Disclaimer: You know they're not. How many times to I have to say this? J.K. owns them. The woman has written like six books. Geez!

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I'd like to thank someone who is perky! Some might say excessively so. I hope you folks are still following the Birthday Present; it's getting really good!Thanks excessivelyperky for all your hard work, and the tremendous talent you bring to the fanfic world.

Enjoy

Chapter 20

The Muggles in Town

Severus felt like it had been forever since he had spoken to the Headmaster, though in reality it had been slightly less than twenty-four hours. A lot had happened in a very short time. And as he filled the man in, Severus was acutely aware of a certain severity of the Headmaster's expression. He wondered several times if Albus was displeased with him. Severus wished the bloody old man would just come out and say if he was. This was typical Albus. Snape often felt in such situations he was expected to guess the source of his mentor's displeasure. He found this practice rather annoying, especially when he had been younger. He had sometimes admitted to, and was scolded for, transgressions Albus had been previously unaware of. Severus brazened forward as though nothing were amiss, a strategy that had served him well in the past.

Snape explained what he knew of Potter finding Hufflepuff's cup, which wasn't as yet very much. He also reported what he overheard of Potter's dream regarding Headmaster Dippet. Severus was fairly certain he saw Albus' expression harden a fraction more, and thought he had stumbled upon the source of the older wizard's irritation.

"I regret I don't have more information yet, Albus," Severus began apologetically. "I intend to talk to the boy further as soon as he awakens."

"Yes," the Headmaster said. "Do ask Mr.Potter to contact me via the Angelth when he awakens as well. I should very much like to have a word with him." At the Headmaster's tone Severus felt a sudden pang of dread in the pit of his stomach. It was the way he used to feel when he was a boy and knew he was in rather a lot of trouble. Strange how the old man's tone could still produce that effect in him. But still if Albus was annoyed with him he wasn't choosing to discuss it just now, Severus thought in frustration.

"Well it will be when I wake up as well, Albus, after I've had a bit more potion." Severus explained, hoping to mellow the old man's temperament by trying to get a bit of sympathy. Although he had been careful not to disclose the full extent of his injuries, nor the intolerable length of the Cruciatus

"Are you in need of a healer, Severus?" Albus asked, anxiety coloring the Headmaster's features. Severus was relieved to see the stern expression give way to a look concern. In previous years in a situation like this Albus would have insisted on a lengthy stay for him with Poppy.

"I can't risk it, Headmaster. You know I can't," Severus told the old man. "But I've been taking Cruciatuserum, brewed quite competently by Potter, if you can believe it. And I have every intention of recovering."

The Headmaster's expression grew stern again and Snape was on the verge of giving in and asking him if there was something he wanted to discuss. Snape toyed briefly with the thought that Albus might be angry with Potter. But he quickly dismissed it as ridiculous. When was Albus ever angry with Potter? Severus hadn't bothered to rail against the boy the way he often did with Albus. Potter had admittedly taken some reckless chances, which Severus would certainly discuss with the boy at length. But there was no denying the positive results of Potter's actions, Snape thought with a bit of irritation. Before Severus had a chance to decide whether to voice any of this, the Headmaster spoke again.

"No, I know you can't risk a healer, Severus" the Headmaster agreed. "But do take care, and rest well, my boy," Albus ordered with gentle concern.

"Of course I will, Albus," Severus promised, still greatly confused by the Headmaster's demeanor. He tried to push his disquiet aside as he closed the Angelth. When Albus wanted to tell him what he was upset about he would. Snape wasn't going to offer up possible suggestions. That never ended well, he thought, steadying himself on the side of the bed. Waving the door closed, Snape began the arduous journey to the wardrobe across the room for a nightshirt.

