"Get up, Potter."

Harry rubbed at his eyes and tried in vain to clear all thoughts and feeling from his head, getting shakily to his feet to meet the cold gaze of his Potions Professor.

"The last memory," Snape said, in a voice as cold as his eyes. "What was it?"

"I don't know," Harry muttered. They'd been at it for nearly an hour, and his head had long since erupted in an insistent pounding, his scar prickling away like he'd run a hot iron over it. The memories had all started to meld together in one dizzying rush. "You mean the one where my cousin tried to make me stand in the toilet?"

Until he'd seen the memory flash by, Harry had forgotten all about that happening. The faint, cruel glint to Snape's eyes told him that the memory wouldn't be forgotten too quickly by its witness. "No," Snape said softly, "I mean the one concerning the door in the hall."

Door in the hall…Harry furrowed his brow and tried to think past the throbbing in his skull. "I think that was from a dream I had. Why?"

"A dream? Describe it," his professor prompted, angling himself so that his hips rested against the kitchen counter. "Were you yourself standing in the corridor? Do you have any idea of where you were?"

"I…dunno," Harry said, looking around at the kitchen. Snape's house always looked oddly surreal after the whirl of memories. It was probably the lingering strangeness of being inside of the man's house; sometimes he still found him struck by the reality of it all. Ron and Hermione's letters had only helped to ground him a little. "Stone walls and a black door are all I remember. Is this place important?"

"No. It is not. But your failure to block it out is, Potter, because you should not be having strange dreams. In fact, if you were to practice, you would not remember very many of your dreams at all." Snape's eyes were narrowed. "Tell me: have you been clearing your mind each night before you fall asleep? Or are you content to allow the Dark Lord in? Does it make you feel important, Potter? Does it make you feel special?"

The Snape from earlier, the one who'd bought him clothing for his hearing and those books, had drained away like it had never been there at all. Harry felt slightly taken aback. That only made him angrier. "That's not—" He shook his head furiously, glaring at a crack in the floor's linoleum. "I'm not doing it on purpose! I'd clear my mind if only you told me how!"

"From the way you daydream through theory lessons, Potter, I suppose I'd come to assumption that you already knew how to not think ," Snape said. "Perhaps we should have a lesson on that, instead."

"Yeah? All right," Harry said roughly. "Teach me, then."

To his surprise and vague dread, Snape nodded shortly and unhitched himself from the counter, stepping forward and drawing his wand again. "Clear your mind, Potter, and we'll see where your weak points lie. We'll move forward from there."

Harry backed up a pace and contemplated drawing his own wand. "I thought you were going to teach me to stop thinking."

"Don't be a fool. I'm not about to attack you," he snapped back. "Prepare yourself. I'll be breaking into your mind one last time. One, two— Legilimens! "

Harry was wholly unprepared for the latest bout of Legilimency, and had barely half a second to attempt to clear his mind and empty himself of feeling before Spinner's End vanished and a long reel of early memories he hadn't even known he had began flying by. He was watching Dudley open toys, Dudley and his friends gathered around the TV eating ice cream while he cleaned the kitchen floor, Uncle Vernon yelling indecipherable words as Aunt Petunia spoke on the phone in the background with her lips pursed and eyes tight—the slam of his cupboard door blocking out all light, and the sound of his family eating dinner as Aunt Marge loudly gave his uncle tips on the proper technique in caning ungrateful whelps—

He only lasted a few more memories before his knees cracked against the floor and the room swam back into focus. His breathing was coming in too quickly; though it wasn't very hot in the house, he was coated in a layer of cold sweat, shivering like he had a fever. The cupboard had felt so real. The darkness, the helplessness and desperate loneliness, the hunger, the fear and dread of what was to come…

You're not in the cupboard, he told himself, as Snape's voice pressed against his ears in what seemed like a foreign language. You're not on Privet Drive. You're in Cokeworth.

"Potter!"

