Snape said nothing. He just looked Harry with a stern expression.

Harry tried to keep his courage up, to look calm and accepting, but he could not keep the charade up for much longer. He looked away, trying not to gulp too loudly. The seconds dragged by, each accentuated by the ticking of the large grandfather clock in the corner.

Harry shut his eyes. If only Snape would answer. Anything but this loud silence that quickly shredded Harry’s nerves to pieces.

"Stay here?" Snape spoke in a gentle voice. "Stay here with me for the rest of the summer?"

"You – you said the potion thing was a last resort," Harry protested, glad that Snape was at least talking to him. "Well, I did it, and it helped."

"Did it?" Snape raised an eyebrow. "I believe you began screaming at me the moment you woke up. You threw things, broke my vase and my candelabra, physically assaulted me, and I’m supposed to think that my potion helped?"

"You know why I was upset," Harry could barely keep himself from bouncing up and down on the sofa in frustration. "You know how I felt about Sirius. You know – oh, you know everything."

"I did not know about your asinine plan that nearly got you killed," Snape shook his head. "A grievous oversight on my part, I fear, and I could not risk that happening again."

But he had not said no yet, and Harry knew from the past two weeks at Snape’s house that when the man meant no, he would say no from the start. Snape was very clear about when he meant no, of that Harry would swear by.

"It would be much more difficult trying to switch the guardianship back," Harry argued. "And my stuff is all here, and it would be a load of trouble to move it all around. And I already have a schedule here along with all my school books, and I won’t be able to follow it if I leave." It was kind of blackmail, and not very good blackmail at that, but Harry was getting desperate.

"If I were to let you stay," Snape began slowly. Harry did his best not to look too happy, but Snape’s frown deepened. "I said if I were to let you stay, we would need to reach an understanding that is non-negotiable. I said yesterday that I was done with your lying – yet I find that you’ve been lying since you first arrived here."

"It’s over," Harry assured him. "You made me see that I wanted for something that could never happen. I promise, no more lying about that."

"No more lying about anything," Snape insisted. "I am deadly serious about this, Potter. If I think that you’re even considering lying to me, I am packing you up that very moment. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded. "I won’t even think about it, I swear." He knew that Snape was relenting; Harry could see it in the reluctant look in his eye.

"And if you do stay, you are going to be on a very short leash, Mr. Potter. I expect respect and obedience, and until you prove you can be trusted again, which I doubt will be anytime soon, you’ll be on restriction from all privileges."

A part of Harry wanted to demand "What privileges? Going to bed early and studying all summer?" But instead, he nodded and agreed, "Yes, sir, of course."

"And you’ll be on probation as well," Snape continued. "Any sign of rebellion, the least hint of arrogance –"

"I know, I know – straight back to my relatives," Harry interrupted.

"Along with following your study schedule, you’ll be spending your spare time doing chores and helping me with whatever cleaning needs to be done in my labs," Snape’s stern look was still in place. "Your broom, which I rescued from the forest, will be locked up, and you only be allowed in the garden that I can see from my study. Bedtime will be an hour earlier, and every night before supper, you’ll stand in the corner for a half-hour and contemplate how you can make better decisions in the future. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Harry glumly agreed. It was going to be a very tough few weeks ahead of him. He could just forget about seeing his friends on his birthday – he could forget about his birthday all together at this rate.

"I really should whip you good for what you did," Snape added, making Harry bite his lip uneasily. "After what we’ve been through – you knew better, Potter. The only reason I’m not tanning your hide at this very moment is that I think you’ve suffered enough for one day. Obviously, you’ve been holding all your grief inside for a long time when you should have let it go. You may think the responsibility of the whole world rests on your shoulders, but what did I tell you when you first got here? You remember, after I spanked you that first night, and you were crying in bed, what did I tell you?"

Harry turned red, but he mumbled, "Not my fault."

"And why wasn’t it your fault?"

"Because I had nothing to do with Sirius’s death. Or Cedric’s. I didn’t – didn’t do anything-anything . . ."

