He had to jog to keep up with Snape's long strides as he stalked down the hall. It was a large house – probably a manor – and Harry would have got lost if he were left to his own devices. Snape suddenly stopped at a door and tapped the doorknob with his wand. It swung open to reveal another fairly large room. On the far wall was a four-poster bed with deep blue and silver covers, and alongside one wall was a bookcase. There was a desk and chair, and various other armchairs dotted about the open fireplace. A door inside led to the bathroom, with Harry could see was done up in marble.

"You will stay in these rooms for the next week. You will not come out unless I say so. I will lock you in. When you are hungry, Floo the kitchens and simply ask for food. I expect you to respect these rooms and I will be displeased if you leave them looking like a bombsite." He quirked an eyebrow at Harry's disbelieving gaze. "I am not a nice man, Antares. You will find that out from people at school within two minutes of setting foot into the castle,"

Harry nodded and lowered his head. He manoeuvred his trunk into the room. The door closed behind him with a click. He set his trunk down and removed his cloak. As he sat down on the bed, reality began to creep into his mind from the recesses of his subconscious.

Dead. They were all dead. Now, the blood protection was void. He had no safe haven (even if it was hardly a haven to begin with). They had never really cared for him, but still – they were relatives, and he refused to think ill of them.

And Sirius. Dead. That was his fault, certainly. If he hadn't been so big-headed and arrogant, if he had listened to Snape and actually bothered to learn Occlumency rather than think he knew better, Sirius would be alive.

But 'if only' was a pointless phrase. He had no time-turner. He couldn't go back and convince himself to learn. He couldn't bring Sirius back, there was nothing else to it. Sirius was dead and he was staying that.

But knowing something doesn't make it any easier to accept.

Tears were running freely down his face by the time that he realised his face was wet. He growled and brushed at them furiously. Damn it.

Suddenly the door opened again. Harry started and blushed as Snape walked in. The last thing he wanted the man to see was him crying.

"Here," Snape said, holding out a blue potion. Harry stared at it. "Take it, boy," Harry didn't move.

"What is it?"

"Sleeping Draught. You may need it,"

Still Harry refused to touch it. Sighing angrily, Snape set it down on the bedside table. Harry stared up at him with shadowed eyes.

"We will be going to Diagon Alley on Tuesday to collect any supplies." He paused, as though he wanted to say something but couldn't bring himself to, Finally, he managed to get his tongue around the words. "Floo if you need anything," he said hastily, then closed the door again. Harry would have smirked had he not been so depressed. That was nice for Snape. Harry wondered vaguely what Dumbledore must have said to him.

He lay down on his bed, stretched out cat-like. His new body was definitely unnerving to say the least, but he supposed that he would get used to it. Closing his blue eyes, he considered running off. Well, he would have done, but Snape had so kindly decided to lock him in like a caged animal. Perhaps he could teach himself to Apparate? No, probably not. No doubt the manor would have anti-Appartion wards littered all over it, knowing Snape. And the windows were probably charmed shut. Harry growled and rolled over, climbing off the bed and crouching down next to his bag.

Rummaging through it, he found the pack of Muggle cigarettes – Benson and Hedge's – and shook one out, flicking his lighter open. Taking a long, satisfying drag on the cigarette, he moved over to the window and tried it. To his surprise, it opened, and he sat on the windowsill, one leg in, one out, staring out across the grounds.

An avenue of cherry trees led down the drive to the gates, which Harry could see were wrought iron – very typical. A small lake was over to the left, and a rose garden was partially visible behind a large oak tree. He couldn't see the boundary of the land, but the village was in sight, and it looked pleasant enough. He was contemplating taking his broom out for a spin when the door slammed open.

"Antares! Where's the fire?" Snape yelled urgently. Harry started and slipped off the sill, tumbling out of the window. He reached out and grabbed hold of the stone ledge, dropping the fag so he could use both hands. His arm scraped across the rough stone wall and he looked down, instantly regretting it. His fingers began to lose grip as one potions-stained, long-fingered hand grasped him by the wrist and hauled him back into the room.

He rolled unceremoniously onto the floor, shaking slightly. A pair of black boots stepped into view and Harry slowly raised his head to look nervously up at the furious face of the Potions Master.

"Care to explain yourself?" he said softly. Harry bit his lip.

"I was just getting some fresh air, sir."

"Then why did my smoke wards suddenly start screeching at me that there was a fire in these chambers?"

Harry grimaced.

"There wasn't a fire, it was… um… a cigarette."

"A what?" Snape asked irritably.

"A cigarette. Look." Harry stood and walked over to his bag, taking out a cigarette and showing it to Snape, who peered at it like it was a bottle of some unknown potion.

"What do you do with it?" he curled his lip.

Sighing, Harry lit it and took a wonderfully long drag, blowing the smoke out down to the left, careful to avoid Snape's robes. The Potions Master looked at him, interested.

"May I?" he asked, holding out a hand. Harry shrugged and handed him the joint. He placed it delicately in his mouth and sucked hard. He started coughing immediately, dropping the cigarette on the floor. Harry seized it straight away and looked cautiously at Snape, who was going red in the face.

"Have a drink of water."

Nodding, Snape conjured some water and gulped it down. Once he was recovered enough, he turned on Harry.

"What just happened?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"You just tried your first cigarette." Harry answered calmly, sticking it back in his own mouth. Snape seized it, dunking it in the glass of water, causing a small plume of steam to float out into the air. Harry glared at him crossly.

"That won't be easy to re-light, you know."

"Did you know that this will not be tolerated once you arrive at Hogwarts? If you continue with this disgusting habit, I shall have to inform the other teachers."

Harry scowled.

"You can't prove anything."

"You forget. I'm a Potions Master."

Snape swept out of the room, leaving behind a particularly irritated Harry Potter.

After several hours of investigating every nook and cranny of the rooms he was in, he managed to find something that would probably be very useful. Behind the desk, right in the corner, he found that the carpet was loose. After careful prodding and muttered obscenities, the small panel near the floor had slid back to reveal a passage that automatically illuminated when he opened the door. With a glance over his shoulder for no reason, he crawled into the space, once through, he heard the door slide shut behind him.

He crawled continuously for a good five minutes, meeting various junctions and quite a few areas where the passage was higher and much wider and he could turn around. Suddenly he came to what looked like a similar door to that which he had come through. Pushing gently, the panel slid open.

"You don't understand. I have no choice."

Snape's voice came from somewhere above him; twisting his head around, Harry could see that he was in what he presumed was the library. The panel had slid back between two bookcases, and Harry could see Snape's feet under the shelving, along with another pair.

"He will not be pleased, Severus."

Lucius Malfoy.

"I just said I have no choice! Dumbledore has foisted him upon me. But don't worry. He's only here for the week. But on to other matters. Is the meeting ready for next year?"

"Everything has been sorted out. Hopefully there will be no glitches, but nothing can be guaranteed. I trust you are faring well?"

"Yes, thank you Lucius. Our escapade earlier left me slightly tired, but I am now fully recovered. Now, if you would excuse me a feel that I should probably go and check on the brat to make sure he hasn't killed himself or anything like that."

Harry shuffled backwards down the passage and used Point Me to get back to his rooms, heart thumping wildly in his chest. As he straightened and dusted off his clothes, Snape knocked on the door.

Sorry this took so long, I was kind of busy. OK then, this fic will hopefully be updated once a week, maybe more often if I get enthusiastic - I have up to Christmas written, it's just being tweaked.

Reviews are nice. Please tell me what you think, otherwise I'll have no clue!

I'll love you forever...

Oh yeah FireOpal claims copyright on the title, peeps.

smokey