Author's Note: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of it's characters. I do not own the wizarding world sadly or we would have mass production of chocolate frogs! Hopefully you all like this fic, got slammed with it one late night, just to let you know this does not follow Deathly Hallows at all. So no spoilers.

Footsteps in the snow left a trail, a shadowy reminder of the one who left them behind. And the man, who walked with a purpose, didn't so much as give them a second glance. His emerald eyes blazed with a hidden fire. The scarf he wore was old, a reminder of days gone by.

Determined, He fully intended to see this particular task to the end. He paused before the house in front of him, his hand half raised. He hadn't seen her in years and he wasn't sure she was still alive. Taking a deep breath he knocked on the door softly.

"Come in," rang a voice that was music to his ears.

Pushing his glasses up, he took a deep breath and tried not to think like a schoolboy as he pushed open the door. She sat at a fire, age having taken her hair to white, and although her eyes had saddened, they were still full of life and surprise at seeing him again.

"…what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you again?" she said, already smiling.

He smiled back as he stomped out the snow from his boots and walked into the house fully. "Minerva," he spoke her first name, as they were equals now. Though he knew in her eyes, he was the better now. "We're reopening her, and I want you back," he said simply. Oh there was surprise in her eyes again.

"Me?" she asked. "You see that even time has slowly caught up to me, what good could I possibly be to you?"

"You knew it before I did, you know it down to your bones," he stated, flashing her a lopsided grin. "Besides do you honestly think they could get me to agree to be headmaster? No thank you I'll stick to what I know. So we need someone who was one before, and has the knowledge and know-how. Frankly Professor," he stressed the title letting her know that's what she would always be to him: a treasured teacher, and a dear friend. "You are the only one I agreed to let take on the job. She needs your wisdom…and your rules." Towards the end of his statement, Harry could no longer prevent the sadness from showing in his eyes. He shook his head, in one last attempt to remain composed.

Not fooled for a moment, Minerva gestured to the chair across from her. "That isn't everything you came today to talk to me about, is it Mr. Potter?" she stated knowing it was true.

He ran a hand through his thick black hair and closed his eyes. Leaning back in the chair, he took a moment to enjoy the warmth that was filling the room.

"Do you know where he's living now? The minister of magic doesn't dare go against my wishes. After all, everyone knows about the time I blew up Dumbledore's office…and as I seem to have inherited even more power, they are afraid I could do the same to the whole wizarding world," he said with a humorless smile.

"So you're already feeling sorry for yourself," she said in her raspy voice.

He laughed and shook his head. "For myself? No, I feel bad for my fiancé; she deals with everything in stride. She doesn't even bat an eye. Though Merlin knows how many times I've been hit over the head with a frying pan," he said, rubbing his head.

"Is that so?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "How is it that you can't even find an old hermit potion's master, Harry, if your so powerful?"

He sighed, "I don't honestly want to intrude on whatever life he might have earned for himself. Everyone knows he is innocent, no one blames him, or Draco for what happened. What's done is done, now we have to think about the future," he said simply.

"Harry…What makes you think I would know where Severus Snape is?" she inquired.

"Because he would tell you," Harry said bluntly. He didn't blink he just stared at her, his emerald eyes held no emotion, which sent chills down her old spine. He was right, no wizard ever dared go against him.

"I heard that Ms. Granger became a potion's mistress why not have her teach instead?" she countered.

"Actually it's Mrs. Malfoy now, surprised?" He grinned again, "You know how she was helping Draco recover? Well Ron isn't too happy about it, but he at least respects Draco, he did save her life after all. But she is teaching Muggle Studies, of course. And yes Narcissa has accepted her as a daughter, she actually adores Mione, and she finally gets along with Tonk's mother again. 'Bout time if you ask me." Harry shook his head, noticing he'd strayed off topic. Sitting up straighter, he looked Minerva directly in the eyes and continued, "I want Snape…he was the best, and still is the best, I am sure of it." Harry's tone was sharp, all amusement vanishing.

