A/N – Next chapter up and ready to roll. Hope their was a bit more flow to this one than the others and a bit of a surprise at the end ;) Cant wait for feedback, good or bad. Thanks a mill and enjoy! ~silvermoonfae

Disclaimer – I do not own anything remotely related to the fantastic world of J.K Rowling!

Parseltongue : ^...text goes here...^ (you should recognise it once you come to it)

New Beginnings and Surprises

Harry couldn't sit still. He was restless with suppressed energy at the prospect of escape today. Finally he was out of this prison (no offence to Madame Pomphrey). Nothing could displace his excitement today, not even knowing who he was going to spend the rest of the summer with. Nope it didn't bother him at all. Well . . . maybe a small bit. But at the moment, getting rid of the boring whitewash walls, and sterile bedding was well worth the price of living with Professor Snape. He was just waiting on the man himself, to return and present the all clear to him from Madame Pomphrey. Yes he couldn't wait! Bouncing his legs and biting his lip in anticipation, staring out the bright window at the sunny day that seemed to reflect the teens own mood. He was completely unaware of his surroundings, so focused on controlling his inner excitement and the hope that he wouldn't have to see the inner workings of the infirmary for a long time. Therefore, he failed to notice the shadow approaching him,until a hand gently stilled his bouncing legs.

He flinched at the unexpected contact, closed his eyes and took a deep breath to ward of the encroaching memories that threatened to overwhelm him and tried to relax and take stock of the situation. The hand quickly retracted and he cautiously peeked out from beneath his messy bangs, only seeing voluminous black robes. He sighed angrily, arms crossed tensely, refusing to meet Snape's eyes. He was annoyed and ashamed with himself. Why couldn't he train himself from constantly flinching the whole time? It never usually took this long at the beginning of every other year and usually he had it down by a week at the very maximum. It wasn't supposed to be this hard!

Snape watched the boy struggle with his emotions. It was painfully clear that the child was embarrassed by his reaction. But he knew it would take a lot longer to heal his issues this time round. The other times he more than likely suppressed his emotions, buried them deep within himself, locked away, until the start of the next summer, never fully resolving them. He placed a hand sympathetically on the boy's shoulder ignoring the tensing.

"Don't be ashamed of your reactions." he assured quietly "You will heal, just keep in mind that it wont always be like this. Hold onto that thought like a lifeline, when the days seem dark and dreary and hopeless. OK?" he soothed.

The now subdued child nodded apprehensively. He angled himself away from the professor as much as possible, his whole demeanour screaming of a world weariness. He hated it, the problems he had. Even away from his hateful relations, he couldn't be normal. It made his relatives derogatory words, such as the commonly used 'freak!' , all the easier to believe.

"Come Harry, you've received the all clear from Madame Pomphrey. So you are released from this 'prison' finally, and I believe you have been literally itching to get out of here all day now." he arched an delicate eyebrow in question, head cocked slightly to the side, eyes glittering with some unknown emotion.

Harry's countenance brightened perceptively, the light returning to his eyes, making him look more his age, even though his small stature indicated otherwise. It warmed him to see glimpses of the child that Harry should have been and not the abused child he was.

"Come then, follow me." he motioned. He waited until the child extricated himself from the bed sheets and retrieved the crutch he was to use until such a time his strength returned. When he was ready, Snape turned gracefully to the door yet visibly restraining himself from the usual sweeping steps and billowing robes theatrics , instead accommodating himself to the slower patter of the child on his crutch. "Please, take care to note the route we're taking. I don't want to have to spend all my time chasing you around the maze that is the lower dungeons." Snape impressed upon him.

Harry resisted the temptation to roll his eyes at the slightly condescending tone of the Professor. Five years in the castle and him get lost? Son of the marauders, lost? Yeah right! But as they ventured deeper and deeper into the bowels of the castle, he began to take heed of the professor's words, eyes wide in disbelief. This couldn't even be classified as a maze. It consisted of twists and turns, crossroads and intersections and turns everywhere you looked. He wasn't willing to admit defeat. He wasn't willing to admit he was completely and hopelessly lost in the wake of the professor's footsteps. How an earth did the Slytherins manage to manage to navigate through such an intricate labyrinth. He now had a new-found sense of respect for the Slytherins with the simple fact that they never seemed to be late for class, thus he came to the conclusion that they never got lost.

