Second chapter immediately? YAS!

IIIIII

When Kakashi wakes next, Harry is gone, only the fresh set of bandages on the side table marks his previous presence. There's a lot to consider, but all of it – evaluating the situation, examining his host, planing the escape; all of it can wait. Kakashi can't stop himself from basking in the soft warm shadows of the flames in the fireplace and marvelling at the high thread count of the heavy blanket on him.

It has been long since his last chance at such luxuries. At one point in his life he thought them at all unbefitting for him. Now he rarely cares enough about propriety and pride not to indulge.

He only has a few hours of rest before the door opens to reveal Harry. The humming, which Kakashi already started associating with the man, is absent and his face is strangely blank. Only a few moments later, however, Harry's gaze strays upon his guest and the strange smile is there again.

'Hm. How are you now?' Harry inquires, his tone soothing.

Kakashi raises his hand to scratch his neck (a gesture to distract) but stops upon feeling the pain race up his shoulder. (He nevertheless succeeds in looking absentminded). It's disconcerting. This feeling of dependence that comes with a body that's no longer sure what is its and what isn't.

He says he feels fine (not really; he's not ready to examine it too closely). Harry's smile widens. It is, however, not real. Harry is not real as well, Kakashi now notes. Like a series of carefully choreographed movements make up a dance, Harry consists of intentionally harmless little gestures. The blankness of his earlier expression was how he looks alone, when there's no audience to present for.

Kakashi thinks that's how comfort feels. Both of them know the other. Like Harry, he presents a picture (absentmindedly allowing to change his bandages). He thinks they're going to get along.

That's good, because according to Harry, they'll have to stay here for another two weeks, before returning to civilisation. Kakashi's glad for the respite.

IIIIII

The weeks pass slowly yet interestingly. Mostly, they talk. Kakashi tells about Iruka, shares some stories of unsuccessful wanna-be students of his. Once, in the dark of the night, he recounts the facts of war, both the front lines, and the one going on inside his head. Harry seems to understand.

Harry's stories are different. He talks of the relatives with whom he lived, the friends at his school, also of magic. Most of his stories are comical or told as such. He wonders what made Harry into what he is today. He doesn't ask.

Other times, Kakashi reads. There are too many books in the little cabin and magic has to be involved to somehow keep the residents from being swallowed by them. He might say he learns about the outside world. And he does, but he knows that Harry is censoring what to give him.

So while they don't do much - Kakashi too weak and Harry waiting for something, they get along fine, which makes the time flow. Soon the weeks are up and he sits on a rough wood stool, while Harry runs around gathering things.

Kakashi remarks how Harry doesn't take much, and the other just smiles secretly. He has given Kakashi clothes and somehow made his hair seem reddish-brown. His face still reveals Asian ancestry but not too much, like it's a generation or too into the mix. Overall, it's unremarkable.

Harry shares that he did mention his one plus to the extraction team. Kakashi smiles at that. Soon they're outside and the cabin is blazing. A fire snake is slithering up to the roof. A wolf howls inside. It's an impressive sight and Kakashi silently admires Harry, who controls all this with only a slight crease between his eyebrows. It suits him. The air of effortlessness.

Then the extraction team comes. On brooms. No matter that Kakashi has read about them, he's not really keen on trying them out now. Since no-one asks him, he gets up on one behind the young man with a mop of red hair and a playful glint in his eyes when instructed. The other man with a slightly wolfish look around him and a frizzy haired woman both exchange short words with Harry before doing the same.

The flight is rather uneventful, despite the fact that the clouds are more wet and cold than fluffy from up close. He's drenched and shivering by the time their altitude decreases and city lights appear beneath. For a second he wonders about whether anyone will see them, but then remembers Harry's covert professionalism and dismisses the thought as not his concern.

The landing is much smoother than the whole flight was and he feels relief with the hard ground beneath his feet. His fellow travellers seem as eager to get off their brooms as he is and despite the silence that still hangs around them, the woman and two men seem to communicate some inside joke that leaves them wistfully staring at Harry.

They walk for a short while at a brisk pace through a rather dull neighbourhood. The houses tall and blackened, as if someone purposefully smoked up the outside of each and every one. The dusk settled on the quiet streets clings to their hair and clothes despite them already being wet. The night is silent and watching.

Finally, the company seems to reach their destination for they stop and Harry comes up to him, leaning over, close to his ear, warm breath sending shivers down his spine. The rest don't seem to notice this.

'Read this' Harry whispers, whilst shoving a piece of paper into his hand. As Kakashi traces the words '12 Grimmauld place' on paper, a scraping noise disturbs the night and the two houses in front of him separate, revealing another one, which seems to shove the others aside and slightly unsteadily take its place between numbers 11 and 13.