"I—sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," Harry babbled, getting quickly to his feet from where he'd scrambled to press himself into the corner and blinking hard against the haze that was still attempting to smother him. "I didn't—it was an accident—don't lock me in—"

"What the hell are you going on about now?" Snape demanded.

The spell he'd found himself under broke quite suddenly, and Harry realized where he was and who he was with. Mortification prickled up his spine; he was horrified to find he had tears in his eyes, and blinked them away rapidly. He—was in Cokeworth. Cokeworth. Harry looked up to find that Snape hadn't moved, but he had his right arm slightly outstretched, like he'd reached a hand out and then thought better of it.

"I'm not feeling too good," Harry mumbled, unable to raise his voice out of shame. "C-could I just…"

"Yes, perhaps it's best that we end our lesson here," said Snape. He was watching him carefully. "To bed then, Potter. Clear your mind before you fall asleep."

Harry found himself too achy and feverish to change into his pajamas. Toeing off his trainers, he dropped onto the sofa and dragged one of the blankets up to his chest, shivering underneath it. The sound of Snape rattling around in the other room became nothing but white noise as the pounding in his head drew him back into the haze lingering over him like a sheet. He dropped off quickly, and dreamt of a long hallway lined with torches, and a solid black door that wouldn't open.

—

The door to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, looked more forbidding than it normally did.

He didn't want to be here. He never wanted to come here, always content to keep away from others and their mockery, but this time more than ever, he wanted to leave immediately and never return. Severus closed his eyes and leaned his head against the grain of the door with a deep sigh. He'd—made a mistake the night before. Cursing in front of the boy while there was a witness. Destroying things in front of the two of them. The goddamn Calming Draughts. Severus supposed taking Potter out to get clothing and books was as much of a way to release his energy as it was a subconscious way to potentially relieve collateral damage. Make Potter focus on his out of character niceness, and perhaps he'd ignore the outburst.

Lupin wasn't one to be drawn in by such things, however. And that was going to be a problem.

You've really fucked things up this time, you stupid cunt, he told himself darkly, finally opening the door and stepping into the chill of the foyer.

It had been raining since late last night, and the damp had driven out whatever remained of the heatwave, leaving the sky desolate, gray, and cold. He'd worn a thicker pair of robes in anticipation for the weather. They didn't help in the darkness of Grimmauld Place; he held back a shiver as a ghostly wind crept over him. The children whispering overhead sounded eerie. Opening the door to the basement, he swept down the stairs into the kitchen to find only a smattering of Order members milling about.

While the room had been mostly quiet before, it fell silent upon his entry, before the conversation stuttered back up like there had never been a lull at all. Severus placed his usual load of potions onto the nearest empty space of counter he could find and stepped back into the shadows to hide and spy.

The kitchen smelled warm and sugary, like homemade sweets baking in the oven. Severus inhaled the scent as discreetly as possible and swallowed back against the sudden longing pressing into his throat.

The Occlumency lesson the night before had been an absolute shitshow. It had begun normally enough, around the same as their first lesson, but it had quickly devolved into something wholly unexpected. Severus hadn't been prepared for it in the slightest. He had no idea what had triggered the sudden change in Potter; halfway through casting Legilimency, a sort of terror had come over him, like the boy had seen someone gruesomely murdered. Severus hadn't seen anything particularly traumatize in the whirl of memories. There hadn't been a death, or an accident. What had brought it on? And then the…abrupt burst of apologizing…

"I didn't mean to," the boy had said. Didn't meant to do what? "Don't lock me in."

"Good evening!" the Headmaster announced from the doorway; Severus did not startle. "Molly, my dear, what is that wonderful smell?"

"It's for after supper, is what it is," Molly Weasley shot back, though her smile was as warm and inviting as the pudding she was preparing. "Will you be staying, Albus?"

