Walk the Shadows

chair by the fireplace. He still kept a small fire in the grate for Harry's sake, as the boy seemed to remain cold even in the dead of summer, but it was banked now.

Harry stiffened in his seat as Severus crossed behind him to replace the book on its shelf, and his hand trembled where he gripped the quill.

Once back in his chair, Severus cleared his throat. 'Come over here,' he said, using the same tone he'd use with a frightened dog, or perhaps a slightly stupid cow.

Biting his lip – another disturbing habit Severus longed to break the boy of – Harry turned back to him, then drug himself up from his chair as if he were a zombie, and shuffled over to the couch where he plunked himself down, looking miserable. His face was paler than Severus had ever seen it, and the scar still stood out raw and red on his forehead. He also hadn't been eating properly – aside from fingernails, which held little in the way of appropriate nutritional value for a growing teen – and so was looking rather more fragile than Severus had hoped for, after almost two weeks in his company.

'I want to go outside,' Harry said, and though not quite a whine, it was close enough that Severus sneered at him.

'And I want you to write in the blasted journal.'

'Why? It's not like it'll do any good. Sir.'

Severus suppressed another sigh. Really, it was too much, sometimes. 'How exactly would you know that? You haven't actually written anything yet.'

'I just know, all right?'

'No, in fact, it is not 'all right.' Since you have refused to write today, you will need to tell me about the dream you woke screeching from at three-thirty this morning. If you answer my questions, to my satisfaction, you will be allowed thirty minutes time out of doors. Understood?'

Potter seemed to perk up a bit. 'Can I go flying?'

'I believe you have a lifetime ban, still in effect.'

With a scowl that almost put one of his own to shame, Harry grumbled, 'No, that was for Quidditch. I should still be allowed to just fly.'

Hm. A sore spot, that. 'Tomorrow, perhaps,' he raised a warning finger, 'if you write in your journal for the full twenty minutes. And eat three full meals.'

'But—'

'No exceptions. You eat a proper dinner tonight, breakfast and lunch tomorrow, and you put an entire twenty minutes of your thoughts, should you indeed have that many, in that book, and you will be allowed flying time in the afternoon.'

For a moment, it looked like Harry would argue some more, but then he relaxed and gave Severus a half smile. 'Thank you, sir.'

Severus inclined his head. He could certainly use this particular bargaining chip in the future, and he had not said how much time the boy would be allowed to fly. 'Now. Your nightmare.'

'I – I don't want to talk about it.'

'We had a deal, Potter,' Severus growled.

Harry paled even further, if possible. Both his hands were shaking. 'I know, sir, I just . . . I can't.'

Tapping his lips with a forefinger, Severus considered. It was likely the nightmare had to do with what happened at Topsham, and he was quite certain that Harry was not ready to address that issue yet. He could compromise, briefly. 'Then we will discuss topics of my choosing.'

'O-okay.'

How easy he was to manipulate. How easy it would be for Severus to completely destroy him, with a wrong word or harsh tone. Not for the first time, he cursed Albus Dumbledore for laying this burden on him, and then, again, not for the first time, he reminded himself that it was a burden he had chosen to take up, and that Albus already expected Harry to be little more than a lost cause.

Though what he expected the boy to do about the prophecy, if that was so, was anyone's guess.

'Good. Tell me, then, who was the appallingly overweight boy who chased you through the park when you were younger?'

'Sir?'

'It's a simple enough question, Potter. Who was—'

'My cousin. Dudley. Why do you want to know about him?'

Severus ignored the question. After all, he didn't want to know about Dudley at all, but it would behoove Potter to speak of his past some more. 'Has he always been so . . . huge?'

'Erm, yeah. Every since I can remember. I mean, obviously he was smaller when we were really young, but he's always been big for his age.' Potter was beginning to relax. Good.

'And he called the game of chasing you what?'

Some color returned to Potter's cheeks. 'Harry Hunting,' he mumbled.

'Mm. Was he a skilled hunter?'

'Sorry, sir?'

'I think you understand my meaning.'