The hallway door opened.

Harry looked up, worriedly, biting his lip.

Snape came in, his face grave and somber, and shut the door behind him.

"I'm sorry," Harry said in a rush, jumping off the bed. "It was an accident - I swear. I know you're angry, but you've got to believe that I didn't mean it. I know you're going to punish me, but you've got to believe that it was an accident."

"Sit down on the bed," Snape indicated Harry's bed.

That was a good sign. Snape was not going to shake him or spank him, not yet at least.
Harry sat on the bed, and Snape took the chair and pulled it close to the bed.

'"It was an accident," Harry said again, gazing down at his hands miserably.

"Slamming the door on his fingers was," Snape said in a low voice. "But everything else, all the fighting and quarreling, was not. And you still swung the door. Even if it didn't close on his fingers, you meant for it to hit him. Did you want it to hit his face, knock him backwards?"

Harry shook his head, but didn't want to speak. He didn't mind Snape yelling - well, all right, he didn't like Snape yelling, but yelling was better than this stern, direct talking that was screaming "I'm disappointed in you, I am so very disappointed in you!"

"I shouldn't have swung the door," Harry admitted.

"But that is only part of it," Snape continued, frowning. "From the moment, Draco walked into that door, you've been cross, bad-tempered, and a general disobedient child. I have given you plenty of warnings - I've told you to shape up and stop fighting with Draco, but you keep at him, and frankly I've had it with your behavior."

"What about him?" Harry protested, feeling that everything was horribly unfair. "You promised you wouldn't gang upon me, but you have. You favor Draco over me, every single time. You both are out to get me in trouble!"

"When have I favored Draco?" Snape demanded, taken aback.

"From the moment he arrived," Harry said. "Draco complained at supper, and you didn't say anything. Then I had to go take a bath first, and then Draco got my bed. And Draco got the toast at breakfast, and he gets everything, and I'm tired of it! You even let him have tea on his night, tea on his first night!"

Snape stared at Harry, looking completely baffled. "Potter," he finally stammered, "what on earth - I cannot begin - wait, let me start over. All those things you mentioned, you think I did them to favor Draco?"

"Well, yeah," Harry said. He waited, hoping Snape would not smile or smirk or do anything to suggest that he meant Harry to feel like that.

"You children will be the death of me," Snape leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Not once have I meant to favor Draco. He complained at supper, yes, but he's always coming to me and complaining at Hogwarts. Most of the time I try to ignore him. Someone had to take a bath first, and as he has a tendency to take longer, I thought I'd send you up first. And it gave me a moment alone with him so I could tell him to start behaving, a warning he ignored as well. He shouldn't have grabbed the toast from you at breakfast, but before I could order for more, you were licking the jam pot, so I think that cancels out the toast. As for the tea, I had no idea you considered it to be so important. I have a cup of tea every evening, and usually you are reading in your room or doing something else, so I didn't think about it. Had I known it was so special to you, I would have let you have it weeks ago."

Harry glanced at Snape, afraid the man was mocking him. But Snape's forehead was still creased with concern, and he was not smiling.

"Well, it is," Harry muttered, feeling completely stupid, but wanting to get it out all the same.

"As for choosing a bed, Draco is our guest," Snape said sternly.

"So am I," Harry reminded him.

"No," Snape was firm. "You are not a guest."

"I know - I'm a burden!" Harry cried out.

"No," again Snape was adamant. "You are a member of this household."

Harry blinked. "I'm - I'm what?"

"This is your home for the summer," Snape went on firmly, leaving no room for argument. "This is your home, and you're my ward and that's as good as family for the most part. I may be only your temporary guardian, but for the time it's like father and son, and I expect you to act your age and treat our guests with some sort of decency. Is that too much to ask?"

All of Harry's earlier worries had disappeared, but he could only stare at Snape in amazement. Snape considered him family? He was sure that Snape still thought of him as a nuisance, a troublesome burden that had arrived so unceremoniously one evening to shatter the man's peaceful summer. But to be family, father and son - Harry swallowed painful, feeling his throat constrict.

"Before you start crying," Snape's cold voice cut through Harry's overwhelming feelings, "we still have your behavior to address."

Harry huffed, but said nothing. He did not trust himself to speak.