"Anything . . .?" Snape prompted.

"Wrong," Harry finally got the word out. Suddenly, it felt like a giant weight was lifted from his shoulders. He was still hurting inside, and his eyes felt dry and sore, but that awful, pressing weight was gone. "I didn’t do anything wrong."

"If you had believed me that first night, we both could have been spared a lot of worry and pain. I’m guessing that is why you went looking for your cloak and destroyed my potions store? Along with getting Dobby here and all the rest? How much time, frustration, and punishment could you have saved yourself if you had only listened to me then?"

"A lot," Harry admitted. "I know I was bad, but –"

"No, Potter. You do not get to say ‘I was bad,’ and either feel sorry for yourself or try to excuse your wrong-doings. Your behavior was bad, and you’ve been very naughty, but you yourself are not bad. Do not let me hear you say that again. If you are trying to apologize, start first by saying that you are sorry for lying, and for once try to look sincere."

"I am sorry for lying," Harry said earnestly. "I really am. I’m sorry I put myself in danger, and you as well. I’m sorry I did not come clean earlier, and I’m sorry for throwing things at you and hitting you."

"And for using foul language?" Snape prodded. "Which, had you not been so upset, would have gotten your mouth scoured with soap?"

"Oh, yes," Harry hastily added. "Very, very sorry."

"And ‘I promise I will obey from now on’?"

"I promise to obey you from now on," Harry also agreed.

"And stop acting so naughty?"

"And stop acting so n-naughty," Harry stumbled over the childish word. He doubted his cheeks could get any redder.

"Good, we’ve settled it now. And believe me, Potter, I’ll watching you. The smallest infraction, the least display of insolence on your part, and you’ll find yourself over my knee so fast your head will spin."

"No!" Harry protested before he could stop himself.

"Excuse me?" Snape’s voice was silky and deadly.

"I’m almost sixteen, and I’m too old for that. If we’re starting over, really starting over, can’t you just – just stop that?"

"And why should I?"

"Because. Well, because it makes me feel – it’s not right – it’s humiliating and demeaning, and you shouldn’t want to make me feel that way."

"Just as chasing you into Malfoy Manor isn’t humiliating to me and collecting all new potions ingredients isn’t demeaning to my work?" Snape asked in a neutral voice.

The man had a blasted answer for everything! "That’s not the same. It’s not. I-I don’t want you to – you know, and what about when school starts? You can’t punish me like that then."

"My concern now is seeing that you survive until school starts, and I am more than willing to use any means necessary to see you through. If you hate being spanked that much, maybe you’ll change your behavior for the better. I don’t spank you to humiliate you, do I? Why do I do it?"

"So I won’t keep doing things that might harm me," Harry gave Snape the right answer and did his best not to pout.

"Exactly. We understand each other perfectly. Now, since you have wasted most of my day, we will have an early supper, and then you’re going bed. Tomorrow, I am going to have you write down some lines that will address your behavior today and make you more mindful for the future. Right now, why don’t you go find your corner in the dining room and think about how you’re going to be the very soul of obedience and respect from this day forward."

"Yes, sir," Harry got up off the sofa and began plodding towards the hallway. Snape stopped him at the door.

"One last time, Potter. You do understand once and for all that it’s over? This bringing them back? You will never try to do that again? And I mean never."

"No," Harry promised. "I won’t. No more thinking about that. No more chasing after timeturners or sneaking around Knockturn Alley –"

"What?" Snape bellowed, standing up.

There was no good hiding anything anymore. Harry was already in over his head; what was confessing one more sin or two? "While you were getting the supplies, I ran into Borkins and Borges to ask about timeturners and the Necklace. I didn’t ever go into Fred and George’s shop, and I didn’t buy any of their joke sweets. I also searched your entire library for information about time travel. That was why I fell from the balcony. I was trying get a book about it."

"Anything else?" Snape growled in a low voice.

"Yeah," Harry felt a rush of bravery surge through him. "I still think you look like an overgrown bat. Really, why the dirty hair and black robes? It’s hot outside, and if you’re so keen on making me take a bath and wash my – ow!"

