Rubbish.

Snape's hand lifted from Harry's head and he scowled down at him, removing the bottle of prepared Polyjuice from his robes, thrusting it at Harry with a soft curse. "Drink this and we will go. I'd like to get this over with as swiftly as possible." Harry sighed and grimaced as he downed the bottle of potion, shuddering at the vile taste and the sudden flare of pain that rose in waves as his body began to change. Snape watched silently, then studied Harry when he finally stood, a dark, arrogantly handsome young man with a mocking smirk curling his full lips. "Well?" The deeper voice with it's haughty tone threw Harry a bit and he lifted a hand to let his fingertips explore his face, wincing.


"You'll do. Come." Severus strode over to the fireplace and scooped up a handful of the shimmering green powder out of the pot on the mantel, tossing it in and nudging Harry into the flare of bright emerald flames. "Hogwarts!" Harry twitched again at the unfamiliar voice coming from his throat, then he was gone. He stumbled as he climbed out of the fireplace in McGonagall's office, followed closely by his guardian. "Evening, Mr. Zabini...Severus." Harry brushed soot from his forest green robes and straightened, affecting the proud stance he remembered Blaise always using. His eyes flicked around the room and he nodded blandly to the pinch-faced Headmistress, glad that she hadn't taken over Dumbledore's office yet, because he didn't trust himself not to break down if he had to step foot in there.


"Minerva, I am sure you are aware of the fact that I have been appointed Blaise's guardian after the death of his parents. I have decided that it would be best for both of us if I resigned my position and Blaise unenrolled from school at least for the time being." Snape flowed past Harry to lay his letter of resignation on McGonagall's desk, then folded his arms across his chest. "I am aware that it puts you in a bit of a difficult position, however I feel that Blaise needs me more now than you do." McGonagall gazed past Snape to Harry and nodded, taking the letter and smiling a bit painfully to Snape. "Of course, Severus. I am sure I will have no difficulty finding a replacement for you and I hope...that you and Blaise will be able to help each other deal with the grief you both must be feeling after recent events."


Snape nodded firmly and turned to Harry, studying him before looking back to McGonagall. "You will handle Blaise's unenrollment, then?" Minerva nodded gently and offered Harry a soft smile. "Of course." Harry felt tears trying to prick his eyes, but he held them back and managed to return the smile with a slightly cool twist of his lips. "Thank you, Headmistress." He suppressed another twitch at the voice rising from his lips, then suddenly found himself being thrust back into the fireplace and collapsed into the chair back at Snape's, trembling. "On your feet, Mr. Potter. I need to show you to your room, and then there is something I need to do, so I will be busy in my office the rest of the evening. I trust you can manage your dinner on your own?"


Harry nodded mutely and stood, following Snape out of the living room and through the rear of the house to a bedroom that contained little more than a large bed, a dresser and his trunk. "I didn't know what you would require, but if you give me a list, I will be able to fetch anything else you might need before the week is out." Harry glanced around at the bare walls and plain furnitue and shrugged, moving toward the bed. "This is fine." Snape nodded slightly, then pointed to a door across the hall. "That is your restroom. The only rooms I ask you not to enter are my own bedroom and my office. You may explore the backyard, however I must warn you not to go beyond the fence, as it would not do for anyone to see you unless you are Blaise." With that said, Snape turned and swept out of the room, leaving Harry alone.


He walked over and shut the door, then peeled off the robe and his shoes before tumbling onto the soft bed, hugging his pillow and finally letting the tears flow. 'What was Dumbledore thinking? Why would he name a guy like Snape as my Godfather after Sirius died, ensuring that if he were killed my new guardian would be a cold, heartless bastard?' He sobbed harder into his pillow, but before long the lack of sleep the night before caught up to him and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.


~~:~~


Harry woke several hours later and groaned at the empty pit in his stomach, then climbed out of the bed to pad across and slip from his room. He paused to listen for any sounds of Snape from the house, but heard nothing and continued on to the kitchen, opening the fridge to peer in. He claimed the remaining half of an apple pie and a bottle of water, carrying them over to the table before hunting down a fork and digging in with gusto. When nothing remained but a few bits of crust and smears of juice, he leaned back and draped a hand over his stomach, downing the last of his water as he glanced around the room.


