The train pulled out and Snape heaved a sigh of relief. The children were gone, and he had a few precious hours to himself before he had to pick the brat up at King’s Cross. He’d shucked his robes and sat in his traveling clothes, a plain dark pullover and slacks.

He always felt sad leaving Hogwarts, whether as student or staff. The castle was more his home than anywhere, really. The little cottage was nothing more than a way station that marked the interminable days between terms. He’d saved his first year's wages from school to put the down payment on it.

He had a sudden flash of --not nostalgia, certainly-- for the squalid little den he had called home for seventeen years. 412 Spinner’s End. He remembered with sickening clarity the rancid smells of gone over food from the dishes in the sink, the gritty, stained carpeting, the water damaged ceiling that had collapsed and left him with a three foot hole in the floor of his room. Mum, her eyes dim, wandering the halls, marooned so deeply in her own misery she had never truly seen him. Towards the end, when it had gotten really bad for her, she had stopped bathing, stopped washing her hair, and the thick smell of human dirtiness had overlaid the gin and filth.

And Tobias…. Snape felt his hands clinch into fists. He had never, so far as he recalled, idealized his father, but as a small child he must have loved him at least a little, before rage and contempt and finally hatred won over whatever love might have remained. He breathed deeply and banished the house from his mind.

Consistency, stability, the promise of order. The sea air would do him good, and he had Potter to oversee. If his suspicions about the boy’s home life were correct, it was likely these were the very things that the boy needed. Snape occasionally felt a certain abstract sadness he’d never fathered a child of his own, but he’d long ago decided that the line, poisoned on both sides, should end with him. That he should be raising the child of the man he’d loathed silently for years…

He shook his head. Foolish maundering, more suited to a Hufflepuff or Gryffindor than a hardheaded, pragmatic Slytherin. He shrank his trunk and made his way to the gate, his goodbyes done.

XXXXXXX

Three hours later Harry scanned the crowd for Snape. He couldn’t see the Grim Reaper like silhouette, but he had no doubts that the bat was here somewhere. His orders were to walk towards the carpark as though his uncle were waiting for him, and he drug his feet as he walked. This was an unknown quantity, living with Snape. He half wished he could have vanished into the crowd, or gone with Ron, or--

“Oof! Sorry, sir!” He jerked back in shock. Snape glowered down at his ward with an undisguised air of menace. “ Running me down will not get you out of this, Potter.”

He gripped the boy’s forearm in a death grip before shrinking his trunk and tucking it in his pocket. The boy would just have to hold the owl, which Snape hoped mightily wouldn’t make obnoxious noises or leave messes (much the same aspirations as he had for Potter, actually).

For a horrible second, Harry was convinced that Snape really was going to turn him over to You-Know-Who when he grabbed him so hard, but Snape merely seemed annoyed. With an admonition to “Hold that blasted bird”, Snape Apparated them. Harry had seen it done but he was unprepared for the sensation that he was being vacuum sealed like a salad.

When they stopped it was in front of a pokey little house. They were surrounded by trees, and the birds were singing. Snape let go of the boy’s arm and walked toward the front door. He fished in the pocket of his slacks and came up with a key, which he fit in the lock.

“Are you simple? Come in.” Harry followed him in, not sure what to expect. He had assumed that Snape lived in some dark mansion with howling noises and mist, but this was a fairly standard Muggle house, from the looks. The porch had some comfortable looking chairs and a box for firewood.

Snape led the goggling boy through the sitting room and into the kitchen. The rooms were comfortable and warm and smelled faintly of soap. There were even rag rugs on the floors. The boy was peering at things as though he expected them to explode.

“As soon as you’re done making a fool of yourself gawking, Mr. Potter, do let me know and we’ll discuss your new home.”

Harry was jerked out of his reverie. He looked at the smirking Potions Master and reined in his urge to make a smart remark. The insufferable bastard was leaned casually against a counter top, sleeves rolled up. He cocked his head and waited, and finally Harry realized he was waiting for a response. “Yes, sir.”

Snape took a moment longer than he needed answering. Let the brat learn his place. “ Very well. Firstly, do you understand the term‘ in loco parentis’, Potter?”

“’In place of parents, sir. “

“Correct. Within our world, having the guardianship of a minor child had different ramifications than it does to Muggles. A wizard guardian is well and truly in loco parentis, Potter, do you know why?”

Harry shook his head. Snape was taking his sweet time with this, that was for sure.

“Because a guardian makes an Unbreakable Vow. That means that if I fail to defend you, or do you harm, I will die, because it is assumed as a matter of course that parents will die for their children. It enforces a bond like that, do you see?”

Harry nodded, feeling his eyes prickle. Mum….

Snape had the same thought and plowed ahead. “ Another useful term for you: Paterfamilias. Have you ever heard it?”

Potter shook his head ‘no’. He hadn’t liked the sound of it; Latin seemed to spell no good.

“ I thought as much. It means that, as your guardian and the head of this household, I am the ultimate authority. Everything that happens to you from this point on, good or bad, happens under my auspices. Every action you take reflects on me and my ability to parent and control you, and I warn you, Potter, if you do something that reflects poorly on this household, you will be the sorriest little boy in all England.”

Harry definitely didn’t like any of this. He flushed a little, torn between anger at this new control and worry that Snape would do something terrible to him if he sneezed too loudly.

“You understand, of course, that I cannot do you harm. I can, however, make your life most uncomfortable. I believe you remember how I deal with bad behavior?”

Harry flushed. Damn him for bringing the humiliations of the past few days up.

“Good. Know this right now: I do not tolerate mischief, laziness, or backtalk. I have no problem putting you in the corner for any of them, nor giving you lines or essays to write. More serious misdeeds, like lying or cursing, will earn you more severe punishments. I recommend you think about that the next time you try to lie to me, because soap tastes awful and I have a fresh bar waiting to go in your mouth.’ Snape stretched and cracked his knuckles, making Potter jump a little.

“Oh, and Potter? The next time you hurt yourself, or hide an injury from me, or try to get yourself killed, or disobey an order, you can go directly outside and find a suitable switch, is that understood? I will not have you hurt or killed because you are being a stubborn little brat. And for your own sake, don‘t let me catch you drinking, ever .”

Potter’s face was slowly going a deep pink along his cheeks. Even his ears were getting pink. Snape wondered if it were embarrassment or temper. He didn’t care; he intended to see Potter a productive, respectful adult if it killed him, which it probably would.

“All right then. The first bedroom on the left is yours. Why don’t you put your things away and then you can skulk about the rest of the house until lunch. The only places you may not go are my personal bedroom and the basement. Other than that, amuse yourself quietly.”

With that, Snape turned on his heel and walked up the stairs, leaving Harry gaping after him. The man had to be mad. Not that he’d done anything overtly insane (yet), just his whole demeanor was so….Harry shook his head. It made him angry that Snape got to tell him what to do, and even angrier that he intended to use children’s punishments to keep him in line. At the same time, the rules were bearable and he seemed content to leave Harry mainly to his own devices. Which meant a nice quiet summer of broom rides and reading. Harry squared his shoulders and picked up his trunk, leaving Hedwig to softly hoot her questions alone as he made his way upstairs.