(On August 16th 2015, I re-edited my story, please go read Chapter one if you have read Bittersweet before today.)

Author's Note: This is a Severus/Ronald chapter, so sorry if that's that not your thing. Honestly, I never even considered them together until I wrote this fanfiction but I find their relationship is rather sweet, if I do say so myself; after they finally manage to stop fighting and trust each other, of course. But if this isn't your cup of tea and you aren't keen on trying something new, just wait until the next chapter. This story is pre-dominantly Lumione but every five chapters or so will switch POVs.

Bittersweet.

Bittersweet Exasperation.

"Will you cease your incessant thrashing about for one second so I can tend to your wounds, you demonic brat?" Severus Snape complained exasperatedly at the flailing redhead currently bound to a wall in Severus' upstairs bedroom. He had nearly given up his latest endeavor of healing the wretched young man, but his injuries were starting to become infected and he could neglect it no longer.

Ronald Weasley growled in response and renewed his violent struggles against his chains. Recently he had taken a strong liking to doing the exact opposite of whatever Severus wanted him to do."Get the hell away from me! Don't touch me," he spat venomously at the older wizard, shrinking away from his wand.

Huffing irately, absolutely beside himself with the nuisance of a boy the dark haired man paced away from him, walking to and fro in order to collect his bearings. They had been at this for almost thirty minutes and he was losing all the remaining vestiges of his patience.

Severus did consider simply barraging him with healing spells but sloppy wand-work combined with an uncooperative patient was only a recipe for disaster. Not to mention if he started blasting charms at the sixth Weasley he in all probability would be unable to stop himself from firing spell after spell at him ad infinitum.

He had been with his newly claimed 'prize' for scarcely more than two days and he was already losing his trademark avidly-trained fortitude. The boy had been troublesome in school, although not wholly on his own; to his dumb-founded credit there were always more nuisances to be had when Potter was around. It was as if they were prodigiously infuriating reincarnations of James Potter and Sirius Black when they were together in school.

Even now, thinking of Lily's son he felt a pang of loss- for both of them, on some level. In his youth he had loved Lily but after being torn apart by her when she refused to forgive or even speak to him again, he turned to Lucius and his unswerving friend comforted him and helped him delve deeper into the Dark Arts enough to impress the Dark Lord in all his mounting notoriety. After joining the ranks of the Death Eaters, Voldemort developed and pursued a distinct interest in him. He had to… sacrifice much to prove himself, but was rewarded with knowledge far beyond his most fierce aspirations—at the time.

There was nothing he regretted more than being the cause of Lily's death. Potter was just that, a spitting image of his father in every sense of the word, but there were times when he looked into Potter's eyes he could still see her face, every now and then in the things he said she heard her words ringing in his ears. It was haunting.

Severus knew by the fiber of his being that he would never love another woman again. Losing Lily was something he would never recover from, and now that Potter was dead…

He shook himself out of his musings before his calm turned to sorrow. As ever, he would not think of it. Never think of anything to do with Lily or Harry or Potter. He mustn't.

Weasley was sending him a burning glare from his pale blue (thank Merlin for that,) bloodshot eyes, panting with exertion. He was wearing nothing more than a ruined pair of shorts, the very same thing Severus carried him out of Hogwarts in. The Death Eaters had stripped them of almost everything, which was becoming all too transparent to him.

It hadn't started out this way, with his former student literally tied up in his bedroom. He had tried to reason with him first but what started out as him simply trying to get the delirious boy to take a couple of potions rapidly escalated into a heated argument which came to a head when Ron managed to lunge at him, swinging his arm and connecting with Severus' face.

Admittedly he might have acted rashly when he finally got hold of his wand and stunned him again, carrying him up the stairs and, well, resulting in the situation they were in now. However, until Weasley settled down considerably Severus would not relent.

He honestly wasn't sure what the young man would do.

"At the very least, help me to understand why I should not heal that cut on your leg for you. It was obviously inflicted some time ago and has gone untreated for too long. Do you want to let it fester?" Severus prodded him, hoping he for once see reason.

But things rarely, if ever, went the way Severus wanted them to.

"I don't need anything from you, you piece of-" he began but abruptly cut off when the wand pressed into his throat.

