"H-how'd you get in here?" Harry stammered.

"I'm a teacher," Snape said coldly.

"So, you can go anywhere you like?" Harry asked.

"Quite so," Snape replied.

Harry felt himself shaking still, and he had nothing to say, nothing he could think of to make it any better.

"Very well," Snape regarded Harry calmly. "let's do this properly."

"Properly?" Harry squeaked, hating himself for sounding so weak.

"Yes, I believe we have set up a sort of repartee, have we not? When you misbehave and blatantly lie to my face?"

"Lie?" Harry choked out, wishing he could stop shaking.

"Indeed, I asked you if anything out of the ordinary had happened, and you said no. I asked you if I need to know anything and you said no. Yet, here you stand, out past curfew and shaking like leaf, so I gather something did happen in your time with Madame Moretta."

"You knew?"

"Of course, I knew," Snape stood, and Harry shrank back.

"This is the-the Commons Rooms," Harry stammered. "They'll hear if - if -"

"No, we're going down to my room. Where's your Cloak?"

"I left it behind," Harry confessed.

"Then you will have to get it tomorrow," Snape decided. He held out his hand insistently. "Come along."

Harry dragged his feet to Snape's side, but once he reached him, the older man grabbed his wrist. With a whirl of robe, Snape started for the door, pulling a reluctant Harry with him. Nervous and dizzy, Harry would have chosen quick Apparation to Snape's office rather than a long walk down there, pulled by a very displeased adopted father.

They reached the dungeons, and Snape flung open his door to his office. He pulled Harry inside and sat him down in a big armchair.

"Snape -" Harry began

"Quiet," Snape directed. He snatched up an old quilt and tucked the soft cover over Harry. "Calm down. Just rest here for a moment. No, don't move."

Harry leaned back in the armchair, clutching the top of quilt anxiously. He felt jittery as if he had drunk ten cups of coffee right in a row, his nerves on pins and needles.

Snape walked over the fireplace and took a kettle off the small flames. He conjured up a cup and saucer before pouring the hot water into the cup and adding tea leaves. A cup of hot tea seemed the best thing in the world to Harry, and he gratefully took it from Snape's hand and began to sip it.

The hot liquid soothed Harry's parched tongue and sore throat, and he thought he could have sat there all evening, enjoying the tea. But then Snape pulled out a large bottle of something dark and nasty and picked up a big spoon as well.

Harry tried to look away. He didn't mind taking potions - well, he still didn't like the taste or the feel of the disgusting mixture in his mouth, but he supposed living with a potions master meant he would have to take more potions than most people. And he had the strong feeling Snape rather liked dosing him frequently, proving once and for all that Serverus Snape could keep Harry Potter healthier than anyone.

But Harry absolutely hated having to take potions from a spoon. In a vial that he held himself and could toss back like a shot of firewhiskey - that was fine. But when Snape held out the full spoon and Harry had to open his mouth and swallow it - he felt all of about five years old.

This time was no different. Snape brought the spoon (so big Harry wasn't sure he could get it in his mouth) filled with something very yucky. "Take it," Snape ordered.

Harry took in all the potion, but he kept it in his mouth, refusing to swallow because his tongue would have to touch it and he kept his tongue down at the back of his mouth, letting the black stuff ooze around his teeth.

"Swallow it," Snape told him.

Harry closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Oh, nasty - nasty! He grabbed the tea cup and gulped down tea, trying to rid the awful taste from his mouth.

"One more," Snape lifted the bottle to pour another dose.

"No, no, no," Harry hastily assured him. "I'm feeling much better."

"You're still shaking."

"It's cold down here. And I'm not sick, just rather jumpy after what I saw."

Snape gave him a doubtful look, but corked the bottle and set it aside. "All right, then let's talk about what you saw. No, you're not to get excited. Just rest there and talk to me calmly."

In short, stammering sentences, Harry told Snape what had happened, from going to meet Moretta late that night to the candles and the vision. To Harry's bewilderment, Snape did not seem shocked by what had happened. Snape questioned him carefully about exactly what he had seen, going over the last part with Voldemort three times before Snape was satisfied.

"Good, good," Snape mused, looking very thoughtful. "It was just what I thought. She knew you could do it, but I wanted the exact particulars examined first. But you got through. Very good."

"But what does it mean?" Harry asked. "Was Voldemort really there? Was that a vision? I got away - does this mean I win?"

