[Snape] supported Malfoy across the bathroom, turning at the door to say in a voice of cold fury, ‘And you, Potter ... you wait here for me.'

It didn't occur to Harry for one second to disobey.

Feeling sick he slowly sat down on the wet, bloody floor, trying to ignore the wails of Moaning Myrtle that grew louder every minute. Finally he got up, looked into a mirror that wasn't cracked and tried to wipe off the flecks of blood on his cheeks.

Harry continued waiting.

Although he dreaded the moment that Snape would be back, the time seemed to drag endlessly.

At last the door to the bathroom opened again and a still furious potions master stepped in. ‘Out!' he yelled at Moaning Myrtle, who dived into the next toilet and disappeared.

‘How's Malfoy? Will he be alright?' Harry asked in a rather shaky voice.

‘He will be, but not thanks to you, and that does not lessen the trouble you are in!'

Snape stared into Harry's face. ‘Who would have guessed,' he spat in a waspish voice, ‘the Chosen One using Dark magic on a classmate. Who taught you that spell?' he shouted suddenly.

Harry flinched; he knew that question was coming.

‘I didn't know what that spell did, honestly! I read it somewhere, in some book...I forget which one it was...' he finished somewhat lamely, looking at the floor.

Snape grabbed his chin, raised his head and stared into Harry's eyes. Close your mind, thought Harry, but he knew it was no use. His copy of ‘Advanced Potion Making' came to the front of his mind, opened, revealing the notes inside.  The book disappeared swiftly and Snape's face came into focus again.

‘You liar,' was all that Snape said before he went to the door and opened it. ‘Come along.  We are going to see the headmaster.'

 Harry closed his eyes in horror.

When they finally arrived in front of Dumbledore's office, Snape again said, ‘You wait here, Potter.'

Harry nodded and his teacher knocked and entered, closing the door behind him. At first Harry was tempted to listen at the door, but he thought he was in enough trouble already. He could hear both Dumbledore's and Snape's voices; they seemed to be having some sort of discussion inside, but Harry could not understand the words.

When the door opened again, he swallowed hard, stepped inside, hardly managing to look into Dumbledore's face.

The headmaster looked more serious and angry than Harry had ever seen him. ‘Harry, Professor Snape told me you used a life threatening curse on Mr. Malfoy, is that true?'

‘Yes, Professor, but I didn't know that it would do that, and Malfoy hexed me first, so I shot a spell at him and missed and then he tried to...‘

‘No, Harry,' Dumbledore interrupted him. ‘Do not try to make excuses for what you have done. I am sure that it was not your intention to harm Mr Malfoy seriously. If you tell me so, I will even believe you that you were not the first to raise your wand. However, you are in your Sixth Year and definitely should have your magic under control. There is absolutely no excuse to cast a spell at another person without knowing exactly what it does. Do you understand me?'

‘Yes sir', Harry whispered. The disappointment in Dumbledore's voice made him feel even more terrible than before.

‘As soon as Mr Malfoy is out of the hospital wing you are going to apologize to him.'

Harry nodded silently. That wasn't going to be fun, but he agreed that it was something he needed to do.

Dumbledore peered at him over the top of his half-moon spectacles. ‘Professor Snape and I have agreed on your punishments,' he continued. ‘You will serve a number of detentions with Professor Snape.'

Harry nodded again.  He was expecting this. And now that he was finally learning of his punishments, the rhythm of his heart began to steady.

‘However', Dumbledore carried on and Harry's heart thrummed again, ‘we have agreed that in your special case, we unfortunately will have to resort to corporal punishment as well.'

‘Corporal punishment?' Harry repeated stupidly, wondering if he had understood correctly. ‘But-‘

‘Yes Harry, corporal punishment,' Dumbledore answered, with a slight edge to his voice. ‘I am fully aware that caning hasn't been used at Hogwarts for decades, not since I became Headmaster here, to be exact.  But I am sure you see yourself that what you have done cannot be dealt with by simply handing out a few detentions. Any other pupil would have been expelled for certain. However, considering your safety and the tasks that lie ahead of you, expulsion is no option. Can you understand this, Harry?" he finished rather kindly.

Harry cleared his throat. ‘Yes, I can' he said quietly, avoiding Snape's eyes, who in that moment induced even more fear in him than normal.