Severus took a few controlled breaths. "I would advise you to not finish that sentiment. In fact, I very much recommend you stop talking altogether. You will let me heal you now." He did not like being pushed into using the aid of the magical collar, but he simply couldn't take anymore.

True to his expectations, Weasley stilled and kept his crass mouth shut. It was a refreshing change and Severus to some extent regretted not doing it sooner, saving them both from the arduous grief, but he hadn't wanted to resort to that.

Nevertheless satisfied Severus lowered his wand and bent over Weasley, adjusting the cuff of his frayed shorts so he could examine the oozing wound more closely. The infection had already started to spread from being ignored for so long and he wondered if he shouldn't disinfect it with an alcohol-based solution the Muggle way before he healed it magically.

Making up his mind, he crossed the room into the small connecting bathroom. He rifled through the medicine cabinet and cupboard until he found what he was looking for. Hydrogen peroxide would do the trick.

He returned hastily, before Weasley changed his mind, standing over the shivering young man, though whether it was the quake of rage or sheer exhaustion he couldn't be sure. "Do try not to yell too loudly," Snape warned as he turned the cap off the bottle and tipped the contents over the fouled leg as gently as he could allow.

Weasley, under the influence of the Mudblood collar, let loose a strangled howl that prolonged into swift intakes and expelling of sharp breaths. The chemical bubbled viciously, a sure sign that it was doing its job well.

Severus let it steep for a few moments, sending the bottle away and stilling the struggling wizard with his hand flattening against his upper body, pressing him further into the wall. With his free hand he used his wand to cleanse the wound, instantly slowing the harsh wheezing emitting from the boy.

Upon further analyzing, he concluded he had been wise to use the Muggle approach first as the cut looked to some extent less nauseating than before. Raising his eyes back to the cautious blue ones, Severus removed his hand from his even now rapidly moving chest, pursing his lips tersely.

"This is not so objectionable is it?" he asked quietly, bending further and started to mutter healing incantations that would require much of his reserved magic but would heal the leg to a near-perfect state once more.

He did not cease his healing chants until the lesion was sealed, closing and fading from dark red to faint rose to milky white, a trace of the freckles once there vaguely perceptible on the marred skin. Catching himself on the wall before he swayed into Weasley, Severus closed his eyes as he unguardedly took several long moments to compose himself.

Opening his eyes, he glimpsed the wide-eyed aghast expression the boy wore so unbecomingly. He looked positively terrified over what he might do next. Had he not just taken care of what could have been a life-threatening injury if remained untreated? Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes in annoyance.

"Contain yourself, Mr. Weasley. The wards I have in place here are already steadily draining my magic but we can't have you losing part of your leg to contamination, can we?" He asked rhetorically, pushing himself from the wall powerfully.

Despite his words, the impossible redhead flinched.

Fury exploded through him and came to a head through his exasperated shouting. "Do you think I want to keep you here this way, you stupid boy? If you would rein in that crude temper of yours I would not have to resort to this. Or do you actually like being forced to obey that disgusting strip of leather?"

That apparently made him think- for a split second. He scowled in response, his eyes narrowing in scrutiny. "What do you mean Snape? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking," Severus said heatedly, grabbing him by the very subject he was referring to, "about this. Do you actually think it is no more than an ordinary collar? Tell me you are not that naïve."

At the look of bewilderment, he clicked his tongue disapprovingly and relinquished his hold on Weasley roughly as he paced away.

"What—so, you're saying that this some kind of magical collar…?" He started slowly but was spoken over as Severus bit out his input.

"Oh my, how infinitely clever of you, Mr. Weasley," he fumed, but the boy continued.

"…And instead of using that you-you've been keeping me chained up here like-like some kind of animal?" His voice had risen progressively as his realization dawned on him, ending in a shaking, spiteful sputter.

Here they were again, ever and always in a fighting match against the other, trying to dominate the opposing volume. Severus tried to reason with him on numerous occasions, but it always resulted in this.

Growling, he clenched his fists at his sides, trying to regain some control over his flaring mood.

"As I have tried to explain, many times, I would not be obligated to take such extremes if you merely cooperated-"

"Why should I listen to you? Just because you heal my leg you think I will believe any vicious lies you spew at me? You murdered so many of my friends, Snape- your students- people who trusted you, you sick, pathetic-"

"ENOUGH!" Severus finally had all he could take and he roared over the insolent child easily. It wasn't a direct command that affected the collar as he had not given a direct order, but it was enough to make that unyielding mouth of his snap shut.

