweatpants that also looked absurdly small for the grown man. She stared at them, confused until an idea crossed her mind. Had these been Snape's when he'd been somewhere around her age? Why would he keep them this long? That was something only a mother would do. . .unless. Penny had a hunch, but could not be sure. Was this the home Snape grew up in, if so, where were his parents? He wasn't old enough for them to be dead of old age, yet.

Penny pulled the clothing on and laughed at her reflection. It reminded her of Harry, always too scrawny for his clothing. A twinge of guilt panged at her heart at the thought of her twin. He was probably worried about her, and the last exchange she'd had with him had been an angry one. She wished she could tell him she was sorry, but those kinds of expressions were never enough for Harry. He always wanted to understand why, to dig into the feelings Penny was scared of sharing.

With a sigh, she pushed her feelings down and left the bathroom, carrying her dirty clothing in a pile in her arms. Snape had led her through a secret door behind the bookcase to get upstairs, but she didn't get the chance to look around. She creeped slowly down the hall, though she did not know why, it just seemed appropriate in the dim light, toward a door across the hall that stood ajar; the orange glow of a fire speckling the worn carpeting.

Silently as she could, she pushed the door open and peered inside. The room within was maroon, a fact that Penny found comical considering the Slytherin Head of House's hatred for all things Gryffindor. There was a small sofa that sat in the middle of the room facing a tall window, its curtains pulled over it. To the right of the sofa was the fireplace, a display of several beverages in pretty bottles lining the mantle.

At the opposite side of the quaint room, placed before the window was a desk, and at it sat her potions master, absorbed in the parchment he was scribbling on. Dotting his I's and crossing his t's he set the quill down, stood and walked to the fireplace where he waved his wand over it, turning it a shade of puke green before tossing the note in.

Penny stood awkwardly in the doorway, uncertain how to proceed. He'd given no indication he'd noticed her, but something about the stiffness in his shoulders made Penny think he knew she was there and was ignoring her on purpose.

"The sofa does not bite, Ms. Potter," he said, massaging the bridge of his nose.

"What should I do with-" she started, but he waved her clothing away before she could finish. Her toes happy to enter the warm room, she made her way toward the sofa, but stopped when he finally looked away from the fire at her.

His dark eyes appraised her appearance, making her nervous as they scanned her from her feet to hair, lingering when they met her green eyes. Even from the distance between them, Penny could see the way his pupils dilated. Penny broke the gaze first, taking her turn to look over him in his muggle clothing, black as per usual. However, his short sleeved shirt brought attention to his right hand. It flexed and clenched several times subconsciously. When Snape followed her gaze, he seemed to realize he was doing this and he turned away quickly to select a cup to fill with a golden beverage from one of the pretty bottles that looked to be almost empty.

He downed it in a gulp, considered the bottle for a moment, then poured another one.

"Stop gawking, Potter, You might as well make yourself comfortable," he said, gruffly.

Penny did as she was instructed, curling against the corner furthest from Snape and finding the cushions blissfully soft. Drowsiness washed over her but was interrupted by the fireplace turning green again. A small note flew out of it and landed in Snape's outstretched hand. His eyes darted across its contents and then he crumpled it up and tossed it back into the fire.

When he turned back to her, he looked more himself. That careful facade of composure and indifference back in place.

"You may remain here, if that is your wish. Black, as to be expected, has thrown a tantrum about the arrangement and my presence is requested. If you would like to change your mind, now is your opportunity."

"I want to stay," Penny blurted out, more quickly than she intended.

"Then I will be back in an hour. You are to stay in this room. Do not leave it and do not answer the door under any circumstances, do you understand me?" said Snape, the sternness in his voice startling Penny.

A shiver ran through her spine spiraling outward into all her limbs, but she nodded, questioning her choice. Unable to hold his hard gaze a moment longer, Penny let her head flop sideways against the couch. Snape meanwhile, crossed the room and leaned down, reaching just over her.

A wave of bergamot and booze went crashing into her face, the smell of them mingling with the vibrations that Penny always felt coming from him beckoned her toward him. She sat up a little, looking up. He froze where he was, his hand clasping something just behind her head and looked down at her. His features were shrouded by the dim light that only reached half his face. They deepened the lines around his mouth, reminding her of the other side of Snape she'd witnessed this evening.