Dumbledore also cleared his throat. ‘Good. Now I am aware, too well, of the mutual dislike between you and Professor Snape.  Although you will serve your detentions with Professor Snape, I am offering to mete out the corporal punishment myself."

Snape drew in his breath as if he was going to say something, but Dumbledore merely looked at him and he remained silent.

Harry thought about that offer. Surely any punishment handed out by Dumledore couldn't hurt as much as by Professor Snape? He was by far kinder, and after all, he was an old man and could use only one of his hands properly.

But, Harry wondered, would he even need his hands, how is a caning done in the magical world anyway? Snape, no doubt, would not be easy on him in the least.  But while he shuddered at the thought of the humiliation of Snape being allowed to wallop him, the idea of being caned by Dumbledore was just unbearable.

He gulped and tried to find his voice. ‘Sir, thanks for offering, but I think....erm, I'm okay with Professor Snape doing it.'

He cast a quick sideways glance at his potions professor whose face betrayed no reaction whatsoever.

‘Very well,' said Dumbledore and considered him for a moment. ‘In this case, Harry, I want you to be in my office tomorrow night at eight o'clock for our next lesson. Severus?'

The latter nodded, went to the door and opened it. Harry looked once more into Dumbledore's eyes.

'I'm really sorry,' Harry whispered sadly. Then he dropped his head and went out of the office, followed by his potions master, who quietly closed the door behind them.

With some difficulty Harry raised his gaze and looked into Snape's face.

‘Follow me, Potter,' was all the professor said, and Harry felt really nervous now.

He hoped that Snape would remain silent on their way towards the dungeons, but when Snape opened his mouth again he knew he should have known better.

‘Congratulations, Potter. Not even your father managed to receive a caning, and that is really saying something. As Professor Dumbledore mentioned, you are the first student he ever ordered to be physically punished, in all these years. This most certainly is some achievement.'

Harry felt himself blush. ‘You are really going to enjoy this, aren't you?' he said before he could stop himself.

Snape raised one of his eyebrows:  ‘I most certainly am, and I have to admit that I was pleased, though surprised, that you declined the Headmaster's offer to attend to you by himself.  Would you enlighten me about your reasoning behind that?'

‘No,' Harry muttered, wondering whether this indeed had been a grave mistake.

‘I see. May I remind you that you still are to address me as "sir" at all times?'

‘Yes - sir,' Harry answered with as much contempt in his voice as he dared.

Suddenly Snape took a sharp right turn and entered a dimly lit floor. Harry followed, puzzled. Weren't they going to the dungeons? With a flick of his wand, Snape opened a door on the left.

‘Light please, Potter.'

Harry raised his wand. ‘Lumos.' He then stared in surprise into an overcrowded storeroom. There were large piles of battered spellbooks, faded Quidditch robes with stains that obviously not even the house-elves could have dealt with, loads of dusty boxes and some stuffed creatures of which Harry did not even want to know what they were. The whole room was a complete mess and very dirty. It was obvious that no one had been in there for a long time.

‘Sir, what..?'

Snape merely shook his head at the question. ‘Accio cane!' he said.

Harry swallowed hard.  From behind some boxes a cane flew into Snape's outstretched hand.

Silently they continued their march to the dungeons. When they crossed the Great Hall, they passed several small groups of students who whispered excitedly among each other when they caught sight of them. Harry had no doubt that Moaning Myrtle had wasted no time in telling everybody what he had done. He couldn't help but notice the shock on most faces when they spotted the cane in the professor's hand. A heavy sigh escaped Harry while they were descending the stairs.

‘Are you already complaining about your punishment?' Snape inquired.

‘I'm not; I would just prefer it if the whole school didn't know about it!' Harry retorted heatedly, prepared for the next snide remark of his teacher. However, this time it did not come.

Instead Snape said, ‘I can't imagine you would like your schoolmates think you got off lightly? They are not impressed by what you have done. Surely their knowing that you have been punished severely by me is going to help.'

Although Harry didn't like the bit about ‘being punished severely', he could not help admitting to himself that there was some truth in what Snape had said, especially when he thought about Hermione's reaction that he would still have to face.