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Harry felt much better after downing the vial and a quarter dose of magic replenisher and set right away to brewing an organ mending potion for Snape. The man's Potions library was enormous, and most of the books had even more notations than the Prince's Advanced Potions Making text. Harry still separated Snape and the Prince in his head, although he found his feelings for Snape had changed a bit from what they had been at the beginning of the summer, not to mention the last six years. Although Harry had yet to sort out just why. In Harry's mind, the Prince was a peculiar kid about his own age, who was wicked smart with a slightly twisted sense of humor. And now that Harry had seen the picture in the front room on the mantel of the smiling boy on the beach, the Prince looked a bit like him. And Snape was...well... Snape was still pretty much still Snape, Harry thought, as he gathered the ingredients for the potion.

He carefully followed the directions from the Potions book, including Snape's written instructions that suggested gently folding in each ingredient to reduce the side effects, which were sweating and dizziness. The book was called, The Healing Arts: A Potions Guide to Internal Medicines. And Harry thought he might enjoy reading it when he was done making the potion. It was full of lots of potions you didn't have to brew in a cauldron. I really am in danger of turning into Hermione, the boy thought, with amusement.

Harry wondered how she and Ron were doing. He wondered about all the Weasleys actually, after Bill's death. Harry had only had time to ask Ron to look after Hedwig, and tell him and Hermione that Harry would probably be disappearing to continue his training soon with the person Dumbledore had chosen. He told them not to be alarmed or worry if he disappeared. He was sure they believed he'd be going with some member of the Order, and he didn't clarify their misconception. They had both been far too numb after the tragedy of the battle to ask many questions. And Harry hadn't mentioned that he was certain he would be leaving that night. And indeed, when the boy had entered his room after the battle on Privet Drive, Snape had been there to escort him away.

That seemed like a long time ago already, Harry mused, as he extinguished the flame on the organ mending potion to give the potion a chance to thicken. He ran a studious finger along the safe administration instructions. The text said that the potion needed to be taken with food, and Harry knit his brow remembering that there was as yet no food in the house.

After bottling up the potion and cleaning his cauldron with a flick of his wand, Harry made his way to the kitchen. He wondered if there might be any canned or dry goods about, like his Aunt Petunia always kept for emergencies. A search of the cupboards yielded nothing, and made Harry's stomach growl in protest. He was used to going without meals from years of practice with the Dursley's, but if Snape was to make use of the potion, they'd have to get some food eventually. Harry wondered a little at the oddness of being concerned about Snape's health.

He made his way out into the hallway, and he stopped in front of the Professor's bedroom door. After the slightest hesitation he gave a small knock, which should not have disturbed the man if he had already consumed the Cruciatuserum with sleeping draught.

"Enter," the voice instructed hoarsely, prompting an short fit of coughs. Snape had changed into a long grey nightshirt and was apparently settling in to take more potion and sleep. The coughing was not as pronounced as before, but Harry made note Snape was once again coughing up blood. And the boy was relieved to have brewed the potion.

"I said to rest in your room, Potter," Snape reminded snidely, when the worst of his coughing subsided. "Need I sketch you a little map?"

"I can manage, sir," the boy returned mildly. "While I was at it I brewed a bit of organ mending potion," the boy explained, moving forward to place the vial on the night table. He revealed the contents with a wave of his hand, which included the directions, to be taken with food.

"The Headmaster wishes you to contact him after you have rested," Snape told the boy.

Upon hearing this announcement Harry's hand gave a nervous little twitch, knocking the vial of white liquid toward the ground. With skill born of Quidditch and not some cool spell he had learned over the summer, he whipped his hand downward and caught the vial gingerly by the neck. Replacing it on the night table, the boy gave the vial a few gentle pats on the lid.

"Sorry." He muttered apologetically, though whether he was talking to the vial or Snape it was hard to tell. "Did he?" the boy asked after a beat regarding the Headmaster's instructions. "Well, all right. Sure," he said with false brightness. "The instructions are just there," Harry said quite unnecessarily pointing at the instructions left by the Revealo.

"Out, Potter," the man ordered with sweeping gesture. "Before I start to suspect you are Madam Pomfrey disguised in Polyjuice."

