A week had passed. Harry remained at Grimmauld Place. He was already accustomed to the silence, the loneliness and the sombre mood of the place. There was an Order meeting set for that morning. Dumbledore, a morning person, had scheduled the meeting for 6 AM. Harry usually didn't wake up so early. Then again, it was not up to him to do the honours for the Order's members. He had never thought of himself in this role. He only lent the house for the meetings, nothing else. The truth was that he had no desire to talk to anyone.

Harry woke up at 8 AM and began to go downstairs. As the meetings took place in the kitchen, he would have to interrupt them to take his tea. Would they stop talking when he entered? It was so annoying that, although he was the one destined to defeat Voldemort, they wouldn't let him participate in the meetings because he was too young.

However, when he entered the kitchen he found only Mundungus Fletcher.

"Mundungus? Where are the others? Is the meeting already over?"

"'arry, I stayed 'ere to warn you: Snape 'asn't come back from the Death Eaters' meetin'."

Harry froze. "What do you mean, hasn't come back?"

"See, 'e should 'ave returned to 'ogwarts or come right 'ere, but... no sign of 'im till now. Nobody knows where 'e's. Blimey, it's never 'appened before. Dumbledore's sent people everywhere to search for 'im. Dumbledore is in 'ogwarts now, commandin' the search."

"But nobody knows where the Death Eaters meeting was?"

"Nope. Them Death Eaters 'ave many meetin' points, and they split into cells when they need, and nobody knows where each cell will go. Snape 'as managed to map some o' them meetin' points, but not all o' them. They 'ave wards and they use some spells like the Fidelius Charm, you know."

Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest, trying to keep his mind. "I want to help in the search! Where could I go?"

"I'm sorry, lad, best stay outta this. It's too dangerous."

"I DON'T WANT TO BE A DEAD WEIGHT! DO YOU WANT TO DO WITH ME THE SAME YOU DID WITH MY PARENTS? THE SAME YOU DID WITH SIRIUS? LET ME OUT OF THE GAME UNTIL I LOSE CONTROL? OR UNTIL I WATCH MY OWN DEATH QUIETLY?"

"Blimey, 'arry, take it easy. I dunno where you could go. People don't tell these things to me. They don't tell me nothin' really big."

"Then I'm going to talk to Dumbledore. Have you got Floo powder?"

With a worried expression, Mundungus fumbled in his pockets, took out a little package and gave it to Harry, who threw the Floo powder into the fireplace. "Albus Dumbledore's office!"

Harry's head hurtled through the emerald fire and appeared at the Headmaster's office.

"Oh, hello, Harry. Any news about Severus?"

"No, Headmaster. Please, I would like to help in the searches."

"Harry, it would not be prudent. You are not allowed to do magic on your holidays. But don't worry: all the significant places have been covered."

"Headmaster, I don't want to stay here doing nothing!"

"You can centralise information at the headquarters. This will set Mundungus free for making the pub circuit, like only he can do. Sometimes, going from pub to pub, Mundungus gathers information that none of the other good spies can gather."

Furious, Harry pulled his head out of the fire without saying goodbye to the Headmaster. So he was reduced to sitting on the sidelines. He wasn't good for anything other than stay in the place of a drunken crook so he could play the spy.

Mundungus gave him more packages of Floo powder and went out. Harry kept pacing the house. He hadn't drunk his tea or eaten anything, but he couldn't even think of sitting at a table and eating while the Death Eaters might be torturing Snape. Or killing him. A shiver ran through his body.