Again Minerva found herself staring at an adult wizard, who was as cold as the weather was…she shook her head, remembering all to well the arguments and fights the Potion's master and this particular former student had…then an idea began to form into her head…she smiled.

"Last I checked, he was at the Prince estate," she said stiffly, though she was already very pleased with what was in Harry's mind. The shadows under his eyes, and the slight flicker of self loathing was enough to have her wishing the wraith of Snape on him.

"Thank you…you will become headmistress again right?" he asked pausing as he stood. He looked at her, his eyes piercing.

She nodded slowly, "until we both find a replacement we can agree on."

Harry nodded satisfied. "All right we have an accord," he said and walked to the door.

"Harry…why now? It's been five years since Hogwarts closed."

He turned, his amusement back. "Because it took me that long to contact enough builders to put her back to her former glory," he explained. When Minerva stared, he shrugged. "I have a large amount of wealth that never seems to get used. So I figured I'd put it where it would belong…" he finished, opening the door stepping back out into the storm.

"Harry…you won't be able to apparate there…Severus has many wards, as well as traps all over his property. He isn't interested in…" she trailed off, at a loss how to put in words what she meant.

"He has no desire to associate with the Wizarding world any longer. Don't worry Professor, I understand entirely." He flashed her one more grin before he slipped into the storm. Minerva surged to her feet and rushed to the door intending to warn Harry about Snape's current mood, but the man was no where to be seen.

"Albus…he grew up into a true wizard…" she whispered with a tear streaming down her face. She just wished that he didn't have to deal with his past…some scars would never fade…

Severus Snape considered himself a rather simple man—well wizard. He enjoyed simple things, like a nice fire on a chilly night, a cup of herbal tea to calm the nerves that woke him sweating from a deep sleep. He liked his solitude, free of any concerns other than himself. And most of all, he told himself day after day, he enjoyed not having to teach snot-nosed little brats.

Normally, he would still be asleep, even with the wind slamming against his windows. It was a bad snowstorm, he thought. England didn't get many, but the few they did get seemed to make up for the amount. This particular storm was going to have him trapped in his home for days to come, he thought happily, or he would've been happy had he been able to shake the feeling that something—rather someone from his past was going to show up any time now.

He coughed and sipped his tea. He hadn't changed much since his days at Hogwarts. His face was clean-shaven face, his hair was long now, to the middle of his back. At the moment it was tied back and lacked the greasy look it always got when he worked with potions. Not that he didn't work with potions, but since he had no classes to teach he could make potions at his leisure.

He was surprised when he found himself preparing Pepper-up and another rather nasty concoction that would help with treating severe chills. Shrugging he set his teacup down, perhaps he would run himself a nice hot bath and go back to sleep. He jumped as he heard a slam on his front door and wondered if snow had fallen against it. But his senses heightened and he found himself on his feet, facing the door with his wand out, his eyes narrowed. The slam occurred again, though now it seemed more of a knock than a slam. Glaring, he walked over to the door and threw it open. He figured it was probably some stupid villager to dumb enough to stay out of the storm. What he saw before him stopped his heart.

"Hello Professor Snape, might I borrow a small bit of your time?" Harry Potter, thorn of his Hogwarts years, asked. He gaped; it was all he could do.

Harry was dressed in a thick long trench coat; his old Gryffindor House scarf was wrapped tightly around his neck and his mouth. He wore no hat and from the look of his red nose, hadn't even placed a warming charm on his clothes.

"Potter…" he began when the younger man sneezed. He frowned, and cursed whatever circumstance had brought the boy back to him. He stepped aside and gestured, "Get in before all the heat goes out with you." He barked out the command. Stomping the snow off his boots, Harry quickly did as he was told. The thin gloves he was wearing caused Snape to scowl.

"Haven't you gained any common sense?" he snapped out. "Why didn't you use a warming charm on your clothes."

Harry pulled down his scarf and gave Snape a lopsided grin. "Sorry Professor, I meant to, but it sort of just slipped from my mind…now about why I am here…" Harry began, but Snape held up a hand and pointed to a series of pegs on the wall.