"Of course, if you shall have me." Dumbledore placed a hand briefly on her shoulder, and then headed for his usual seat at the head of the table. Everyone began to join him. Hesitant to move into the open but too anxious that someone would take his usual place besides Albus—the safest seat for him in this pit of a kitchen, away from Black who always stayed at the other end—Severus sat down and pushed all thoughts of the Occlumency lesson out of his head. "I do hope you will all forgive me for calling you in without warning…I know how busy your schedules are, so I will get to the point. Each person here has been entrusted to keep the secret of Harry's whereabouts. A number of you have addressed your concerns to me. I believe it would be in our best interests to converse openly and lay those worries to rest, so that we may move on and continue with our duties, free of fear over Harry's safety. Who would like to go first?"

Oh, shit, Severus thought, as more than half of those gathered all began to speak at once.

"How can a fifteen-year-old boy be a safety threat?"

"What sort of town is he in? Is the house safe?"

"Has he been in contact with any Dark objects?"

"My godson—"

"Is he being properly cared for?"

"Enough!" Albus ordered, and the room fell silent again. He cast a stern gaze over them all. Severus couldn't help but wonder if he was going to be blamed for the outburst. "As I said before, this meeting is meant for us to converse openly. We are all adults. Squabbling amongst each other will get us nowhere. Now—let us try again. Who would like to go first?"

"I will, Albus," Molly said quickly, before anyone else could speak. "Is Harry being properly cared for? He's a growing boy who needs plenty of food and space. I've read many letters from my children over the years, Albus, about the cruelty of their Potions Professor—and Ron has never been quiet about Severus's targeting of Harry during school hours. He belongs with those who care for him."

"Molly," Dumbledore said placatingly, hands raised, "I can assure you, Harry is being adequately provided for. Remus has been visiting every three days to ensure his living situation is a safe one."

"He's well-fed, Molly," Lupin added in. "I was there just the night before, and I stayed for dinner. The refrigerator was quite full."

"Of healthy foods?" she shot back. "Or snacks?"

"Healthy foods. Vegetables, fruits, and fish. There may have been a bag of crisps, but that was the extent of it. I promise."

That was the extent? Had Potter eaten all of the fucking Oreos? "Were you going through the pantry, then?" Severus snapped.

The warning look the wolf sent him sent his paranoia skyrocketing. If he spoke badly to him, would Lupin reveal everything? "Harry has a place to sleep, he has unlimited access to a shower and kitchen, and Severus has promised to key his wards to allow Harry's owl inside to deliver letters. He is not isolated or without entertainment. He's even nearly finished with his summer assignments."

"And the safety of the house itself?" Kingsley asked. "Is it properly warded, Severus?"

"I shall know if anyone sets foot within twenty feet of the perimetre," he said coldly. "I have extensive wards set, and they are strengthened weekly. I have alarms set around different sections of the town. I know of Potter's whereabouts at all times."

That had been the wrong thing to say.

"At all times?" Black repeated, eyes narrowed into slits. "What did you do, you greasy bastard? Put a Tracker on him?"

"Is that a problem, Black?" Severus asked. His fingers curled around his wand hidden in his robes, ready to use it at a moment's notice. He wasn't fifteen anymore; he wouldn't take Black's shit lying down. Years' knowledge of Dark spells whispered at him. The warm, sugary scent in the room smelled more sickly sweet now than anything, like Black's very presence had soured it. "Would you rather I leave the boy unattended in my house, free to roam the streets without supervision of any kind? Or, no, I forgot—you believe a boy of fifteen should be allowed to join a war, and fight to the death."

"Are you calling me a bad godfather, Snivellus?" the mutt snarled, standing with a screech of his chair.

"Of course not," Severus said, sneering back at him. "A good godfather would know to keep a child out of an army, and would know to tell said child to focus on his safety rather than fighting, and—ah, you know, I do suppose I might be describing you after all. How is the cleaning going, Black?"

This meeting was not going well, Severus thought as he and Black pointed their wands at each other.