One half hour later found Harry determining he had gotten on much better with the Headmaster when the man was alive. The boy quickly decided that he should have indeed waited until he'd had proper rest before attempting a conversation with Dumbledore. The man had roundly scolded him for going after the Horcrux alone. Harry tried to defend his actions by pointing out that things had gone all right in the end, and that it had actually been easier than he imagined. If anything this served to make the Headmaster more upset.

"Hubris, Harry," he said sternly. "That will surely undo us in the end if you do not learn to moderate your brash and impulsive behavior." The Headmaster said in a tone that left no room for excuses.

Harry tried futilely to make excuses anyway. Not that he thought his actions that worthy of defense, he was just trying to find something to say so the Headmaster wouldn't be so cross with him.

"I know you meant well, Harry," the Headmaster said in a tone that was a bit more temperate. "But the time is past when we can allow you to rush headlong into any situation regarding the demise of Voldemort without sufficient planning."

The Headmaster ended the conversation by making Harry promise that he wouldn't take such a chance again without careful deliberation and the consensus of either himself or Snape.

Harry had agreed in a subdued way as he closed the Angelth. After his conversation with the Headmaster, Harry sat on the couch in his bedroom staring sullenly into the fire. Honestly, he had gotten along better with the old man when he was alive. The Headmaster never used to reprimand him like this. Harry felt a bit sorry for himself. Not to mention that Snape had yet to truly weigh in on the matter, Harry thought, with a bit more dread.

Though Harry thought he would not be able to rest after such a severe dressing down, he quickly fell into a fitful sleep in front of the fire. He dreamt about being in his cupboard. When Harry awoke many hours later the fire had gone out. The feeling of a very empty stomach, the darkness of the room, and the cramped ball he had curled into on the couch, for a moment made him think he was in his cupboard. He always associated it with hunger. Harry pondered that it had been a while since he had felt this hungry, as he stretched himself out on the couch. He had never spent such a well fed summer on Privet Drive.

They would need to get some food in the beach house sooner rather than later Harry reasoned, thinking of Snape coughing up blood again and the organ mender potion. Pushing himself up on the couch he waved up the lights in his room. The clock on the mantel read half four in the morning. Snape should be waking up from the potion in an hour or so, Harry thought, and decided that the easiest thing might be to go and get some food from the kitchen at Hogwarts. Fumbling through his trunk and donning a hooded sweat shirt, he warred with himself about whether or not to alert Snape. He listened intently at the man's door, then waved a silencing spell on the thing, and peeked in. The slightly uneven rise and fall of the older wizard's chest indicated he was fast asleep. Finally Harry opted to leave a note. He placed the square of parchment on the dining room table outside the kitchen before making his way out the front door.

When confronted with the darkness and the harsh sound of the waves slapping against the rocks, Harry was almost inclined to turn right around and go back inside. Casting a lumos maximus, he made his way down the brick stairway and hurried through the passage between the cliffs. Harry reached the end of the sand and made his way into the town proper, when the thought occurred to him that perhaps he needn't go all the way to Hogwarts in search of food.

He looked up at the little restaurant that he had noticed on his way back into town yesterday morning. Harry remembered lovingly the smell of frying rashers. Surely there must be food in the restaurant, the boy thought with a smile, as he looked around the empty town and headed around the back of the little building.

Casting a quick alohomora after looking around again, Harry made his way into the kitchen of the place. A large industrial refrigerator sat in the corner. Setting his wand on a low lumos and placing it on the edge of the counter, Harry wasted no time filling a bag with the ingredients for breakfast. Harry was just congratulating himself on his cleverness when the lights suddenly shown brighter than his wand could account for. And his wand would have certainly been more use than the package of tea he found himself gripping as a rather large and angry man pinned him into the corner.

"Just what is it you think you're doing?" asked the man in a low voice, while restricting Harry's access to air, by resting a burly forearm on the boy's wind pipe. "Eh?" the man snarled when Harry didn't answer quickly enough, and cuffed him with one meaty hand along side his head. Harry would have complained the answer was obvious if the man didn't outweigh him by quite so much. It was a painfully long distance to his wand, Harry noted, as the massive arm held him fast against the wall.