Snape saw the hopelessly lost look on the boy's face and the determination not to admit any weakness. He was laughing internally, he knew the boy would never find his way in just one trip down to the dungeons, but hopefully it would take his mind off of where he was going. He was well aware of the child's reluctance. Early on his Slytherins learned to navigate their way through the bowels of the innermost dungeons, learning every twist and turn, every shortcut, thus having a sense of respect for the castle itself and its secrets.

Finally, the first straight Harry had seen devoid of any turns or intersections loomed, leading to a dead-end. Two paintings adorned the walls opposite each other. One of a tall dark, handsome man, with striking forest green eyes, and a snake draping around his lean frame, a sword propped on the wall of the portrait, on which the man was lounging lazily against.

The second was a depiction of two snakes, the same but opposite. One black with a white underbelly and eerie white eyes. The other was pure white, with a black underbelly and creepy black eyes. They were twined around a tree, both moving in complete synchronisation, as if they were two halves of a whole. They fascinated Harry and he was inexplicably drawn to them but the professor steered them towards the portrait. But he kept in mind to investigate later.

"Ah professor, how are you?" the portrait smoothly inquired. It reminded Harry unwittingly of professor Snape.

"I'm fine, thank you." Then turning to him he introduced, "And this is my charge, Harry. Harry, this is Salazar Slytherin." His eyes sparkled in amusement as Harry's jaw dropped with an almost audible thunk.

^Ssuch a rudess boy, ssstaringss at uss^ Hissed Salazar's companion.

^Now, now Adalinda, be politess^ Salazar scolded.

Coming to his senses, Harry bowed politely, hissing ^my apologies, my lord, I wass jusst sshocked, I did not meanss to be impolite.^Salazar and his snake, Adalinda, seemed quite shocked themselves.

"Ah Severus, a speaker, and such a polite young 'un as well. How did he manage to evade my house?" Salazar asked, arching an eyebrow, again, reminiscent of the Professor. While the professor himself seemed mildly amused at their interaction.

"He duped the hat into placing him in Gryffindor," he answered in a strangely strangled tone. If only he had gotten into his house. They probably would of discovered this situation a whole lot sooner.

Salazar gave a hearty laugh, "Ah yes, a true Slytherin indeed, if he managed to deceive the sorting hat."

Snape inclined his head in polite acquiescence, before giving the password. "Fleur-de-lis!"

Salazar bowed regally, "As you wish Severus." Then he turned to Harry, eyeing him interestingly. "I hope to speak to you again, young speaker." And with that the portrait slid aside, revealing the door and allowing them entrance to the professor's quarters.

"Remember the password, Harry. I shall inform you of any changes beforehand," he advised beckoning Harry to enter.

Harry stepped awkwardly into the portrait hole due to his crutch. But with an almost impossible twist and tangle of limbs, he managed to climb through. At first glance, he thought he had stepped into the wrong portrait hole. Surely, this wasn't the professor's quarters. Firstly it was bright, especially for being situated down in the dungeons. It wasn't dark, dank or damp. No cobwebs or spiders (not that he minded those), no eerie candelabras, no coffin, no vials of blood. It was light and airy, decorated in deep blues and greens and silvers. Not a black object in sight. It was kinda cosy, with a worn, but comfy-looking, midnight blue couch in front of a roaring fire. The walls were lined with bookshelves, showcasing thousands of books.

The portrait slammed suddenly, shocking the teen back to reality, cringing at the angry sound reverberating around the room. He relaxed, when he perceived no threat and brushed a hand wearily through his messy hair, once again berating himself mentally. He really needed to get this whole multiple personality thing under control. He could be perfectly fine, full of confidence and what not at one moment, and like the flick of a switch, he could be a bundle of nerves, cringing and flinching at every small move, every slight noise. It was wearing on him mentally, not to mention the shame that accompanied it.

Snape was entertained hugely by Harry's reaction .Obviously, like most other students, he expected a vampire's lair, and after all these years of cultivating the terrifying dungeon dwelling image, he honestly wasn't surprised or offended. Especially after encouraging many of the rumours abound about himself, as they aided him in his death eater role. None, not even the teachers ever ex[expected him to have such eclectic and tasteful pieces in his quarters.

