Title: Harry Potter and the Summer From Hell

Author: Ladye Black

Warnings: Just tiny swearing and I make things about magic up.

Disclaimer: No, I don't own the characters

Notes: Gomen nasai! I'm so sorry! This has been a really busy month; it seems to get busier and busier. Please don't be too mad. Though, most of you have probably forgotten this fic by now. :(

Chapter 13

There was one problem with agreeing to Po-Harry's conditions. How the hell was Snape supposed to get his end of the deal? He couldn't use magic, not only were they in a magic-nullified place, but using magic would be setting off fireworks over their present location, painting a target on himself, and calling for the Dark Lord to kill him where he stood. Not exactly the best conditions for using magic, so no, magic was out.

However, he could perform experiments. All he'd have to do to test it would be to indulge in his self-destructive habit, all in the name of magical science, of course. He already knew that the bond could tell P-Harry when Snape had last eaten, which was fairly powerful magic, and to work in a magic-nullified place made it even more so.

What did this lead him to believe? Well, he couldn't figure out the exact spell, but he could probably figure out its components. Taking out quill and ink, he began to write down what he knew of the spell.

Unknown Spell (a.k.a. Potter's Protection Spell):

1.) A. Dumbledore had H. Potter cast it upon himself. (If possible, ask A. Dumbledore about the spell. You'll probably only get eye twinkling, but it wouldn't hurt to ask.)

2.) H. Potter can "tweak" the spell. (Must see how far that can go. Ask Potter to enter more specific parameters to the spell and see if it works.)

3.) At the moment, H. Potter can sense how long it has been since you have eaten and whether there has been self-inflicted pain.

Conclusion:

Spell is adaptable to the user and the user's wishes. Spell was perhaps made specifically for those with self-destructive tendencies. Or whose lives involve a lot of danger.

Snape paused, a sudden thought coming to him. Could the spell have been-? Well, it was possible…especially if the spell had been produced during a time of war. Quickly, Snape continued writing.

It is possible the spell was created during a time of war. If so, the spell may have been used between those who were married or paired as a way of keeping track of those on the field and those that were off.

As of that moment, that was all Snape had of the spell, and he wasn't likely to get more unless Dumbledore proved forthcoming. Snape continued pondering the nature of the spell until he heard a knock at the door. "Yes?"

Harry's head peeped in through the doorway. "It's almost time for supper. I was wondering if you wanted to make the food, or if I should." Snape thought about it for a moment; he was in a particularly good mood today. "I'll cook."

Harry looked at him in relief. "Thank God, I really didn't feel like cooking right now."

Snape was interested. "Oh? Why not?"

Harry shrugged. "Not really in the mood, I guess. Cooking has always been a kind of hated chore for me."

"Why?" Snape stood and headed for the door.

"Well," Harry began uncomfortably as he backed out of Snape's way then followed him down the corridor. "The Dursley's would make me cook for them and then I'd have to watch as they ate most of the food while I got the scraps."

The dark-eyed man frowned. "Why ever would they do such a thing?" He went to the counter in the kitchen that housed the pots and pans underneath it.

Harry snorted bitterly. "To make me feel as shitty as possible."

Snape, who had bent over to retrieve a pan from the bottom cupboard, paused when he heard those words. Slowly, he grabbed the pot and the stood up. "Your relatives sound uncannily like mine."

"You weren't even related to those people." Harry cursed softly to himself as he saw Snape's spine stiffen.

"No, perhaps they weren't blood-related to me," the older man said slowly. "But, they were the only family I knew." He set the pan on the stove.

"Besides Voldemort," Harry said softly.

"Yes," Snape replied in the same tone. "Besides Him."

There was silence for a few moments before Harry broke it. "I'm sorry."

Snape turned to look at him. "You wouldn't have had to be sorry, Mr. Potter, if you had thought about what you were about to say first." Harry didn't even protest to Snape saying "Mr. Potter" instead of calling him by his name. He had messed up, and badly too, by the looks of things.

"But, it is true; even I cannot lie to myself about that." Harry looked at him in amazement. Had he just been forgiven? Snape almost-smiled as weary sort of smile, and Harry concluded that he had, indeed, been forgiven.

"So," Snape turned to the stove. "What shall I cook?"

Harry let the smile he'd been fighting bloom onto his face. They were getting along; since they'd gotten here there had been no major fights. Maybe, all they'd really had were misunderstandings from the start. Perhaps now, the time spent at this house, was the time to reevaluate all of their misconceptions. Harry was eager for the chance to prove himself in Snape's eyes, and to learn even more about this mysterious man who had suddenly come to mean more to him than he had thought possible. Maybe, this summer could be enjoyable after all.

"Well, what would you recommend?"

Snape turned to look at the boy, having heard the smile in his voice. "As I am an excellent cook, my specialties include Asian, Italian, and French cuisine."

"Hmm, Asian sounds good."

"Chinese or Japanese? I can do others, but those two are the easiest."

Harry's nose wrinkled slightly as he thought about it. "I don't think I've ever had Japanese before."

Snape started collecting ingredients from the pantry. "Hmm, Japanese it is then." He put the ingredients on the table and started arranging them in order of how they needed to be added. Then, he set about chopping and preparing the raw ingredients.

Harry watched in fascination as the man cooked. He never hesitated, never seemed unsure of himself, just added ingredients or raised and lowered the temperature of the stove as he deemed fit. Unless it was something simple, Harry quite often needed to refer to a written recipe for the harder meals.

"Is something the matter?" Snape asked during a lull in the cooking when things needed to simmer.

Harry shook his head. "No, it's just that I can see why you're a Potions Master now. You seem to just…know how to put things together."

Snape felt a little lift in his spirits at Harry's praise, even if the boy didn't really know what he was talking about. "It's part of what Potions is," he said. "You have to feel the Potion. When they say a "pinch", you must decide how much that "pinch" should be, it is difficult for some because they have no way of feeling."

"Is that why Neville always has problems? Other than being utterly afraid of you, of course," Harry added with a grin.

Ignoring the second part, Snape nodded in agreement. "Longbottom will always have problems with Potions. His magic just doesn't lean that way."

"Lean?"

"Many people's magic are more attuned to certain aspects of magic than others."

"So, since Neville can't do Potions, he makes up for it by being great at Herbology." It made sense.

"Yes."

Leaning against the counter beside Snape, he was suddenly aware that their shoulders were brushing against one another. Pushing the odd observation away, Harry asked another question. "So, what're you bad at, Transfiguration?"

Snape looked slightly amused for a moment. "I am like you, Harry." He was pleased to hear that Snape got his name out without any hesitation this time. "Oh?"

"Yes, I am one of the few that does not really lean to any particular aspect of magic, but can do them all with only slightly different degrees of difficulty. However," Snape continued, "I like Potions and that is what I work the hardest at."

Harry nodded in understanding. "Kinda like how I like to fly?"

"Something like that," Snape said, softly amused. He straightened from the counter and went to check on the food. "I believe it is time to eat, Harry. If you would be so kind as to set the table?"

"Sure."

Ten minutes later they were eating a wonderful tasting meal that Snape had prepared and enjoyed at least semi-stimulating conversation. All-in-all, it was great day, and Harry had to wonder at the sense of foreboding he felt. The good things would have to come to an end sometime, after all.

TBC…

I am so sorry. I just didn't feel like writing this one for some reason. I tried to make it a little longer to make up for the wait, but I don't think I did very well…also, I was a bit tired when I wrote this so I'm not quite sure how bad it is. I'm still tired...