He closed the distance between them with slow, measured steps and loomed over him, inflicting all the exuding gravity of his persona on his former student. This incessant, ineffectual arguing was going to end—now.

Severus' intimidating presence had the desired effect and Weasley was shifting uncomfortably away from him, resisting his inspection like a pinned butterfly beneath him. He was twisting away, looking anywhere but at the curtained face of the man who had taught him for six years, but Severus wasn't having that.

Catching Weasley's strong chin between his fingers, he forced him to bring his gaze to his before he constructed his next words with great care, wanting their impact to resonate.

"You will keep those infuriating lips pressed together and consider my position carefully. Everything I have ever done has not been without great, but grave, necessity. I have tried to give details pertaining to this to you, but you have resiliently refused to listen," Severus pointed out, his tone never rising above more than a mere murmur. "I will have to determine what my next course of action will be in this subject matter before we can continue. I have no wish to spend the remainder of my days quarrelling with an immature teenager."

His jaw clenched, he felt it happen rather than saw it and belatedly realized he was still holding his face in his palm, standing much too close. Letting go, he stepped away as he deliberated what to do with him now.

Knowing he could coerce Weasley into listening by using the collar would simply not do. If he was to begin a trustful partnership with the redhead, he would have to find another way to make him come to some sort of sensibility.

Bitterly, he thought of Lucius and how he had the far less painful task of dealing with the perceptive girl. At the given moment, he would trade anything in his disposal to swap positions with the blonde wizard.

Perhaps the only way he would get the impertinent boy to listen was at the friendlier urging of Miss Granger. According to Lucius, she already believed his story which was more than he could say for Weasley. Yes, the more Severus thought about it the more it seemed absolutely right, the only possible course for which he could proceed with for now.

If all went well, he might finally get his bedroom back as an added bonus to putting an end to all tiresome fighting.

After reading the small clock in the corner of the room and seeing it was already near dawn, Severus made up his mind. He didn't have any more time to waste with the little beast; he would send a message to the Malfoy Manor, inform his friend he would be dropping by in a few hours time with company, and let Miss Granger deal with her childhood companion.

Striding across the room purposefully, Severus rifled through his desk drawer for an unused bit of parchment and a snatched his quill off the stand. He began scrawling a hasty note to Lucius updating him on his situation and explaining his solution, leaving no room for argument. He signed the letter with his initials and sent it through the Floo network towards Wiltshire.

During that time Weasley had finally felt uncomfortable enough to start squawking again. "What are you… what are you doing, Snape?"

He was eyeing the fireplace with apprehension, watching the letter engulf in yellow flames and shoot up the chimney with a trace of smoke until he heard Severus' approaching footsteps. Whipping his head around, he spotted him advancing and redoubled his effort against his bondage.

"Don't—get away from me!"

"Be still, Mr. Weasley. You will do as I say, you will not move or fight me, and you will contain yourself while I remove your bonds. Am I being quite clear?" Severus intoned quietly, coming to a stop before the wild-thing and leaning into him while conveying the full power of his most menacing sneer.

As he spoke his movements stilled in accordance with the delicate magic of the collar around his neck. Through the tangled bits of flame-colored mane that hung over his forehead and tried to conceal his cornflower blue orbs, Severus saw many things; the fire burning in the shining eyes, the smoldering fear that he desperately tried to hide at the back, under all that hair, and the shattered, betrayed remnants of the boy he once taught.

'Well, really,' Severus berated himself, 'why shouldn't he feel deceived?'

The night of the Battle at Hogwarts he hardly had enough time to find Potter, who just happened to be alone in the castle. He still had one final mission from Albus Dumbledore, and that was revealing the truth to Harry in the place of the Headmaster after his imminent death. Since the boy and his friends had wisely not returned to school, that left him with little opportunity to accomplish his final and most difficult task.

He had been about to attempt it, the night in the Forest of Dean after Potter foolishly and without thought jumped right into the bottom of a freezing pond in the middle of winter, no less. Severus was prepared to jump in after him, save his life once more, but it had never come to that.