They finally had arrived at the door to the potions classroom. ‘After you, Mr Potter,' Snape said sarcastically. He closed the door behind Harry.  ‘I suppose you would want some privacy,' he remarked as he locked the door magically and placed silencing charms on it.

‘Give me your wand and drop off your robe,' Snape ordered.

Harry placed his robe over a chair and reluctantly handed his wand over.

‘Good. Now do you have anything in the back pockets of your trousers?'

‘No, sir.'

‘Bend over a desk then.'

Harry approached a desk. ‘How many will I get...sir?' he asked nervously.

‘Ten strokes.'

Harry figured that it would help to know this in advance, although, having never been caned before, he wasn't sure how severe this punishment was going to be. He bent over the desk and grabbed the far side of the table with both hands, placing his cheek on the cool, wooden surface. The desk was a bit too low for him, a fact that Snape must have noticed, too, because Harry could feel the height adjusting. He heard the professor approach and felt his shirt pull out of his trousers. Already, Harry felt so humiliated, and Snape hadn't even begun!

‘Now, don't move, Potter, or I will use a body-bind spell. Is that understood?'

‘Yes sir,' Harry whispered, then he clenched his teeth. He was determined not to give Snape the pleasure of making him cry out.

He felt the cane touch his buttocks lightly, and then he heard a whoosh and a crack. Harry winced at the impact but managed to remain silent despite the stinging that erupted almost immediately.

‘One,' Snape said calmly.

The rattan tapped again just a bit below where it had first hit - another whoosh and crack and a second stinging stripe burned across his bottom.

‘Two.'

Tap. Whoosh. Crack. ‘Three.'

Meanwhile Harry's eyes were full of tears, and the knuckles of his hands were white from holding on to the table so forcefully.

Tap. Whoosh. Crack. ‘Four.'

Harry gasped, and the tears splashed from his eyes. His whole buttocks were on fire now, the various stripes of pain had all joined together into one large burning area. Breathe regularly, in - out - in - out... he told himself.

Tap. Whoosh. Crack. ‘Five.'

This time he not only winced but couldn't help letting a groan escape him. His behind was now so sore that even the light touch of the cane before the blow was uncomfortable. Harry cursed the thin fabric of his uniform's trousers and realized that he wouldn't be able to make it to the end of the punishment remaining silent.

Tap. Whoosh. Crack. ‘Argh!'

‘Six.'

Harry hardly noticed that he had cried out. It took all of his strength and concentration to lie still. He was glad that Snape was counting the strokes, because he felt he would have lost track of how many he had already received.

Tap. Whoosh. Crack. ‘Argh!'

‘Seven.'

Harry jumped from the blow and writhed on the desk but managed to hold on with his hands. He was sobbing now and had ceased worrying about crying out.

‘Keep still, Potter.' Tap. Whoosh. Crack. ‘Argh!'

‘Eight.  Just two more to go.'

His body was shaking uncontrollably.

Tap. Whoosh. Crack.  ‘Argh!'

‘Nine. Just one more, you've almost made it.'

Tap. Whoosh. Crack. ‘Argh!'

‘Ten.'

Harry heard Snape place the cane on the desk and felt his shirt tucking back into his trousers.

‘You may rise now.'

He slowly pushed himself up from the desk and turned around facing his teacher who offered him a tissue. ‘Thanks,'  Harry muttered and wiped his glasses, his face and blew his nose. He longed to rub his throbbing backside but would never do so in front of Snape. Hopefully the professor wasn't going to keep him much longer!

‘I want you to be in my office tonight after dinner at 7:30 for your first detention. Your other detentions will take place every Saturday morning at ten o'clock,' Snape said and held Harry's wand out to him. ‘You may leave now.'

Harry took the wand from Snape, picked up his robe and headed for the door.  ‘Oh, and Potter, one more thing,' he heard Snape add and turned around once more.

‘As the pain you are feeling right now does not result from an accident but from a well-deserved punishment, you are not to use any magic to reduce it. That includes salves or potions. Do I make myself clear?'

‘Yes sir,' Harry replied quietly and left the room.

Harry walked stiffly down the corridor. When he felt at a safe distance he looked around to make sure there wasn't anybody who could see him and started rubbing his aching backside. However, it didn't help much. He then decided to look for a bathroom where he might inspect the damage. Turning around a corner he almost bumped into Ron and Hermione who were pacing the corridor nervously, obviously waiting for him.

