Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or any of the publishing rights here. The all belong to Raincoast books and J.K Rowling. However, I do own the plot, and that, in itself, is mine.

A/N: I'm not dead! This chapter was originally posted on LJ, and I forgot to post on here! Sorry 'bout that! nn Chapter six wont be too long in the coming. 3

Chapter Five: Morning In The Manor

Severus finished the last button on his long sleeved, crisp white shirt. Deciding that the heat was too much for his usual black, wool robe, he settled for a simple combination of shirt, trousers, and a strip of silk to tie his hair back with.

The sun had only hours ago risen, but he had lots to do, and things he needed to prepare.

As his mind drifted to the scene presented to him the night before in Potter's bedroom, he felt his temper, and curiosity, rise. His thoughts preoccupied, he entirely forgot to continue in his previous search for shoes, and he headed towards the bedroom door, intent on heading to Potter's room to wake him up.

Before his hand touched the knob, however, a House Elf popped into the room, landing just behind him.

"Missy Priya says that she will be gone until late afternoon, sir, that she is going to the market to be picking up some things for supper, sir."

Snape sighed. "Thank you Emmert."

The House Elf gave a slight bow and disappeared. Shaking his head, Severus twisted the doorknob and stepped out into a dark room, with a high ceiling. The other doors were visible on each side, and he took the one directly to his right, leading out onto the wrought-iron staircase that lead to the second floor. A hand ran atop his head, making a vain attempt at smoothing down the stray hairs there. As he reached Potter's door, his hand rested on the doorknob, hesitating. Images of what he had seen the night before snapped into the forefront of his mind.

FLASH BACK

It was very late, about 2 o'clock in the morning, when Severus finally dragged himself out of his Study, and trudged up the stairs to the second floor landing. As he moved towards the wrought-iron staircase, a strange feeling developed in the pit of his stomach; a feeling of worry, and apprehension. He squeezed his eyes shut, and looked reluctantly down the hall to the room where he knew Potter should be sleeping peacefully. He cautiously entered the room, and felt himself reel in shock at the sight before him.

Potter was obviously having a nightmare. The sheets were twisted around his ankles, revealing him in only a pair of dark green boxers, and Severus felt heat pool in his belly at the sight of the young man writhing on the bed. He sneered in distaste at himself for his body's shameful reaction and looked away. He was going to turn and leave, but something drew him closer to the boy, and he sidled up next to his bedside, reaching out a hand to touch the scar on the boy's forehead.

He gasped, a gurgle forming in his throat. Images of what was surely Potter's dream flashed through his own mind. Voldemort. A fountain. Potter screaming. Pain, pain, pain...And then...Light.

He drew back in shock, and stared at his hand, where it had touched Potter's infamous scar. It was smeared with blood. He stared scrutinizingly at Potter's head, and sure enough, there was a small trickle of blood coming from the scar. He looked away in discomfort, and before he did anything rash, he left the room, leaving Potter to his own devices.

As he walked to his own staircase, he breathed in the scent of Potter's blood on his hand, and his eyes crossed. The only thoughts on his mind were that the smell of it was...welcoming, Potter looked very debauched and (admittedly) attractive, and...

'Why on earth was Potter dreaming about my Garden, and the Fortuna Fountain?'

END FLASH BACK

His hand retreated from the knob, and he reluctantly stepped back, knowing he could not face Potter so soon, especially not in that same room. Not to mention Potter's certain state of undress...He shook his head to keep his mind from continuing that line of thought, and raised his hand to snap his fingers together loudly.

"Emmert!"

The little House Elf appeared with a crack! and looked up quizzically at his Master. "Yes, Master Snape?" He wrung his little hands together.

Severus extended one long finger towards the door to Potter's room. "This is going to be Mr. Potter's room for the duration of his stay here at the Manor, and I would like you to inform the rest of the staff here of this fact, if Mistress Priya has not already done so." The Elf nodded vehemently. "Also, I would like you to please wake Mr. Potter up and show him the way to the dining hall for breakfast. I trust it is already prepared?"

Emmert nodded. "Yessir! Salsa and Lyor made it extra special for our guest, sir! I tolds them to get up earlier, sir, and they has. I tolds them to make your favourites, too sir, and they has!"

Severus smiled briefly. "Thank you, Emmert. Now, once you have Mr. Potter properly seated, please have Salsa come and ask him if there is anything he would specifically want. Priya would have my head if he didn't." He winced very slightly at the though of her angry. "I shall be having breakfast in the Library. Tell Potter that if he desperately needs me for some unfathomable reason that that is where he can find me. Show him the way, if need be."