"I cannot allow to you to act like that to anyone. You stepped over the boundaries, you disobeyed me when I told you to stop fighting with Draco, and now I'm going to see that you listen to me."

"I don't see why Draco had to come here at all," Harry mumbled, careful not to meet Snape's eyes.

"So you can come to stay all summer, but Draco can't stay a week?" Snape challenged.

"He probably has plenty of places to stay," Harry protested. "I'm stuck at my relatives' the whole summer, but Draco's roaming the countryside, staying with friends and doing whatever he likes whenever he likes."

"Says who?' Snape asked.

"Says Lucius Malfoy," Harry retorted. "I heard him when he came here, remember? He said he brought Draco home from staying with friends."

"Draco wasn't staying with friends," Snape told him. "He was hiding."

"Hiding?" Harry repeated, skeptically.

"Yes, he was staying with an elderly uncle in some forsaken corner of Britain. I talked to him yesterday - Draco said he couldn't bear to stay at the manor, knowing his father was in prison. And none of Draco's friends' parents would let him come to their houses, not after his father was disgraced. Lucius was covering up for his son, but Draco told me the truth when he arrived here. He's been miserable all summer."

Harry guiltily wrapped his arms around himself, but he still didn't want to admit that Draco might have had a less than terrific summer.

"Why invite him here?" Harry asked, hoping to change the subject. "You know we don't like each other, but you let him come and you made us stay in the same room. Why would you do a thing like that?"

Snape sighed heavily. "Chart it up to my optimistic personality."

"What?" Harry demanded.

"I don't know. I guess I thought if you boys had a bit of time alone without bullies or know-it-all friends to get in the way, you might reach some kind of understanding or truce at least. Learn to tolerate each other, and make my job easier at school. After all, you two do have a lot in common."

"We do not!" Harry protested immediately.

"Yes, you do," Snape said with his usual insistence. "You both are boys, you both are sixteen, you both are only children, and you both have a few friends loyal and devoted to you. You both ignore the rules, you both think you know better than anyone else, and you both give me tremendous headaches."

"Everything gives you a headache," Harry snapped. "And you're nicer to Draco at school than me."

"Yes, I am," Snape returned. "And you show McGonagall more respect than you do me."

Well, there was no arguing with that, but Harry refused to let it go. "You're the adult - you're supposed to act better."

"And you're the child - you're supposed to obey better."

Absolutely hopeless. "Fine," Harry gave an angry shrug, "be that way."

"I will, thank you very much. And for all your struggles in life, your hardships and heartaches, I thought you would have more sympathy for Draco."

"Sympathy for what?"

"His father's in prison. Do you have any idea how much that has affected him, how he's suffering because of it?"

Harry sat up. "I lost Sirius, but you never let me use that as an excuse."

"That's different."

"That's right," Harry interrupted. "Lucius is in prison, but Sirius is dead."

"I didn't mean it that way," Snape went on in his usual stern voice. "I watched you very carefully at the beginning of summer. After the past year, what with your godfather and that cow Umbridge and the fight at the Ministry, I expected you to be shell-shocked, suffering to the point that you could not take care of yourself. I know I came down on you hard that first night, and the next morning I almost regretted my actions. When I went up to your room that morning, I half-expected you to still be crying, refusing to speak or cowering in a corner. I didn't know what I would do with you then, maybe pack you off to see Madame Pomfrey or send you to St. Mungo's for treatment. But I didn't find a helpless, shaking, grief-stricken boy, now did I? What did I find?"

"A brat," Harry muttered, trying no to pout.

Snape's mouth twitched upwards for a moment, but he remained stern as he continued, "Yes, I found a stroppy brat who fought taking a bath, argued with me at every turn, and kept trying to blow up my house."

"I only did that twice," Harry objected.

"You didn't spend time grieving over Sirius - you were obsessed with getting him back because that's what you wanted. Running around, sneaking into Malfoy Manor, lying to me at every turn. That is not post-traumatic stress - that is being a naughty, rebellious little brat. You made absurd plans, kept sticking your nose in everything, and ate far too much pudding for one boy. Draco, on the other hand, has done nothing. He told me he spent most of his time reading in his room or wandering through the woods at the back of his uncle's house. You might have lost someone very dear to you, and that's tragic, but Draco will have to walk around every day of this next year knowing that his father is in prison and knowing that everyone else knows his father is in prison. No matter which side you're on, he loses. The followers of the Dark Lord blame Lucius for failing, and the enemies rejoice that he was captured. Either way, Draco gets snubbed and sneered at. And for all your wanting to save everyone, Draco seems somehow fall beneath your usual Gryffindor compassion."