Snape’s grip did not loosen as he marched Harry into the dining room, and Harry hurried to keep up, afraid his ear would be pulled off. Snape pushed him into the corner and leaned down to whisper, "Another word, Mr. Potter, and my appearance will be the least of your worries."

------

Supper was a grim affair with Snape shooting dour glances at his ward every few seconds. Harry found that each mouthful stuck in his throat, but he swallowed the food down, knowing that Snape would comment if Harry refused to eat. Thankfully, the meal was a thick soup with buttered bread and salad, which Harry found easier to eat than tough meat or dry rice would have been. He wondered if Snape had instructed the house elves to fix this meal especially for Harry or if it was just what was on the menu for the day. Either way, Harry was grateful.

After supper, Snape stood up. Harry was not paying attention, tilting his glass and making his pumpkin juice slosh gently against the edges.

"Potter," Snape snapped his fingers loudly. He held out his hand insistently.

Harry reluctantly stood up and went to Snape’s side. He expected the man to latch onto his ear and drag him upstairs. To Harry’s mortification, Snape wrapped his hand around his ward’s wrist and pulled him into the hall. Absolutely humiliating – pulled along as if he were a small child who could not be trusted to mind.

But Harry made no protest, knowing this was part of his ongoing punishment that had no end in sight. He had acted immaturely, and now Snape was treating him as such. Harry also made no comment when Snape led him up to Snape’s bedroom and pointed to the bathroom. Harry expected that he would not be allowed to sleep in his own room tonight; he wondered if he would ever be let out of Snape’s sight before the end of summer. But to Harry’s surprise, as he emerged from the bathroom in pajamas, he saw that the sofa was not made up. Instead, in the far corner, a small twin bed was laid out with inviting covers and a plump pillow.

"Until I feel I can trust you again," Snape said sternly, "you’ll be sleeping in here. You might at well have a proper bed so you don’t get stiff on the sofa or fall off on the floor."

It was a thoughtful act, but Harry felt his aching eyes prick with tears again. Sirius would probably not have thought of such a thing; would he ever have noticed if Harry got a good night’s sleep or felt rested in the morning? At Grimmauld Place, Sirius had not cared that Harry was too young to hear the Order of Phoenix’s plans. A far cry from Snape who refused to tell Harry about the Death Eater meetings because they might scare him.

But Sirius was not here anymore. He was never coming back. That chapter had closed – Harry would now have to face life with the knowledge that he would never get to live with Sirius, be Sirius’s son, or call Sirius’s house his home. That dream had died.

Harry didn’t know how he would ever get to sleep that night. As long as the room was bright and Snape was there, Harry did not have to think about Sirius or anyone for that matter. But once the room was dark and he was alone, Harry knew he would do nothing but think. He would be afraid to close his eyes for fear his thoughts would overwhelm him. He would stare into the darkness for hours until at last exhaustion claimed him in the early hours of the morning. And who knew what his dreams would hold?

A part of him wanted to ask Snape for a dreamless sleeping potion, but he hated to look that weak in front of Snape. Better to suffer in silence and darkness.

"What’s wrong?" Snape asked, blocking Harry’s way to the bed.

Harry tried to step around him. "Nothing."

"Potter," Snape’s voice was hard and demanding.

Oh, right, no more lies. "Sorry," Harry hastily assured his guardian. "I’m not lying, I just didn’t want to make a big deal of it. I was finally realizing that – that he’s not coming back. I know he’s gone for good, and I need to stop thinking about him. But I still miss him. S-sorry."

"There’s nothing wrong with missing someone who’s died," Snape said quietly. "We all need time to grieve. You are welcome to feel sad about his death as long as you like, but I will not allow your grief to make you act irresponsible or foolish as long as you are under my care. Get in bed, and then we’re having another talk."

That did not sound good. But Harry knew better than to argue, so he got in bed.

Snape pulled a chair over and sat down beside the bed. "Since you are staying here for now, though still on probation, you are following the rules. The first rule being?"

