At the word 'home', Harry tensed up and slowed down a bit.

"Home?" he said quietly, not sure if he wanted to know what Snape would say to this, or how he would tell the man that he didn't want to go back to the Dursley's. But Snape didn't answer. He just kept a steady pace down the stairs, and Harry eventually understood they were going back to the lower floors where Snape obviously lived. He wondered what Snape taught at the strange school, and why he lived in the cellar.

"Snape?" Just like earlier, the man stopped suddenly, and spun around, a scowl on his face.

"What did I tell you about how to address me?" he hissed through thin lips. Harry flinched, and realised his mistake too late.

"I'm sorry, sir," he whispered. "I just wondered-"

"Save your questions," the man interrupted him and started walking again. "And keep up." Harry had no choice but to run after the Potions Master, and bite his tongue firmly to keep from asking a dozen other questions that kept popping up in his head. They kept walking, the only sound their footsteps slapping against the stone floor. Harry's feet were beginning to feel very sore; he'd been moving around all day, and together with the excitement he'd been feeling all day it was wearing him out. His eyes felt heavy as led, and he started dragging his legs a bit.

"Walk properly." Snape's admonishment snapped him right out of his dull state of mind, and the small boy shook his head a bit. They were finally arriving outside the Potions master's quarters, and as the door opened, Snape pushed Harry in first. For some reason, the small, crowded room felt almost like home to Harry, and he wanted nothing else than to just lie down on the small sofa, and maybe close his eyes for a bit…

"Move out of the way, child," Snape spat, and Harry hastily scrambled to obey. The door was slammed shut, and it left the room in an eerie sort of silence. Harry had his back turned to Professor Snape, and daren't turn back around, scared of what he might see. "Look at me." Of course, Harry knew it was only good manners to do so, but apparently he took too long. "Now, Potter," Snape growled. He turned around and looked up through his fringe at the dark, tall man. His eyes were ominous as always, and Harry found himself wondering if Snape was always displeased or if he just had that frown permanently placed on his face.

"Are you hungry?" The question took the boy completely by surprise, and his eyebrows shot up his forehead as he eyed the man before him. "Well don't just stand there gawking like an imbecile. Answer me!"

"No, sir. I mean yes. Yes sir."

"You are hungry?" He nodded vigorously. Snape snapped his fingers, and a small creature appeared with a muffled pop.

"What's that?" Harry exclaimed in astonishment, the elf staring up at him with big, round eyes.

"Just an elf, Potter, calm down," Snape said dismissively. "Would you please get some dinner for Mr Potter?" he then said, looking down at the elf.

"Yes, of course, Professor Snape. Blinky is doing anything for young Mr Potter." The house elf bowed numerous times, before Snape waved her off and she disappeared again.

"Sit down," Snape ordered, nodding to the small table and chairs. Not wanting to irritate the professor further, Harry quickly trotted over and sat down, his feet dangling quite far above the carpeted floor. He sat on his hands to ensure he didn't to anything stupid with them, and followed the professor with nervous eyes. Snape walked briskly around the room, lighting candles with his wand and making parchment and books on the coffee table clean themselves up. This simple act of household magic had Harry's mouth opening an inch, and he stared in wonder.

"Do close your mouth, Mr Potter, or you'll catch flies." Harry didn't think it wise to point out that they were inside, in a dark room, so there would hardly be any flies. He simply closed his mouth and kept looking. Just then, a large plate of different kinds of sandwiches appeared on the table before him, along with a bowl of fruit, a jug of some kind of juice Harry didn't recognise and a glass. "Eat, if you please," Snape said, and Harry was absolutely certain it wasn't a request. Not that he minded: at the sight of the delicious looking sandwiches, his stomach gave a triumphant growl. He carefully grabbed one and bit into it. The soft bread along with the ham and cheese tasted better than anything he had ever eaten.

"Eat some fruit as well," Snape ordered from the wing backed chair, where he was sitting with a book under his nose. The boy nodded, even though the professor couldn't see, and grabbed a pear. Pulling the glass closer, he lifted the heavy jug and carefully lifted it up to pour himself some to drink. Unfortunately, it was far too heavy for him, and when tilting it he lost his grip, and the juice came flooding out across half the table, over his sandwich and dripped down on his lap and onto the floor. His breath hitched as he stared at the mess he'd created. None of the sweet smelling liquid had come on the rest of the sandwiches, thankfully, but other than that it was everywhere. He heard a book closing, and slow, muffled footsteps approaching. Squeezing his eyes shut, he hunched in his chair.