‘Harry!' Hermione exclaimed when she caught sight of him, ‘How..?' But she didn't finish the sentence when she saw his face. Harry was sure she had noticed that he had been crying.

‘Are you alright, mate?' Ron asked in an uncertain voice.

‘I'm okay,' Harry lied.

‘Oh, Harry, what happened?' Hermione asked very quickly, ‘There were rumours that you almost killed Malfoy, and Colin Creevey said he saw you and Snape in the Great Hall and Snape was carrying a cane!  He didn't, did he Harry?'

‘Let's not talk about it here, Hermione,' Harry said pointing with his head to where he had come from. ‘I'm not so keen on meeting Snape again when he goes to dinner.'

‘Of course,' she replied, ‘Anyway, we thought you probably wouldn't want to have dinner. Fancy a walk around the lake? I've brought sandwiches just in case. I asked Dobby to prepare them for us.'

‘Thanks, Hermione. I'm going to wear my Invisibility Cloak until we get there.'

A little while later they were walking along the lake shore. Ron and Hermione listened silently when Harry told them what had happened in the bathroom.

‘Honestly, I was glad Snape came in, although he scared the wits out of me,' he finished.

‘Oh Harry, how terrible!' Hermione struggled for words. ‘But what were you thinking? I always told you this book of yours wasn't to be trusted!'

‘Come on, Hermione, give it a rest,' Ron said. ‘So what happened next? Did Snape really cane you?'

Harry blushed. Both of his friends were looking at him with concerned expressions on their faces. However, seeing how much they worried and cared about him, Harry decided not to hide anything from them.

‘Yeah, he did,' he admitted slowly and heard them both gasp in shock.

‘But surely Dumbledore wouldn't allow...' Ron suggested.

‘He did. Snape took me to his office, and Dumbledore said he would expel me if it weren't for Voldemort, so that's why they came up with ‘corporal punishment', as he put it.'

‘Bloody hell...' Ron muttered, whereas Hermione merely looked at Harry with a thoughtful expression on her face.

‘But Dumbledore hasn't ever done that before, has he?' Ron stammered, ‘And even if he was so determined to tan your hide, couldn't he think of anybody else instead of the greasy git? He must have known that Snape could probably kill you!'

‘Well,' Harry began, feeling awkward, ‘he actually gave me the choice between Snape and himself.'

‘And you chose Snape?? Are you mental?!' Ron stared at Harry, his mouth open.

‘I don't know,' Harry said, ‘It was just.... Dumbledore was so disappointed...the way he looked at me.... and I just thought I couldn't bear it if he beat me as well.'

‘Yeah, well, but still...Snape...'

‘So Harry,' Hermione interrupted him, ‘when Professor Snape punished you, was he very ... mean?'

‘Yeah, sure, I mean, he hit me really hard.  Honestly, I never thought that a caning could possibly hurt that much. That man's got some strength in his arm...'

‘Yes, but I meant, did he make fun of you?  Did he tease you about it?'

‘Well,' Harry began, looking slightly confused as he thought about Hermione's question. ‘To tell you the truth, not as much as you'd think. On our way to the dungeons he did, saying things like I'd even topped my dad's performance...oh, and he did say that he was going to enjoy it. But once we got there, he just told me to bend over, and he counted the strokes. That was basically it,' he finished somewhat surprised at his teacher's behaviour.

‘Git,' Ron muttered, ‘Tormenting you by counting the strokes... I'm sure he loved that!'

‘Well, actually, it sort of helped,' Harry admitted. ‘And he sort of helped me through the last strokes, telling me it was almost over.' He couldn't believe it: was he really defending Snape? ‘But before I left he told me I would have my first detention tonight, and he forbid me to reduce my pain!' he added sighing.

‘So are you going to do what he says?' Ron asked.  ‘Dobby could probably nick some more Murtlap essence for us.  I'm sure it would work on your bum as well as it did on your hand... You don't have to tell him about it.'

‘Yeah, I guess so,' Harry answered thoughtfully.

‘No, Harry, please don't even think about it!' Hermione shouted. ‘You'll be in so much trouble!'