Part of Penny wanted to ask Snape what in life had led him to becoming a Death Eater, but he was straightening himself up before the thought could make it to her mouth. He pulled a quilt that had been folded just beneath Penny's head with him. With one good shake, he opened it and then laid it over Penny.

"Thanks," she mumbled, her eyes too heavy to watch him go.

She was fading quickly, her body unable to resist the exhaustion a moment longer, but she thought she heard him say "The cat's name is Bixby," before the darkness took her.

Penny blinked, confused, she'd been sure she'd just been in Snape's sitting room, but darkness surrounded her now for as far as her eye could see, except for a faint light that flickered in the distance. The flutter of light was so faint she couldn't even be sure it was real. The space around her felt grossly heavy, as though it were closing in on her. She moved her feet forward after the flicker of light, but she stumbled, the path before her covered in something, but what, she did not know.

Her feet scuffed against the ground, sending several things rolling loudly. It was obscene how loud her steps felt in this tiny space. Several paces behind her, she heard something stirr, sending a horrible prickle up her spine.

"Hello?" she said, feeling the fear in her chest swell.

A low growl was the only response. Focusing on the fluttering, Penny scrambled in terror, certain she wanted to be as far from whatever was behind her as possible, but the more she tried to move the more she stumbled, until she could barely keep herself upright. Out of nowhere, something firm clasped her ankle, it almost reminded her of a hand as it began pulling her to the ground. She yelled in disgust and kicked at it.

With great effort, she managed to pull herself loose, but the grasp was quickly replaced by another on her left foot. This time Penny fell, landing hard on cold, squishy ground. Just as she rolled over, she felt something burst through it beside her face. Whatever it was groped around as blind as her, until a frigid hand found her face, digging its nails deep into it.

Penny cried out in fear and pain, trying to pull herself free, but many more hands burst from the dirt, reaching for any part of her they could find. Her skin screamed out in pain, nails puncturing it, pulling her downward as though dragging her back under with them. She writhed and pulled, but there were too many of them and they easily overpowered her.

The earth around her was sliding aside, making a crevice for her and then crawling over the top of her. She choked and spluttered as the dirt worked its way into her mouth. In horror, she realized she was going to be buried alive. With one last burst of effort. She managed to sit up in the hole that was being formed around her, but then something heavy pushed her back down.

With still no light to help her see, Penny could discern nothing, that is, until the growling mass of flesh hovered itself near her face and she saw nothing but a pair of glowing red eyes. Something hot, wet, and fleshly slid its way across her face.

Penny choked, cold spiraling forth from its touch, filling her lungs with frigid water. And then she was being pulled downward again, her lungs screaming in desperation for oxygen. The dirt piled over her face as Penny tried with all her might to let out a blood curdling cry.

Swinging her only free hand wildly, she reached for anything in the dark. Her hand collided with something warm and she clung to it, yanking herself up. Everything beneath her disappeared like the laws of gravity no longer applied to her.

"Focus. It's only a dream."

The words reached her ears as though they were spoken from right beside her. So she looked, the world around her becoming distorted almost like the static on a tv when she flipped through channels the Dursleys did not have. The blanket was being lifted off her eyes, Penny registering the light of a dim room around her.

The red eyes were gone and the hands, the grotesque hands were replaced with a pair holding her shoulders. Snape was leaning over where she lay, his cold finger moving to her neck to check her pulse.

"You should have taken the sleeping draught."

"No!" Penny said, her heart speeding up at the thought of falling back into the hell-scape that was her dreams.

"You know full well it's a dreamless sleep."

Penny knew she was being absurd, but something about the dream felt too real, making her afraid it was not a dream at all. She also knew dreamless sleep was notoriously hard to rouse from, making it the ideal go to when rest for severe injuries was needed.

"I'm not tired anymore," Penny said, stubbornly, sitting up and nearly colliding with Snape's face.

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter, it's 3am, and it's evident you haven't slept for days."

"I don't care. I won't go back there. I can't-" Penny said, staring past his face at the fireplace just behind him.

"That is because you are allowing fear to dictate to you. To be afraid is to give up. Despair, hatred, anger, darkness, you are not helpless against them, they belong to you, if you don't like them, transform them. But do not fear them, or they will transform you."