"Coat and scarf there, leave your boots there as well," he snapped. Harry blinked and then raised an eyebrow at Snape's antics. Deciding it best to obey the man, Harry slowly peeled off his gloves and shoved them into his coat pocket. He then delicately pulled off his jacket, shivering as the snow slid down his back. Next he unwound the scarf and hung it next to the coat.

"Professor, I really won't take more than a few minutes of your time," he said as he paused.

Snape sneered and pointed at Harry's boots. "Then you can do so without bringing any of that into my study," he stated Harry sighed. Hopping on one foot, he began to pry the first boot off. At one point he nearly lost his balance completely, before the boot victoriously slipped off his foot.

Snape rolled his eyes heavenward and pointed his wand at Harry's other foot. Muttering a quick spell, the boot slid off his foot and landed softly onto the small carpet. Harry blinked, standing dumbly for a moment. Suddenly, he realized he was still holding his boot. With a slight blush, he scrambled to put it down with the other.

"Why is it, you don't seem to want to use any magic Mr. Potter?" he inquired as he gestured for Harry to follow him. The boy wore a nicely made green jumper but the socks had surely seen better days.

Harry coughed slightly, as he looked around. Snape seemed to be comfortable enough, the house was elegant and had many antiques around. And the fire that blazed in a study was warm. Harry shivered as the warmth seeped back into his limbs.

"Now Professor what—" he attempted to began, only to be cut off by Snape yet again.

"Sit down Potter. It can wait a moment or two." Snape snapped at him, "and you're dodging the question." Harry made a face and sat down.

"I'd just rather not use magic in the presence of others," he explained as Snape took his original seat and folded his arms, one eyebrow raised.

"Elaborate, Mr. Potter," he said in the tone he'd often used on Harry in class, which still made the boy squirm in his seat.

"Because almost everyone is afraid of me, if I use magic around them," he pointed out. Snape blinked. He could see why others might be nervous around the wizard who single handily took out the Dark Lord. But…he mused, as he stared hard into the emerald eyes that met his, he was not. But, he mused, as he stared hard into the emerald eyes that met his, I am not.

"Certainly, no one was around for miles and you obviously had to get here somehow"," he pointed out, but he narrowed his eyes scowling when Harry shook his head.

"I walked."

"You walked?! From where?" Snape asked in a tight voice.

"Only from McGonagall's house. Now Professor, can we please get to why I name?" Harry asked losing his patience. Snape raised an eyebrow and waved Harry to explain. "All right then…we are reopening Hogwarts and all of the staff has already agreed there is one person we need."

Snape raised his eyebrow keeping his face carefully neutral.


"You haven't even let me ask yet!" Harry snapped.

Snape smirked. "You want me to be the Potions teacher correct?" he asked and Harry nodded, "No thank you Mr. Potter. I've had my fill of snot nosed little brats, more than enough for two lifetimes. So you can move along to the second choice." His smirk grew as anger clouded Harry's eyes.

"Professor there isn't a second choice. The only one we'll accept is you!" he snapped.

"Well to bad. I'm sure you all can find…"

"I don't want another one!" Harry shouted, springing to his feet, his glare rivaling the worst of Snape's. "Look it's been six years since Dumbledore died. I know it hurts, I'm sorry you had to kill him, but we must go on living. Hell, it's my fault that you had to kill Dumbledore in the first place! If it wasn't for my blood, Voldemort wouldn't have been able to come back!" Snape paled at the Dark Lord's name and then narrowed his eyes. "So will you take that stick out of your arse for once and…" Harry snapped, then he bent over giving into a fit of coughing.

Snape stared at him for several minutes before he spoke up. "Potter when was the last time you slept," he demanded, it wasn't a question.

"When my fiancé hit me over the head with her frying pan for telling her I didn't intend to stop what I was doing and eat supper at a reasonable hour," Harry replied seriously.

Snape stared at him and tapped his fingers on the chair's arm. "And when was that Potter?" Honestly age didn't improve the boy's brains it seemed, only made them less existent.