If he believed in a God, or in gods... he would have prayed. Nonsense. Wizards don't pray. Up until that moment, he had never reflected upon these questions. He had never felt the need to pray. The truth is, he had never felt anything deeper for anybody. His parents must have loved him, but he had never known them. He liked his friends, but... he had never had any deeper feelings for them. And vice-versa, thought Harry, not without some bitterness. Well, maybe they had been good companions, perhaps even good friends, when they were younger. However, since the year before, their ways had begun to break apart. Ron had spent all year concerned only with his Quidditch problems; Hermione was always enthusiastic to give her opinions, or even to organise the action, but she had never really been interested in Harry's problems, she had never been truly warm. Neither Ron nor Hermione had tried to comfort him after Sirius's death and, if he were to be honest and admit the truth to himself, he must admit that he had not wanted their comfort. Yeah, he had never loved anyone, not even Sirius. At least not until... his death. Only after Sirius's death, Harry had begun to love him... Wasn't it strange? Wasn't it horrible? It was as if Harry could love only the dead. And Snape... Oh, no. He could not understand his own feelings, but he was sure of one thing: he couldn't lose Snape. Not now!

Harry went to the living-room bar and served himself a glass of Firewhisky. He had never drunk anything stronger than Butterbeer, but it seemed a good occasion to try it. During almost an hour, he paced the house, holding his glass. The despair grew with each passing minute. Nobody gave him any sign. Any news.

Gradually, the Firewhisky penetrated his veins, numbing him. He sat back in an armchair. Once more, a pale face appeared in his dreams, but it wasn't Sirius's anymore. It was Snape's. Harry shuddered. No, you can't disappear behind the veil too!

A sudden noise startled him, waking him up. He felt a presence behind him. Something subtle, but noticeable. He turned slowly and found Snape, with some cuts on his face and hands, a muddy robe and an exhausted expression.

A shining smile stamped itself on Harry's face before he launched himself in the professor's direction. Surprised, Snape retreated a little. Seeing him retreating, Harry wavered and, instead of throwing himself in Snape's arms, as seemed to be his first impulse, he only gripped them firmly, right beneath the shoulder.

Snape stared at him with wide eyes. For an instant, they stayed immobile and speechless. Finally, Harry released him, still smiling.

"I will go and tell Dumbledore you have arrived, so he can tell the others you're all right."

"Is the meeting already over? Oh, it must be very late, I see. I have lost track of time."

"Everybody's out looking for you."

"Indeed? What a bunch of incompetents!"

Harry shook his head. "I will talk to Dumbledore."

They went to the kitchen and threw Floo powder into the fireplace to contact Dumbledore.

Albus seemed relieved to know that Severus was safe. "What has happened, Severus?"

"The Aurors conducted a blitz on my cell. The Death Eaters countered and a battle ensued. The Aurors besieged the area and cast wards so we could not Apparate. What could I have done? I tried to hide from both sides. The meeting point of the cell was located in the middle of the Umber Forest. I ran to the forest and hid. When things calmed down, I came to Grimmauld Place."

"My boy, you gave me quite a fright. Do you have significant information to share with us?"

"Extremely significant, Albus."

"Then let us reschedule the meeting that was to be held this morning to this evening. Let's say... at 6 PM. Stay at Grimmauld Place and take a nap. Harry will give you a room."

"Headmaster, I would like to return to Hogwarts," Snape protested.

"I can see that you are exhausted. Stay there and get a rest. See you later, my boys."

"Damn him," cursed Snape when both their heads reappeared in the kitchen.

The two wizards stared at each other for a long time.

"Why are you looking at me like that, Potter? You are not drunk, are you?"

"I had a glass or two of Firewhisky, but I'm all right. I was so scared... I... I couldn't stand the idea of having to live without your hate."

A dark eyebrow arched up. "Potter, this IS weird. St. Mungo is waiting for you with arms wide open."

"I know. But you wouldn't hand me over, would you?

Snape only shook his head, drained.

"Come on. I'll let you choose one of the bedrooms," said Harry.

The bedroom Snape chose was the one the twins had occupied during the house decontamination, the year before. Amused, Harry thought that if Snape came to learn that, he would be positive that there was a humungous dungbomb concealed somewhere within the room.

Harry gave him a towel and a bed-set, showed him the nearest bathroom and went to take his belated breakfast.

By 4 PM, Snape showed up in the kitchen. Harry greeted him.

"Oh, hello. You never take your meals here, but you must be starving. Would you like to have lunch or tea?"