"I do what you say," Harry automatically answered. His submission made him flush, and he angrily looked away.

"Potter, do not show me any disrespect, not tonight. You are going to obey me to the letter. If I say jump, you say how high. I say move, you start going. If I say stop, you –"

"Drop dead?" Harry asked snidely.

"None of your lip," Snape ordered. "Part of your penance is showing a respectful attitude. Any arrogance from you –"

"I’m not arrogant!" Harry protested. His voice almost went up into a whine at the end, but that only made him more frustrated. "I’ve never been arrogant. Draco Malfoy is arrogant."

"Potter," Snape began a reproach, but Harry shook his head firmly.

"No, Malfoy’s always strutting around Hogwart. ‘My father is better than yours.’ ‘My family’s all Pure Blood.’ ‘My father has more money than you could ever dream of, and you should be licking his boots in gratitude that he allows you to touch him at all.’ That’s arrogance, but you never notice at school. It’s always ‘Potter, five points from Gryffindor for looking at Weasley.’ ‘Weasley, detention for glaring at Malfoy.’ ‘Granger, fifty points off for answering a question correctly because I want Gryffindors to look like idiots and you are acting too smart.’"

"You’re exaggerating," Snape said calmly. "We’ve talked about your behavior in class before, and I do not ignore Draco. When he misbehaves, I punish him as I see fit. And believe me, he’s scared to death that Lucius might find out that his precious, Pure Blooded son is less than perfect. You can be very, very gratefeul that Lucius Malfoy is not your guardian."

"But Draco’s forever praising his father, talking about how great he is," Harry objected.

"Of course. Children usually try to defend the person who’s abusing them. Children think that if they flatter and praise him long enough, the abuser will eventually stop hurting them and accept and love them. Draco will never stop trying to win his father’s approval, even when Lucius is not present. The same goes for you – no matter how Sirius treated you, you would probably try to win his affection. Children believe that those in authority should love them, and when they are not loved, children automatically assume the fault must be theirs, not those in authority."

"Malfoy’s still a prat," Harry grumbled. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to think of something to say. There must be some way to keep Snape beside the bed until Harry fell asleep. Even Snape across the room and silent was not as comforting as Snape near and talking. But Harry could not, would not ask Snape to stay near, no matter how much he needed him.

"Turn over on your stomach," Snape directed.

Harry did so with a gulp. Surely, he was not about to be punished. He had told Snape what was bothering him, he had been honest, he really had!

Snape’s hand landed on the middle of Harry’s back in a firm pat. It was almost a thud – a bit harder and it would have hurt. Snape’s hand came down again. Yes, it was some very stern patting or soft thumping, which ever you chose. Harry lay very still on the pillow, letting the pats come down on his back over and over again. On the one hand, he wanted to ask Snape to lighten up on the thuds. But on the other hand, the firm pats were driving all other thoughts out of Harry’s mind. He found it hard to think about Sirius or anything for that matter; all he noticed was the rhythm of Snape’s hand.

"Clear your mind," Snape’s voice was low and soothing.

It was not necessary because Harry had nothing in his mind at the moment. Another time, he might have remembered the hated Occlumency lessons, but now he just lay there, letting his mind go blank.

"Is your mind clear?" Snape asked, never pausing in his action.

"Uh-huh," Harry murmured in agreement.

"Is there anything else you want to talk about?"

"Un-uh," Harry would have shaken his head, but he did not have the energy to lift it off the pillow. His eyelids had already slid shut, and he was taking long, deep breaths. For a moment, he feared that Snape would stop, and the stop would jerk Harry awake. But the patting did not hesitate, never breaking its rhythm.

"Your behavior really has been quite atrocious today," Snape noted. "I would feel justified in locking you in this room and throwing away the key, especially after the you went to the Malfoys. I don’t know why you insist on causing so much trouble. I was actually looking forward to a calm summer before you showed up, unannounced and shattering my hopes of peaceful days. You caused nothing but chaos since the moment you arrived, and I would feel justified in punishing you everyday because if you’re not in mischief, you’re plotting it. Such naughtiness in our Mr. Potter, so very naughty."