"About a week ago from tomorrow," Harry replied with a shrug. "I haven't been home to get hit over the head again. Though I already know I'm going to be chased with all manors of kitchen pots and pans for being gone so long."

"I see," Snape said dryly.

"Professor, you may no longer need Hogwarts, but she so desperately needs you," Harry said tiredly. He met Snape's eyes and watched as they narrowed, not knowing that Snape saw the same thing McGonagall had only a short time before, the self loathing and weariness.

"Is that so Mr. Potter? Why do I have a feeling that you are the one solely responsible for Hogwarts, this time around?"

"Because I'm filthy stinking rich and we all know how the rich love to play with their money," Harry smiled.

"Oh, yes, of course, play. That could only be the possible reason," Snape sneered.

"That and the fact that we all owe it to those younger ones who never got the chance…" Harry said shaking his head. He coughed again, the cough sounding like it rattled down his throat into his lungs.

Snape winced in actual sympathy and stood. "Sit down Potter and let me think for a moment, I'll be right back," he said slipping from the room.

Grateful for the delay in departure, Harry leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. Oh, he knew he was going to have one very long lecture when he finally managed to get home, but Snape was the last of the Professors he was hunting down. If he could just convince him…then…he opened his eyes as he watched. Snape walk back in a cup of tea in his hands.

He offered it to Harry. "So you still haven't explained why you didn't use magic," he said.

"Yes I did, people are afraid of me when I use magic around them."

"You weren't around anyone at the time…why didn't you use magic?" Snape asked, watching as Harry blew on the tea and took a tentative sip.

"Oh," Harry paused, swallowing another sip of tea, "that's because I've gotten used to doing things without magic, so much so that not using it has become first nature." Running his tongue across the roof of his mouth, Harry frowned at his tea. It had an odd after taste, but when he glanced at Snape for an explanation, the Potion's Master was busy drinking his own forgotten cup of tea.

"So you don't use magic," Snape stated simply.

"Not when I first think of things," Harry explained. "I go the muggle way first, wizard second."

Snape nodded, accepting the boy's explanation, even though it was a bit odd. "Potter, why would you want me to come back?" Maybe even add a little: Snape shook his head, even though he and Potter had got along better towards the end of the war. That did not mean they were chummy pals.

Harry studied the fabric of his armrest, he hated to admit it, but Snape really was the ideal man for the job. Swallowing his pride, Harry spoke quickly, so as not to lose his nerve, "because you're the best there is. Hogwarts needs the best teachers if we have any hopes of bringing her back to life. The builders are already fixing her, but the heart is gone. Until we have the staff I know she deserves, she can't reopen. I want to reopen for this coming school term. So that means I only have until August 31st." Harry took a deep breath before drinking another sip. The tea was different, and it would certainly take some getting used to, that was for sure.

Snape was silent for another minute then spoke again, "Are you taking position as Headmaster?"

Harry choked on his tea. "Me?! For Headmaster? Are you kidding me? Snape, everyone knows I'm no good for that kind of job! No, I got McGonagall to return as Headmistress until we find someone we can both agree on. I'm just the lowly Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Hopefully, I'll have better luck than my predecessors," he added with an amused look.

Snape nodded, then leaned back setting his cup aside. "If I came back, and that is a big if Potter," Snape paused, giving Harry a stern look to make sure the boy understood. "If I returned, then I would continue to teach the same way I always have."

Harry nodded, "I would hope so. Despite what you think, you are a good teacher." Snape glared, showing the boy he never doubted his own teaching ability. Harry ignored him and smirked when he said, "even when you're scowling and breathing down students necks making them so nervous they faint." That said, Harry frowned once more at the tea, he was beginning to feel light headed.

Panicking, he looked up to see Snape watching him intently. The look was too familiar, the same intense one Snape seemed to give him in his first year at Hogwarts and then for every year after that. It seemed as if Snape was sizing him up, wondering if he was even worth his time. I'm not his student anymore! Harry's brain screamed as he fought the urge to ask what it was Snape seemed to find fault in. He coughed slightly, which only intensified Snape's look. He squirmed and once again reminded himself that he was now a grown man and no longer one of Snape's students. He looked away and took another sip of his tea, which was almost gone, and felt his heart race as another bought of dizziness swept over him. He looked sharply at Snape and narrowed his eyes.

