Upside-down, Harry kept trying to look at the doorway, but he could not see anyone coming out. He had twisted to see the door, but when he couldn't any longer, he let his body hang straight. And then he saw the scariest thing ever - an upside-down Snape watching him.

Harry cried out and jerked in fear. He felt the suspenders dig the trousers into his ankles, and he swayed dizzily.

Snape gave a short, bitter laugh. "Oh, how perfectly poetic. Sweet poetic justice."

Harry was not sure what could be poetic about him hanging upside down, but he said nothing.

"The fact that you hang there in your underwear, completely helpless," Snape observed. "I only wish all of Hogwarts was here to see your humiliation."

Harry thought that was the only thing that could have been worse - having his friends and schoolmates see him hanging in his underwear.

"Perhaps I should take pictures," Snape went on, taking a step towards the hanging boy. "Then owl them to every single student."

"No!" Harry shouted. "Don't! I - I wasn't running away. I mean, I just went up the tree to - to see if I could see anything. And then I kind of fell."

"Ha!" Snape snorted. "Don't lie to me, Potter, you're already in enough trouble."

"You were awful to me," Harry yelled back. "You're mental as Ron would say, completely mad."

"I'm not the one hanging upside-down in my underwear," Snape observed. "But if you would rather stay there, I'll have Vampyr come get you once you fall."

Harry looked down at the ground below. It was at least six feet to the ground, and Harry knew a fall on his head would hurt if not break his neck.

Suddenly, he felt the suspenders start to slip.

"Ahh!" he flailed his arms as he slid down several inches. "No, I'm going fall. Just let me down."

He didn't move his legs at all, but he knew any moment he would be falling through the air while Snape watched with cruel satisfaction.

Then the suspenders broke.

Harry felt himself free falling through the air, and he yelled, but he never hit the ground. Instead, he found himself jerking to a halt a few inches above the ground. Before he had time to puzzle it out, strong hands grabbed him around the waist, and Harry was thrown over Snape's shoulder.

He felt Snape's arms tighten around the back of his legs, and Harry suddenly threw his hands back to cover his bottom. It was a silly, childish impulse, but he had a feeling that Snape would smack him on the way to the house and Harry did not want to be smacked.

"Ha, as if that really would have stopped me," Snape sneered. "No, young man, your punishment will be much more severe. You do not run away from me."

Harry opened his mouth to declare that Snape wasn't playing the game right, but he hesitated. He was not quite sure, but he guessed that most children were not allowed to leave home without informing a parent first. At Hogwarts, he had to stay on the grounds, and if he didn't come back in time for supper or bedtime, he guessed someone would have come looking for him, probably upset at him for running off. So maybe Snape was playing the game right.

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry apologized. He felt mortified, being carried over Snape's shoulder with his trousers still down, but Snape headed right for the house without another word.

They went into the kitchen, and Vampyr barked angrily.

"I know," Snape agreed with the dog. He carried Harry into the hall and then into the living room. Snape sat down in one of the chairs and pulled Harry over his knee.

The last time Harry had been in this position in this room, Snape had spanked him very hard and then shoved him to the ground. Harry didn't try to get away, but he grabbed the leg of the chair with one hand and a fistful of Snape's trouser leg with the other. Hopefully, this way he would not hurt his arms when Snape shoved him off his lap.

"You don't try to leave," Snape lectured. "And that was a very dangerous thing you did, trying to jump off such a high branch. You didn't have your blasted broom - you can't fly without it."

Snape spanked him, a stern swat but not as bad as Harry had been expecting.

"You could have broken your neck, you wretched boy. I know I did not leave the kitchen in the best of terms, but that's no excuse to try to hang upside down from tree branches."

Snape gave him nine more swats, and Harry winced at each of them, but he did not cry yet.