"It was not the real Dark Lord," Snape told him. "But that doesn't mean any more or less for your confrontation with him. This test was about you, not him."

"Then you're not angry?" Harry asked nervously.

"About your seeing the Dark Lord? Oh, no, not at all about that. Care for some more tea?"

Harry watched suspiciously as Snape took his cup and refilled it. Snape was acting far too pleasant for Harry to feel any real peace about the matter. He expected Snape to yell and lecture, not serve tea.

"There you go," Snape handed him back a full cup. "Drink that, and let's get you to bed. You look very pale and worn out, and a good's night's sleep will do you more good than anything else now."

"Right," Harry agreed awkwardly. He started sipping the tea, wondering if Snape had poisoned it.

"You can sleep down here tonight," Snape turned towards his desk. "It's late now. You can sleep late in the morning, and I'll leave some breakfast for you. But I'll make sure to come back and spank you around eleven so you won't miss lunch."

Harry closed his eyes in despair. He knew that was coming. He knew it, and blast Snape for lulling him into a sense of false security. Snape was always trying to get him comfortable and safe and then unnerving him with the promise of hard discipline.

"I'll transform the sofa for you," Snape said as if he had been discussing what they would eat tomorrow. "Do you want an extra blanket?"

"You can't just say that and expect me to sleep," Harry said, panic crowding his voice. "You know I can't sleep now, and I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Harry," Snape said quietly.

"No, I didn't! She asked me to come and to tell no one. She asked me and she's a teacher and - and she asked me."

"That is true," Snape nodded seriously.

"What was I supposed to do when she asked me?" Harry babbled on. "Tell her no? And you knew the whole time so what does it matter? You knew what was going on, and I just went along because she told me, and she's a teacher."

"And have all teachers, new teachers especially, had your best interest in mind?" Snape's eyes were steady but intense. "Have all your teachers been good, upstanding men and women who want nothing but the best for you?"

"Uh . . ." Harry stalled for time.

"I admit Lockhart was an idiot, but Quirell? Barty Crouch Jr. as Mad-Eye? Umbridge?"

"Lupin was good," Harry protested.

"As a human, yes, but what about nights of the full moon? He would have torn you apart the night Black escaped if he could have."

"So I should have told you? About Moretta?"

"Yes!" Snape slapped his hand down on the desk, the first sign of his temper showing. "Yes, yes, always yes! I adopted you because we both wanted it, but I am here to keep you safe. So when you start lying to me, I have to take my own desperate measures. One of which includes Draco spying on you. My first concern is your safety, always, no excuses. Your first concern is doing exactly what I tell you. When I want the truth, you give it to me right then, in whole, no excuses. You lie to me, you decide you know best and go off with a teacher you've only known a week, and then I spank you good and hard. End of discussion."

It was so beastly unfair and comforting at the same time.

"You don't always have my best intentions in mind," Harry muttered.

"Excuse me?" Snape looked murderous.

"Yeah, all those Death Eater meetings. If you had died at them, who would look after me then? No one, so there!" It was perhaps the worst argument Harry had ever come up with, but he felt tired and irritable and even more jittery now that Snape had announced what would happen. Life was all fun and games, until Snape slammed down the foot and then Harry wished he had never signed that stupid adoption paper.

"Don't waste my time by arguing," Snape said flatly. "Drink the rest of your tea and you're going to bed."

"I can't sleep with that hanging over my head," Harry declared. "You know I can't sleep."

"I'm tired," Snape announced. "And I think it might do you good to spend a whole night thinking about what's coming to you. Keep you out of trouble until then."

"You're mad," Harry announced. "You're daft if you think I'm going to bed. You do it now or not at all." He expected Snape to grow irritated and grab him for the punishment, but instead Snape shook his head.

"No, Harry, there is nothing you can say to persuade me to change my mind. Go into the bathroom and brush your teeth."

A few minutes later, Harry lay on the sofa-turned-bed in the office. Snape had left for his own room, and Harry had nothing to do but lay in bed in the dark and think. His stomach churned and clenched and turned as he thought over the vision with Voldemort and his fright at seeing Snape in the Gryffindor Commons Room and his dread over getting punished the next morning. Really, it was the worst form of torture Snape could give him. At least ten more hours before Snape would bend him over his lap and smack the naughtiness out of him . . . ten more long, long hours.