But at Harry's cringe to the portrait closing, he was saddened once again. As he said before, it was going to be a long road for the young teen. A long hard road. Coaxing Harry to the settee beside him, he waited for the boy to calm himself as rested his crutch on the arm of the chair and settled tensely down.

Harry was nervous at being so close to the professor, and scooted over as far as he could on the small couch, until he rested himself against the arm of it. He could see Snape was saddened at his automatic response, but honestly he couldn't help it. He never liked being close to any adult males for fear of the power they held over him, and so he always kept his distance. It was an inherent fear, something he had no control over and something which he despised! He needed control, yearned for it. But he was ready, tense, to bolt if necessary, but attentive all the same.

Snape knew how Harry was feeling. He could see the stress he was under trying to control his instincts. But he needed to reintroduce him slowly to situations such as these. It was all in the process of healing. Nice and slow! Making himself as relaxed and non-threatening as possible, he summoned tea with a hint of chamomile to soothe both their nerves, and with a polite thank you from the child before him, he began.

"I am laying out some ground rules for your duration here. As I said previously, we'll keep your day as structured as possible, thus I shall be detailing your schedule also. Firstly, we'll cover some basic rules." He paused, noting the fear and trepidation appear on the child's face at that last statement.

A common trait amongst abused children was their quiet disrespect for any rules and regulations. From experience, though strict rules had been set for them, in the eyes of the abuser, the child always broke them, thus resulting in harsh punishment. On top of that the rules were always changing, and the child was not kept update, again receiving punishment. In their eyes they couldn't follow any rules, so what was the point. They took the consequences silently. Rules and punishment went hand in hand for these children. So Harry's uneasiness at his present situation was understandable, but with hope, he could wean the child off that misconception, with a set of specific, restricted rules, not liable to change.

"To start, you are to abide by your schedule at all times. This will help you keep your mind focused and help me locate you at all times in case of emergencies. Any changes needing to be made should be discussed with myself beforehand. Secondly, you are to attend every meals, no skiving as many of your medications must be taken alongside your meal. Next, you are forbidden to enter my private potions lab," here he gestured to the heavy duty door on the far side of the room, "unless accompanied by myself. There is a bell beside the door if you are in need of me. Just ring it once or call a house elf. Fourthly, you are never to be in any pain., whether physical or mental. I'm to be told immediately. And lastly, if you have any problems, no matter how insignificant you deem them, please come and speak to me before they fester and poison your mind. Clear?" he asked. At Harry's small nod of concurrence, finished this present issue. "There are also some everyday rules, such as generally keeping your room tidy and cleaning up after yourself and making sure your are presentable from day to day."

Taking a deep breath he continued, "Pressing forward to the next issue, and that is punishments."He ignored the shudder that ran through the teen at this and the dramatic draining of blood from his face. "These will consist of the likes of chopping extra potions ingredients, cleaning cauldrons, being grounded, etc., etc. I will emphasise, and keep doing so until we manage to convince you, I will never raise a hand to you, EVER. You will be punished for infractions against any rules. You will also be punished if you ever put your life in danger. I shall not tolerate that, no stupid Gryffindor shenanigans or heroics. Understood?" Another tentative nod of accordance and then to the last issue.

"As regard your schedule it shall proceed as such : after breakfast which is promptly at 8 am, you will spend two hours studying. After that you will have two hours free time in which we shall then break for lunch at 12. At 1 you have another two hours study session, then again two hours free time, in which we shall break for dinner at 5. That evening you have an hour just to talk about what you have suffered." At Harry's almost inaudible groan he delved forward "This is necessary and not up to negotiation. It can be either with me or a trained profession such as a mind healer, whichever you would prefer." But he knew that Harry would pick him, someone he was somewhat familiar with.

"You sir, please, if I have to," Harry whispered resignedly.

"Very well, after your session, the evening is yours to do what you will within the confines of the quarters. Fair enough?" Snape asked, trying to involve the boy. Give him some semblance of control.

In truth it was more than OK. Harry had more free time than he expected to receive. He thought he would be forced into spending his time on all manner of potion related tutorials. He could live with this for the most part. Except for the part of his 'therapy sessions' in the evenings. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, but definitely not something he looked forward to.