‘But Snape won't find out!' Ron insisted. ‘And it's just mean to forbid him to treat his bum.  Why shouldn't Harry do it?'

‘Because Snape obviously considers Harry's present aching as part of the punishment!  I don't even want to think about what he'll do if he finds out that Harry didn't follow through with it! And Snape would find out! Why do you think he scheduled the first detention for tonight? He's not stupid, Ron!' She sighed. ‘Harry, please, for once, listen to me. You didn't with the book, but please do now...'

Harry gave her a little smile. ‘Okay, Hermione, I won't do anything. Maybe you're right about tonight's detention.  All the others are on Saturday mornings.'

‘Saturday?' Ron asked, ‘But that's our last Quidditch match!'

‘Oh, no...' Harry groaned. ‘I forgot about that!'

‘You forgot about Quidditch? But you are our captain!'

‘Maybe you can persuade Professor Snape to postpone your detention,' Hermione suggested, but she didn't sound too optimistic. ‘By the way, we should return to the castle. You don't want to be late for your detention, do you, Harry?'

‘No,' Harry said, shuddering at the thought of Snape's reaction. ‘Definitely not. Besides I also have to find Malfoy and apologize...if he's out of the hospital wing already...'

‘Blimey, you have to apologize to him? I think I'd rather be caned!' Ron shouted.

‘Believe me, Ron, you wouldn't,' Harry said with a painful smile, ‘at least not by Snape.'

‘Sorry, mate,' Ron replied, looking slightly embarrassed and muttered ‘greasy git' under his breath.

‘Oh Ron, come on! From what Harry's told us it sounds as if for once Professor Snape has been treating him fairly!' She turned to Harry who had emitted a snort. ‘Honestly Harrry, I know it probably still hurts a lot, and I do feel sorry for you, but, well ...you have to admit that you deserved it...'

‘Well yeah, maybe,' Harry replied, taken aback by Hermione's approval of what had happened to him, ‘but that doesn't mean I have to like it or think that Snape's fair now!'

‘Well,' Hermione inquired, ‘do you regret choosing Snape instead of Dumbledore? Do you think Dumbledore would have punished you less?'

‘How am I supposed to know? He couldn't have hit me like Snape did...maybe he would have hexed me, but no, I don't regret it. I guess Snape could have done more to humiliate me, but for some odd reason he didn't. Mind you, I still have detention with him, so that's probably when it will happen.'

‘Maybe,' Hermione said thoughtfully. ‘But maybe not. I can imagine that he felt you'd shown a certain amount of trust in him when you decided to be punished by him and the way he refrained himself from badgering you was his way of showing that he appreciated it.'

Harry and Ron looked at each other, each seeing the same bewildered expresion on the other's face.

‘Hermione,' Ron said, trying to sound polite, ‘we've always said you know about feelings and stuff, but I think this time you're talking nonsense!'

Harry nodded vigorously.

‘Well,' she replied sounding slightly offended, ‘you both think what you want to think. But if I were you Harry, I would honestly try to show Professor Snape some respect during tonight's detention!'

Ron shook his head, whispering something that sounded suspiciously like ‘barking mad' while Harry tried to keep a straight face when he imagined Snape and himself treating each other respectfully.

Meanwhile they had returned to the castle.

‘Don't worry about the others,' Ron said encouragingly, ‘after all, I'm a prefect and if anybody gives you a hard time about all this, they'll regret it.  Besides...' he grinned, ‘I can't imagine they feel too sorry for Malfoy, except for the Slytherins, maybe.'

‘We're going to wait for you in the common room after your detention,' Hermione added ‘no matter how long Snape keeps you. We'll stay up.'

‘Thanks,' Harry muttered and after a last grateful look at his best friends, he headed, once again, towards the dungeons.

Harry crossed the Great Hall quickly; he did not want to be forced into a conversation with anybody. However, just when he wanted to descend the stairs to the dungeons, he saw Malfoy at a distance.  As usual, he was flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Harry swallowed hard but figured it would be better to do it before his detention.

‘Oi, Malfoy, wait!'

The three boys turned around, and seeing who it was, they drew their wands immediately. Having three wands aimed at him wasn't a very encouraging sight, but nevertheless, Harry approached them, raising his own wand to defend himself just in case. He struggled for words.