Harry glared, but didn't argue. A part of him hated that Snape was always right or made it seem like he was always right. But another part of him, traitor that it was, liked the way Snape would sit him down and talk to him, explaining everything out so Harry could see what was really going on. After so many lies and misunderstandings over the past years, Harry found it overwhelmingly comforting to have someone look him straight in the eye and get straight to the point. No games, no worrying about protecting Harry's feelings, no tricks - just honesty.

"As for sharing a room," Snape went, oblivious to Harry's thoughts, "you have been complaining that you get to see no else this summer. I have to admit, at your age, spending the whole summer with my potions master alone in an old house would not have sounded appealing. It might have been better than the way I spent my summers, but still I would not have been overjoyed. I didn't see how I could help it, but I didn't want you to become a recluse over the summer. That is why I agreed to the letters and the party and eventually to Draco coming here. You might not like Draco, but in the end you have more in common with him than with me, and he is a young person to talk to. I thought if you two shared a room, you might feel like distant cousins or dormmates or something better than archenemies. Alas for my foolish optimistic hopes."

"Fine, I won't fight," Harry groused. "But he started some of the fights. And he has his wand. He put spiders on my bed this morning."

"I will talk to him about that," Snape announced. "And I'll see that he doesn't use his wand while he's here. And he'll go up early tonight to just make everything fair."

Harry let out a deep breath. He could feel the tension of the day easing off him. Already he felt better knowing that, though not entirely on his side, Snape still wasn't on Draco's.

"Now we take care of the slamming doors on people," Snape pushed his chair back and motioned for Harry to come closer.

"Alright," Harry slid off the bed. "But Draco slammed it earlier."

"On you?"

"No," Harry admitted.

"Then it's not the same," Snape pulled Harry to his side. "I don't like slamming doors regardless, and I'll speak to him about that, but this is about you."

If he had to be honest, which Snape forced himself to be on principle just to show the boy how it was done, Snape would have confessed that it was the hardest thing in the world not to smile at that moment. Every time he had to punish him, the boy would get that despondent, woebegone look on his face. A mixture of lost puppy and pitiful child, the boy's face would have broken the hardest of hearts. Snape steeled himself to be firm, to be resolved. The first time he had spanked the brat, he felt a certain amount of satisfaction if not victory. He had spanked James Potter's precious son and the Hero of the Wizarding World. The famous golden boy didn't look so grand over the knee of his teacher, getting smacked good and hard.

Yet, as time had gone on, Snape no longer felt satisfaction, only a sense of disappointment every time he spanked Harry. Poor child, he tried to be good, but eventually his own nature (probably what he had gotten from his father along with that wretched hair) stepped in the way of his progress. Then Snape felt it his duty to get the boy back on track. In all fairness, Harry was too old to be spanked, but Snape didn't have the time or energy to come up with better punishments for serious offences. Since spanking was the only thing that could make the boy look like that - all big eyes and quivering lips and heartfelt apologies - it had to be doing something right.

Without any more talk, Snape pulled Harry over his knees. The boy still felt too thin as Snape placed a hand around his waist and held him still. Snape raised his hand high; then he heard a sniff from the boy. Sniffing already! Snape growled silently, but he lowered his hand halfway down and then smacked him. It still made an impressive sound in the quiet room, but Snape didn't think that it could hurt too much. His own hand wasn't stinging, but Harry still said, "Ow! I'm sorry."

Though he wanted to roll his eyes - the brat overacted to everything - Snape continued spanking. Nine more smacks, all laid down in quick succession on that squirming, trouser-covered bottom, and Snape pulled him up off his lap.

The boy was sniffing and red-faced and blinking back tears, and Snape knew that any softhearted women would have rushed for him and wrapped him in her tender arms, whispering soothing words to reassure him that he was loved and cherished. Snape was neither a woman nor soft-hearted, and he said, "No more slamming doors."

Harry nodded, whispering, "Yes, sir." It had not hurt as much as he had thought it would - after all, Snape had looked very angry when he first came in and Draco's hands had bled a lot. Harry was beginning to view his punishments with a different attitude. They still hurt, of course, and he did not like them, but he now felt more upset that he did something that would displease Snape enough to spank him rather than upset because he was smacked like a child.