He felt Snape shift, and Harry braced himself for more. His bottom was very warm and somewhat uncomfortable, but he knew Snape would not stop until he was sobbing, begging for mercy which would never come because -

"All right," Snape grabbed him around the waist. "Up you go. Let go of my trousers! There," he stood Harry up in front of him, "let that teach you not to be so disobedient again."

Harry blinked. Were they playing the game? Was Snape really going to give him no more than ten smacks, which had not hurt that much, only made Harry feel in disgrace?

Snape did not offer him time to mull it over; after yanking up his trousers, Snape grabbed Harry by the ear and led him to the kitchen corner. "Fifteen minutes there, Harry, and then you're going to sit down and study your lessons and you're not going outside for the rest of the day."

That did not seem much of a punishment after some of the things Snape had put him through, but Harry thought it better not to argue and meekly took his place there.

As he stared at the intersection of the walls, Harry kept replaying the last half hour in his mind over and over again. Snape bursting out in temper, Harry overwhelmed and scrambling up a tree, hanging like that from the branch, Snape not letting him fall, Snape giving him a stern warning about being safe. It was the strangest thing in the world - he had expected Snape to tear him to pieces, the same man who had dropped him in a dungeon two days ago for mouthing off. Instead, Snape had delivered a scolding and a few good wallops to reprimand him, and to Harry's horror, it seemed so paternal, something like a father would do, though Harry could not be sure because he had never had a father.

Suddenly, his eyes pricked as his cheeks turned red. For the life of him he could not say why, but he wished very badly right then that he had not tried to run away. He had not really expected to escape, but the fact that Snape had to rescue him made Harry feel awful. The dungeon part had been Snape's fault, but this was not. Harry had run because he thought it would be easier than trying to stay with Snape.

He sniffed in hopes of pushing back tears.

"What are you crying for?" Snape demanded from behind him. "I barely spanked you. If I were my father, I would have beaten you half to death. But I'm not, and you got exactly what you deserved, you horrid -er, you naughty boy."

"I'm sorry," the words fell effortlessly from Harry's mouth. "I just didn't think."

"Indeed you didn't. That's the problem with you, Potter - Harry. You run around jumping into things just like your fath - just like some people who jump into things. You're too impulsive."

"Sometimes," Harry admitted though he didn't want to agree completely. "But you can be mean, too."

"This is not about me," Snape reminded him. "This is about you and your growing list of faults. I don't think you can do a single thing right anymore."

Harry crossed his arms, keeping his back rigid, but two big tears rolled down his cheeks. He swiped at them quickly and crossed his arms again, but Snape saw the movement.

"Turn around," he directed. "Come on, turn to me."

Harry blinked his eyes furiously, but when he turned to face to Snape, several more tears rolled down, streaking down his hot cheeks.

"Look at these tears," Snape tsked. "I barely spanked you and you're crying like a baby."

"I-I'm sorry," Harry tried to sniff back the tears. "I just - you said - I don't think I do everything wrong."

"Well, you would think that, wouldn't you?" Snape commented, but he led Harry to the kitchen table to sit down. "Bothersome children always think they are doing their best and never realize just how useless they are." Snape reached out to feel Harry's forehead. "A bit warm. You'll relapse and get sick again and prove me right."

"I'm not sick," Harry protested, but Snape went to heat him a cup of tea.

The tea felt good to his dry throat, and as he sipped it, Harry muttered, "If I'm so bothersome, why did you kidnap me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. You're my son - you've always lived with me."

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but then he glanced up at Snape. "I can't remember, Father, but where do I go to school?"

"Hogwarts, of course," Snape snapped.

"Then am I in Slytherin?" Harry asked, feigning sweet innocence.

"No," Snape ground out. "Through some cruel twist of fate, the hat sorted you into Gryffindor."

"I see," Harry tried not to smile. "But I'm in your Potions classes, right?"

"Of course."

"Then I must be very good at Potions," Harry tried not to smile wickedly, but it was very hard. "The best in the class, since you're my father and my teacher."