‘Listen Malfoy, I'm sorry I threw that curse at you.  I didn't know what it does, and I didn't mean to injure you so seriously.'

Malfoy looked at him, a little uneasily at first.  Then he sneered.

‘So Potter, you're sorry? I bet what you're really sorry about is getting thrashed like I've been told it is still customary in muggle boarding schools. So maybe it's good that you already made yourself familiar with it, because once the Dark Lord has taken over and all mudbloods go to muggle schools where they belong, maybe you'll join them... But no, I forgot, you won't survive the day he takes over!'

‘Shut up, Malfoy,' Harry replied, trying to remain calm. ‘I said I'm sorry and I meant it, so if you'd get out of my way, I have to go to detention.' Harry turned to leave.

‘Oh, so you're going to be caned again? Maybe I should ask if I am allowed to watch!'

‘SHUT UP!!' Harry roared. ‘JUST PISS OFF!'

‘MR. POTTER!'

Harry swung around and blanched. Professor McGonagall, of all people, approached them, her mouth very thin.

Great, just the person who was still missing today ...

‘I will not tolerate any student shouting in a way I just heard from you. If you didn't already have a detention appointed right now, you would have one with me.'

‘Yes, professor,' Harry muttered. ‘May I leave?'

‘You may, and you'd better hurry, or you'll be late.'

Harry hurried on, but still took the time to lock himself in a toilet to finally have a look at his backside. During his walk with Ron and Hermione, the throbbing had subsided, but Harry was still in a lot of pain. He swallowed hard as he looked over his shoulder at the red weals.   Harry figured that the pain would last for quite a while.

How am I supposed to sit down on my bum? Harry thought about his detention and shuddered.

If he just summoned Dobby now, the elf would surely apparate right here in the toilet, could get him Murtlap essence quickly, and his detention would not be so unbearable. After all, he had already embarrassed himself by sobbing in front of Snape. And Harry was not keen on seeing his professor sneer while he watched him squirm on his chair. But on the other hand, Harry had promised Hermione not to do anything...

Shrugging, he left the toilet.

A moment later he found himself in front of Snape's office. He knocked, entered when he heard Snape's voice, and quietly closed the door behind him.

‘Evening, sir', he said a little stiffly.

Snape was sitting at his desk, obviously marking homework essays.

‘Ah. Potter. Sit.' He pointed at the chair on the opposite side of his desk. 

‘Erm... Sir, if you don't mind, I'd rather stand,' Harry tried his luck, eyeing the hard-looking wooden chair in dread.

‘I am aware of that, Potter, however, I said SIT.'

Feeling Snape's observing eyes boring into him, Harry carefully lowered himself into the chair. He didn't want to show any weakness.

Gosh, that hurts like hell...

Squirming to find a comfortable position, Harry figured now would be as good an opportunity as any to bring up the ultimate question:

'Sir, I was wondering if, before we start, I might ask you a favour...'

Snape frowned. ‘What kind of favour?'

‘It's about detention this coming Saturday.  It's the last Quidditch match, and I was wondering if I could maybe serve it another day...'

Harry felt as anxious as he did last year when he had tried to persuade Professor Umbridge to change the time of his detention.  And just like on that occasion he knew it would be useless before he finished.

‘Oh no, Potter. We are not postponing any detention. Poor Gryffindor... no Quidditch cup this year, I presume. Remind me, what was last year's Quidditch ban for?' Snape inquired, raising his eyebrows.

‘For hitting Malfoy,' Harry muttered. He was sure that Snape remembered very well and had asked just to torment him.

‘Indeed. So this time you will not be able to play because you almost killed Mr Malfoy. It would be ridiculous to let you play after this, wouldn't it?'

Harry didn't know how to respond. ‘Last year's ban wasn't fair,' he finally said.

‘For Merlin's sake, Potter, I'm not going to discuss this with you now. I will see you here this Saturday at ten o'clock, on time. And while we are speaking about it, why are you late?'

Harry didn't like the look on his professor's face. Had he really been late?

‘I‘m sorry, sir. It's just...I met Malfoy on my way here and I wanted to go ahead and apologize to him.'

He remembered McGonagall's indignance about his swearing and blushed.

Snape eyed him suspiciously. ‘So, did you apologize?'

