Harry woke up and glanced at the clock on the wall. '5:44 A.M', the clock read. He lay there for a moment, contemplating how he would ever be able to repay the man. The price of Snape's time, emotional labour, waking him up during the night and nearly breaking the man's nose, yelling curses at him and crying in his arms. How could he pay that back? Merlin, he was screwed.

"Milley?" With a pop appeared Milley, bright eyes shimmery and ears flopping gently.

"What does Master Potter be needing?"

"Don't worry about being formal. You can call me Harry." He did his best to muster a smile, though he wasn't sure how well it looked considering how exhausted he was. The bags under his eyes resembled bruises, and his face took on an unhealthy pallor. Milley squeaked in amazement at Harry's kindness.

"Yes! Of course, Harry sir! What does Master Harry be needing?"

"How does Snape like his breakfast?"

"His favourite's be toast, scrambled eggs with salt and pepper, and bacon that doesn't be soggy but also doesn't be crispy! Do you want me to get it for him?"

"No it'll be alright Milley."

"Okay! Just say my name if you be needing me!" And with a pop, Milley disappeared.

Harry walked around, eventually stumbling upon a modest kitchen. It had marble counters and dark oak cabinets, a new fridge and pristine sink. The stovetop was muggle, and even Harry could operate it. He thought back to last night's new discovery and Snape's muggle upbringing. Honestly, he was surprised that Snape wasn't a pureblood, with his mannerisms and being a Deatheater and all. In a way, he could see where Snape was coming from. His only friend, who was a muggle-born, left him alone with his father, who was also a muggle. He would've been the perfect target for recruiting. 'No! Stop feeling bad for Snape! He chose what he chose, and he is responsible for his actions in every way!' he chastised himself while cracking an egg into a ceramic bowl. He added a splash of milk, a second egg, then whipped them with a fork. He moved it to the side while he waited for a pan to heat up.

He looked around for a pantry before finally finding a door. Upon opening, he discovered it was a descending stone stairwell. He immediately slammed the door shut. Eventually, he found the pantry and lightly toasted the bread. He returned the pan and added a small chunk of butter and waited for it to melt entirely before adding the eggs, which admittedly took only a few seconds. He rummaged in the fridge, finding thick cut bacon in the meats drawer. He added it to a skillet and cranked the heat up. He stirred the eggs and flipped the bacon accordingly, and plated it, adding cracked pepper and sea salt to the eggs. Finally, the toast was ready, which he lightly buttered and placed on the plate, just in time for Snape to barge in.

"What is all the ruckus, Mr. Potter?"

"Sorry for waking you, Sir," He said sheepishly. "I made you breakfast."

"I am quite capable of making my own breakfast, Mr. Potter." Snape responded coldly. The boy looked near death, the pallor of his skin glimmered in the light. He was in no state to be making his own breakfast, let alone Snape's.

"I know but-"

"No buts. I don't need you burning down my kitchen."

"I'm actually good at cooking though!" Snape raised his eyebrow at him.

"Just try it."

"Fine, but should I get ill you will be responsible for taking me to the infirmary." Snape shot back with his usual snark. He grabbed the plate and sat down in the dining room. Harry began to do the dishes as quietly as possible, not only to avoid bothering the man further but also to allow him to eavesdrop. If there was one thing he was good at, it was cooking, and for some reason he wanted to see Snape's reaction. Just then, he remembered that he forgot to get Snape something to drink. He racked his brain for what Snape would enjoy. Milk? Orange Juice? Water? He had a thought. Tea, but what kind? He scrambled back to the pantry, finding many teas. He decided upon an Earl Grey, and set up the kettle.

Snape carefully cut the scrambled eggs, wondering if the boy had poisoned it. His kindness was very uncharacteristic, and just a night before Harry loathed Snape with a burning passion. He heard rustling from the kitchen, but paid it no mind. 'Stupid boy, probably taking his food and making himself breakfast.' Snape thought to himself.

Finally, he tried the food. The eggs were perfectly cooked and seasoned - not raw but not overcooked - and had the right consistency. He tried the bacon next. Again, flawless and exactly how he liked. Not crispy, but not soggy, either. Somehow, the boy even knew that he liked his toast cooked on setting three and buttered lightly. He took a few more bites of his breakfast, and an owl delivered the Daily Prophet to him. Harry emerged with a cup of Earl Grey tea, a slice of lemon on the side, and one sugar cube.

"What on earth-"

"Earl Grey with lemon and one sugar cube."

"I thought I told you not to-"

"I wasn't cooking, I was making tea." A moment of silence followed as Snape took a sip. Harry looked at him expectantly.

"This is rather good, Mr. Potter. Thank you." Harry smiled at him and left Snape to finish his breakfast. In the kitchen, Harry smiled to himself while finishing the dishes, happy to receive Snape's approval. For once, he was happy that his Occlumency lesson had to be postponed until Friday, which was due to a sudden Death Eater meeting. He had no obligation to attend classes, meaning that he could spend the day in solitude. His favourite tree, a rather large oak that looked over the lake, had a view worth its weight in gold. The serenity calmed his soul and allowed him time to contemplate the intricacies of life.

Harry picked up his own cup of Earl Grey after carefully cleaning and putting away the dishes. He sat down across from Snape, who peered at him curiously. Harry drained his own cup of tea and looked up at Snape with glimmery eyes, Snape sighed deeply, before returning to the Daily Prophet. Another attack on muggles - how could they not see it was Deatheaters? During the first war, the Ministry's denial of the Dark Lord cost thousands of lives, and now, once more, they were doing it again. This time, much, much worse than before.

"Professor?" Harry said, pulling Snape away from his engrossment in the paper.

"What is it now, Potter?" Snape said annoyedly, tired from constant interruptions.

"When can I leave?"

"You aren't leaving, Mr. Potter." Snape said coolly, taking another sip of tea.

"Why not? I'm fine, I can leave!"

"You are not." Snape replied, not even looking up from the paper.

"But I am, Professor!"

"You cannot run forever, Mr. Potter. Have you heard the story of Ariana Dumbledore?"

"No…"

"She was the Headmaster's sister. I say 'was' because she is no longer with us. She died at about your age. The sooner you know her tale, the better."

—-

Sorry for the tedious chapter, but it's necessary for the ending of the next chapter. Hopefully you didn't mind too much lol.