"Potter, what is the meaning of this?" Snape's stern voice came from somewhere above him. "Look at me when I'm talking to you." Snape's tone left no room for arguments, and Harry carefully looked up at the man. His scowl was etched firmly in place as usual, and his arms were folded across his robe clad chest.

"I'm sorry…"

"Oh, I'm sure you are," the man drawled, and something in his voice told Harry he didn't quite believe him. "You should have asked for help. That jug is far too heavy for a small boy like you," he continued, still bearing down at Harry.

"Sorry," Harry said weakly again. Snape flicked out his wand, and in a wave the juice disappeared from the table and floor. Harry, though, was still drenched in the stuff.

"Finish your sandwich, and then you can have a bath," Snape decided, and walked back to his chair without another word. Hoping the professor wasn't angry with him, Harry ate the rest of his food, and as soon as he'd swallowed the last bite, Snape was by his side again. "Come along, boy," he said briskly, and started walking towards an archway Harry hadn't seen before. He quickly followed as the man walked through the arch and opened the second door on the right. Ushering Harry inside, he followed the boy into a rather large bathroom, with a comfortable looking bathtub at the far wall. By the sink lay a pair of small, clean pyjamas Snape had had the elf bring. The professor strode to the white tub and turned on the water. It immediately came rushing from the tap, making a loud and pleasant noise in the bathroom.

Still standing just inside the door, Harry bit his lip. He hadn't ever had a bath before. At the Dursley's, he'd had quick and cold showers whenever he could, but they hadn't thought he was worth wasting so much water on to let him bathe. With this in mind, he watched in uncomfortable silence as the professor adjusted the temperature and then turned the water off when it was deep enough. Turning around, the man spotted Harry still standing awkwardly a few feet away.

"Come on, Potter," he snapped. "Get undressed and in the water." Still, Harry did not move, and Snape looked (if possible) even more menacing. "Are you deaf, Potter?"

"No, sir," Harry mumbled.

"Then do as you're told."

"But, sir… I was just… I mean…" His embarrassment was rather obvious, and Snape pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration and irritation.

"Don't be ridiculous, boy. I'm not leaving until I'm certain that you are in the bath and not playing around getting into all sorts of mischief. Come on." Feeling incredibly self conscious (Harry didn't even know this man!), Harry pulled his t-shirt over his head, and handed it with a trembling hand to the professor, who was holding out his hand. It took mere seconds for him to get all his other dirty clothes off and quickly get into the hot water. He hadn't noticed how dirty he was, and the water felt soft and nice on his slightly sunburned skin and sore muscles.

"Please do wash and not just dawdle, Potter," Snape drawled. "There is a towel on the bench there, and then put the pyjamas on." Harry had no time to say anything before Professor Snape turned with a flick of his robes and disappeared into the hallway, closing the door behind him. Harry sat quietly in the hot water, lying down and leaning his head on the cool edge. Everything was happening so quickly, his head had a difficult time keeping up. But the nice, hot water was lulling him into a sort of blurred state, and he closed his eyes for a bit. It felt so nice, and everything went pleasantly dark.

After about twenty minutes, Severus got a bit uneasy. He hadn't wanted to sit and guard the boy, but as the son of James Potter, he was bound to be up to something completely wicked. Snorting in contempt, he put his book on the table and stood up. Before heading for the bathroom, he shrugged off his robe and hung it on the hook by the fireplace. When this was done, he proceeded into the narrow hallway, and opened the door to the bathroom, half expecting to find it splashed in water or destroyed in some other way. What he did not expect was what he saw before him: Harry Potter asleep in his bathtub, his little head lolled over to one side, his left cheek pressed hard into the porcelain. His face was flushed from the water and having been outside all day, and Severus was positively repulsed by the image.

"Potter, wake up this instant," he said sternly. The boy just sighed through his half open mouth and moved his legs a bit. Growling menacingly, the professor brought out his wand and gave it a flick. The tap turned on and gushed out freezing cold water, and the Potter brat immediately woke up, shrieking in an impressively high note, and scrambling out of the water. "Oh good, you're up," Snape said sarcastically.

"That wasn't very nice," Harry frowned, completely forgetting his manners as he'd just been woken up.

"And you aren't very nice, either," Snape concluded. "You didn't even wash properly, did you?" Harry squirmed. "You were in her for over twenty minutes, Potter. Did I not tell you to get yourself cleaned up?"

"Yeah…"

"What's that?"

"Yes, sir. But it was warm, and I'm tired!" Snape shook his head a bit at the boy's antics.