"You…you!!" he shouted, glaring at him and then down at the tea. "Y-you…poisoned my teee…." His tongue was growing heavy, it was hard to speak clearly. Snape smirked, looking pleased with himself as Harry clumsily set the teacup aside on the table, it tipped spilling the last of the tea. "You…why would youuu…" he slurred. Quickly, he attempted to stand, but instead swayed and fell back against the chair. Unable to move much more, Harry settled on a glare, hoping to show Snape that he was less than pleased.

Snape stood and walked towards Harry clicking his tongue with a hint of disapproval. "Now, now," Snape chided, " You know better than to let your guard down, you should have placed a detection spell to make sure that tea was just that, tea." Snape pulled an afghan from the nearby rocking chair.

Harry glared at him through hooded eyes. "Eyyyee aaatte ooo…"

Snape tisked, shaking his head, "and you should know better than to walk in the middle of a blizzard. Potter where in Merlin's name are your brains?" he asked, still shaking his head. He threw the afghan over Harry, tucking it around the young man's chest. Afterwards, he tapped the chair with his wand, causing it to tilt and slowly unfolded, raising Harry's legs as if it was a muggle recliner. Snape continued to tuck the blanket around Harry's legs, glancing every once and while to see if Harry was still awake. Honestly, he was surprised at the fact that Harry was still fighting sleep. The potion he'd slipped into the boy's tea was rather strong and persuasive, Harry shouldn't still be awake. He straightened; shaking his head, he placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Relax," he said gently.

To Snape's surprise, Harry sighed and closed his eyes doing just that. Shaking his head again, Snape waited until he was sure Harry was deeply asleep. It didn't take long. Leaving the boy's side he walked over to his own chair and settled back, picking up his tea, once more his eyes on his unwanted guest. Summoning one of his old potions text, he settled himself to a long night of keeping watch.

He stared blankly at the page with a scowl; did he honestly want to return to Hogwarts? He hadn't even given the old school a thought in years.

That, of course, is a lie, a quiet voice scolded in the back of his mind.

"I most certainly have not!" he snapped out loud to the voice.

Liar, not a day goes by when you don't miss deducting house points from students, and teaching. You miss that…

Snape growled slamming the potions book closed. "I am not having this argument!" he snarled.

What Potter show's up and I suddenly go mad! he thought angrily. He placed the book next to his empty tea cup, only to glare at the source of his current insanity. The boy was thin; he mused as his trained eyes studied Harry. Not to thin though, he eats more than he must have whenever he was at Hogwarts. Though the shadows under his eyes hinted that he never truly slept, not the deep sleep one's body needed to heal itself.

Growling, Snape tore his eyes away from his former student. He didn't forget what he himself had seen during the final day of the War. Nor did he forget Potter… the boy stupidly threw up barriers to prevent Death Eaters and Light Wizards alike from attacking each other, while he battled alone with the Dark Lord. Snape's eyes drifted back towards the bane of his existence. Potter had saved many lives that day, be it Death Eaters or Light wizards. In addition, after the Dark Lord's fall he hadn't seemed interested in the fact that the Ministry of Magic wanted blood, they wanted scapegoats. But…they were too afraid of angering the savior of the light to actually go after the disbanded Death Eaters.

Snape would bet all his potions that Harry kept careful tabs on each and every former Death Eater to make sure that he or she stayed out of trouble. He frowned as Harry twisted slightly in the chair, one of his hands tightening into a fist. Snape stood up and slowly walked over to get a closer look at his unwanted guest. He noticed that the boy was shivering, something he shouldn't be doing. Snape grumbled as he leaned over the boy.