Weasley had discovered Potter at the most opportune moment and rushed in after him, just as rash and reckless to rescue his best friend. Severus couldn't draw attention to himself after that. Dumbledore's explicit instructions were to tell Harry alone, no one else. If too many people who loved the boy-who-lived got involved the 'Chosen One's' fate things would get complicated.

No, better to keep him alive until the right moment, until he was meant to die—to pay for all of our sins like the Holy Son and absolve the entire Wizarding world of what they had created-

Severus drew himself out of his spiraling grief, falling too far into their dazzling depths. Weasley was still standing defiantly below him- but not by much- unmoving and lips pursed tightly while he passed the time as his former professor mulled over the past.

Before he knew it, things had come to a head at Hogwarts. Once the Dark Lord learned Potter was at Hogwarts he insisted he would wait no longer. He was out for the boy's blood, and would have it before the night's end.

Barely managing to track down Potter to get him alone, he used a body bind on him and dragged him into an empty supply closet so they would not be discovered. The spell allowed him to enter his mind while he had no other choice being frozen; giving him access to flow into him the memories that Dumbledore wanted him to know. It was the most efficient way to do so at the time, and the quickest way he could show Lily's son how he had protected him over the years, and most painfully of all: why.

When the boy understood, eyeballs shining even under the hex, Severus released him and they stared at each other for infinite seconds with mutual acceptance. Even as he was gazing at the reincarnated image of his old school rival, he was looking under the black hair, past the wiry frames and into the only thing that mattered to him about Harry Potter; his eyes.

They were watery but not crying, only glistening with recognition- perhaps even remorse, looking back on it now. The perfect green orbs were dancing in their sockets, searching Severus' face for some kind of retribution or truce. However, Severus had done all he could do for Potter now; his debt to Dumbledore was paid, he had somehow inconspicuously managed to protect him for all these years therefore releasing him from his promises to Lily, and he had only now to return to the Dark Lord and wait for the moment he could help bring him down.

He knew he had to leave, to flock back to Voldemort and perch himself on his shoulder like a vile pet, play his part until the very conclusion of the sordid mêlée —but he couldn't tear himself away from Lily's heavenly eyes just yet. Despite knowing he looked foolish, never mind that he was breaking his character and forgetting all common sense he reached out to lightly brush a falling tear from under his spectacles rolling the dark lashes protecting her- his- eyes.

Potter did not flinch, no, but another tear fell and glided over Severus' knuckles and he knew he was not just crying for Severus alone, nor for his dead mother and father, or for knowing what Dumbledore had kept from him all those years, from learning the truth about his allegiance all along- there was so much more there.

A young boy who had grown up much too quickly, a young man on his way to his death bed- oh, there was a chance he might survive after Voldemort destroyed the Horcrux in his, but what happened after that point no one could say.

So Severus gazed openly for what he thought would, and what turned out to be, the last chance he would ever get to witness the startling emerald eyes he had once loved so dearly in another.

"You know, it is true what they say," Severus had murmured quietly, erasing the last evidence of his tears and righting the glasses so similar to his former enemy's. "You really do have your mother's eyes."

Turning to leave, he made it only a few steps before Potter called out to him.

"Wait! Snape, wait, I—"

Without facing him again, he said solemnly, "You know what you must do, Harry. I cannot help you any longer."

He shouted, "Professor!" once more, but Severus did not stop. He took to the sky and searched for the Dark Lord, already burying his newest memories under the layers of his well-built Occlumency barriers until he could later submit them into a Pensieve.

And so Potter's friends never did learn the truth about him as their fearless leader had. No more than a few hours later he was dead and most of that time had been spent dueling. Severus had done all he could, incapacitating as many as he could without harming them, but once Voldemort had gained full control of the Elder wand after killing Draco and having destroyed the Horcrux in Potter already, the boy was no match for him.

Severus wanted to help in some way except everyone was made to watch, to witness the final battle of one of the most powerful wizards who ever lived against a child of almost eighteen, and to observe who would have the victorious outcome.

It was all he could to restrain Weasley, gripping him much tighter than what would be considered essential as he looked on at the clashing of wills with bated breath like every other person in the Great Hall.

Weasley; the one and the same, the fiery redhead still glaring up at him even now, in spite of everything he had done for the Golden Trio. He supposed he could have violated his mind like he had done Potter's, but they were not in the midst of combat, there was no impending danger and as such would not be favorable for ultimately winning his trust and putting their plan into action.

