Disclaimer: I don't own any of it.

A/N: Check out my other stories!

"Where am I?"

"My aunt and uncle's house," Harry answered the man.

"Potter!"

"And I do ask you not to yell. It took enough to convince them to let you in the house."

"Why am I here?" Snape hissed.

"Because you were injured and I am not getting any response from headquarters," Harry answered. Snape tried to move. "I hope you don't mind that I used muggle methods on your injuries, since I am unable to use magic."

"What are you doing, Potter?" hissed Snape. "Trying to get on my good side? Well, it's not going to work."

"I'm not doing anything, sir, but helping. I wasn't going to leave you there! Trust me. I'm getting the worse deal out of this. You won't have to deal with my relatives after you leave. Now, are you hungry? I might be able to get food out of them. If not, you'll have to wait until I can sneak some."

"What are you babbling on about, Potter?" Harry just shook his head and left the room, wondering why he was even bothering to try. On the stairs, he watched the Dursleys, who were currently in front of the television watching some show or other. He was seriously thinking about just sneaking the food, but figured that they would catch him. They always did.

Harry wasn't surprised at all when his uncle became more strict with him after the Order members threatened him. His uncle watched him when he wrote his letters to make sure he didn't say anything against them. Which meant that Harry couldn't use blackmail to get food like he did in previous years. He had to lower himself to begging, which usually only got him in more trouble. Building up his courage, he finished walking down the stairs.

Upstairs, Snape was seething. Potter thought that he was getting to worse end of the deal? In an attempt to get him mind off the Gryffindor Golden Boy, Snape looked around the room. He was surprised at what he saw. The room was quite bare, like a guest room, only less furnished. In fact, the only furniture in the room was the extremely uncomfortable cot that he was laying on.

He focused on the window next. There were ratty curtains partially drawn, and the window was closed. Snape wondered why Potter kept the window closed; it was quite uncomfortable in the room.

Snape was brought out of his musings by yelling down stairs.

"Of course you can't have food, boy! You ate yesterday!"

"The food's not for me!"

"Even worse! It is bad enough we have to spend the money we do on you now! We shouldn't have to feed another one of you freaks!"

For a minute the talk was too quiet to hear, no matter how Snape struggled to listen.

"How dare you! After all we have done for you!" There was a loud crash after that, which caused Snape to flinch. "You keep that up, we'll move you back to the cupboard."

Snape was speechless when Potter limped back into the room three minutes later. Potter didn't say anything, so neither did Snape. Until the room was too stuffy for any sort of comfort.

"Why don't you open the window, Potter?" he sneered.

"They nailed it shut. Hedwig won't be back for a few days."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"She's the only way of I contact with anyone. Unless you have another way to get out of here safely, you're stuck here until then. I'm sure Voldemort knows you're here. The only thing that is keeping them from coming here is the wards." Snape was silent after that, so Harry didn't bother saying anything else. He was sure Snape heard what happened downstairs and that Snape would use it against him the first chance he got. Harry wasn't going to give him anything else.

But if Snape knows how you are treated here, he might tell someone, Harry thought, hopefully, but then thought better of it. He's probably laughing at me right now. Just then, Harry heard the familiar clicks of the locks on the outside of the door.

"Damn," Harry said.

"What was that?"

"He locked us in."

"What? Why?"

"Probably doesn't want me sneaking food. You don't have your wand, do you?"

"Do you think I would still be here if I did?"

"Of course not."

"Do not use that tone with me," threatened Snape. Harry just shook his head and rubbed his scar. Voldemort was mad; Harry could feel it. All of a sudden, there was a burst of pain, and Harry was on the ground. By habit, he held his tongue. The sharp pain subsided quickly, but his head still pounded.

"What was that, Potter?"

"He's mad," was Harry's answer.

"Clear your mind!" Snape hissed.

"It would help if you told me how to clear my mind," Harry muttered under his breath, not expecting to hear it. Snape's hearing was obviously better than his uncles, though, because he did hear it.

"You cannot be that much of a dunderhead to not even know how to clear your mind, Potter."

"Maybe I am," Harry muttered.

"I realize I am stuck here, Potter, but you will still treat me with respect. You may not be spoiled as I thought you were, but you are still an arrogant brat who cannot follow rules. I will not sympathize."

"I don't need you to, sir. I am fine," Harry lied. His leg was really starting to hurt after the hit from his uncle and the fall to the floor.

"What calms you, Potter?" Snape finally asked, less malice than before, but it was still present.

"What?"

"I asked what calms you. It is the first step to help clear your mind."

"Er . . . " Harry answered. Nothing in his life was particularly calming. The only time he felt at least partially better was when his uncle would throw him into his cupboard for some punishment of sorts. "My cupboard," he muttered.