Harry shifted on the bed. He wasn't quite sure how he got into situations like these - he had been doing everything right, and suddenly he found himself in hot water, in deep trouble for nothing. He understood Snape's part of it; Snape's point of view always seemed reasonable and just once the man explained everything. But blast if Harry could ever see it before he got himself into trouble.

Harry rolled onto his side, hoping that would help him get to sleep. The bed was narrow, only a few inches wider than the original sofa, and Harry didn't understand why Snape didn't make it bigger. Maybe that was part of punishment - lie and sneak out at night and then he had to sleep on a narrow bed. And the air felt cold in the dungeon. Outside, the nights had not turned cold yet, but the dungeons were cold year round. Harry pulled up the blankets under his chin a little tighter.

He rolled back onto his back and stared up at the dark ceiling. Even in the dark, he could see the beams running through the stone and plaster. He wondered if lower ceilings would have kept the rooms warmer. Heat rose naturally, so it would be hotter higher up unless the room were bewitched which they probably weren't and why could he get to sleep already?

Harry rolled onto his stomach. Sometimes that helped him feel tired, to feel the soft bed under his chest and let the warmth soothe his heartbeat. He let out his breath with a huff, wondering if he breathed deeper he might feel tired quicker. Maybe he could go over a list of herbs from herbology, let's see there was mandrake, rosemary, witch hazel -

The door to Snape's room opened suddenly, and Snape barged out.

"That's it," Snape snarled. "It's two in morning, and I can hear you in here tossing, turning, and huffing. I need sleep, you need sleep, and you're going to sleep if it's the last thing you do."

Snape yanked the covers back and pushed Harry down into the bed with one hand. A second of silence, and then something slammed down on Harry's bottom.

Harry arched his back at the sudden pain. "Ugh! What's that?"

"A hairbrush," Snape snapped before whacking the wooden back of the brush down again.

"Ow! You're so cruel," Harry gasped, trying to deal with the swats. The dreaded ruler at Snapdragon Manor hadn't been nearly as bad, considering that the brush was heavier and covered twice as much space as the ruler.

A part of Harry felt good that he had successfully started the punishment process now and he knew it had to end sometime, but for now - he gritted his teeth and tried to take it stoically. His thin pajama bottoms offered little protection, and Harry found himself grunting and hissing by the tenth swat. Every time, he swore he wouldn't cry, but Snape had this horrid technique of smacking him a dozen times and then starting to lecture.

And if Harry had to be really, really honest with himself, he would admit the lecturing got him each and every time. The spankings hurt - oh, they hurt quite a bit, but the scolding broke him down in the end. Snape managed to make him feel very guilty to begin with, but Snape helped that feeling come into fruition during the spanking by reminding him why they were doing it. And then the tears came freely. Harry kept hoping there might be a time when he did not feel guilty and therefore he would not cry. However, so far that had all been a vain hope.

This time proved no different; he felt his eyes starting to prickle and sting, and he felt absolutely awful for trying to betray Snape's trust again.

". . . don't know how many times more I have to pound the fact into your stubborn head," Snape continued between cracks of the hairbrush. "You will not lie to me."

"I know, I know," Harry panted. He had his hands under his pillow, gripping handfuls of the under-sheet for dear life.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" Snape demanded before landing more wallops.

"Ow! I don't know. Ah! I mean, yes, I knew you would find out . . . eventually. Oh! Not so hard! Yes, I knew you would find out right away."

"And why did you lie then if you knew I would find out?"

"Be-because I didn't think you'd let me go see her."

"And if I did refuse to let you go, what then?"

"Would have been for a g-good reason," Harry cried.

"That's right. I - always - have - my - reasons!" Snape brought the brush down on each word. He paused for a second, and then he gave Harry one last tremendous smack.

Harry gave a hoarse cry and dropped his face into the pillow to fight it out.

"All right," Snape said in a quieter tone, "that's over for now. No, now hush, no reason to carry on so."

"That hurt," Harry's voice was muffled in the pillow.

"Yes, I'm sure it did. And next time you better remember this before you start lying to me."

Harry turned his head to face Snape, his red eyes surrounded by damp lashes. "Sorry," he mumbled, feeling the need to reply to the sharp correction he had just received.

"I know," Snape said. He put a hand on Harry's head, the same hand that had just wheedled the hairbrush, and tried to smooth down a few pieces of hair that stood up defiantly. "You need another haircut."

