Title: Harry Potter and the Summer From Hell

Author: Ladye Black

Warnings:

Disclaimer: Again, I do not own them.

Notes: Thanks for being patient! I'm sorry this took so long!

Chapter 12

When Harry finally woke up the next day, it was past noon. Blearily, he reached for his glasses that rested on the nightstand. Sighing as he realized the time, he forced himself out of bed, reluctant to get out of it and face Snape. Especially in lieu of what had happened the night before.

Harry supposed he should be a bit more considerate when thinking about Snape; he'd finally gotten part of the man's story, as told by Snape himself. And it was horrific. At least with the Dursely's hadn't been subjected to the kind of bloodshed that Snape had. Sure, they had let Dudley use him for a punching bag, but they always made his overweight cousin stop before Harry was injured too badly.

Sighing, the boy who was almost a man now, dressed himself in Muggle-style clothing and went downstairs to see if there was anything left from lunch. He made it into the kitchen with no more difficulty other than a minor incident with the stair railing, why it had to stick so far out into his way was beyond him...

Upon entering the kitchen, he saw Snape sitting on one of the chairs by the table, sipping at a mug of tea and reading an old newspaper. "Oh," he managed when Snape looked at him. "I didn't know you were in here."

"As far as I'm concerned, Mr. Potter, this is a free kitchen and I have as much right to be in it as you do," Snape said waspishly.

And suddenly, Harry was angry and relieved. Angry because Snape hadn't changed, and relieved because Snape was Snape and that was a good thing. Sometimes, Harry really didn't make sense to himself. "Well, at least you're still in your usual mood," Harry finally answered. He had been going for irritated, though, and it had come out more like being relieved.

Snape raised an eyebrow. Harry wondered if he could get away with his pride in tact if he started cowering now. "Mr. Potter, according to the students, I have but one mood. That of the ever prickly, snappish bastard."

Hmm, perhaps Snape was a sort of...playful mood today? There was only one way to find out. Harry steeled himself. "Prick," he let out.

"Oh, come, Mr. Potter, I'm sure even you could do better than that," was all the Potions Master said without even looking up from his reading.

Harry smiled; perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all. Harry sat down across from Snape, stomach forgotten for the moment. "Y'know, it's kind of irritating to hear you call me 'Mr. Potter' all the time."

"Then I shall endeavor to continue doing so," Snape said as he turned the page of his paper.

"It's just that," Harry continued, ignoring the interruption. "We're going to be stuck here for awhile, and you're not really my teacher at this time, so-"

"On the contrary, Mr. Potter," Harry ground his teeth. "So long as you continue to attend an institute I teach at, you are my student, and I shall continue calling as I've always done."

"Stupid brat," the almost man hazarded, irritated at the implication of Snape's statement.

Snape smirked in amusement. "Well, that also, I suppose." And, just for a moment, Snape's smirk changed. It gained a little more amusement, becoming more like a smile, and to Harry it was suddenly worth having made fun of himself. He had a feeling that if he knew he'd get to that tiny smile at another time, he'd do it again.

God, he needed to get out of this room or at least stop sitting here, Snape was infecting him. Abruptly, he stood up, and Snape's face changed back to its cold countenance. "Did you eat lunch, yet?" Harry asked.

"No," answered Snape. "I wasn't feeling up to eating, so I'm having tea." He held up his mug as proof.

Harry frowned. "You should eat, it's not good for you to skip meals, you're already too skinny."

"Oh?" Snape queried disinterestedly.

"Mm-hmm, and Professor Dumbledore said to make sure you eat."

"Professor Dumbledore also had you cast an unknown spell so that you could keep watch on me. I'm sure your little spell will tell you when I'm in danger of expiring." He turned another page of his newspaper.

"That's just the thing," Harry said practically. "You haven't eaten since yesterday, other than that mug of tea, of course."

Snape looked up from his paper at him. "Of course," he replied distractedly.

Harry got out the necessary items to make sandwiches. "What are you thinking?" he finally asked.

"I was thinking that it's a powerful spell indeed if it can tell you such specific information."

"Well, Professor Dumbledore did say that I could tweak it to look for, ah, certain...self-destructive behavior," the younger man said tactfully.

Snape looked up at that. "Really?"

"Mm-hmm," Harry nodded.

Snape thought for moment. "Mr. Potter, would you be averse to allowing me to study you and this magical...bond of sorts?"

Harry turned around, a plateful of sandwiches in his hands. "Under two conditions," he said.

"And they are?"

"First," he set the plate on the table in front of Snape. "You help me eat these sandwiches."

Snape's eyebrow rose. "And the second, Mr. Potter?"

Harry grinned. "You start calling me 'Harry'."

Snape thought about it for a moment. "Alright, Mr.-" he corrected himself at Harry's raised eyebrow. "Harry, you have a deal."

Harry's grinned widened as he re-took his seat from across Snape. "Alright then, let's eat!"

Snape idly wondered if would be able to survive the coming days. Then, he decided not to think about it after he bit into one of the sandwiched. The boy had a knack for making those things.

TBC...

There, finally out, ne? How'd you like it?