‘Yeah, I did', Harry replied, not meeting his professor's eyes.

Snape leaned forward. ‘Look at me, Potter.'

Harry obeyed, feeling uncomfortable. Snape's voice was a dangerous whisper.

‘Potter, I know that you have lied to me on various occasions. But I will not accept anything but the complete truth from you today. If I catch you lying about anything, you will sorely regret it. Is that clear?'

Harry just nodded, unable to say anything.

‘Good. So I repeat my question, and you had better think twice about your answer, because I know you are hiding something,' Snape said slowly. ‘Did you apologize?'

Harry swallowed hard.

‘Yes, I really did! But then he teased me about...my punishment, and...well, I ended up shouting at him,' he admitted, feeling his stomach plummet when he saw his professor frown.

‘Ah. Mr Malfoy teased you, and you shouted at him. So had you expected him to accept your apology gratefully? May I remind you that you almost killed him? You used a curse you did not know, caused him pain and the loss of a dangerous amount of blood. I am only glad that the Headmaster for once consented to an appropriate punishment for you. I only hope that during our short...encounter in the Potions classroom I gave you enough opportunity to think about your actions!'

Harry felt his temper rise. ‘Can't you just leave it? I know that I deserved what I got.  Do you have to rub it in?' he asked angrily.

‘Manners, Potter,' Snape said dangerously. ‘So you are trying to make me believe, in your usual disrespectful manner, of course, that you accept having been justly punished?'

‘Yes,' Harry answered uncomfortably, and to his horror, felt himself blushing again. He quickly looked down at the floor. In this moment Harry realized that it was true. He knew he deserved it.  And although sitting was very painful, he felt no anger towards Snape.

‘Hold out your hands, Potter.'

Harry's head jumped up. ‘What?'

‘Hold out your hands. Now.' Snape's eyes flashed.

Dreading what would come next, Harry slowly stretched out his hands. Snape grabbed his left hand first, examined it from all sides then did the same with the right hand. Harry could see the smallest hint of a smirk when Snape ran his finger over the still visible scars of ‘I must not tell lies'.

‘This is a souvenir of Professor Umbridge, I suppose?' he inqired.

Harry merely nodded.

‘I see. Did you use anything on your hand then?'

‘Yes, I used Murtlap essence.'

‘You should have used dittany as well; that would have prevented the scars.'

Snape finally let go of both hands and looked into Harry's eyes again.

‘You do not cease to surprise me today, Potter,' he said quietly. ‘I cannot believe you actually followed an order without trying to cheat.'

Harry shook his head. ‘I don't know what you're talking about, sir.' he said.

Snape sighed. ‘The cane I used on you had been charmed. You didn't know this, I suppose?'

Harry silently shook his head.

‘Well , I am not surprised, as it is not an artefact that is still in use, under normal circumstances at least,' he added sarcastically and Harry blushed again, wondering silently how many more times his face was going to turn red that evening.

‘However,' Snape continued, ‘if you think about it, I am sure you will agree with me that it would be rather ineffective to use a normal, Muggle cane to discipline students at Hogwarts.'

Harry stared at him, bewildered. Thinking about the punishment he had had to endure just two hours ago, he could not figure out just what about it might be classified as ineffective.

‘Think Potter,' Snape said impatiently, ‘if caning were still a usual means of punishment, don't you think that every house would have their private stocks of healing salves in their common room?'

‘Er, yes, probably,' Harry replied, slowly getting an idea of where Snape was aiming, but still wondering why Snape had wanted to look at his hands.

‘Of course they would,' Snape confirmed. ‘You used Murtlap essence last year. So the charm works that way: As soon as the well-punished student tries to meddle with the weals he received, it would not only fail to work, but would also result in other weals on his hands.'

‘So he would just cause more pain to himself?' Harry asked.

‘Yes, as well as getting into trouble with his teacher for trying. But this hardly ever happened, as the existence of this charm used to be common knowledge among the students of Hogwarts.'

Harry nodded silently. Thanks Hermione... He felt grateful towards his friend and knew she would be very interested in learning about this charm. He couldn't suppress a small grin.

Snape was eyeing him suspiciously. ‘What is it, Potter?'