"Yes, well, you've been rather lazy in Potions," Snape retorted. "Something I intend to change over the summer. Until school starts, you'll be studying a Potions textbook for an hour every morning and then showing me what you learned in the lab afterwards."

Harry groaned inwardly, but said nothing. He hated the idea of struggling in Potions over the summer - the whole summer! - but at the same time, he hoped that he might prove to Snape once and for all that he wasn't a complete idiot.

"Are you going to try to run away again?" Snape demanded.

"No, are you going to yell at me like that again and say those things?" Harry challenged.

"You asked me what my father was like. I showed you."

"You could have stopped after calling me a freak. I don't like people calling me that, no one!"

"Who calls you a freak?" Snape raised an eyebrow.

"People," Harry stared at the rim of his cup.

"Well, you are a bit of one," Snape said, but even he didn't sound convinced.

Harry glared at him, but somehow he did not want to cry like earlier. "You're a freak," he muttered into his cup.

A strong hand clamped down on the back of his neck. "What did you call me?"

"I said you're my father," Harry smiled innocently.

The hand tightened briefly on his neck. "Don't be cheeky," Snape warned. "Finish that tea, then you're starting your lessons. And you don't get to step outside until tomorrow, and anymore nonsense, and you won't see the garden for a week."

------

Snape made him study until mid-afternoon, but around two o'clock, Snape told him to go upstairs for a "quiet time." Harry did not know exactly what that meant, but he guessed he was to stay in his room and be quiet. Vampyr followed him upstairs, and the dog napped in the corner while Harry played on the floor. He found the iron dragon with its wings fixed along with the other figurines and a box of tin soldiers.

Harry spent the hour and a half of his "quiet time" lining up the soldiers and having each one of the black figurines attack them. Every so often one of the soldiers would charge at the figurines and manage to jump on top. One daring soldier even made it on the dragon's back, but the dragon flew right up and the poor soldier fell to the ground below, landing on his fellow comrades in broken defeat.

When Harry got tired of playing, he climbed up on his bed and looked out the window for a while. He could see Hedwig perched on the edge of the roof, and Harry wished he could pet her. But he knew he would get in trouble for opening the window, and besides, Vampyr might bite her before Harry could stop him.

He felt a little tired, probably from being sick the last two days, but Harry was determined not to go to sleep. He did not want to give Snape any reason to think that Harry need a "quiet time," and actually falling asleep might send Snape the wrong message.

Fortunately, Snape came up before Harry could fall asleep and told him it was time for him to help fix dinner. Once down in the kitchen, Harry was responsible for peeling the potatoes and putting them into hot water to boil before slicing bread to be toasted. Snape was cooking some kind of meat and they were also having fruit, but Snape said he would do the fruit last.

Harry sat at the table and tried to work the short knife around the potatoes, but they were slippery and he was used to handling a peeler and not an actual knife. It took him several minutes to finish the first potato, but on the second, the knife slipped and sliced into his thumb.

"Ow!" Harry hissed, quickly putting his throbbing thumb in his mouth. The metallic taste of blood danced on his tongue, and he sucked the digit hard, trying to stop the flow.

"Are you sucking your thumb?" Snape looked outraged, and he stepped forward to snatch Harry's hand away from his mouth.

"No, I cut it," Harry told him, pulling on his hand.

"Clumsy," Snape frowned. He whisked out his wand, pressed the tip to the bleeding cut, and murmured an incantation. The pain disappeared as the cut healed over, and Snape dropped his hand with a stern look. "Stop playing around."

"I wasn't - oh, I'm working," Harry heeded the warning look and grabbed the half-peeled potato.

"One without blood on it," Snape grabbed the potato and flung it in the waist bin.

Harry wished he could think of some clever little barb to fling back at Snape, maybe something about how Snape liked to drink blood because he was a vampire, but Harry couldn't get it to sound right in his head so he stayed quiet.