"Food, sir," Harry decided to try the truth first. "I was stealing food," he squeaked due to the lack of air, feeling a bit like Oliver Twist from the Muggle book.

"And why might that be?" the man asked.

Harry thought the pressure on his neck lessened a fraction and decided to continue in the pathetic little boy vein.

"Someone is sick at my house," Harry explained, sounding a bit pitiful in his own ears. "And there is some medicine he needs to take with food, only we haven't got any."

"Nor any money to buy any apparently?" the man said quirking an appraising eyebrow. Harry's baggy castoffs from Dudley made him look like the waif he purported to be. "And where might this house be?" the man finally asked, having relaxed his hold significantly.

Harry gave the general directions of the beach house, and was thinking about diving for his wand when he was surprised by the man's response.

"Old Albus Dumbledore's place," the man asked sharply.

"Yes, sir," Harry responded in dumb shock, all thoughts of his wand gone. He wondered if this big man might be a wizard. "You knew Dumbledore?" Harry asked incredulously, though it made perfect sense. The Headmaster had spent summers here.

"Knew him?" the man asked catching the past tense. "Is he...?"

Harry surprised himself by cutting the man off. Dumbledore didn't seem dead with the Angelth, but Harry just didn't like to hear that word applied to him.

"Last May," Harry answered the question he wouldn't allow the man to speak.

"Is it Severus who's sick then?" the man asked in concern.

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded his head mechanically. This man knew Snape too. Harry continued to nod, thanking Merlin he had not made it to his wand.

"You his boy then?" the man asked.

Still caught up in the up and down motion of his head, Harry realized too late that he had answered affirmatively to this question. He considered abruptly changing directions with his head, but wasn't quite sure how to explain who the heck he was. And he still wasn't sure if the man was a wizard or not.

"I'm Robert," the man offered his hand.

"Harry, sir," just first names then. Good, Harry thought, shaking the man's beefy hand.

"Well, grab your bag of food there, and I'll take you to see your Da," Robert said.

Harry looked at the man aghast. This misunderstanding was getting out of hand fast.

"Well, you see, sir," Harry began. "He's not really..."

"Come on," Robert said. "He shouldn't be that hard on you if he's as sick as you say."

"Right," the boy intoned. Up until this point Harry hadn't carefully considered that he might be in trouble with Snape for this. Now that he thought about it, he probably would be. And if Robert was a wizard it would probably be worse.

"Take the bag," Robert instructed again, closing the refrigerator door. "Mind you don't forget your wee lantern," the man said, pointing to Harry's wand still set on lumos on the counter top.

Well that answered one question, Harry thought

"Nox," he whispered as he put the wand in his pocket.

Harry briefly considered Obliviating the man, but he wasn't sure how it worked with Muggles. He hadn't even been sure how it worked when he had tried it on Filch. Harry thought of the other spells he might use, as the man pushed him out the way he had come in with a gentle pressure on his shoulder. No spell made sense without altering the man's memories, Harry thought in frustration.

This was precisely why Dumbledore had been upset with him, Harry realized abruptly, as he stepped out into the early morning light. He was constantly going into situations with only half an idea and no plan at all. What if Robert hadn't gotten the upper hand and Harry stunned him, only to later find out he knew Snape? Harry wished he had continued on to Hogwarts. Better still, he should have just waited for Snape to wake up and asked him what to do about getting some food in the house. That would have been a novel approach, Harry thought, with recrimination.

"Get in," Robert said, indicating a little red jeep. "I understand you folks not having any food if you just got in." the man continued once they were strapped in. "But surely Severus has the money for a few groceries, so his son doesn't need to go about behaving the thief," Robert suggested as he started the engine.

Harry didn't know whether it bothered him more that he had muddled things to the point that he was being mistaken for Snape's son, or the fact that the man was probably right. Snape probably did have Muggle money. And if Harry hadn't been so anxious to do things on his own, he could have asked him.