"Good boy," Snape squeezed his shoulder, a warm squeeze that told him everything was all right.

The world felt all happy and fuzzy to Harry. He had no worries in the world, everything wine and roses or, in his mind, pudding and Quidditch.

Then Snape called out, "Draco, come in here, please."

Harry felt his stomach plummet. His heart-rate increased, and he felt almost sick as he watched Draco open the hall door and the blond-haired boy came in, a look of contained delight written on his face. Draco's fear of Harry had been replaced by a smug look, and though he still had the bandages around his fingers, he swung his hand carelessly as if nothing had happened.

Harry flushed a deep pink (probably the same shade as his rear-end, how awful!) and looked away. Draco must have heard everything. The door wasn't that thick - Harry could hear Snape's footsteps in the hall even when the door was shut. Draco wasn't an idiot; he could very easily figure out who was making those loud smacking noises and what was being smacked.

"Draco," Snape cut through Harry mortification, "I was informed that you were slamming doors earlier. Is that true?"

"So, Potter," Draco leered at him, "you're a dirty snitch as well as a well-span-"

"Draco!" Snape interrupted, firmly. "Is that true?"

"Yeah, it's true," Draco said, his tone still lofty.

"No more slamming doors," Snape ordered. "Harry has something he would like to say to you."

Though Harry was looking away and Snape was sitting down, Snape put both hands on Harry's sides and turned him to face Draco.

"Sorry about slamming the door on your fingers," Harry said, managing to raise his voice above a whisper.

"Good," Snape pronounced. "Now, you," to Harry "were going outside to work in the garden. Go on, and I'll call you in for lunch. Draco, come with me to the library."

A few minutes later, Harry found himself in the garden. He dropped to his knees and began weeding at the end, but he could not stop thinking about how awful it all was. It was one thing for Snape to spank him - completely different for Draco to find out. Draco would tell everyone at Hogwarts, and they would all laugh at him. Harry could hear the catcalls already:

"Hey, Potter, better hurry to Potions. Don't want Snape to turn your over his knee for being late."

"Oh, Potter, you got detention again. Suppose that will mean scrubbing cauldrons and a long paddling."

"Potter, we're taking bets on whether Snape will spank you ten times or twenty. What do you think?"

"Potter? . . . Potter, stop!"

"Huh?" Harry looked up to see Snape standing over him. "Oh, sorry, just thinking."

"I was going to tell you that I want you to weed to the end of this row, and then you can take a walk around the garden. Get some exercise - you're looking a little pale."

"Yes, sir," Harry started weeding. He heard Snape walk away, but kept working. He pulled out eight more small weeds and got ready to move down the row, but he blinked. The row was one he had worked on the day before; he had nearly gotten to the end when Snape made him go inside to wash up for lunch. Ten minutes of work finished that row, but Snape had told him to stop after that. Harry hesitated. Surely Snape meant for him to do more than a few minutes - Harry thought he would be working for hours. Yet, he knew better than question Snape.

Instead he walked over to the water-fountain and plunged his hands under the downpour. His hands were numb with cold, but clean when he finally pulled them out. Then he felt something hard and round in his pocket. He pulled out a small silver ball with a small note attached to it that read:

A Ground Snitch: Unable to play Quidditch? Don't have a working broom or the air space to chase a snitch? Use this new and improved ground snitch to better your reflexes and sight. This snitch flies like a regular snitch, but it rises no more than six feet off the ground, making it an ideal game to play indoors or outdoors without a broom. Simply drop the snitch into the air and watch it fly about. Try to catch it as fast as you can. Best time: five minute, thirty-two seconds by Grinmore Grinting, Manufacturer of Magical Sports.

Grinning himself, Harry stuffed the note in his pocket before dropping the snitch. It fell for a foot, then tiny little wings sprung out, and it whizzed down the garden path. Harry took after it, dodging scrubs and a stone that look like a large turnip as he ran faster and faster. It wasn't as much fun as flying, but at least he could improve his reflexes with the snitch while Draco was stuck in a musty old library.