It took him longer to peel the potatoes as he went very slowly, but Snape made no comment and just set him to work on the bread when he had finished. All in all, cut thumb aside, it was not too bad helping Snape prepare supper. Harry had been used to fixing meals at the Dursleys, but there he wanted to finish as quickly as possible and get out of Aunt Petunia's way. Here in the rustic kitchen, Harry didn't mind waiting for the bread to brown, and he sat in his chair and watched the clock count down the five minutes that the fire oven would take to toast.

And sitting down to supper was nice, well as nice as supper with Snape could possible be. The man kept sneering at Harry, frowning and making short remarks like "The potatoes" or "The bread" when he wanted something passed. Harry ate hungrily and helped to clear the table afterwards and dried the dishes. Once the kitchen was clean, Harry followed Snape back to the living room. Snape sat in one of the worn armchairs. and Harry sat in a small chair across from him.

Snape picked up the day's edition of the Daily Prophet and pretended to read it. When Harry kept watching him without glancing away, Snape lowered the paper with a huff.

"What?" Snape demanded.

"Is what families do in the evening?" Harry asked. "Wizarding families?"

"I don't know," Snape retorted before he had time to think. "I mean, we probably read during the evening."

"I read all morning," Harry objected. "I don't want to read anymore."

"Then you can go to bed."

"It's barely eight o'clock. Ron never said he went to bed this early. He plays games with his brothers at night."

"You don't have any brothers," Snape grumbled, flipping through the paper as if disgruntled with the news that day.

"What about my mother?" Harry asked suddenly.

Snape jerked the paper down. "What?"

"My mother. If you're my father, what happened to my mother?"

Snape looked enraged for a moment, but then his eyes gleamed. "Your mother was Lily Evans."

So his mother was the same, but his father was Snape? Harry felt rather irritated that James Potter got left out completely, but at least he got to keep his mother. "Did she still die protecting me?" Harry inquired.

Snape swallowed so hard Harry could see his throat constricting. "Yes," the man answered hoarsely, "she did."

"Can you tell me about her?" Harry went on. He doubted Snape knew anything about his mother - after all he could not picture his pretty, smiling mother ever wanting to be around a grouchy bat like Snape. But it would be nice to hear someone talk about her, even if only to make up stories about her like Harry did. Many nights he had stayed awake in his cupboard and imagined how his parents met and what they would be like if they were still alive.

Snape shook his head quickly, refusing to speak.

"I know she went to Hogwarts, and I guess you went to Hogwarts, too," Harry leaned back against his chair. "Did you ever see her there?"

"Yes, I saw her. I saw her quite a bit," Snape stood up abruptly. "Enough about her."

"No one ever wants to talk about my parents," Harry sighed. "They pretend like they never existed, like I don't want to hear about them. Why won't they tell me?"

"I said enough," Snape went to the shelves and came back, dropping a flat box on the table beside Harry's chair. "Open that - we're going to play chess."

Harry did not want to play chess at the moment - he wanted answers about his parents. But he opened the box and took out the board. Harry was not as good at chess as Ron, but he put up a fair fight, and it took Snape almost an hour to beat him. They played another game which Snape also won, but just by a little.

By the end of the second game, Harry was yawning continually. Snape sent him up to bed, and as he left the bathroom, Harry bent to pet Vampyr good night. He stroked his hand over the dog's head twice before climbing into bed, and the dog did not bark or push him away. Snape came up at few minutes later, demanding if he had brushed his teeth or not. When Harry said yes, Snape told him to go to sleep.

"Good night, Father," Harry yawned as he slumped into the pillow.

He fell asleep immediately, but throughout the warm night, he kept dreaming of a picture of his parents. His mother was smiling with her lovely red hair dancing around her face, but instead of James Potter, Snape stood by his mother in the picture. And though Snape was not smiling, he looked calm and content in the picture as if he was finally where he belonged.