'So, this is my new home. I'm going to go even more mental living here, I just know it. Nothing to do, can't even go walking because no one is supposed to see me. Not to mention the right boring bastard I'm living with.' He sighed and wandered over to the bookcase, peering at the spines again and plucking down a book of poetry by some bloke named William Blake. He carried it over to the couch and flopped down, wriggling a bit and wondering if Snape purposefully bought the least comfortable furniture. He opened the book to the page with the ribbon marker, arching a brow at the name of the poem. 'Trust Snape to choose a poem called The Poisoned Tree.'


I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.

And into my garden stole.
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see,
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.


Harry blinked slowly, rereading the poem several times before closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the arm of the couch, trying to sort out what the meaning could be. 'Did he kill some guy he hated? Nah, says the guy stole the apple from the tree of his anger and that killed him. But, that's just metaphorical, right? Ah, bloody hell...What's it matter, it's poetry.' He cursed and stood, carrying the book with him as he headed back toward his room, pausing when he saw a light under a door at the opposite end of the hall. 'Bet Snape would know what the poem means.' Harry chewed his lip as he debated with himself, then finally walked over to knock on the door softly.


"Enter." He stepped into Snape's bedroom, peering around curiously, not surprised to see it was pretty much exactly like his own room, except for a draped portrait hanging on the wall across from the foot of Snape's bed. His guardian was seated in a wooden chair beside the window, still fully dressed and peering at Harry with a soft scowl. "What is it, Mr. Potter?" Harry swallowed and shuffled his feet, feeling heat burning in his cheeks. "You know, Snape...I mean...Well, since we're going to be living together and you're my guardian now, don't you think it might be alright for you to call me Harry?" Snape's scowl grew and then he sighed, nodding. "I suppose I can try, Harry. If you will attempt to call me Severus." Harry twitched and shrugged, walking over to sit on the floor across from Snape, drawing a knee to his chin and hugging his leg. "Yeah, I'll try."


Snape watched Harry silently for a long moment, waiting for the boy to spit out why he'd knocked in the first place. Finally, Harry lifted his head and held out the book of poetry, finger tucked into the page with the Tree poem. "I was wondering what this poem meant, Sir." Snape leaned forward and took the book, scanning the poem, noting the significant relevance to Harry's life. "Basically, Mr. P...Harry, it means that hatred is like a tree, it grows and will eventually bear fruit that, though it may kill one's foes, will also change the one who nurtures it."


Harry thought over this for a few minutes, staring at his bare foot, then mumbled. "So, it's like Voldemort. He was angry about being an orphan and hated everyone who seemed to have more than him, and in the end, even though he killed lots of people, his hatred was his own demise, because it warped him into a monster?" Snape was surprised at how swiftly Harry made the connection and he nodded, studying his ward with a sharp gaze. "Precisely. A tree must have deep roots if it is going to survive, and it alters the ground it grows in. A poison tree may never harm the one it is intended for, but it will always poison the one who raises it."


"Not only that, but once it has reached full maturity it is nigh impossible to uproot. It takes a lot of work and time to seek out every last trace of it's presence and sometimes one can never fully eradicate it." Harry listened in thoughtful silence and closed his eyes, resting his forehead on his knee, shuddering and mumbling. "What happens if the person you hate does get killed, Sir? Does the tree die with them?" Snape shook his head and closed the book, setting it aside. "No, Harry. If you pluck an apple from a tree it doesn't die, it continues to bear fruit." Harry hugged his leg tighter and swallowed, fighting off tears.


"Then...I will just find other people to hate? Even with Voldemort dead, my anger toward him won't die, it'll just find someone else to focus on?" Snape sighed and stood, walking over to rest his hand on Harry's hair, caressing gently. "That is up to you, Harry. The only one who can destroy that poisoned tree growing in the soil of your soul is you." Harry jerked away and leapt to his feet, rushing from the room without another word, and Snape heard the boy's bedroom door slam shut a few moments later.