AN: Let me begin by saying that I've wanted to write this story for a long time, but I could never figure out how to go about it. I had to literally pace around the room pretending to be Snape in order to get this finished, and I still don't think it came out perfectly. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy the prologue of my new project. I've been working on it for a while, and it feels nice to finally be able to set it out into the grand world.

This story takes place in the summer after Harry's fifth year.

I don't own Harry Potter. This was made for pure entertainment only. I'm nowhere near a professional writer. I'm just a 14 year old without a day job. High school is about as crazy as it gets, but you understand. ;)

"Severus," said Dumbledore, "I assume you've received my owl?"

"How could I not have? That bloody bird was a menace; it wouldn't stop squawking until I opened the damn window," Snape growled.

Dumbledore gave a cheery smile, then occupied one of the armchairs in Snape's sitting room. It seemed strange that the professors' roles had been reversed. Usually it was Snape who was sitting in a chair opposite Dumbledore's desk. The younger man felt slightly put out at the fact that he wasn't being offered a lemon drop right now (even though he always declined). His barren home didn't seem like it was fit enough for the headmaster to sit in.

After all, this had been his parent's house, which made it seem centuries old. The days of sitting alone in his room, shooting down flies from the ceiling, seemed so distant. Still, those memories lived on, haunting Snape and sucking the energy out of his body.

He broke his train of thought by offering Albus some tea, then proceeded to pace about the room.

"How are you feeling?" Dumbledore interrogated him seriously.

"Fine," was Snape's harsh response.

"You seem tired," Albus noted.

"I'm always tired," Snape argued, taking a quick sip of tea to calm himself.

"Have the effects of the potion started?"

"Yes," Snape whispered darkly. "The dreams are difficult to control. I wake up each morning nearly clawing my way up the walls."

"Have you tried some Dreamless Sleep potion?"

Snape scoffed, "It no longer has an effect on me, especially not now. These aren't just dreams anymore. They're night terrors."

Dumbledore frowned. "Any other symptoms?"

Snape closed his eyes. Other than the fact that Lily had been following him around and infecting his every thought lately?

"No," he lied.

"Alas, it seems my time has been cut short as well," Dumbledore reminded, lifting his blackened hand and waving the fingers in speculation.

"At least you will be flooded with flowers and tears. Crowds will be cheering with delight on my doomsday," Snape remarked bitterly.

"Oh, Severus," Dumbledore sighed, "don't sulk. There is much to be done, and still plenty of time to be remembered for doing them."

Snape turned toward the window, staring out at the river flowing in close proximity.

"I'm positive you did not come here to speak of our deaths, but rather something of more significance at the moment," he said smoothly.

Dumbledore nodded. "You're absolutely right."

"Then what is it? I won't be your delivery boy for much longer, so you best spit it out before it's too late," Snape snapped.

Dumbledore gave a shake of the head and a smirk, "You won't be dying anytime soon, Severus, contrary to your belief. I know this discovery must be a disappointment, but your huffing and puffing will have to wait until later. I've come with a proposal."

"I'm certain that can't be good news," Snape grumbled.

"Don't interrupt until you've considered it," Dumbledore replied calmly. "I think it would be best if you were to leave this environment for a little while. It certainly can't be healthy for you to be alone with the dreams that you have described in your letters to me."

"You're going to send me to St. Mungo's? Perhaps, book me a room adjacent to Gilderoy's?"

Dumbledore ignored Snape's remark. "Not exactly, my dear boy. I was suggesting that you could stay someplace where visitors are frequent. Perhaps, Grimmauld Place."

"Black's house? Never."

"Sirius is dead, Severus. Isn't it about time to let this grudge go? I thought that considering the circumstances, you would want to make amends before- Ah, how did you phrase it? Your 'doomsday'." Dumbledore mocked with the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"I can't do that while Potter lives," Snape retorted.

"You indubitably can, which is why I would like you to stay with Harry in Grimmauld Place until the end of the summer. Harry has been going through a difficult time after the loss of his godfather, and seeing as it isn't safe for either of you to be alone in such mental states, it is a perfectly suitable solution," Dumbledore explained.

Something seemed to have burst inside of Snape. Silently, fury boiled inside him, but he knew that it wouldn't be wise to throw a fit in front of Albus.

Snape pursed his lips. "I don't think so."

"Nonsense. I suppose you must be delirious from the next side effect of the potion, raging fever."

"I am not delirious," Snape snarled, resolute.

"You always do this whenever I give my recommendations." Dumbledore observed.

"You can't force another master plan on me, Albus!" Snape ranted. "Out of all the things you've manipulated me into doing, this is an all time high point. Stay with, Potter? Have you lost your mind? I never imagined even you could conjure up such a ridiculous idea!"

Dumbledore said nothing.

"And to think that I've spent half of my life saving the stupid boy's neck. I suppose you want him to be my nursemaid now? I'm perfectly capable of controlling whatever side effects this potion presents me with."

"Now, Severus," Dumbledore began loftily, "the idea isn't as farfetched as it may seem. Besides, Harry doesn't know about the potion you were forced to take after being cursed by Dolohov when your allegiance to Voldemort was questioned."

"Dolohov had no business inquiring about my allegiance in the first place. He cursed me unexpectedly before the incident at the Ministry. I've heard that the Dark Lord has dealt with him accordingly, and he has been recaptured. Nevertheless, Dolohov remains to be displeased with my failure to appear at the Department of Mysteries." Snape revealed. "But, that's beside the point. You think Potter won't notice?" Snape muttered furiously. "He won't notice the hallucinations and fevers that will consume me?"

"Oh, he'll notice," Dumbledore acknowledged, "but knowing Harry's kind-hearted nature, I'm sure he'll be more than empathetic."

"Ah, yes, his hated Potions professor on his deathbed will definitely make his heart squeal with joy, or contempt rather, but really, how different are the two?" Snape replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You'll be cured in three weeks, and there are periods of breaks in between. It's not as though you'll be incapacitated during the entire summer. I shall be dropping in every once in a while should things get out of hand. If you wish, I'll do everything in my power to keep your predicament a secret," Dumbledore compromised.

A summer with Potter. How lovely.

Snape muttered a few unfavorable words under his breath, kicked the leg of the rickety coffee table before him, and tore out of the room without another word. Dumbledore sat in place, waiting for the younger man to regain his composure before pushing the subject any further.

It took much longer than expected, and the minutes were growing more grueling by the second. Dumbledore prepared himself to stand and check what was happening in the opposite room when the sound of pots and pans clanking down onto the floor caught his immediate attention. He stood and sped into the kitchen Snape had retreated to.

Sure enough, Snape was clutching the edge of the sink, knees crumbling beneath him, unable to support his weight any longer. His face was pale with a sickly, yellow tinge while beads of sweat broke out on his forehead from the shock and effort of having to stand. He breathed heavily for a moment, frightened by the sudden loss of control.

"It's going to be a long three weeks," Snape grunted, rubbing his temples with the hand not clutching the table.

Dumbledore sighed, stepping over to the man and helping him sit down. "Severus, please," he whispered. "Look at yourself. You need help."

"Fine," Snape mumbled, "Have it your way then."

He took in a long stream of air before stating, "I'll do it."