Granger would make him see reason. The girl had a startling way of seeing right through people, to their very cores, and was able to identify them for what they were. It had taken Lucius awhile to be convinced of that but he was starting to appreciate it now- already after less than seventy-two hours with their newly acquired charges.

So he began physically untying the ropes that bound Weasley's outstretched limbs, starting with his right hand. He grimaced upon seeing that the skin underneath had been rubbed raw against the scratchy twine, but if he hadn't fought him so much it wouldn't be nearly as terrible.

He carefully grasped the freckled forearm and helped him lower his aching limb to the side. They had been in a cumbersome position for almost two days and would not immediately return to their full usefulness for at least a couple of hours. Placing his hand at his side gently, he leaned around him to repeat his actions with the other arm.

Weasley let him work without complaint, only small whimpers of protest were emitted when the rope rubbed his skin or when he lowered the arms for the first time. Then Severus was kneeling down before him, untying the knots around his ankles.

Once he was fully released, Severus performed more simple healing charms on the affected flesh so they would not be uncomfortable and would heal rapidly. Again he mimicked his ministrations on the pale wrists, satisfied when there was no more than a faint pink outline remaining.

He tried to place himself in the young man's shoes, metaphorically of course, to discern what he would most need at that moment. He would be hungry and exhausted, and would definitely need a bath in the near future, but they hadn't the time for all of that. His bony knees were trembling weakly as they supported his weight and Severus decided sleep would most prudent for the boy now.

The lingering beckoning of the collar would have faded by now as he completed following all of his orders, but he remained standing, leaning back slightly into the wall for assistance. He seemed complacent for the time being, obviously stupefied by being set free even as he struggled to stay offended.

"Give me your hand," Severus ordered, and offered his own to lead the boy over to a comfy recliner nearby. "Slowly, now," he urged and helped him ease onto it and the boy went willingly, his desire to rest his throbbing appendages overruling any attempts to fight him.

"You will rest here- in this spot- until I return for you. Do try to get some sleep, if you can manage it," Severus told him sharply, even as he gently lowered a fleece coverlet over the pathetic form of Weasley.

Being a spoken order, he couldn't refuse; so he merely stared up at his former Potions professor with hesitant, wary eyes already growing heavy in the comfort of the worn armchair. It was a welcome change, though he still detested relying on the collar, but made his life easier nonetheless.

He would wait for word from Lucius while Weasley got some much needed rest and then Miss Granger would take over from there. But currently, the redhead was still eyeing him whilst he snuggled further into the warmth of the blanket, pulling it up to his neck.

"Attempting to sleep usually entails closing your eyes, Mr. Weasley," Severus drawled sarcastically, dimming the lights in the room and casting an inconspicuous warming charm on the covering over the younger wizard.

As if on cue, an obnoxious yawn was produced from his throat and stretched the muscles of his jaw as he tried to articulate something through it.

"Really, Weasley, you do not have a demure bone in your body," Severus noted dryly. "What are you trying to blather about?"

"What's that s'posed to mean?" He demanded groggily, his eyes blinking slowly. He mirrored a child fighting off an inevitable afternoon nap the way his eyes would start to flutter, pale lashes fanning his cheeks before he forced them open wide again.

Weasley was losing his battle with consciousness as exhaustion took over and the heating charm lulled him into a placated state.

"It means you are still the bold young man I taught so many years ago," Severus reminisced softly, realizing it to be true no matter how much the war had changed him, them, and so many others.

"And you're just gonna stay there… thinking I'll just let you… watch me fall asleep…?" He was mumbling in a self-conscious way, even though he was doing just what he said.

Severus would have answered but by the time he finished, his chin dropped further into the crook of his shoulder and he slumped fully into the reclining chair. Immediately feeling relief flood through him, Severus sighed with fatigue. He liked nothing more than the prospect of following in suit of Weasley and collapsing onto his bed to let sleep take him, but knew it was impossible.

No, he would forsake the sweet call of slumber for another day to prepare for their impending visit to Malfoy Manor. After checking that Weasley was truly asleep, he pulled his wand out and cast cleansing charms over the ragged boy, removing the grime from his hair and the dirt and blood that smudged the rest of his body. More presentable and rid of the unpleasant odor, Weasley appeared completely unscathed, showing none of the signs of his former imprisonment inside the Dark Lord's Fortress.