Potter twisted again, biting down on his lip as if he was making an effort to not scream. Blood trickled down from where his teeth sank into the flesh of his lip. Quickly, Snape conjured a face cloth and dabbed at it. He told himself he just didn't want his things stained with blood; no he didn't play nursemaid to anyone! The boy's body shook again. Growing more concerned—not that he would admit it— Snape raised a hand and placed it on Harry's forehead.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "You Potter are a complete and total imbecile!" he shouted, even though Snape knew the potion he'd slipped Potter was strong enough to knock out a grown man, much less a boy. Snape shock his head, he shouldn't think of Potter as a boy anymore, but if the boy would stop acting like a foolish child! Angrily, Snape snatched his hand away from Potter's forehead. He should just let the idiot suffer and shove him on his way when he woke up.

After all, he'd made sure the boy had at least gotten some sleep, that was more than enough kindness. His eyes glanced at the weather outside and winced. The snow was coming down even more severely than just a few hours earlier. Added to that were the wards he himself had built around his home. Potter wouldn't be able to leave in any way other than muggle style. But that would put him out into below freezing weather with what already appeared to be a cold.

The boy is cursed, Snape mused as he walked out of the room to his potions closet. It had to be that, history would repeat itself time after time. Well, not all of history exactly. Not once at Hogwarts had Snape actually treated Harry Potter for a cold. If the students got sick they went to the hospital wing, and Potter always seemed to spend a great deal of time there.

Snape snickered, he was sure that wouldn't change even if Potter was a Professor. Although, this time around, being a Professor would mean Potter wasn't forced to go. That had him scowling, if they weren't going to enforce rules on Potter just because he taught instead of learned, then he himself would take matters into his own hands.

Snape nodded, feeling satisfied.

That was, until he froze…Told you that you'd go back, the voice in his head said gleefully.

Snape growled in frustration and the quickly snatched up a few potions. He was stomping back towards the sitting room when he'd heard a scream that sent chills down his spine. He quickened his pace into a run.

Entering the room, he saw that Potter had fallen from the chair and was curled tightly around one of his arms. His body was shaking and shivering, even though he now lay right by the fire. Rushing to his side, Snape set the potions on the floor. Taking hold of Harry's head, he forced the boy to face him. Snape stared in shock. Harry was still asleep.

Swearing, he shook Harry's shoulder while muttering a spell that would wake Potter, despite the potion. Emerald eyes shot open and through the haze of sleep, Snape saw sheer terror. Then the eyes clouded, shields falling down blocking that fear from sight. Harry blinked and stared at Snape, obviously confused.

"What?" the boy murmured.

"You appeared to be having a rather violent nightmare Potter," Snape explained in a strained voice, at the same time, trying to help Harry uncurl from his awkward position.

"You! You…" Harry began, yet again his eyes widened with shock.

Snape snickered, and then simply stated, "Yes, I drugged you." He helped Harry stand as he continued, "And I have an idea. You are tired, spend the night and in the morning I will tell you my decision." He could tell by the look in Harry's eyes that the boy didn't believe he'd be able to go back to sleep.

Harry looked away debating. "And if I insisted on leaving now?" he asked in a soft voice.

"The answer would be no. At least tomorrow there will be a chance I might change my mind." Snape pointed out with a smirk.

Harry sighed and gave a defeated nod.

" All right Professor, you have a deal," he said.

Snape clapped a hand on his back. "Good and to seal it drink these," Snape said, retrieving the potions from the floor, he held them out dangling from his fingers.

Harry stared at him. "What?" he said, making a face.

"I said drink these," Snape repeated. "I didn't know you're hearing has worsened with age Mr. Potter."

Harry scowled, "Of course, it didn't, but why do I have to drink those!" Snape let out a sigh shaking his head. "Anyone with half a brain knows you caught a cold. If you take these it should offset some of the symptoms, such as the aches I know your feeling. As well as the fever you have." Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Snape held up his hand. "And before you deny it, need I remind you I have been trained in basic mediwizard practices? I can tell when someone has an elevated temperature."

"No sir…"

"Then what is it you are trying to say Potter?" Snape asked with a raised eyebrow.