Emmert bowed slightly. "Is that all, Master Snape, sir?"

He nodded. "Yes Emmert, thank you." He turned and left, and even without his robe billowing behind him, he still made an impressive and formidable exit.

Harry awoke slowly fro the second time that morning, his body cold from old sweat, the sheets still wrapped around his ankles. He groaned, and leaned up on his elbows, allowing his eyes to adjust to the light coming in from the opened window. He vaguely wondered what time it was, but quickly pushed that to the back of his mind as he remembered his dream from the night before.

His head was pounding, and he couldn't figure out if the dream had been real, or...But it was so different...So different from the other visions he had ever had. He was himself in this one, not Voldemort, or Nagini, or anyone else. He was as much a separate part of the dream, as Voldemort was...And that fountain.

It had all felt too real to be merely a coincidence, and he felt a strong pull to find that garden, and that fountain, here in the waking world. A wave of nausea hit him as he remembered the sight and smell of the Phoenix head hidden in those flowers. He knew right away that it was the head of the Phoenix from which Voldemort obtained the quill in his other dream.

Prince, he had said, You are home.

What was that supposed to mean? He sighed and rubbed at his temples, before reaching for his glasses and placing them on his nose. He blinked a few times as the room came into focus, and he took the time to inspect his surroundings, grateful for the distraction.

The bed itself was a large four poster made from dark cherry wood, the sheets and pillowcase made of satin, the quilt and comforter of fleece. All were coloured in deep sea blue, without trim. On the far left of the room, there was a medium-sized black marble fireplace (though no fire was currently lit inside), surrounded by a wooden coffee table that matched the bed (as well as end tables and doors), and two winged back chairs that seemed to be upholstered by navy blue velvet.

Two large windows had their black velvet drapes held back by gold drawstrings, the light from the morning sun causing shadows to appear on the light gold carpet. Though completely bare of any form of decorations, besides an ornate gold holder for the fire poker and assorted paraphernalia, Harry found the room to be quite to his liking. It was a nice change from the gold and scarlet that was so prominent in Gryffindor Tower, and he found himself feeling please that it was not decked out in the Slytherin colours he had half-expected.

In fact, it was more Ravenclaw, then anything else.

He stood up and stretched his arms above his head, yawning loudly. He shivered suddenly, noticing his state of undress, and the fact that such a large manor was very cold and drafty so early in the morning, summer or not.

Noticing a cozy looking black house coat hanging off of the back of the opened bathroom door, he pulled it off the hook and wrapped it tightly around his body before entering the aforementioned bathroom, in desperate need of the loo.

The bathroom itself was, in a word, magnificent. The entire room seemed to be carved completely out of black marble, littered with veins of gold. The sink, toilet, and giant 'bath tab' that appeared to simply be a small, but deep, pool, were all made of the material, including the walls and floor. Even the frame for the large mirror above the sink was made of it!

He knew right away that Snape had given him the best guest room the manor had to offer, though he also had to wonder if these rooms hadn't belonged to a Snape family member themselves at one point, for the lavishness of it seemed to grand to be simply intended for guests.

The marble, though incredibly beautiful, was beginning to show signs of age, chips missing here and there, and some places were the sheen had been dulled. It appeared to be very old, and not used in quite some time, even though Harry knew that running indoor water in the form of sinks, baths and toilets were not invented, nor used until the turn of the 1900's, atleast in the muggle world that is.

Confused, he experimentally turned the taps of the sink, and even though they appeared to be incredibly old, the strange, marble knobs moved smoothly, and the warm water poured out without even a slight gurgle that should have sounded after such a long period of disuse.

Harry smiled wistfully. I love the wizarding world, he thought. After relieving himself at the toilet, he examined the pool-like tub, and found it to be nearly identical to the one found in the prefect bathroom on the fifth floor of Hogwarts. Their were about twenty different taps littered around the edge of the tub, all different shapes and sizes, though no writing or anything else to distinguish what the were. Though when he looked closer, he realized the knobs to the taps resembled things that he recognized. One was in the shape of what could only be a raspberry. Another what he was unsure of, but appeared to even have a finely carved 'hairy' appearance that made it seem like a coconut.

He stripped out of his boxers and carefully seated himself on the ledge that ran along the inner length of the tub, finding it to be deep enough that the rim of the bath met the top of his shoulders. As soon as his bum hit the seat, water began to fill the tub from large holes on the other side. As the water reached his toes, he found it to be at the exact temperature he preferred, warm, but not too warm. He relaxed against the seat, which had originally been hard, straight, unyielding stone, but now seem soft somehow, and moulded into his body.