"You need to stop muttering, Potter, if you want me to help you. The only reason I am helping you is because I have nothing to do at the time." Obviously, thought Harry. And he thinks I do have something to do?

"My cupboard," Harry answered, a little louder.

"Your cupboard? What . . ."

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry said flatly.

"Okay, then," sneered Snape. "What is it about this . . . cupboard . . . that is calming?"

"Er . . . it's dark and not big, I guess. It's hard for anything to attack in that small of a space, and it is easy to lose myself in the darkness."

"And when are you in this cupboard?"

"Whenever my uncle sees it fitting," Harry stated harshly, then added a "sir" as an afterthought.

"When you clear your mind, think of the darkness, then," Snape said plainly, but left it at that. Not having anything to do, Harry attempted this. He was surprised when the pain of his scar dulled slightly.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said quietly. At first he didn't think Snape heard him. They sat in more silence for another half an hour or so before Snape answered.

"Your welcome," he said flatly. Harry was surprised he got that. "Do you just sit around and do nothing all day, Potter?"

"Unless they let me out and give me chores to do, yes. There is nothing else to do."

"What about read your old school books? I'm sure you know you have much to learn from them yet," sneered Snape.

"I would, but they took all my stuff."

"All of it? Even your wand?"

"Of course. I don't know what's stopping them from burning the stuff. They've threatened to do it enough times."

"How do you know they haven't?"

"Because they would have tied me up and made me watch them burn it."

They stayed in silence for the next hour, both deep in their own worlds. Harry was imagining himself in a made up game of quidditch (against Slytherin), and Snape was wondering how long Potter had lived like this, and why he hadn't said anything. Especially if they don't let him eat. Which would explain why he was so small, even at sixteen. Not wanting to start another conversation with the brat, but not wanting to go crazy from isolation, Snape asked.

"Potter, why do you keep coming back here if you are treated so?"

"My survival is more important than my well being, Professor," Potter said sarcastically.

"Does the headmaster know? Or anyone, for that matter?"

"Of course not."

"How long have they treated you this way?"

"That's a difficult question to answer, sir, so to make it simple, I'll just answer, 'as long as I can remember'."

"Why haven't you told anyone?"

"I have, when I was younger."

"Do you honestly believe that the headmaster would keep sending you back here if he knew how you were treated?"

"I honestly don't know what to believe anymore, Professor," Harry said, laying down and using his arm as a pillow. If Snape tried to talk to him again, he didn't know, because he somehow fell asleep.

Snape didn't try to talk to him again. Instead, he attempted to get out of the pathetic cot he was sitting up on. He managed, but barely, and made it to the door. Although checking to see if it was locked was pointless, but he didn't have anything else to do. He would have attempted wandless magic, but since he had no where to go, that was also pointless.

Snape turned to look at the brat who fell asleep on the floor. He was having trouble understanding how a child who seemed as neglected, and possibly abused, ended up being as rude and big headed as Potter was. The neglected children he came across were usually a little more soft spoken. And more obedient of those in power. Very unlike Potter. Potter's always the exception, of course, Snape sneered in his thoughts.

Starting to hurt even more, Snape went back to the cot and tried, unsuccessfully, to fall back to sleep. Instead, he tried to think of what he could possibly do in the next few days. Unfortunately, most of them included Potter.

Harry woke up the next morning to pounding on the door.

"Get downstairs and make us breakfast, boy! Perhaps, we'll let you and that other freak have some," his uncle boomed from the hallway.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied obediently from the floor and slowly got up. It was hard because his leg was very stiff, but he managed. He left the room without taking a glance at Snape. Really, he forgot about him until he reached the bottom of the stairs, and when he did remember, he groaned inwardly. Snape's probably going to be harassing me until the second he leaves. Which is, hopefully, very soon.

Harry started breakfast the second he reached the refrigerator. He didn't bother greeting his relatives; they preferred him silent. Most of the time, he was. As usual, he made eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, and pancakes (Dudley and Uncle Vernon like variety in the morning), he set out three places at the table and the milk and orange juice. This morning, though, he set aside two plates next to the stove, one for Snape and one for him.

He didn't bother asking if he could take some food. The mornings he made breakfast were the days he was allowed to eat something. He placed most of the finished food in the center of the table, filled Snape's plate, and put his usual breakfast on his: a few pieces of plain toast, a sausage, a pancake with a little butter, and milk. He didn't know what Snape wanted to drink, so he chose orange juice, not seeing Snape as the milk-drinking type.

When Harry reached his (or rather, Dudley's second bedroom) door, he called that the food was finished and quickly entered, not wanting to get run over by his cousin waddling by. Dudley, although still on a diet, was allowed one big meal a day: breakfast. It was a compromise because Dudley wouldn't stop complaining.

Snape was sitting up and staring out the window when Harry got back into the room. He walked over to the cot and held out the older wizard's plate and glass. He took it and started eating slowly. Harry went back over to his usual corner, the one he slept in the previous night, sat down and started eating, also slowly. He knew that if he didn't, he would get sick.