He had longed to see what had transpired in the confines of the castle while he was away- not just to Weasley but to all the others as well, but did not allow himself to abuse the young man's memories in that way. Being forced to relive that kind of torture so soon would not benefit either of them in any way.

Contented with his wand-work, Severus left the room, gathering potions from the small office/makeshift study that the former professor had transformed for his use. He would need to get Weasley to take some to fully regain his strength, but he first needed to get some food into him upon waking.

Entering the cramped kitchen he searched his cupboards high and low for adequate nourishment. Admittedly, he did not think to stock his pantry before bringing home his spoil of war- rarely did he ever give much thought to himself, so another person with needs and requirements to attend to was quite foreign to him.

Weasley could do with some real clothing as well, he thought off-handedly, recalling the ruined shorts he was sporting. Now that he had already breached the magic of the collar he might as well continue to do so until it was no longer necessary. Making up his mind doggedly, Severus grabbed his cloak and left his small house, locking and warding Spinner's End to keep Weasley in and anyone else out.

His destination was a Muggle outlet mall not far from him street that held what he was searching for. After acquiring food and some spare clothes for his new-fangled 'slave,' Severus would be one step closer to launching his definitive plot.

A not-quite-gentle prodding was rousing his consciousness but Ronald Weasley resisted.

He was rather enjoying the enveloping warmth of his present location and had no desire to part with the enjoyable black void that was pulling on his subconscious, for the first time since he couldn't remember when. But there was a voice above him rapidly pulling his unwilling mind back to reality.

Snape stood above him, glaring down his crooked nose while he rustled himself upright. "At last, he emerges from hibernation," he drawled impatiently, turning to the desk propped up against the wall.

Ron rubbed his eyes, still too tired to come up with a witty or petulant retort. That's what Harry would have done, but he just could not muster the energy. As he lowered his hands, he recoiled upon opening his blurring eyes and seeing a plate of food hovering in the air before him.

A plump apple, a puffy bread roll, actually there was something from nearly every food group; protein, starch, nutrients- his senses visibly perked at the offering levitating invitingly in the air, lulled into blind acceptance at the promise of food.

Without waiting to be told he tossed the blanket off his torso enough to thrust his arm towards the plate as if it would vanish if he did not partake of its temptation at the first thing he could reach; but his muscles screamed in objection from having been suspended for so long and consequently curled into his body for protection while he slept.

A strangled groan issued from his throat while he drew his hand back, clenching the aching muscles soothingly. He was so absorbed in his pain he didn't notice Snape had approached him.

"Here, take it- drink it," he instructed and then corrected himself irritably, clearly having lost all his patience from before, from when he had stared so long and unguardedly before he released the ropes he had tied him up with. The older wizard had sent a message to someone; he tried to ask what he was up to but never did get an answer because he had never really asked. Ron didn't know what was in store for him now, but he inherently understood through experience that it couldn't be anything good.

But frustratingly he wouldn't even have a choice but to comply if Snape gave him an order. It was so unfair!

Without hesitation he took the potion bottle and uncorked it dutifully despite his protesting limbs and drained the contents in one go. It was a Strengthening potion, but Ron was pretty sure it was mixed with something else because the flavor was off. Regardless, he felt the dull ache thankfully subsiding even as his suspicion of the man grew.

Why would Snape give him a potion to restore his strength? Was it simply because he was using the collar to control him now? Or was there some other ulterior motive…?

While his pain was reducing to no more than minor stiffness in contrast to his rising awareness and swift shift from dazed to alert considerably suddenly. It must have been a Pepper-Up. That did nothing to pacify Ron in the slightest.

Setting the potion vial on the plate still hovering obediently before him, he gripped the edge of the ceramic material and unceremoniously flung it towards the opposing wall.

If Snape was surprised, he gave no sign of it. The snarky wizard narrowed his eyes as he cocked his head at him mockingly, as if there was something not quite right about Ron's behavior. In the Weasley's eyes, however, he was totally justified.

Utter humiliation it was, being owned by the man he and his school friends had for years called a 'greasy git,' 'an overgrown bat,' and 'a bloody bastard, 'amongst other foul-mouthed things. He and Harry had never trusted Snape and when it was discovered where his true loyalties lied all along their hatred was bitterly defensible.