"Mind your tone. You'll have to wash tomorrow then. Now, get those pyjamas on." Harry kept his frown on, but didn't talk back, his earlier fear of the professor returning together with his common sense. He pulled on the trousers, and then pulled the shirt over his head. As he followed Snape out of the bathroom, Harry asked:

"Sir, do I have to go home?" Snape stopped dead in his tracks, causing Harry to almost topple over as he avoided crashing into the man. It took a moment or so before the man replied, and his mysterious response was:

"Perhaps." He then kept walking, and opened the door closest to the living room. Inside was a small, homely bedroom. The walls were in the same dark stone as the rest of the castle, but had several paintings and tapestries to make them look pleasant. There was a bed with a thick duvet, a small wardrobe, a desk with a chair and a small armchair in a corner.

"Get in bed," Snape ordered without further ado.

"Really?" Harry asked in surprise. The bed looked absolutely wonderfully comfortable, and he wanted nothing more than to snuggle down between the covers, but he thought that maybe he had heard wrong. At the Dursley's he'd been made to sleep on a thin mattress under the stairs. Why was the professor being so nice?

"Do I look like I'm joking? Do as you're told, you horrendous boy," Snape snapped.

"But my Uncle-"

"Did I not tell you to forget what he's said?" Snape demanded sharply. "Hm?"

"Yes, sir…"

"Then do so, and get in bed. Do not make me ask you again." The tone of voice sounded ominous enough to get Harry moving, and he was soon lying in a soft and clean cocoon. "Now go to sleep. You know where the bathroom is, but I don't want you wandering anywhere else. Do you understand me?"

"Mhmm…"

"Potter!"

"Yes, sir," Harry sighed, his eyes drooping a bit and his breaths deepening. Snape snorted.

"Good night," he said firmly, striding out of the room but leaving the door open a crack. Reaching up with his left hand, he slid his glasses off his nose and placed them on the small bedside table.

Harry curled up tighter on his side, pulling his knees up towards his chest, heaving a deep breath as he closed his eyes completely. The events of the day caught up with him, and even though he would have wanted to stay awake and ponder everything that had happened, he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep within seconds.

Softness. When Harry woke the next morning, this is what was he first noticed. Rather than lying on a thin mattress with an old blanket draped over him, he was sprawled across the large bed with a thick duvet around him. At first, he couldn't really remember where he was. It was a disconcerting feeling, but not entirely unpleasant. At least he felt warm and well rested. Rubbing his eyes with both hands, he sat up in bed and fumbled for his glasses. As they were slipped over his nose and hooked behind his ears, the previous day came flooding back. He remembered Professor Snape, and magic, and Hogwarts, and his parents. He bit his lower lip a bit, and folded his legs underneath him. Now that he was fully awake and far too aware of everything for his liking, he wasn't sure what to do.

As if he could see through walls, Snape walked through the door at this moment. Fully clothed, excluding his robes, he stood in the doorway, staring menacingly at the small boy. Harry hunched a bit, and did his usual staring-up-through-his-fringe-look.

"Good… morning," Snape greeted, and the words sounded like they felt uncomfortable on his tongue. Harry wasn't sure why, but he got the impression that Professor Snape didn't tell people "good morning" very often.

"'Mornin'," Harry mumbled in response. Snape frowned as usual, and gave a curt nod of his head.

"Get up, then," he ordered, and Harry scrambled to obey without a second thought. Once standing on the floor, he resumed staring at the professor. "Don't stand there gawking," Snape snapped. "Put on those clothes and then come out for breakfast." A swish with the robes and then he left the room. Harry glanced over at the armchair, over which a white shirt and a pair of grey trousers were hanging. The almost-nine-year-old shrugged a bit and walked over to the chair, sticking his arms through the sleeves of the shirt. Unlike any of his other clothes, it fit perfectly. He marvelled over the clean smell and gentle feeling on his skin as he buttoned it up. He fumbled a bit with the task: it wasn't very often that he had to button shirts, and it made it a bit difficult. Once he'd finished (leaving the top button open: he had to breathe, after all) he pulled on the trousers. These, too, fitted perfectly. After he'd put on a pair of socks and a pair of leather shoes (Harry was scared to touch them in case they got dirty), he headed for the door and nervously peeked outside. Down the hall he could see the living room, but the professor wasn't in sight. With careful steps, he left the room and walked through the corridor into the big room. He stopped dead in the middle, and bit his lip again. Without Snape there, he felt like an intruder, and didn't dare move. He barely dared to breathe.

"Managed to get dressed, I see." Harry turned so quickly he thought for a moment that he would topple over. Standing in the archway was Snape, of course, his arms crossed and his beloved scowl etched into place.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, going for the safest answer.