IIIIII

The house seems like an extension of the night behind their backs. Kakashi stays silent at the inquisitive stares of people meeting them. There seems to be heads mounted on the wall in a neat row further down the hall. An old moth eaten curtain hides something on the left wall.

They're ushered down the hall and into what seems to be the kitchen. A dark wood table takes up the middle of the room, its corners dulled from constant brushing against them. High ceiling hides spiders in shadowy crevices.

Despite that, it feels nice, cast in the soft glow of the flames in a grand fireplace. Kakashi migrates towards it, as do the others, while the red-headed woman calmly makes them tea and heats something up in a giant pot. It's homey, but Kakashi doesn't forget himself.

He takes note of how the frizzy haired woman, who flew on his left and towards the back during the trip, hangs up her robe near the fire before offering the other woman her help with the food. The red-headed man, with which Kakashi flew, spreads out in a chair turned toward the warmth and starts a chat with the wolfish man who flew on Kakashi's right. The only other occupants of the room are Harry, who seems busy chatting with the women, and a man with black hair and a sharp scowl.

Despite the unfriendly demeanour, the man seems the only one intent on watching him. Kakashi puts on his innocent and well meaning smile, but it does not entice any reaction from the man. That makes him cock his head and slowly turning towards him sends a clear signal of invitation. The man does not wait.

'Severus Snape' he introduces himself. Then waits for Kakashi's reaction.

'Kakashi Hatake' his response is short and to the point. Snape's scowl lessens at that.

'And who are you, Mr Hatake? You made Potter interested and, though I would not trust his judgement, I have yet to make my own'.

This might prove to be interesting, Kakashi thinks and puts on his best bashful grin.

'I'm just an unlucky no-one. Apparently stupid enough to risk my life in a wrestling match with wolves. Wouldn't be here if green-eyes hadn't saved my neck'.

'Well, if Potter had to save you, you really are unlucky' Snape responds and he must have completed some sort of assessment on Kakashi because seconds later his expression falls flat and his voice becomes steady dry and void of emotion.

'What are you doing here?' the question, while expected, is still very straight-forward.

For a few second Kakashi watches the other man dispassionately. That's when he feels it – a slow, barely there itch in his mind. He shuts down. Snape's expression doesn't change. Kakashi leans back slightly, more towards fire, puts his hand on his hip, there, under his shirt. There's nothing. His kunai is gone. He'd surge forward, but he feels locked in place.

The itch is no longer such, the overwhelming presence is gaining more ground in his own mind every second. He can now feel the stares of every occupant of the room boring into his head. No longer sure of the emotion reflected on his face, Kakashi fights it, but he knows, can feel it, that memory after memory, thought after thought is slowly being devoured. As fast as it began, it's over.

Before Kakashi knows it, he's pressing the man against the wall, the sound of thousand chirping birds filling the air.

The tension in the room is high enough that everyone stops breathing. For a few moments there's nothing, but then Snape smirks and relaxes.

'Well well, maybe Potter isn't so useless. It seems he's got you figured out.' Kakashi notes Harry shifting.'Do not worry, I have not searched for anything unrelated to us. You childhood memories are safe.'

But Kakashi does not feel safe. It seems none of them actually understand how dangerous he is or worse – they do, but aren't afraid. If they know they can subdue him, he might be in a very bad situation.

The tension, however, dissipates as quickly as it started, with a laugh from Harry, a remark from the red-headed man and Snape smirking quietly at them. Kakashi stands back slowly, turning his back to the wall and staying silent. Measuring threat level was one of his better skills with his sharingan providing an unfair advantage. Now, however, he is completely out of his comfort zone (not that shinobi had one in general. But Kakashi knew that most really good ones have that field of things which no longer prove a challenge).

The time around him starts. He has passed the test he didn't know existed. Everyone is lively and at ease again, as though nothing happened and Kakashi tries to join in on that. He slouches, flicks his eye lazily between people in the room. Harry comes up to him.

Kakashi isn't sure if he should feel betrayed. He understands why Harry did what he did. He saw the shadows of that sort of man beneath those little gestures. A man like himself, maybe. And then he thinks whether Harry slipped up or showed them purposefully. He wouldn't have trusted the man if the act would be revealed now, but it was there all along, little signs of truth, not enough to expose something, but to let Kakashi know that it exists.

Despite everything Harry told him about himself, he still isn't sure where this efficient professionalism comes from. Why everyone – a lively young girl, a ragged man, a bustling house-wife, a good-natured teenager – has it. What have they gone through that makes it their second nature.

He does not ask. Instead, still silent, he helps set the table and allows those questions to rest, now that everyone is more interested in the delicious yet unfamiliar stew.