But no, he could not dwell on the remembrance of his dead best mate, his truest friend in the world. Doing so brought such a rush of anguish and a sour taste in his mouth he was powerless to put a stop to it once it started.

With forced calm, Snape levitated the jagged pieces and the discarded food in the air, repairing the shattered dish over their heads as it reassembled on the desk. He was keeping a noticeable distance as compared to earlier and Ron couldn't help wondering why…

"So," said Snape evenly, "we are back to that, are we? Somehow I knew I would regret administering you potions, but no matter-"

He dusted off the morsels of sustenance magically, sighing in a painstaking way. "The potion and your lack of supervision during the weeks of my absence require you to eat, so will eat. Start with the apple first," he ordered, sending the ripe red fruit over to him with a flourish of his wand.

Ron caught it reluctantly but once he bit into the juicy produce his mouth watered approvingly. Too long it had been since he had eaten a proper meal, much, much too long. Ron had always been the sort of person who loved food could consume copious amounts daily without gaining a stone.

Ignoring the way Snape watched him devour the apple; Ron focused instead on the apple and took vicious bites to satisfy his hunger. When nothing but the core was left in his dripping fingers, Snape vanished the remnants and conjured a glass of water.

"Drink," he commanded, letting the glass hover in the space between them as he had done with the plate. Since it was an order, Ron had no control over his fingers closing around the cup and bringing it to his lips so he could covetously gulp it down.

The water had flowed too quickly and Ron was sputtering as his hoarse throat happily soaked up the liquid. As he was wiping his mouth, he saw the brown shape of the bread drifting and floating to a stop an inch before his nose.

Snape did not instruct him to indulge this time, he appeared content to stand there and unnervingly watch him. Why couldn't he just leave Ron alone?

But hunger won over sulking and eventually he was reaching up to take the soft roll, still warm as his hand closed around the delicate crust. The dough was cooked perfectly and nearly melted in his mouth as he chewed appreciatively, eyeing the other man cagily through mouthfuls of bread.

There was nothing he wanted more than to toss the remaining chunk at the head of his former professor, but he resisted if only because he found the food was too delicious once he had tasted it.

His stomach was already swelling gladly, welcoming the first real meal he had eaten since his imprisonment. A few cubes of cheese were next, which he popped into his mouth without dithering about anything which was followed by leafy greens. Normally, he would have complained about eating dry lettuce, but it tasted just as well in his current state.

After drinking another full glass of water, Ron slumped back into the chair as his stomach processed the most food he had eaten, at one time, in months. With his belly full and his appetite dissuaded, his potions taken as well as his nasty cut healed from earlier, he felt a million times better. But whatever Snape was trying to do, it would not work; Ron knew the old git was trying to trick him, swindle him in or out of something in some way, he just couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was…

Snape just continued to hang about rooted in his spot watching Ron all the while with an expressionless face, a blank mask firmly fixed in place. There had to be a reason for his fleeting change of moods from prior that day, but he was stumped as to what it could be. He would never be able to learn the emotions or motives of the dark-haired wizard before him, like the said wizard could do so easily.

It was no huge secret that Severus Snape was a great Legilimens, and Occlumens at that, but what really unsettled Ron was that never- not once- did Snape use his powers of mind-reading on him. Ron would have been lying if he stated that he was not afraid the wizard would do so. In addition to the stories from Harry in their fifth year, he had heard countless tales of Snape's flawless prowess with mind magic from other Death Eaters while they had been in the House Elf quarters. They had practically guaranteed Snape would use the fragile art to rupture his brain, as he had done with countless others at the Dark Lord's behest.

But Ron had been ready for him anyway. He briefly remembered conversations between Harry and Hermione where Harry was explaining his lessons and Hermione would give him tips and pointers on how to deal with Snape while following his orders.

'You've got to listen to him, Harry,' Hermione had urged pleadingly.

Harry, however, was not having that. 'I DO listen, Hermione, but he hasn't bloody well told me howto defend myself against him!'

Hermione cradled her head in her palm, thinking of a new approach with Harry. 'Look, Harry, I know you hate these lessons- probably as much as he does-'

'Not likely,' Ron cut in from his card game with Ginny.

