I'm supposed to be writing my dissertation, but I've been dying to get back into creative writing so I've decided to procrastinate :) This is going to be a short story, I'm the worst with keeping up a story, and to this day I have never been able to finish one. Hopefully this one is different!

A Place To Lay My Head

PROLOGUE

He was fuming. He was absolutely, positively fuming. He was sure there was a stream of steam shooting out from his ears.

"Excuse me?" The raven-haired man managed to croak out amidst his anger, "you want me to what?"

Albus Dumbledore glanced over at Severus Snape, his Potions assistant, over his half-moon glasses. There was a slight glimmer of amusement in his eyes, "now now, Severus. You are merely an assistant, I simply need you to show me that you are capable of teaching non-magical children, to allow me to let you become Potions Master at this school."

Severus carried on steaming in silence.

"Come now, Severus. I know that you are capable, but as headmaster I cannot just give you the position, you must have some experience of teaching elsewhere!"

Severus steamed some more, "but, Albus... must it be Muggle children?"

"Yes, well. I also have a mission of sorts for you..." the elder wizard trailed off.

'Ah-ha!' Severus had known there was something else. He deflated – it is not like he would have, could have refused the headmaster as much as he wanted to. He knew his position.

Severus sighed, and said "what is the mission?"

"I need you to check up on someone, a little boy. It has been a few years since I left him under the care of others, and I would like you to check up on him, see how he is, how he is doing. I am sure he is perfectly fine, however, it will not hurt to check," he finished jovially.

Severus had felt a sudden unease at the mention of a 'little boy', "surely you do not mean-"

"Harry Potter" Albus interrupted.

Severus lowered his head and closed his eyes tightly, almost as if he were in pain, "Albus, you must have lost your mind! I will absolutely not waste my time chasing after that ghastly little prima-donna!" Severus opened his eyes. He was close to yelling. He would absolutely NOT do as Albus said... although a little part of him knew he was fighting a losing battle.

"Oh, Severus, you do not even know him," the headmaster said, with a slight tinge of disappointment in his words, "I must ask this of you, you need teaching experience, and I need someone to see how little Harry is doing. You are the only one I can spare."

"Little Harry is just fine," Severus snarled, defensive at the disappointment he heard. "Albus, I cannot-"

"You must, and you will. It is not up for debate, Severus. Harry does not know of the Wizarding world, he cannot know of who he is! You must realise that he is not his father, this trip will be good for you too-"

Severus snorted in disbelief, angry at being thwarted of his wants.

"-and as I said, you will be showing me your capabilities as a teacher. Do you want to remain the Potions assistant forever?"

Severus breathed deeply, knowing he would have to do this to get to where he wanted. He was tired of following the dunderhead professors around like a little servile dog, catering to their stupid teaching needs. Most of them were idiots anyway, and Severus, for one, wanted to see Hogwarts with a proper Potions Master.

After a long silence, Severus asked, "how long will I have to stay?"

"I require only one term from you, Severus. September through to December," came the reply.

Severus closed his eyes tightly again, feeling his hear constrict. 'Four months. Four hellish, brat-filled, long months.'

Severus did not look up at the Headmaster, unwilling to let him see the defeat that took him. "Fine. I will do it. You know I cannot say no to you, Albus," Severus relented, with a sharp bite in his voice. "You know I cannot refuse you," he said the last bit quietly, eyes glaring round holes into the Albus' desk.

Albus looked sadly at the defeated young man in front of him, heart slightly constricting at having to make his young friend do something that was against his will.

A small, trilling voice in his head said, 'it will be good for him, Albus. He is too closed off, he needs learn to open up. He needs to learn to trust himself again.'

Albus glanced over at the fiery red bird perched on a stand to his left. 'I know, Fawkes, I know,' he mentally replied.

With a silent sigh, Albus softly said, "thank you, my boy. I know what this means to you, and I want you to know that I would never do anything that would allow harm to come to you. I am your friend, Severus. Always remember that."

Severus raised his head and stared into his mentor's grandfatherly face, into his striking blue eyes that were conveying trust and friendship. He wanted so much to see himself as Albus' friend, but he knew that he owed the elder wizard his life, and he knew he would never be able to refuse the man anything.

"Yes, Albus," he said, emotionless.

"Everything is being organised as we speak. You will be teaching a year five class. There will be approximately twenty children aged around ten years old. Harry will be joining a year one class, and your class will become "buddies" to them – I will explain more tomorrow," Albus said, seeing the slight confusion on Severus' face. "You will be living in a house a few doors down from the Dursleys. The school year starts on the sixth of September, so you have a week to prepare. I trust this is a sufficient amount of time?"

Severus nodded lightly, lips pursed. "If that is all, I need to go back to my rooms to start preparing the necessary potions for the Hospital Wing if I am to be away for so long."

Albus nodded, "yes, thank you, my boy."