The firm patting had lulled Harry into a quiet calm, but Snape’s words sent him off into the twilight. The last thing Harry heard was Snape’s soft scolding, and as he faded away, the patting still continued.

Snape looked down at his slumbering ward who seemed to be melting into the bed. The brat’s eyes were shut, and his breathing was deep, but any moment he might pop back up again to gaze around with inquisitive green eyes. Better to keep patting him firmly for another minute or two.

How could something so small and thin cause so many problems? So much guilt and impending doom – you would think the boy would be so worried about his own fate and possible demise that he would be shaking in a corner. But no, the savior of the blasted wizarding world insisted on stirring up mischief.

Snape had half a mind to drag him out of bed and deliver a stern thrashing as a warning against further naughtiness. The boy pushed all limits, ignoring every rule – arrogant, impertinent, horrid little brat!

But he had been through a lot. Snape sighed, making his pats a bit gentler. He knew Harry must miss that old mangy dog of a godfather, and he probably missed the parents he would never know. But his misbehavior could not be excused or ignored. And he had only been here two weeks. What might the boy find to do in the rest of the summer? Snape blanched. Snapdragon Manor was not the best place to keep a boy who insisted on finding trouble where others would have left well enough alone.

Snape had previously thought he had kept a very close eye on the boy, restricting his time and movements to the point he felt confident the brat could not find any mischief to stir up. Snape had been horribly mistaken, and that miscalculation made him twice as cross. Well, Potter would be under lock and key until school started, and even then Snape planned to give him detention three times a week so he would not wander as freely into trouble.

And as a precaution tonight – Snape pulled out his wand and murmured a confining spell around the bed that would let Harry move around, but would not let get off the bed. Snape knew he would be sleeping in his own bed about fifteen feet away; yet, Potter was quite efficient at sneaking around quietly when he wanted to. That alone should have sent warning bells off days ago – the brat had been much too quiet and obedient in his spare time, which meant he could only be into mischief.

And just to ensure that he would not wake up, Snape slowly rolled Harry onto his side as the boy was used to sleeping. Harry did not wake, did not even stir, and Snape thought for a moment the boy had no bones, so easily he rolled under Snape’s hands.

It was not that late, barely 8:30. Snape went over to his desk and settled down to do some work for the evening, not willing to risk leaving the brat alone even if he were sleeping.

------

Harry turned a page of his study book and scanned down the next page. He had been sitting in the wide window seat that over looked the garden for nearly two hours. Snape was behind him somewhere, rifling through stacks of accounts or something equally as tedious.

For two days now, Snape had not allowed him out of his sight. Snape lectured him at every turn, scolding even when Harry didn’t do anything wrong: scolding him at breakfast for not eating all his food, reprimanding him in the morning when he did not want to start studying, admonishing him at lunch for his stubbornness in the morning, chiding him in the afternoon for the smallest display of a surly attitude, and generally bullying him at night until Harry went to bed at a time which was more appropriate for a four-year-old than an almost sixteen-year-old. The man was so – annoying. Yes, that was the only word that came to mind. Annoying, annoying – horribly annoying, sodding, pretentious basta-

"You’re not studying," Snape intoned from behind him.

Harry started, then protested, "Yes, I am. How do you know I’m not?"

"You’re turning the pages much too quickly to have gained any information from them. And you keep fidgeting and squirming. You’re not concentrating."

Harry muttered something unflattering under his breath, but when Snape looked up at him, Harry was intently studying his book.

The doorbell rang loudly. Harry jumped, nearly dropping his book. It was an insistent ring as if the guest was ready to barge in, welcomed or not. Harry could hear the house elves squeaking out protests in the entrance hall.

Snape flung down his papers and stood up, exasperated at being disturbed.

Then the door to the hall was flung open.

Lucius Malfoy strode in, long cane clutched in one hand and his long, silver-blond hair flowing down the back of his black robes.

Harry stared at him, unable to say anything.