"I'm sure he does, now you mention it," he told Robert. "He was asleep when I left. The next medicine he needs to take has to be taken with food. I just wanted to have some food in the house when he woke up. I guess I didn't think things through very clearly. " Harry said miserably as the jeep bounced along what was apparently the back road to the beach house.

"I'll say," Robert's quick agreement struck at his pride.

"Well, I've never visited the beach house before," Harry explained. "I wasn't sure how we got food." Harry realized it probably sounded strange to this Muggle. It didn't sound that logical to him.

"Well you picked an interesting method," Robert allowed, as the pulled up along side the house.

Harry led the way slowly up the brick stairway. As he and Robert entered, Snape was sitting across the room at the dinning room table apparently just having read Harry's note.

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Snape folded the square of parchment and placed it in the pocket of his rope. He greeted the two new arrivals with a quizzical expression and pulled himself up painfully by the edge of the table. He felt much better after the second dose of Cruciatuserum but movement was still more difficult than normal. Snape hadn't seen Robert O'Brien, the owner of the town's restaurant in about a year. He wasn't at all sure what to make of his appearance with Potter, but if the boy's guilty expression was anything to go by, it was not good news.

"Hello Robert," Snape said as he made his way toward the front entrance.

"Severus, you look like shite," the man said quickly, crossing the distance from the front door to the dinning room and extending his hand.

"Why thank you, Robert," Snape returned dryly as he took the proffered hand.

"Your boy, Harry, told me you were feeling poorly," Robert explained, indicating Snape should sit back down.

Snape looked around the beefy man and quirked a questioning eyebrow in Potter's direction.

"My boy did, did he?" Snape responded, gesturing Robert to sit as well. Potter was a vibrant shade of red and looked as though he might be experiencing difficulty breathing.

"He did," Robert affirmed. "When I caught him stealing food from my place." Robert explained, with false casualness.

"Stealing?" Snape questioned sharply, fixing his dark gaze upon Harry. The boy looked imploringly down at the hardwood flooring as though willing to swallow him whole.

"Still not sure how he managed to get in," Robert said conversationally. He purposefully ignored the tension that had sprouted between the man and the boy. "But he tripped the silent alarm right enough."

Harry looked up briefly at this news, and then looked down again as if silently cursing himself. Snape glared at the top of the dark head few moments longer before speaking.

"Did you manage to steal any tea?" the man finally asked in a snide tone. Harry looked up as if to discern whether or not it was a genuine query.

"Yes sir," he admitted.

"Make some," Snape ordered.

"I didn't know you had a boy, Severus," Robert said, as he watched Harry scurry into the kitchen.

"His mother and I were not married," Snape explained truthfully shooting the boy a look across the little counter opening that allowed him to see part way into the kitchen. The boy said nothing as he readied the teapot.

"I was sorry to hear about Albus," Robert continued sincerely.

Snape nodded his head lightly in appreciation. "How is Liam?" Severus asked, indicating the elder O'Brien, Robert's father.

"He's well. He'll pleased to know your back," Robert smiled. "He'll be sad to hear about Albus," the man added.

"How much do I owe you, Robert?" Snape asked the man after a few moments silence.

"I'd be happy to have you settle up when you come into town for a meal, Severus," O'Brien offered.

"Nonsense," Snape retorted. "Potter," he said tersely. "On the counter there is a ceramic cow. Bring it here." When the boy complied, Snape removed the top half of the cow to reveal a collection of folded notes. Counting out a few he handed them to O'Brien.

"No, that's far too much, Severus," the man complained and handed two notes back.

"Wow," Harry said looking at the cow. "I didn't think to look in there."

"You were searching the house for money, Potter?" Snape asked in the same hard tone he had been favoring with the boy since they had arrived.

"No sir," Harry explained. "Dry goods. I'll just put this back shall I?" He said as he made his way back the kitchen

"Potter?" O'Brien asked. "The boy doesn't have your name?"

