Rubbish.

The morning broke like a bottle of firewhisky across Harry's head, and he groaned as the light from his window scratched against his grainy eyes, feeling as if his whole body were betraying him. He jumped with a moan of pain when the door to his room slammed open and Snape strode in to toss something into his lap, scowling at him firmly and muttering. "Get cleaned up and dressed, we're leaving in half an hour whether you are ready or not, Mr. Potter." Harry watched with bleary eyes as the pale professor swirled to leave him alone once more, then he lowered his eyes to the clothing across his lap, staring at it in confusion for several long moments.


He finally plucked at the black pants, white shirt and dark green robe with the familiar Slytherin crest on the breast. 'He wants me to dress up in his house uniform? What the hell is he on about , then?' Harry stumbled out of bed and into his bathroom, spending 15 glorious minutes under the refreshing spray of the shower, washing himself before finally feeling human enough to climb out and get dressed. He absently mumbled a drying spell on himself and began tugging on the uniform, his body unaccustomed to being dressed in clothing that was new and actually fit, it actually felt kind of strange. He looked at the glasses on his night-stand, never having realized before how lonely and sad an inanimate object could look until that very moment. 'Hey kids, try the new alternative to laser surgery. Just get a mental git to try and kill you, and you too can have 20/20 vision.'


When the joke failed to make him so much as smirk, he grabbed his wand and stuck it into his robes, shuddering at the feel of the wood against his fingers and wondering if he'd ever be able to use it again without feeling sick. He stepped from his room just as Snape called from the bottom floor, warning him that they were leaving in precisely one minute. Harry managed a tired smirk at this, but the expression felt sickly on his lips and he let it fall away as he walked down the stairs to join his new guardian in the foyer. "We still going to wait that whole minute, or can we go ahead and leave?" He strove for amused sarcasm and instead her petulance in his voice, making him wince. Snape didn't bother replying, merely stepped out of the house and led his ward down the street at a brisk walk.


One port-key, and two Apparitions later he found himself standing outside of a rather boring looking cottage with a white picket fence, flower boxes filled with pansies and climbing vines growing up over the weather and time bleached rock walls. He blinked slowly, expecting a fairy-tale witch to wander out, grab Harry's finger and pronounce him quite plump enough for the oven, thank you. He started from his grisly fantasy when Snape opened the gate and headed up the walk, prompting Harry to rush after him, wondering why they were at this utterly innocuous little house. The sight of his guardian taking out a key and unlocking the front door nearly sent Harry reeling, and he followed dumbly along into Snape's house, utterly unable to reconcile the fact of the house with it's owner.


"Oh." He mumbled when he stepped into the sprawling mansion that the innocent facade contained, eyes roaming over walls hung with tapestries and portraits, some that moved and others that never would and never had. He peered up at the enormous chandelier over their heads and then back to Snape, arching a brow. "You live here?" Snape snorted derisively and shook his head, heading up one side of the sweeping double staircase toward the upper floors, and Harry had to run to keep up with him. "Hardly, Mr. Potter. One does not afford a house this grand on a Potions professor's salary. This home belongs to the Zabini family, we are merely here to retrieve something from Blaise's room and then we will be going."


"Blaise Zabini? What could we possibly want from that git?" Snape sighed wearily and opened the door to a room decorated in luxurious fabrics in shades of navy and silver, sweeping across to the nearest nightstand beside the massive bed. "Mr. Potter, please save all questions until we are safely ensconced within my own four walls." Snape plucked something that looked suspiciously like a comb from Blaise's nightstand and then returned to grab Harry. "Touch the portkey." The comb had been slipped into the professor's robes and now he held a decrepit looking dolls head in the palm of one hand and Harry laid his hand atop it.


Moments later they landed in front of another small house, though this one was overgrown with deep green vines and the rock beneath looked positively ancient and black. Harry glanced about and saw no houses nearby, then he grunted in protest as Snape dragged him up the broken walkway to the front door, then pushed him into the house ahead of him. He stumbled across the threshold and twirled, eyes taking in the immaculate, and monkishly simplistic, decor, knowing immediately that this was the home of his guardian. The furnishings were minimal and austere, as were the neatly arranged bookcases, hospital sterile white kitchen and the stern looking portrait over the large fireplace.


"Sit. Touch nothing." Snape muttered as he strode deeper into the house and left Harry in the front rooms, the urge to explore far too strong to ignore. Harry wandered to the bookcases and was hardly surprised to see a wide selection of books about deadly curses, potions, and spells, the Dark Arts represented heavily, along with Herbology and, surprisingly, Muggle poetry. "I said sit, Mr. Potter. That does not mean to go snooping through my things like a thieving house elf." Harry whipped around, feeling heat flood his cheeks before he walked over to sit in one of the vaguely uncomfortable straight-backed armchairs. Snape settled into the opposite chair and conjured a fire, staring at the dancing flames silently for a few moments before speaking.