"Good, follow me and I shall show you to your room." Slowly and exaggerating all his movements for the cautious lad to follow, he made his way to the corridor off the main room, Harry trailing warily behind leaning heavily upon his crutch, relieved that their close proximity had ceased for the moment. Down the corridors their were three doors, two directly opposite each other and one to the end of the hall.

"My room." Snape gestured to the door on the left. "The main bathroom." He pointed to the door at the end of the hall. Harry turned to the remaining door so. . . "Your room" Snape finished his thoughts. "Go ahead" he nodded to the door.

Though he didn't show it, Snape was nervous. Sure he had dealt with abused and depressed kids before, but none to the extent of what Harry was. And indeed none he had to decorate and choose a wardrobe for. He hoped it would appeal to the child.

Harry slowly pushed the door open, not knowing what to expect. Immediately he was calmed by the arrangement. Perhaps the professor was into feng shui? (A/N could you imagine, lol). The room was decorated in warm colours, calming blues of different shades. The room just flowed together to achieve a serenity. It was huge, well by Harry's standards anyway, a four poster double bed, situated centrally against the back wall. Bookshelves lined the wall on one side, some filled, the other half waiting for him to fill them. A welcoming fire crackled in the fireplace and two comfy armchairs placed in front on a thick tasteful rug made for a cosy relaxing or reading area. In another corner was a huge solid desk and lamp, with his school books and wand stacked neatly on it completing the study area. The other wall held two doors. Harry looked at Snape questioningly, wondering what was behind those doors.

Snape understood immediately, " Bathroom," indicating to the first door, "And walk in wardrobe," pointing to the second.

Harry was smothered by his emotions once again. Never before, had he a room to call his own. Outfitted just with him in mind. His eyes glittered with unshed tears. "Mine?" he croaked disbelievingly to the professor.

Seeing the emotion well up in the boy, Snape assured the boy that it was indeed his and fended off any protests that it was too much and he didn't deserve it. Something he shot down straight away, the boys self-disgust. "No, Harry, this is no less than what you deserve. It is yours for however long you need it. Never doubt that. This is your haven, your sanctuary." For a child who never had much, he supposed, this was luxurious. He chided himself for worrying over the child's reaction. He wasn't spoilt like his godson, Draco was, no he would accept anything, as it would undoubtedly be better than what his relatives provided.

"Why don't we retire to the living room for a quiet evening. It has been a trying day for both of us, particularly you as you're still recovering. You can relax or read by the fire," he persuaded the teen kindly.

"That would be a good idea professor." Harry agreed, his voice cracking, laden with emotion.

Ten minutes later, both Harry and professor Snape were relaxing in the living room both with books in hand. Harry was sitting in an armchair, as close as he could be to the professor, without actually sitting in the same chair as him. Surprisingly, Harry was immersed in a very interesting book on "Curses, Light and Dark and the Reasons Why".The professor was seated were he was earlier on the settee transcribing from a very old potions journal, written in some obscure dialect. Both were comfortable in each other's presence at the moment. A very soothing and calming atmosphere had befallen, and for the first time, in a very long, long time Harry saw some hope for himself. Some light at the end of the tunnel, a future.

So focused on what he was reading, Harry didn't notice any change to his immediate surroundings until the professor moved from where he had settled himself on the couch, startling the teen slightly. Then he became aware of the soft 'pinging' noise, echoing throughout the room. He looked inquiringly at the professor as he moved to the portrait entrance. "Just the doorbell, Harry, Someone is outside the portrait." Without another word, the professor swung it open and froze, mouth agape in a very unsnapelike expression.

After a few minutes of total silence, Harry curiously twisted around the side of his chair to see what the lack of commotion was. Needless to say he was shocked at the Professors frozen stature. Looking past the professor he immediately saw why. Lounging casually in the doorway, quite relaxed, was a young girl, about Harry's own age. He fowned in puzzlement. He didn't think there were any other students here. She was of average height, but slender and willowy. She had the figure of an athlete, with long dirty blond hair, sea green eyes with a mischievous glint lurking in them and a vaguely familiar smirk on her face.

He couldn't quite place who she reminded him of until, and here he nearly toppled of his chair head of heels, looking straight at the professor and with a slight toss of her head, she greeted him, "How are ya, Da?

Adalinda – means noble serpent

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