------

Harry did not see Draco until suppertime after which they both had tea. Draco made it to the tea tray first and snatched up the yellow teacup that Harry always used. Harry opened his mouth, wanting to shout to Draco to touch that and die, but instead Harry reached for another cup.

"No, Draco," Snape said, "that's Potter's cup. Choose another one."

"Fine," Draco thrust the cup to Harry, "I don't want to drink out of any cup he's used anyway."

Harry still said nothing, just took the cup silently. He wasn't quite sure, but he thought he saw Snape smile, just the littlest bit.

Draco was sent up first at bedtime, and he went snarling and muttering bad things under his breath.

"Sometimes I don't know what I'm going to do with him," Snape sighed. He picked up the biscuit tray and offered it to Harry.

Harry took one (his third one that night, but who was counting?) and crunched on it, perfectly content.

Draco was in bed with an ugly sneer plastered on his face when Harry came out of the bathroom in pajamas. Harry tried to ignore him as he set his new possession, the silver snitch, on the table beside his bed.

"What's that?" Draco scoffed. "You still playing with toys, Potter? We should get you a nice rattle and a pacifier to suck on."

Harry ignored him as he opened the small drawer of the table and pulled out the gold pocket watch Snape had given him for his birthday. He could feel the ticking in his hand, and he could hear it too. So could Draco because the blond-haired boy suddenly exclaimed, "What is that noise?"

"Nothing, just a clock," Harry climbed into bed, still holding the pocketwatch. Since his birthday, he had been sleeping with the watch in one hand. Once, Snape had looked at him askance, and Harry had said something about the ticking helping him sleep better. Snape bought that explanation and did not ask any more questions. Draco was not so kind.

"Are you mad? No one sleeps with a pocketwatch. Put it back in the drawer."

Harry simply pulled his covers up and lay down on the pillows.

"Really, Potter, I can't stand that ticking," Draco raised his voice a notch. When he received no answer, he taunted, "You still smarting from this morning? I can't wait to tell everyone at school."

"You go right ahead," Harry said, sounding much braver than he felt. "Tell them all, and I'll just tell them that Draco Malfoy spent all summer hiding at his uncle's house until his father came to drag him home."

"Leave my father alone," Draco's voice had an urgent ring in, almost panicked.

"I don't know why you're so upset about him," Harry said, staring up at the ceiling. "He can't have been a good father, always belittling you and ordering you around."

"You don't know anything about him," Draco replied very quickly.

"Well, from what I've seen, you're probably better off without him."

"Shut up," Draco said, but the words were very soft as if Draco was scared of something.

"I just mean, from the little I've seen of him, it hasn't been good. He was torturing Dobby -"

"A house elf," Draco protested.

"And sneering at the Weasleys -"

"Pathetic family!"

"And I've seen him hit you with his cane once or twice just because you said something he didn't quite like."

Silence from the other bed.

Harry glanced over there. Draco was still sitting up, but his lips were pressed together so hard they were almost white.

"Does he hit you?" Harry asked bluntly.

Still no answer. Draco was staring ahead, his eyes wide and intense. Harry propped himself up on one elbow to better see the blond-haired boy.

"Does he hit you? Does he beat you? With his cane?"

Draco looked at Harry, and Harry drew in a sharp breath.

"Draco," Harry searched for words to fit the horror of the moment, "Draco . . . no. Just . . . no."

"You don't know anything about it," Draco spit out. "You're just a stupid little orphan who wouldn't know the first thing about having parents."

"I know that no one should hit you for any reason," Harry pointed out.

"You let Snape hit you," Draco returned.

"Snape did not hit me," Harry insisted. "He spanked me."

"Same difference," Draco shrugged, furious.

"There is a huge difference," Harry insisted. "Getting smacked across the rear a few times is not the same as being hit across the face or being beaten. And Snape always talks to me before he does it to make sure I know why I am being punished. He never starts hitting me without warning, and he would never hit me across the face or with a cane."

Draco stared at Harry, swallowing hard but saying nothing.

Then Snape came in to tell them goodnight.

Draco mumbled goodnight and lay down without another word. Harry let Snape pull up the covers, not even trying to hide the watch in his hand. Snape made no comment, just gave Harry a pat on the hip (not as hard as the night before) and left the room in darkness.

Draco was still quiet, but Harry could tell from his tight breathing that he was not asleep. Harry held the pocketwatch tight, the ticking resounding through his whole hand.