Harry finished not long after Snape, and he went to collect the dishes. He was about to go back downstairs to wash the breakfast dishes when Snape spoke up.

"Is every morning like this?"

"Every morning I get to eat," Harry snapped, then left. He didn't want to be baited by Snape which, he had a feeling, that was what he was doing. Not wanting to be stuck in the room with the potions master, Harry took his time washing the dishes. Half an hour later, he was back in the small bedroom.

"Why don't they let you eat?" Snape asked once Harry was back in his corner.

"I don't know. They hate me."

"What did you do that caused them to hate you that much," Snape sneered, guessing that Potter didn't do anything, but he didn't want to sound like he cared. Because he didn't; he was bored.

"Wizard blood," Harry answered shortly.

"And how come you don't hate muggles with the way they have treated you, Potter?" Snape asked, curious. It was one of the questions that had bugged him for most of the night. It didn't make sense that he could be treated so terrible by muggles, yet not hold any grudge against them.

"I don't know," Harry answered quietly after a few minutes. The question obviously bugged him, too. "I guess it's one of the reasons that the prophecy . . ." Harry trailed off when he realized what he was saying.

"The prophecy, Potter?" Snape sneered. "What makes you so sure that it points to you? You don't even know the complete prophecy. No one does."

"Yes, I do. Professor Dumbledore told me at the end of the school year," Harry rebutted flatly.

"He actually you? The fool. I'm sure it makes you feel special."

"No, it doesn't," stated Harry.

"Oh, so you aren't happy that there is one more thing that makes you even more famous?"

"I don't like being famous!" hissed Harry. "I never wanted to be! I never did anything to be famous. The only memories I have of that night are of my dad telling my mom to take me and of my mom begging for my life. And her screaming! Do you think I enjoy that? I'd give it all up to have a family who actually care about me, Professor." Snape didn't answer, so Harry looked out the window, searching for Hedwig.

"So, the prophesy points to you, does it?"

"Unfortunately."

"What does it say? That you have to kill him?"

"Basically."

"And what extra training are you getting?"

"What?"

"Extra training? Are you telling me that besides your pathetic attempts at Occlumency, you are not getting any extra training? You know no more than the average fifth year, and you are expected to kill him?"

"No."

"That's pathetic."

"Looks like we finally agree on something. I think Professor Dumbledore expects me to go ahead with my education and become an auror. Of course, I highly doubt I'll make it to 19 years old."

"And why do you say that?"

"Voldemort isn't just going to stop trying to kill me. He'll keep coming after me until he kills me. Or I kill him. I don't know about you, but I highly doubt I'd be able to beat him in a duel. Not that I think he'll give me back my wand next time. I don't think he's daft enough to make the same mistake twice."

"What do you mean?"

"In the graveyard, the day he was reborn, he gave me my wand back and forced me to duel. I would most likely be dead right now if our wands didn't cancel each other out. Which reminds me, I should get another wand."

"Why?" Snape asked, believing it to be a good idea, but wanting to know Potter's reasons for it.

"Several reasons," was Harry's only answer.

"What . . ."

"Boy! Get down here!" Uncle Vernon yelled from downstairs. Harry hurried down as fast as he could. He was surprised to see Hedwig, with a small parcel tied to her leg, perched on the sofa.

"I want that freak out of my house. You, too, if they'll take you," Vernon said, then left the room. Harry found that in itself off. His uncle never left him alone with Hedwig anymore.

Harry took the parcel and Hedwig up to the room. He handed the parcel to Snape, since it was addressed to him. He knew he shouldn't be, but he was surprised that they knew where he was suppose to be.

"Portkey from the Headmaster," said Snape to himself. "Potter, get your things. If anyone knew I knew of your current living conditions and left you here, Voldemort would be the least of my worries."

"But . . ."

"Do you want to stay here?"

"No. Not at all. But . . ."

"But what Potter? Afraid of portkeys?" Snape sneered.

"Yes," Potter whispered.

"The great Harry Potter, afraid of traveling by portkey," said Snape sarcastically.

"Yes, well, the last one you used didn't take you to the Riddle graveyard, cause a death, and the second rise of Voldemort, did it?" Harry snapped.

"Potter, get your things, or I will leave you here and tell everyone how wonderful of a time you are having." Harry just glared at the man and went downstairs to ask for his trunk and owl cage. Fifteen minutes later, after making sure everything was still in there, Harry was back in the room with Snape, staring nervously at the portkey.

"Potter, the headmaster sent it. There is nothing to worry about," Snape said, almost sounding reassuring. Harry shook his head, made sure his wand was on him, and touch the portkey. Snape said the password (Gummy Worms), and Harry felt the familiar tug at his navel.