"It was the name of his mother's husband," Snape again gave a truthful answer, and felt he was in far too deep to end this charade. What was it with the Muggles in this town? They always wanted to place people in neat family units. It had been the same with he and Albus. Many years ago Robert's father, Liam, had insisted on assuming that Albus and Severus were father and son. And they had remained father and son to the residents of Glenbeigh ever since.

Harry arrived with the tea and served each man a cup before retreating again to the kitchen.

"He seems a fine boy." Robert told Snape as he watched the lad go.

"You caught him robbing your place of business, Robert!" Snape said, incredulously, barely stopping himself from spitting out his tea.

"I'd never begrudge anybody food," the man said sincerely.

"He should have more self control than to let a little thing like an empty stomach cause him to behave like a criminal," Snape said harshly. "I mean to make that clear to him when you've gone."

"Ah, don't be so hard on him, Severus," Robert entreated kindly. "It wasn't his own belly he was worried about anyhow. He said there was some medicine you were taking that needed to be taken with food." The man explained. "What's the matter with you anyhow? If you don't mind my asking."

"It's a bit complex," Snape said, indicating that he did mind.

"Let me know if I can do anything," O'Brien offered.

"Of course, Robert, thank you," Snape said sipping his tea.

"So you've not spent much time with the boy then?" Robert asked. "You said you and him mum weren't together.

"At times it feels like I've spent entirely too much time with him," Snape admitted, not without a hint of amusement." He's a student at the school where I taught, which means I have spent an inordinate amount of time punishing him for wrongdoing. Apparently nothing has changed."

"Where you taught?" Robert questioned the past tense "You're not at the boarding school anymore then?"

"I quit after Albus' death. Most people there only tolerated me because he was around." Snape was amazed how true that felt.

"Did Albus, have much of a relationship with the boy?" Robert asked then.

"He absolutely adored him. The child could do no wrong in his eyes." Again Snape thought that truer words were never spoken.

"Its that way with grandparents." Robert opined. "But you just give yourself a chance with the boy and try not to be such a hard arse about today." Robert advised. "The boy meant well. He did it out of concern for you." The man said as he finished his tea and rose to leave.

Snape nodded to indicate he had heard the man and rose to take his hand.

"It was good seeing you, Robert." Snape told him.

"You as well, Severus. Feel better."

The boy emerged from the kitchen to see O'Brien to the door to offer an apology.

"I'll see around this summer, Harry, " the man said giving the boy a friendly wink before leaving.

After closing the front door, Harry seemed to brace himself as he turned to face Snape. The older wizard was amused to note that the boy seemed most apologetic about having mistakenly given O'Brien the impression they were father and son. Snape found himself reassuring the boy that at least that part of the morning's events was probably not his fault. Snape explained that he and Albus had been mistaken in exactly the same way.

"Well, not precisely the same way," Snape amended. "I didn't try to rob the place. Albus would have hexed me to within an inch of my life if I had. Whatever were you thinking?" Snape asked the boy, surprised that he didn't sound nearly as stern as he had intended to.

"I guess I wasn't thinking and that's the point," the boy said in a tone that was remarkably like self-reproach. "Could you do me a favor and not mention this to the Headmaster?" Potter asked.

"And why should I not, Potter?" Snape asked intrigued. He hadn't actually considered mentioning it to Albus.

"He was just already really angry about my going after the Horcrux alone. I don't want him to hear about this on top of it." Potter explained.

"How do you know he was angry?" Snape wanted to know. Albus angry with Potter. That made no sense.

"Well it was pretty hard to miss what with the way he told me off," Potter explained in a chagrined tone. "Just please don't tell him, sir. I mean you can punish me if you want to. I'd just appreciate it if you don't tell him." The boy wasn't quite begging.

"I can punish you if I want to?" Snape inquired snidely. "I'm certain I don't need your permission, Potter." However, Snape didn't really feel like punishing the boy. It was odd. Punishing Potter was usually one of his favorite activities.

