Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

A/N: I've had this idea knocking around in my distracted little head for a while now, and I'm finally feeling like I can sit down and get it down. Fair warning that my intentions are always to stick with things and finish them, but that doesn't always happen. That said, I loved writing Loneliness, creating the world and playing with my versions of Harry and Hermione that exist within it, and I'm looking forward to returning to them and exploring their growing relationship. Loneliness was never really supposed to be part one of a story, although I did leave some loose ends so that if I felt the need, I could return to it. I'm pretty happy with Loneliness as a whole, and I think I told the tale I wanted to tell within that story (short though it may be), so I'm a little anxious about messing with it by creating this sequel. Hopefully I won't mess it up.

Steps Toward Something

Chapter One

'So, Potter, how do you fancy coming to live with me?'

Just like that, Harry had a home again. A real home. It wasn't some mockery of family, nor a fake foster home, and it certainly was not a government sanctioned mental hospital. Things weren't perfect, not by any means, but Harry knew that at least Snape cared about him, in some way. And the wizard was a connection to his parents, not some random couple that just wanted a child to claim as their own, "any child will do, just give us one please, thank you".

No, Snape was more than that. Exactly what, Harry wasn't sure, but that could be figured out later. It just felt good to finally be wanted. Reflecting back on the year, Harry wouldn't have imagined any of this would have happened. That he would meet Hermione, someone as damaged as him - although maybe not in the same ways - that they would bond, and he would finally have a real friend. Not imaginary. Not a dream snake made of fire. An actual flesh and blood person.

Then there was Hogwarts, and magic, and learning. School was never something he had truly experienced. Not like this. The fact that coming to Hogwarts had opened up the world to him, not just educationally, but physically, was something he would never forget. Hogwarts had given him a taste of freedom he had thought never to get.

Snape was the final part. Exactly how that part fit into everything, Harry had no idea. It just felt nice to know that someone cared. An adult. A… parental figure. It was like having a dad again… maybe. At least, that's how Harry thought of it, as he lay in the cot Snape had summoned for him, nestled under a mound of blankets in Snape's quarters.

Harry didn't remember his own father. He had seen his picture in some old Hogwarts newspapers, grinning in Gryffindor Quidditch gear with his teammates, but that was the extent of it. He didn't know much else about him. He couldn't remember how he smelt; he couldn't picture his face in any other way than what he had seen in those pictures. Harry wasn't even sure if his dad had ever even held him. He must have, right? But he might as well not have, for all Harry could remember.

Harry remembered his uncle Vernon more than his own father (and wished he didn't). That was just the sad truth.

Suddenly feeling unsettled, Harry kicked his blankets off and sat up, staring at the darkness around him. A small light flickered on the wall opposite, casting odd shadows. Harry stared at the flames, not even remotely tired. It was well past midnight, and yet he couldn't sleep. He was restless, thoughts a whorl, spinning in circles from Hermione, to Snape, to his dead father, to the upcoming journey to his new home at Spinner's End, and then inevitably back to Hermione. Nearly two months would pass before he would see her again. For how he felt, it might as well be two years. How could he wait that long? She was his lifeline, his oxygen.

He needed to get out. Lying in bed with nothing to do but think was not helping. He needed to feel that freedom of movement, to find something to take his mind off his thoughts. Anything would do.

The door to Snape's quarters shut quietly behind him.

Hogwarts was silent as Harry made his way down the empty corridors, the smooth stone floor cold like ice on his bare feet. He didn't really know where he was headed, no goal in mind for his midnight jaunt, but eventually he found himself standing outside Filch's office.

The ever-miserable caretaker of Hogwarts was notoriously strict, some might say downright sadistic. Not for the first time, Harry thought back to his time spent in a Muggle psychiatric institute, and remembered nurses and staff there that had been remarkably similar. Men and women that saw their charges as little more than nuisances, things to be dealt with, rather than cared for.

There was one woman, a stern skeletal figure known as Mrs. Harding, who had seemed to take some kind of sick pleasure in mistreating her subjects. Harry had been on her bad side from the moment he stepped into her care. He had been struck, isolated for no good reason, strapped to a bed for countless nights, starved, and more than once, burned. Remembering the stub of her cigarette, Harry reached up under his shirt and felt the most prominent mark, what once was his left nipple and was now a twisted mess. She had put out her cigarette there one night when he was strapped down, smiling sweetly at him all the while.

'I thought you liked to burn things,' he remembered her saying, and clenched his fists.

Filch might never have done those things, but everyone knew he would like to, if he had his way. Face grim, Harry tried the handle to his office and found it open. Filch probably thought it was safe to leave it unlocked now that the students had gone home. He had clearly over-looked Harry. In the back of the office, a set of drawers ran the length of the room. Above them a plaque read: Confiscated and Highly Dangerous.

Curious, Harry began searching through them. He knew it belonged to him the moment he touched it. The parchment sang out to him. He pulled it out of the drawer and spread it upon the caretaker's desk. It was folded in several ways, but when he finally had it open, the parchment revealed to him a message:

Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers
are proud to present
THE MARAUDER'S MAP

Harry read the words in confusion, and as he finished, the parchment changed again, and began to spread out with various lines, until finally it formed a map. It was remarkable. The map even revealed the location of people within Hogwarts, as Harry saw the names of Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore stationary in their sleeping quarters. He traced the lines of the map with his fingers, knowing Hogwarts like the back of his hand, but some of the passages were unfamiliar to him, so either the map was wrong, or these passages had eluded him somehow.

Harry hadn't stolen anything since Snape had confronted him about his habit, but he didn't have to think long or hard about it, before he closed the map, folded it up, and stuck it in his pocket.