'-But Dumbledore wants you to learn Occlumency, so you must! Close your mind; resist Snape like he is telling you to,' Hermione explained, pretending not to hear Ron.

Harry had grumbled and left the Gryffindor Common Room to make his way to the dormitory.

And all too soon, Harry abruptly ended his lessons in Occlumency, and never did share with Ron or even Hermione the reason for his sudden decision.

It hadn't been much to go on but ever since he was placed in Snape's care, Ron had tried to practice closing his mind- whatever that meant- and came to the resolute decision that he would not let Snape into his private thoughts.

But it hadn't ever come to that. Snape seemed to know what he was thinking without even needing Occlumency or Legilimency one bit. It was hardly just unreasonable- it was unthinkable! Who did Snape presume he was, knowing things about Ron?

The object of Ron's dark musings finally moved again, breaking the tense silence in the room with his stabbing words. "Now that you have eaten you are going to change into your new clothes, make yourself presentable and come downstairs so we can leave. Our company is expected, and we are already in danger of falling behind schedule," Snape stated matter-of-factly, already striding toward the open door of the room.

"Wait! What am I-" but Snape didn't even wait for his question to finish before he slammed the door behind him.

Ron's head spun even after the handiwork of the choker about his neck started kicking in. He turned his head and saw a pile of garments folded neatly on the bed, answering one of his unasked questions. The lure of the magic at work on him pulled him out of the comfy armchair as he stretched lethargically, taking his time in following his instructions.

The clothes were new, Ron realized with subdued amazement because he had never owned new clothes before. Everything he had ever worn had been previously owned by one of his brothers or some other member of his family at some point, which bothered him more than he let on growing up.

He picked up every article of fabric, inspecting it for something- even he wasn't sure what- before he finally stripped out of his dingy shorts and rifled through the now messy mountain of clothes. He slipped a striped polo over his head pulled on a clean pair of jeans, finally spotting the hi-top sneakers at the foot of the bed.

It was unsettling him more than anything else that his new attire fit him perfectly, not bagging like Bill's or Charlie's clothes from his older brother's wider builds or stretched too long like the items he was passed down from Fred or George or Percy, his much taller siblings. Nothing he had ever worn suited him so well before.

The next order keeping his actions in check carried his newly-covered feet over to the small connecting bathroom where he splashed his face, concerned to see he was not as dirty as he felt when he first laid down to sleep. After touching his hair he realized Snape must have done something to him, a cleansing spell he hoped, but he was already what he considered to be 'presentable' so he dutifully left the room and found the stairs that would lead him down to the lower level.

Snape was waiting impatiently, pacing in front of the fireplace until he heard the floor boards creaking in protest under Ron's approaching steps.

The black eyes rolled over his form quizzically and he must have approved, for he said nothing. When the redhead stepped off the last stair he stopped uncertainly, the last vestiges of the Snape's former order fading out of his mind.

Now that he had obeyed he was free to barrage the older wizard with his questions.

"What- what do you want from me? Where the fuck are we going? Why did you buy me all this stuff-?"

"Hold your tongue, boy," Snape cut him off effectively and Ron snapped his mouth shut. Greasy, nasty, son of a bitch… His mind, however, was free to insult the man all he wanted. "As I said, we are late and our gracious host is anticipating us," he reminded him coldly, the sarcastic inflection ever manifested in his voice.

Ron did not like the aspect of leaving the minimal safety of Snape's house that he had experienced so far. Perhaps he had taken advantage over that fact… but regardless, he felt dread rising in the back of his throat as Snape motioned him forward, intolerantly saying, "Do I have to order you to do everything?"

Grimacing, the young wizard timidly stepped forward, closing the distance between him and the fireplace where Snape barely contained himself.

"We shall have to use the Floo Network because I cannot risk someone seeing you here," Snape supplied little explanation for their cramping into the small fireplace, already smudging the fine clothes he had been given- but Ron dismissed that thought as soon as it came. Snape pulled him closer to ensure he did not escape- or so Ron suspected- and threw his handful of powder at the bottom of the fireplace, calling clearly, "Malfoy Manor."

Ron scarcely had time to rejoice at the prospect of seeing Hermione, no matter how slim of a chance it might be, his feelings of trepidation vanishing instantly at their intended destination.