Penny turned back to her potions master, her brows furrowing. His dark eyes looked tired, exhausted almost, but they held no lies. No, there was an irritation there, an irritation at her refusal to do something he made sound so simple. Was that how Severus Snape did it-spied on Voldemort for Dumbledore. Did he transform that fear of being caught, but into what?

He flicked his wand, a small blue vial appearing in his hand.

"What if I can't do it on my first try and I end up in that place-" Penny said, trying to scoot away from Snape, but she was already pressed against the arm of the sofa, Snape sitting half perched beside her.

"I have already told you-" he began, the exasperation thick in his voice.

"If you won't listen to me, I'm not taking it!" Penny said, turning decidedly away from him.

"Fine, Potter, since you are afraid of the monsters under the bed, I shall stay, but you will take this," Snape said in irritation.

"If I so much as twitch, you will wake me up," Penny said, turning to survey him suspiciously.

"Would you like me to leave the light on as well?" he said, sardonically.

"No. But prove you're staying."

He sighed in annoyance, but flicked his wand again. A second blanket zoomed into the room and into his hands. He slid to the opposite of the sofa, leaving the vial with Penny, pulling the blanket open and laying it over himself. Then he set his feet on the foot rest, crossed his arms and laid his head back, closing his eyes.

Penny watched him closely for a couple of minutes, noting how his exhaustion worked the irritation out of his face. It was strange seeing his guard fall, knowing his mind was seeking that which her mind was desperately trying to avoid.

" Now , Potter, or I will force it down your throat myself," he said in an uncharacteristically gravelly tone.

"Swear you'll-"

"No."

"Fine. Goodnight."

"Good riddance," he replied.

Sticking her tongue out angrily at him, Penny uncorked the vial and took the whole thing in one swig, the world falling into darkness once again.

"I want to hear you say it."

"I'm not letting your ego get off on my struggles," Penny said, pulling the blanket off herself.

Snape got up and made his way toward the door, an annoying smirk on his face. Penny remained stuck to the couch, uncertain if she was supposed to follow him or not. Anticipating her dilemma he said, "If you wish to eat, come."

"I'm not a dog," Penny scowled, but did as she was bade.

He led her to the right, toward the skinny staircase that ended at the door hidden behind the staircase. They crossed the cramped downstairs room and made their way through a door in the corner that led into a pristine kitchen that did not look as though it belonged with the front half of the home. Beautiful pans hung from the wall beside an impressive display of knives. For a moment, Penny imagined Snape murdering her with one of them but the thought quickly passed when he pointed her toward a plain wooden chair set at a table for two, and began rummaging around in a cupboard.

The cleanliness of the kitchen was unnatural, reminding Penny of Aunt Petunia's kitchen, however, this one did not contain a single appliance, not even a toaster. Penny knew with magic, such things were unnecessary, but it still felt too odd to her.

Wordlessly, Snape set two cups of foaming coffee before her. She looked down at them, a small smile forming at the corners of her mouth. She pushed the second glass to the other side of the table before the empty space there, her thoughts wandering as Snape chopped something rhythmically behind her.

Penny snapped back to herself when something began frying loudly.

"What's in there?" she asked, looking at a door just behind the second chair.

"Nothing to concern you," was the only response she got.

While it was obvious the intent was to keep her away, it only sparked her curiosity. Was Snape hiding something? It was a question Penny wanted the answer to.

After about twenty minutes of cooking, Snape set a plate before her and conjured a chair for himself, avoiding the place across from her.

"You made this?" Penny said, feeling thoroughly impressed.

"Obviously. What did you think I was doing?"

"Making a lot of noise," Penny shrugged.

Giving her a look that told her he was trying very hard to resist the urge to call her stupid, he said "You will not leave anything on that plate."

"Okay mum," Penny replied with an eye roll.

He ignored her and began reading that weird paper of his, leaving Penny to try her best to eat. She hadn't eaten at all the day before and her stomach was screaming for food. However, after a few mouthfuls she felt that familiar nausea rise inside of her.

Without so much as looking at her, Snape flicked his wand, sending a mug toward her. Penny peered inside, finding a small slice of lemon and ginger sitting within. Penny sipped it, finding blessed relief in her stomach. It was slow going, but if she sipped the warm water between eating, Penny found herself able to keep the food down and actually finished her food, which had been better than anything her aunt had ever cooked for her.