He sighed in contentment, his hand reaching the knob that resembled a coconut, and once he turned it, a thick stream of soap came out, quickly filling the tub with large white bubbles. Sure enough, it smelled of coconuts.

The water shut off when it reached the middle of his chest, so Harry turned the knob of a tap that resembled a mint leaf, but only slightly, so he could use some soap to wash his body and hair. He made a mental note to get his shampoo and body wash out of his trunk later.

Once he was cleaned of the dried sweat from the night before, he dried off with a soft, black towel by the tub, and looked at himself in the mirror. Only the top half of him showed, naked, and with extremely messy, damp hair.

"Goodness me!" The mirror cried at him, and Harry had the good graces to not jump in sudden shock. "You'd best head straight down to the kitchens, boy, or there'll soon be nothing left of you to stand in front of a mirror at all! Maybe a nice hairbrush too, couldn't hurt, you know..."

Harry blinked at his reflection, taking in his too thin frame. It wasn't that bad, but his ribs were slightly visible from under pale skin. His arms were too thin, and his waist dented in farther than it should of, but none of it looked bad necessarily, just...a bit starved. He sighed, and ran his hands through his hair, attempting to flatten the damp locks.

"That's not going to work, dearie."

Harry glared at the mirror, and left the bathroom. Flipping open his trunk, he rummaged through his clothes for a clean outfit, and some boxers. He laid them out on the bed and quickly got dressed, noticing that the far too baggy clothing hid the thinness of his body. 'Good, no questions.'

Just as he was tucking his wand into his jeans pocket, there was a loud crack! directly behind him, and he turned, surprised, wand raised. Standing there was an ugly little House Elf with drooping ears and a squashed in, turned up nose. "Hello!" He said, perplexed.

The ugly elf gave a bow. "I is Emmert, sir, I is being the Head Elf at Snape Manor, sir."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Er--...Right...Er--Nice to meet you?"

Emmert bowed again. "Master Harry Potter sir is very gracious, sir. I is told to take you down to breakfast by Master Snape." The elf eyed him warily for a moment, large eyes narrowing. "If...If sir will please change out of his...lounge clothes...and into his proper daily attire, I is showing you to the Dining Hall."

Harry raised his eyebrows, then looked down at himself, in his loose blue t-shirt, and faded blue jeans hanging off his hips. He looked back at the Elf, a bit offended. "This is my 'daily attire'. It's all I got, unless you want me to come down in pyjamas."

Emmert stared at the young Master has though he had two heads. Harry could have sworn that he heard him vaguely whisper something along the lines of 'Why is the Master Snape inviting such improper guests to the Manor...' and Harry was rather rudely reminded of Kreacher, and had to restrain him self from yelling at the House Elf.

Emmert cleared his little throat. "Then Master is coming with me." He gave a stout little nod and promptly stood up on his toes to open the door into the hall, and walked away, not bothering to see if Harry was following.

Harry, scowling, followed the little Elf out the door.

Harry followed Emmert into the Dining Hall, an extravagant room with a high ceiling, and a long, ebony table with matching chairs. He sat down awkwardly at one of the heads of the table, where Emmert instructed him to sit, and looked uncomfortably at the array of different utensils. He turned to Emmert. "Where's Professor Snape?"

The Elf was walking away, and did not even bother to turn around when he answered. "Master Snape will not be joining you this morning. He is in the Library if you need his assistance." And the elf disappeared through a door at the far end on the Hall, presumably leading to the kitchen.

Harry looked down at his plate, utterly confused as to what he was supposed to do now, as there was no food anywhere to be seen. Just as he was prepared to head into the kitchen himself, the door banged open, and a strange looking House Elf ran over to his side, panting. Harry stared at it, noticing what appeared to be splotchy red birthmarks all over her greenish skin.

The Elf beamed at him. "I is Salsa, Master Harry Potter! I is the Head Chef! What are you wanting for breakfast today, sir?"

Harry smiled down at her, liking her already. "Uhmm...I guess I'd like some blueberry pancakes and some chocolate milk, if that's alright?"

Salsa nodded quickly. "Of course sir! Anything sir wants!" And she took off hurriedly towards the kitchen once more.

Harry sighed and gazed outside the large picture window across from him, and immediately noticed something that caught his attention.

Outside the window, in the distance, was what appeared to be the entrance to a vast garden...It's gateway made up of two large trees with golden leaves. Harry gasped, recognizing those trees from his dream, and wondering, if maybe that fountain was deep inside that garden somewhere.

He decided to go check it out...Immediately after breakfast.