Severus stood with a mental sigh, and made his way out of his mentor's office. The door shut with a quiet click, and the fire-coloured phoenix immediately flew to Albus' shoulder.

"Well, Fawkes, I hope this all works out," he said to the bird. Fawkes crooned and rubbed his head along his master's cheek. Albus had a tiny feeling of foreboding, which he supressed. He was sure Severus would be able to open up a little, in his time with Harry. Despite the obvious, what could go wrong?

It was a beautifully sunny day. The blue of the summer sky was overwhelming, and there was a lovely fresh breeze, hinting at the coming autumn season.

Harry stretched his arms upwards and his legs downwards, quietly groaning at his aching body, but savouring the few minutes he had before he had to get up. He could almost taste the crisp, fresh air as he lay in his bed.

Of course, Harry was only imagining all of this; the cracks that were between the door to his little room and the frame were letting a flood of light in, and that only happened when it was really sunny, so he knew that it must be a sunny day.

He wasn't complaining. It was basically autumn now, and that meant sunshine without the cloying, stifling heat of the true summer days. He hated those days as much as he hated the freezing winter days, because they made his work in the garden horrendously difficult. The summer was especially horrible, because the heat made him struggle with his breath which meant that sometimes his work was unfinished, or not of a sufficient quality.

Then Aunt Petunia would rail at him and make him go to his cupboard without any dinner, not that he usually got much anyway.

But he sighed in happiness today, as he lay in his bed counting down the minutes he had before he got up to prepare the house for his relatives. It was Sunday, meaning he had a quick lie in as the Dursleys slept longer on Sundays, and also the best thing of all – he was about to start school!

Harry could hardly contain his excitement even though there was a small, pessimistic voice inside him crying out to keep himself in check, that school may not mean what Harry hoped it meant. A chance at friends, a chance at being someone – something – normal. Harry mentally shook the voice away; in his mind, he was imagining school as the best place in the world, somewhere where the Dursleys couldn't touch him and where he could live a life doing things for himself, and having his own friends. He just would have to be very, very careful to never mention anything about his freakishness.

He counted down another thirty seconds, and got up to prepare breakfast for the day. English breakfast today, it would be. Deliciously crisp bacon, greasy fried eggs covered in salt and, Harry's favourite, those juicy brown baked beans.

He had sneakily eaten a couple of beans one time when the Dursleys had just allowed him to start cooking for them – he recalled the memory with a heavy heart, because it was the first time Uncle Vernon had hit him, when he had caught him stealing food. He had seen all kinds of stars, and would have had a concussion the whole day had Aunt Petunia not left him a beautifully pain-killing bag of ice on the kitchen counter.

But, she only did it because Uncle Vernon had had to go out. She had still made him do his chores, and she never told Uncle Vernon off for any of the following times he hit Harry. She would just be somewhere in the periphery, silent and steadfastly ignoring what was happening and only leaving Harry ice bags on the kitchen counter when Vernon was not about the house. Aunt Petunia had become an expert in being blissfully ignorant of Harry's suffering. It confused him, but he accepted it.

Harry sighed as he waited for the bacon and eggs to fry, wincing slightly at being caught by a bit of spitting oil. He was never allowed any delicious food like this, only the scraps of leftovers of the Dursley's meals which was usually almost nothing since Dudley and Uncle Vernon tended to always scoff their meals with an animalistic fervour.

After about ten minutes, the gorgeous smell of the Dursley's breakfast had wafted upstairs and Harry heard heavy stamping like there were elephants. He prepared himself for another day of chores, being yelled at, more chores, and more being yelled at.

Except, today was Sunday, and tomorrow was his first day of school. His eyes lit up in excitement before he quickly changed his demeanour to appear emotionless and servile – if Uncle Vernon noticed his excitement or happiness at all, he would go to any length to crush it into the ground and further, but Harry would eat his own hat the day he let his relatives see him sad or angry. Although he didn't have a hat, so it would have to be something else. 'Maybe one of Dudley's,' Harry thought, a giggle wanting to burst out of him.

With school starting so soon, the hitting had completely stopped about a week ago, and it was just like it had been before the beans incident. Just constant insults, and complete and utter dislike.

Harry was serving up the breakfast when Uncle Vernon blearily lumbered into the kitchen in his white pyjamas and heavily sat down at the dinner table. He was followed by a prim and proper Aunt Petunia, already dressed in a modestly long brown skirt, and a pale pink flowery cardigan. She sat down lightly and ignored Harry's presence as he slipped the fried eggs on to her plate.

"Hurry up, Boy!" Vernon spat loudly, "we're all starving, what took you so bloody long?"

"Sorry, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied meekly, bowing his head slightly.

Only one day to go. Just twenty-four hours. He would get through this. Wouldn't he?

So, thoughts? Criticisms? Please leave a review!

xo