"I like it," Harry mumbled. Already, his eyelids felt heavy, and he pulled his hands out from under the pillow and rested them loosely by his head. He saw no reason to try and move, not when it felt so good to just lie there in overwhelming exhaustion. Snape's hand felt nice over his hair, distracting him a little from the burn of his bottom. Harry might could have reached back to rub out the sting, but that would have required way too much effort, and he chose instead to lie like a puddle on the narrow bed.

"Are you calm enough to go to sleep?" Snape asked from somewhere far above him.

Harry gave the smallest of nods before his eyelids slid shut.

"Good boy," Snape decided. He pulled the covers back up, making sure they covered Harry's hands as well. "I guess I don't have to tell you to stay here until morning, do I?"

No answer came from the narrow bed, and Snape knew there would be none. He gave Harry's shoulder a firm pat before going into his own room, leaving the door open a few inches just in case.

------

Harry awoke the next morning, feeling refreshed and well-rested. He rolled over to sit up for a stretch, but immediately thought better of it. He still felt sore, but he knew a shower and breakfast would have him feeling better than anything else would. It felt to wake up with no sense of impending doom hanging over his head. He had not had a nightmare either, always a plus.

He stood and stretched his arms up, surprised at how cold the floor felt to his bare feet. Next he headed towards Snape's room, poking his head into the open door to see if Snape were there. The room was empty so Harry padded into the bathroom.

Snape stood in front of the sink and mirror, a razor in one hand and half his jaw covered in soap.

"What do you think you're doing?" Snape demanded.

"I need to - you know," Harry said, wrapping both his arms around his torso for warmth.

"Go to your dorm," Snape told him.

"Come on - I really have to go," Harry tried not to squirm. "And I want to take a shower. Can't you finish somewhere else?"

Snape looked aghast. "You cheeky little -"

"Brat - I know," Harry said quickly. "But if you could go and get me some breakfast, too, I'd really appreciate it."

"Get you some -" Snape broke off speechless.

"I want jam, not marmalade," Harry said as he reached for one of the folded towels. "See if Dobby saved any muffins for me. He does that sometimes."

Snape opened his mouth and then shut it with a snap. He took his razor and towel out into bedroom so Prince Potter could have the whole bathroom. And Snape waited until Harry was in the shower for a few minutes before casting a spell to turn the water cold. The boy's shrill screams were satisfaction enough while Snape tried to scout them out some breakfast.

As they ate, Harry announced his intentions to spend the day studying and hanging out with his friends. Snape glowered and frowned but in the end agreed, saying, "You come back tonight for a haircut. And no getting into trouble."

"Will do," Harry promised, stuffing his mouth full of jam-covered muffin.

Snape looked very displeased at his manners, but Harry swallowed the last bit of muffin and wiped his hands on a napkin. Harry stood, announcing,

"Right, then, I'm off. Thank you for your lovely hospitality, hairbrush excluded."

"No more lying," Snape warned again.

"Yes," Harry nodded, "tonight when I come back, I'll tell you my plans about starting up the DA again."

"What?" Snape thundered, but Harry wasn't fazed.

"Yes, they've asked me to lead them again and I thought you should know, seeing as how you're Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. We're going to have weekly meetings, probably. You could be an honorary speaker at one meeting if you like."

Snape drew in a long breath. "What is it about getting spanked that makes you so unbearably cheeky afterwards? Do you honestly think that you can get away with whatever you like and I won't spank you again so soon, because I will, believe me."

Harry smiled, almost grinned. "Of course, you would. But we'll talk later - I have things to do." He headed towards the door, leaving Snape to mutter about horribly insufferable brats that should be whipped everyday as a precaution.

Harry stopped at the door and turned back. "You know, I was thinking. I think I will fight Voldemort in the end. And I think I'll win too. After all, if I get myself killed, I see you marching into the afterlife to soundly punish me for being so careless. Yeah, that's a good incentive to win."

"Don't be so flippant," Snape rebuked.

"Who's being flippant?" Harry asked without a trace of a smile. "Enjoy your day."

Out in the hallway, Harry saw Worty sitting on the ground, looking very worried. Harry closed Snape's office door behind him and approached the little boy.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

Worty looked surprised but he got his feet immediately. "Draco said I had to keep watch and tell them when Professor Snape is coming. Draco said I had to sit here unless he came out, but I've been waiting for hours."

"Well, Snape isn't coming out," Harry told him. "And what say you and me go find Draco? I think I can handle him now."

They both went down the dark hall of the dungeon, Worty hurrying to keep up with Harry.