"That is enough!" Albus stood as well, and the air positively rippled with energy. Everyone froze, eyes fixed on him. "Severus, you have made your point. I will not see allies fighting like children. Harry is safe and well provided for. The purpose of this meeting was to ease nerves, but I can see all this is doing is fraying them."

"I want to see him," Black said swiftly, planting his hands on the table and leaning forward. "Pardon me for not believing Snivellus's take on my godson's safety, but—"

"Sirius," Lupin cut in, "I was there myself. Harry is doing just fine."

"Why did you feel the need to stay the night, then?"

Severus's heart froze in his chest for a split second.

"Severus asked me to test an improved version of Wolfsbane," the wolf said, without skipping a beat. "I was sicking up all night. Trust me, Sirius—you wouldn't want to watch me vomit green goop all night long. The color would have clashed horrifically against the carpets."

He resisted the urge to look at Lupin, Occluding against any suspicious feelings and fear. Was this some sort of blackmail? Defending him against Black—and for what reason? As an example of what things could be like if he behaved himself? What would Lupin be asking for in return? He already made Wolfsbane for him free of charge. What would it be? Money? Potions? Better behavior? Or— "If that's what you want" —sexual favors?

Severus struggled not to get up and flee the house. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. Then, having sufficiently grounded himself, he tuned back in to the meeting just in time for Albus to disband it entirely. Molly immediately busied herself with pulling what he now saw to be treacle tart out of the oven. Arthur struck up a conversation with Tonks and Moody. Severus slowly stood and headed for the door.

"Severus. A word, if you will?" Albus said from behind him.

Fuck. "Yes, Headmaster?" he said shortly, turning round and heading right back to where he'd started. Lupin was there. Black was on the other side of the kitchen, glaring at him suspiciously, clearly only half-listening to Kingsley, who was muttering to him about something.

"Remus tells me Harry found himself in some trouble yesterday evening," Dumbledore said quietly, expression quite serious. "Was he unharmed?"

"Quite." Severus did not look at the wolf. "I gave him permission to go to the grocery store on his own. The boy decided to take a detour and find a place to rest for a time. The issue has been taken care of."

"I decided to stay the night to ensure no arguments would erupt between the two of them," Lupin said, glancing at him apologetically. "We made dinner, and that was the end of it. Harry is in no danger at Spinner's End."

Albus smiled at them both, though when his eyes met Severus's, he still seemed to be searching for something. He Occluded harder and made himself empty. "And what of Occlumency, Severus? Has Harry been making decent headway?"

"We had our second session before I sent Potter off to bed and set out to join you here. He is making very little progress, Headmaster," Severus said, and even to his own ears, his voice sounded distant. "I had mistakenly assumed the boy knew how to clear his mind. Tomorrow, I will be rectifying the problem. Potter now has incentive to work harder—I have offered him a deal. If he is to prove himself in Occlumency, he will be allow certain freedoms. Access to the local library, primarily."

"Wonderful," Albus said quietly. "I'm sure he'll work hard. Now…is there anything either of you wish to tell me?"

He knew. He knew something anyway, the manipulative coot. "Not at all," Severus dismissed, and made a show of checking the time. "Headmaster, I must be off. I have a potion that will be needing tended to."

"Ah, Severus—just a moment." Lupin stepped closer, and Severus could nearly feel the warmth emitting from him, even from a few feet away. He swallowed hard. "I meant to apologize to you for intruding last night. I had a hand in helping Molly make that tart, there, and I was hoping you would take some for Harry and yourself. It's his favorite. And I was wondering if I might come over tomorrow afternoon, to work on Harry's Charms work with him. He'd mentioned he was having slight difficulty with it."

"Have a good night, gentlemen," the Headmaster said with a faint quirk of his lips and a twinkle in his eye. Severus glared back and muttered an affirmative to Lupin in what he prayed wasn't a 'go fuck yourself' voice. The wolf forced two slices of treacle tart on him before he was able to make his escape.

The tart, Severus grudgingly decided as he scarfed it down in the safety and silence of his dark bedroom, was delicious.