"Both," answered Snape, crossly. "I imagine your friends keep speculating about my motives for not taking meals with the others. What do they say?"

"You wouldn't want to hear that."

"Say it, Potter. I cannot take points from Gryffindor here, neither can I give you a detention."

"Well... Everybody says that this is because you're a vampire."

To Harry's surprise, a satisfied gleam sparkled in the black eyes. And the thin lips formed the classic smirk. "I hope you don't spoil their fun telling them the truth about me. Well, what did you make for lunch?"

"Er... at 4 PM you can't expect a freshly made lunch, can you? I can reheat what I had for lunch: lamb chops, ham pie and roasted potatoes. There's some salad left, too."

"Did you make all this Muggle style?" asked Snape, impressed.

"What else could I do? As you know, we don't have a house-elf here anymore, and I'm not allowed to do magic during holidays. I'm used to cooking. I always cooked for my aunt."

After lunch, Snape was having a cup of tea with sweets from Dumbledore's cornucopia, and Harry joined him.

"What is Voldemort up to now?" asked Harry.

"The Dark Lord, you mean."

"Whatever. You know who."

"You are not a member of the Order. This kind of information must be disclosed only during the Order's meetings. Or directly to Dumbledore."

For an instant, Harry was very angry. He considered threatening him somehow, just to make Snape lose his cool. After all, he hadn't told Dumbledore anything of what had happened during those clandestine classes he had taken with Snape, had he? Trembling, Harry lowered his head.

Snape stared at him, curious, and ran his hand through his hair - which, strangely, wasn't greasy at the moment. Perhaps because he had taken a shower before going to sleep and had kept away from any potions since then, thought Harry.

"The Dark Lord is planning to release Lucius Malfoy. At the end of September," said Snape, in a low voice.

Harry widened his eyes, more surprised by the fact that Snape revealed that to him than with the content of the disclosure. "Release him from Azkaban?"

"Naturally."

"And what can we do to stop him? Shall we alert Fudge?"

"It's not up to me to decide. It's up to the Order."

"And are you... going to take part of the... action?"

"Of course."

"With the Death Eaters."

"Wherever I can serve the Order best."

"But... This is very dangerous! It will be worse than today! You won't have a place to run to. You'll be caught in the crossfire. You can be killed by an Auror. How would they be able to identify you, with the mask?"

"Those are the inherent risks of the role I accepted to play in this war."

Harry got up, restless. "This is insane! Dumbledore cannot permit this!"

"Permit this? He's the brains of the organisation. This is the only attitude he can take now. You are very young, you don't know what a war is."

"Then I won't let you do this. Don't say that I want to play the hero and that I'm an idiot. I don't want anybody else dying in a war that, after all, is mine, isn't it? Everybody always say it's up to me to destroy Voldemort. Then I'm going there now and finish all this," yelled Harry, in a trembling voice, one step away from Snape.

The older wizard grabbed him by the shoulders. "Stay calm, Potter. You are an idiot and you always want to play the hero."

Harry tried to seem in control. But his eyes were red, revealing the intense emotions that assaulted him. Snape gazed at him, as if hypnotised.

"What... What is happening?" asked Snape, perplexed. "Why are you acting like that?"

"I... I told you already."

"That... 'you could not live without my hate anymore'. But what, in the name of Merlin, does that mean? If it's out of pity that you are acting this way, stop it. I don't need your pity."

"Pity? Why would anyone feel pity for you? You're so powerful!"

Snape stared at him, bewildered. "Then why?"

"Because I don't want you to die! Why is that so difficult to understand? I don't want anybody else to die because of me."

Snape shook his head. "Acting like that, you force me to expose myself. You are putting me at risk, don't you see?"

"No!"

"Potter, I will not die. I assure you that."

"How can you be sure of something like that?"

"Trust me."

The strangest thing of all was that he did trust him. Snape's tone was so sure, so firm, that Harry could not help believing. Incredible as it seemed.