"I just hate to disappoint the Headmaster again so soon," Potter explained. "Do you know what I mean, sir?"

Snape knew exactly what he meant. To most people Albus was a twinkling old man offering lemon drops and words of wisdom Few save himself, and Potter apparently, experienced the myriad of facial expression that lay beneath the twinkling, and the stern words that were some times offered without the benefit of lemon drops. Potter was ruining all his fun, Snape thought a bit petulantly.

"Were I you, Potter," Snape said finally, in an extremely stern tone. "I should also concern myself with not disappointing me again so soon in the future."

"Right, of course," the boy responded, seemingly caught off guard by the instruction. "Things happened pretty fast, and like said I wasn't thinking. Then I considered Obliviating him..."

"You and I would be having a much longer conversation in that case." Snape cut him off with a severe look. "I hope I don't ever learn that you have so casually used such a dark spell, Potter."

The boy appeared to swallow hard. "I really hope you don't either," the boy responded fervently.

"Now then, what were your plans for the food you stole," Snape asked, abruptly changing the subject.

"My plans..." the boy began, confused. "To cook it, sir?" He offered uncertainly.

"Extremely logical." Snape conceded. "Proceed." he ordered.

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After a breakfast of fried potatoes, rashers, scrambled eggs and the sweetest roasted tomatoes Harry had ever tasted, the boy found himself surprised to have gotten off so lightly with Snape. After taking the organ mender and plain Cruciatuserum, Snape did discuss the pensive and the Horcrux while they ate. But he didn't come down nearly as hard on Harry as the boy thought he was going to.

They had actually spent most of the time discussing how Harry had managed to Occlude his thoughts. The boy had explained that he had used some of the information from Graydian Crawlenton's book, but at Snape's warning expression was quick to point out that he had cast a concealment charm on the Professor's personal notes.

"I actually thought most of the book was rubbish," the boy admitted. "The bit about the Occlumency pathway for example," Harry explained, "couldn't figure that out for the life of me. Maybe I need to study it a bit more," he offered, blaming his confusion on his own inability to comprehend.

"Although that was the method by which I was instructed by the Headmaster," Snape began cautiously. "That was not the way I chose to instruct you."

Harry had raised a surprised eyebrow at the mention of Snape learning the skills and Occlumens from Dumbledore. But otherwise no greater understanding had been brought forth by the man's words.

"It requires a certain familiarity," the man continued as though thinking aloud. "But perhaps if we tried now," he said as if slowly coming to a decision. "It would make any further instruction easier. Yes." The man said after a moment, and with finality. "I believe we should attempt to establish a pathway now."

"What, right now?" Harry asked in shock.

"Yes, Potter. Right now." the man said banishing the breakfast dishes with a determined air. "There needs to be physical contact," Snape explained. "It is simplest if we hold hands," the man said, offering Harry his hand across the table."

"If we hold what?" Harry asked looking at the man's hand like perhaps there were a basilisk egg hidden in it. Snape seemed to be amused or something, Harry noted, mildly horrified.

"It requires a certain intimacy, Potter," the older wizard explained.

The boy looked a bit skeptical and continued to stare at the older wizard's hand.

"Oh, for the love of Merlin, boy!" Snape finally exploded. "Take my hand, or so help me I'll hex you."

"Hey," Harry retorted. "Take my hand or I'll hex you, doesn't fit in very well with the gentle, trusting whatever in Crawlenton's book."

"You said the book was rubbish." Snape reminded him.

"I said I didn't understand it." Harry corrected.

"You will. Take my hand," Snape ordered.

Harry hovered his hand indecisively above the older wizard's expectant palm.

"Sometime today, Potter," Snape said in amusement.

"Okay, okay," the boy said moodily. Who would have thought Snape would be this amused when he wasn't torturing him? Harry thought. Of course this was a bit like torture, Harry reasoned. Taking a deep breath, Harry brought his fingers down to rest lightly on Snape's outstretched hand.

Hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are good. Keep 'em coming.