"Well, sit down," Snape said, nodding over to the table. Harry nodded in a kind of agreement, and trotted over to the table, sitting down on the same chair as the previous evening. To his surprise, Snape sat down opposite him, and as soon as his chair had been pushed close to the table, an array of food appeared on the table. There were eggs, bacon, sausages, kippers, toast, fruit, tea, juice and water. Harry watched eagerly as a plate was placed in front of him, along with a knife and fork, a glass and a napkin. Forgetting his manners, Harry reached for a piece of toast and his hand was immediately slapped away. Snatching it back and shaking off the sting, he stared at Snape.

"Don't be such a pig," Snape spat. "Napkin in your lap." Huffing under his breath, Harry unfolded the napkin and placed it over his legs, sitting on his hands not to grab for anything else. At the Dursley's, he'd had to wait until the others were done, and if he didn't eat quickly Aunt Petunia would take it away.

Snape did the same with his napkin, and then poured them both some tea. He continued and added milk, and some sugar to Harry's, before nodding.

"Go ahead," he said, almost sighing. Harry gave a wide smile, and grabbed toast, helped himself to some scrambled eggs and poured some juice into the glass. Feeling like he shouldn't be too rude, he turned to Snape and said:

"Can I start?" Snape snorted.

"May you. And yes, you may." Grabbing his fork, he dug into the breakfast while Professor Snape drank his tea quietly. Harry ate as though he hadn't seen food in weeks, and then suddenly, he felt full. He still had half a piece of toast and an apple on his plate when he sighed and leaned back.

"That was lovely. Thank you," he added, remembering just in time. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Finish all of it, young man," he said, staring pointedly at Harry's plate. The boy grimaced involuntarily. Normally, he would have devoured every last bit, but after eating so much in one go, he felt almost sick just by looking at the food.

"But I'm full," he argued.

"You dished it out, so you'd better finish it." Harry huffed and squirmed. "Go on, Potter. You won't be leaving this table until you've eaten all of your food." Harry almost pouted, but checked himself in time. He was almost nine. He shouldn't pout. But he really couldn't eat another bite. Why did it matter anyway?

"Please," he said, his voice laced with a bit of a whine. "I really am full. Can't eat another bite."

"Now, Potter." Huffing again, Harry slowly took a bite of the toast. It didn't taste as nice anymore, but he forced himself to finish all of it, and then turned his eyes worriedly at the apple.

"Can I-"

"The apple too," Snape nodded. "You need some kind of fruit as well."

"I had juice…" Harry murmured, but bit into the apple anyway.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing," he added a bit louder, and kept eating the apple. After a few agonising minutes he had finished the apple, and sighed heavily again.

"I'm glad you managed to do something properly," Snape said sarcastically.

"Am I interrupting?" Harry jumped about three feet into the air at the sound of Dumbledore's voice, but Snape didn't look at all bothered.

"Not at all, Headmaster," Snape drawled, facing the elderly wizard. "What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to know how young Harry was settling," Dumbledore said, giving Harry a twinkling smile.

"Perfectly all right, thank you," said Snape in a determined voice.

"I'm glad. Now, Severus, I do believe we need to exchange a few words. In private."

"Yes, of course, Headmaster." He turned to his charge, who looked rather displeased. "Potter, to your room."

"Why can't I be here?" Harry asked, not at all sure where this bravado was coming from.

"Because the Headmaster needs to speak to me in private. And I asked you to leave. Now, off you go."

"But come oooon…" he whinged. Fleetingly, he wondered why he dared act this way with this rather intimidating wizard. His relatives would have gone positively ballistic, but he'd never argued with them, or talked back. So why was he almost… comfortable about doing it to Professor Snape? As a matter of fact, the man looked quite angry by now.

"Mr Potter… Do not test me." Dumbledore was watching the scene with serene interest, not saying nor doing anything as he observed the battle of wills.

"But Snape…" This was the last drop. Snape walked around the table, clamped a hand down around Harry's neck and pulled him off the chair.

"Will you excuse us, Headmaster? I need to speak briefly to Mr Potter, here." As Dumbledore had no objections, Snape marched a suddenly downcast Harry Potter out of the room and into the boy's guestroom. Somehow, Harry thought, he wouldn't like the outcome of this.

So... Sorry it took a while. This chapter was killing me, not wanting to be written, and school... Is kicking my arse. Well, never mind. I hope you're still with me, and that the chapter was okay! Tell me if you find any misspellings and such. It happens the all of us, you know...? Please do review!

Ivy