"Ask your questions, Mr. Potter, and quit squirming like a toilet-training toddler. I beg of you, though, ask only one at a time and do not be disappointed if i can not fully answer you." Harry blinked and tried to remain still in the chair, feeling a bit like Goldilocks upon declaring Papa Bear's chair too hard. "Well, first of all...Why did Professor Dumbledore make you my guardian, instead of Professor McGonagall or the Weasley's?" Snape nodded and ran a hand back through the disheveled black locks of his hair, smoothing them into place before sighing.


"Because, Mr. Potter, Minerva is not getting any younger and the Weasley's have enough to deal with without having another teenage boy to feed." Harry blinked and winced, biting his tongue to keep from noting harshly that there would only be one teenage boy now. No more Ron. He fought valiantly against tears and swallowed, his next question coming out much softer. "Do you...Do you know how long he had them before he killed them?" The question stuck in his throat, but he needed to know, though he wasn't sure exactly why.


"Not precisely, but it matters little because I will not tell you." Snape's eyes flicked to Harry and he waved off the protest that sprang to his lips. "Because, Mr. Potter, you would merely dwell on the details and use them to indulge in more useless guilt and self-pity and I will have no part in it." Bright green eyes left inky black ones to stare into the fire and he swallowed, nodding a bit, too caught up to even object to the claims he was being useless and whatnot. "What happens to me now?"


"First, you will have lunch, and then we will go to Hogwarts to unenroll you from classes, and also so that I may turn in my resignation to Minerva. Then, we will return here to discuss plans for your future." Harry's head shot up, and he stared at the professor dumbfounded. "Unenroll...resign? What...Why?" His guardian rose and walked into the kitchen, returning shortly with two pints of butterbeer, handing one to his ward before retaking his seat to sip and answer slowly. "As you well know, Albus and I were aware that the Killing Curse would likely destroy only the fragment of Voldemort's soul within you, leaving you alive and relatively unharmed. However, we also suspected there was a chance that it would become imperative for you to appear as if you had died as well. There are many in the wizarding world that will want you dead, Harry, especially after the debacle earlier this morning."


"The Minister of Magic will be thrilled to pin your Muggle family's deaths on you and either lock you in Azkaban or sentence you immediately to the Dementor's Kiss. I would not be surprised if he also manages to somehow get you blamed for the deaths of Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger as well. Scrimgeour is a clever and manipulative man, and he has had plans all along to find a way to twist facts to make it appear that Voldemort never returned and all of the horrendous acts blamed upon him were the fault of none other than Mr. Harry Potter." Harry's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest this savagely, but Snape cut him off with a dismissive gesture.


"He has manufactured evidence showing that you were trying to take over for the Dark Lord, which is nothing new, if you'll recall. Rumors that you were the new Dark Lord have been circulating since he was first destroyed when he tried to kill you at the age of one. The Minister has very convincing proof that the Death-Eaters were acting under your orders, including the testimony of one Lucius Malfoy, not to mention the fact that all of the supposed eye-witnesses to your statements are now either dead or Obliviated beyond hope of recovery. Quite simply, Mr. Potter, you must disappear."


Harry lowered his head into his hands and felt a shadow clench around his heart, wishing even more strongly that he had perished in his duel with Voldemort. "What am I going to do then?" Severus frowned and sighed, setting his butterbeer aside to stand and move over to his ward, placing a cool, yet surprisingly gentle hand upon the back of his neck. "I have a Polyjuice potion prepared and waiting for you, it has been perfected so that it fools all but the most astute observers, which means unless Albus or Voldemort return from the dead, you will pass inspection. Blaise Zabini was killed along with his parents when his father refused to allow his son to take the Dark Mark, however, no one but myself and you know of this and you will be returning to the school as Blaise."


"You will unenroll under his name, and I will resign to devote more of my time to my new ward, whose parents were killed in front of him by the Dark Lord. You will not speak, for I do not trust your acting abilities in front of Minerva. After which, my ward and I will slip into quiet seclusion here in my home, and the wizarding world will believe that Harry Potter has died." Harry heaved a deep sigh, finding a welcomed comfort from the hand on his neck and mumbling. "It's like a magical version of the Witness Protection Program." Snape stroked Harry's hair lightly and murmured. "I know it will be hard, but it is better than Azkaban and it is not for forever." Harry nodded and tilted his head back to look up at Snape, smiling weakly, tears shining in his bright eyes. "Just more errant breezes keeping this bit of rubbish from the bin where it belongs."

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