"What is it to you if I caught a 'cold' as you put it? I'll be fine in a day or so," Harry stated.

"You're right, providing you, and here's the real hard thing: rest. Rest as in stay in bed, and drink what's given to you. But as I know already, you will only stay long enough tomorrow to hear my choice. I know better than to insist on anything other than what I wish you to take tonight. So…" Snape said holding out the potions to Harry once more.

Harry frowned; he couldn't remember the last time he actually drank a potion. Occasionally he took a pepper up or dreamless sleep, but that was only if he was desperate Or to save myself from one of Ginny's pots, Harry thought with a wince.

"Don't argue for once." Snape added as he saw arguments spring to Harry's eyes. Sighing, Harry took the vials from Snape and stared at them for a few minutes before he raised his eyes.

"Please you…" he began, but Snape held up a hand.

"I am not discussing Hogwarts any more tonight," he said, making it plain that he was growing impatient. "Drink your potions Potter so that I can show you to one of my guest rooms and then retire myself."

Sighing again, Harry uncapped the first of the potions and grimaced before he downed the contents. He scowled as he handed the empty vial back to Snape. The second potion took him slightly longer, because as he downed it the taste made him gag. Moving quickly, Snape covered Harry's mouth and rubbed the young man's throat to help get the liquid down.

When Snape released his mouth, Harry gasped, "thanks-" His eyes filled with more tears as he coughed some more.

"No, Potter," Snape snapped. "I don't want your thanks." Harry opened his mouth to speak again, but Snape cut him off, "I mean that Potter. Do not mention it!" Without waiting for a response, Snape turned and gestured for Harry to follow him.

"Yes sir…" Harry mumbled, stumbling as he followed him. Turning swiftly Snape caught his arm and helped the younger man to the room nearest them. It was dark, done entirely in emerald green. Harry stared at the over large bed on the far wall and glanced at Snape.

"Sir…how…why I mean…" he began.

Snape snorted, "Most of this came with the house, it was my mothers. And that is all you need to know. Now let's get you to bed. We can talk more in the morning." Snape waved his wand, and the covers pulled back so that all Harry had to do was slide into the bed and beneath the blankets. Harry allowed himself to be led over and was surprised when Snape pushed him to the bed.

"Sir…why are you doing this, all you needed to do was give me your answer," Harry whined

Snape smirked, "Because it's confusing and irritating you Potter, and that gives me joy." Snape folded his arms. "Go to sleep," he commanded.

"What? You're going to stand there and wait for me to sleep?" Harry asked shocked.

"Yes, to ensure you do stay in that bed," he replied. "Unless, of course, you'd rather I use an immobilize hex on you…" He watched the way Harry's face paled and the look of terror seeped from behind the shields in his eyes. Ah…so there is something hidden, Snape mused to himself silently.


"I do not want you wandering around poking your nose in my house without my permission."

"Oh…well…I guess…" Harry said lamely.

Snape glared down at him. "Sleep requires one's eyes to close," he snapped. He was waiting; all Potter had to do was admit he wasn't going to fall back asleep on his own.

Harry looked away and sat up. "All right what do you want?" Harry asked with an annoyed tone of voice.

Snape smirked. "Can you actually sleep willingly?" he asked.

Looking up Harry was surprised to see understanding eyes. "No," he said softly and blinked as yet another potion was dangled in front of his face.

"Take it without any questions, we'll discuss whatever it is we need to when you get up," Snape said and watched with satisfaction as Harry downed the potion without complaint. He waited as Harry settled down, and finally drifted into sleep. Then he pulled the blanket to the younger man's shoulders.

Stepping back, Snape folded his arms and tapped his foot in irritation. Now this was a problem he had never thought he would foresee…Dumbledore's golden boy actually defeated by no one save himself… Snape shook his head. He did not want to go into the thoughts that were beginning to surface, he did not want to remember. He was going to bed himself; tomorrow was promising to be a long day. With a glance at the window, he grinned at the snow… he would have fun breaking the news to a certain young man that he was going to be trapped for at least several more days…