When she'd finished, Penny looked at the cold cup of milk and coffee across from her, feeling guilty for the sense of ease and satisfaction within her. How could she let them make her forget so easily? Could a good night's sleep really change how essential Cedric was to her? The thought overcame her with sickness. She swam with a sudden dizziness, turning just in time to vomit all over the floor beside her.

She choked, coughed and struggled. The retching shook every muscle in her body, making them contract agonizingly. She could do nothing to stop the waves, hot thick tears intermingling with the swamp of her breakfast. Snape pushed the table away, scooping up her hair so she did not get any in it.

After a minute or so, the convulsing eased and Penny could breathe again, reaching for a napkin to wipe her mouth. Meanwhile, Snape cleared the mess and handed her a glass of water. Penny drank it, aware he was reading her, searching for what she was trying hard not to share.

"Torturing yourself will not bring him back," he finally said.

"I want to see him again, just one more time," choked Penny.

"Once would never be enough."

"He was right there, in that tunnel, and I just let his hand go. I should have held on, but I didn't," Penny went on, hot tears pooling around her eyes.

"You are letting regret alter your memories. It will snatch all the truth from them. If his memory means that much to you, then find the strength to preserve it accurately."

"I don't know how- it hurts so much. I want it to go away, for all of this to be a dream. I want it to stop, I can't do it," Penny cried, allowing the horrible pain in her chest to escape in a violent wave.

"You can go no lower than this, so stop resisting, let it tear you apart. And once it has, try again." Snape demanded through clenched teeth.

Penny buried her face in her hands, hating every word Snape spoke. She did not want to feel this pain because she could not bear it. He made it sound so easy, as though this were some test she did not study hard enough for, and next time, if she tried harder she would do better. How could she make him understand the loneliness that was hacking at her soul, slowing carving her away from herself, plucking her piece by piece, forcing her to watch as small chunks of herself were thrown to a monster for a snack.

It was too much for Penny, the anger that boiled within her made her want to strike him. It was not fair that she should have to feel this pain. The fact that the world kept moving without him infuriated her. She wanted someone to pay, wanted to face Voldemort, make him empty like the emptiness he forced upon her through vacant grey eyes. Unable to contain it a moment longer, Penny got to her feet, picked up her mug and lobbed it at the door with a loud scream. The adrenaline pumped through her as she watched it shatter, however, it did not satiate her. She needed more, to make anything and everything hurt. So she reached across to Cedric's mug, watching it with the kind of hunger she did the first.

Snape was upon her before she could reach the plates, coming up behind her and pinning her arms to her side with ease.

"Get off me," Penny snarled, struggling against him with all her strength.

"No. You will face it whether you like it or not," he hissed in her ear, as he fought against her.

Penny was panting from the effort, but nothing she did gave her the upper-hand. The man was too strong, and she too weak.

"I won't-do it, I won't," Penny yelled, feeling the tears rising in her chest again.

"Then I will. Cedric Diggory is dead!"

"Shut up!"

"You will never get to tell him the things you left unsaid,"

"Stop it!"

"You will never know what your future could have been."

"If you keep going, I'll never forgive you," Penny choked, trying to keep the tears at bay.

He paused, and for a moment she thought she was free, that he would relent, but instead he cleaved her heart in half.

". . .because he is never coming back."

A stillness settled over Penny as the words that felt so cold washed over her, ping ponging off the inside of her brain, pressing further inside, forcing her accept these words and the truth of them.

The anger was gone to be replaced with the horrible constriction within her chest. The blackhole within was growing, sucking in every piece of her, pulling her apart and crushing her at the same time. It sent any light she had left scattering away, enveloping her in its void.

She trembled and let her silent tears go. The arms restraining her sides released her, one wrapping around her chest, pulling her closer to him, the other pressed against her forehead, pulling her head back to rest against him.

"You don't have to do everything alone, you fool," he said angrily in her ear, his hot breath tickling it.

The wave of bergamot crashed into her and she sucked it in, desperate for its comfort. It was something she could always rely on. Allowing her body to meld against his own, she reached up and took a hold of his forearm with both her hands, willing him to hold her tighter to keep her from falling apart.

She clung to Snape for dear life, certain she was only in one piece because of his arm around her. Engulfed by his presence, Penny allowed the grief in, crying and yelling when it demanded that of her, enduring the all consuming pain of it when it wracked her body-all the while, Snape held her together, reminding her to look for that small fluttering light at the end of her tunnel.