‘Erm, nothing really. I just realized that Hogwarts: A History doesn't reveal everything after all, otherwise Hermione would have told me about it. For once I know something of Hogwart's history that she doesn't.  So you did that on purpose, didn't you...not telling me that magic wouldn't work and it'd just have to heal naturally?' he finished, trying to keep his voice polite and not accusing.

Hey, Hermione, at least I'm trying to be respectful...

His professor inclined his head. ‘Indeed I did Potter, and I assure you that had you tried to use magic in spite of my explicit order not to, you would be very sorry for that by now. However, it is not true that no magic would help. The charm just ensures that any healing spell has to be performed - or salve applied - by the same person who used the cane.' He hesitated for a moment. ‘So Potter, should you feel the need, you may come and see me tomorrow after breakfast, before you go to attend your first class.'

Harry stared at him, open-mouthed. When he became aware of his expression, he snapped it shut quickly, emitting a bewildered ‘Thank you, sir.' It would be so good not having to sqirm on the hard chairs through all of tomorrow's lessons, the first actually being with Snape himself. Nevertheless, Harry doubted that he would go to see his teacher after breakfast - he appreciated the offer, but he had a hard time seeing himself lowering his trousers to let Snape of all people treat his bum! On the other hand, he realized that he was just having his first ever conversation with Snape on civil terms. He hesitated and said:

‘I'll see how I feel tomorrow, sir.'

Snape noddded. ‘All right. Back to your detentions.  I want to use them to make sure that today's incident will never, ever happen again. You do not have your temper under control-that is your problem, Potter! And if you don't learn to have more control over yourself, you will continue to end up in trouble not only at school! You failed dismally to control your emotions last year during our Occlumency lessons, and I can only hope that, meanwhile, you will agree that this is a weakness that you, of all people, cannot afford! That said, this is what we will work on during your detentions.'

‘Yes, sir, but we're not restarting Occlumency lessons, are we?' Harry stammered.

Snape gave him a grim smile. ‘Not unless I have to. But we will see. Anyway, it is in your hands how many detentions will be necessary. But today is the first step. You will write an essay on your lack of control and the consequences. Make sure you give examples.'

Harry felt a trace of self-mockery. ‘That shouldn't be too difficult then.'

He could have sworn he saw a smile on his teacher's face for a millisecond.

‘Indeed, Potter.'

Snape pointed to a small desk at the other side of the room, which had some empty rolls of parchment, a quill and a bottle of ink on top.

‘Get started then.'

Harry walked over to the other table and suppressed a groan when he sat down again. He tried to find a comfortable position on the chair but couldn't. He thought that for once scrubbing out cauldrons would have been more enjoyable! On the other hand he had to admit to himself that the task Snape had set him was something he might actually take a profit from if he really tried to cooperate. He had anticipated that Snape would make him do tedious, pointless work.

Wincing, but trying to ignore the ache in his backside, he smoothed out the first roll of parchment and thought about what he could write.

‘Stand up,' Harry heard Snape command suddenly.

Bewildered, he stood up and looked at Snape, who doled out a quick flick of his wand. Harry's desk suddenly increased in height, allowing Harry to write his essay while standing.

Harry felt relieved and gave his teacher a quick, but honest smile.

‘Thank you, sir.'

The green eyes found the black and Snape nodded.

‘You're welcome, Mr Potter.'

Harry rolled up another bit of parchment. He placed the quill on the table and massaged his slightly cramped right hand. He thought it had been pretty decent of Snape to let him write his essay standing, but right now, at this late hour, he felt as if his whole body was aching-his legs from the unusual task of standing still for hours, his hand from writing, his head from thinking, and most of all, his backside.

 ‘Erm...sir?' he asked carefully.

Snape looked up from his book and frowned. ‘What is it, Potter?'

‘I've finished my essay, sir.'

His professor looked disapprovingly at two blank pieces of parchment on Harry's table that were obviously still unused.

‘It seems to me that you have written less than I assumed you could have, given your history.'

He looked into Harry's face. ‘I do hope, for your sake, Potter, that you did a good job and I won't have to punish you again, this time for laziness.'

Harry gulped. ‘I've written everything relevant I could think of at the moment, sir.'

Snape smirked. ‘An interesting night's read, no doubt,' he drawled sarcastically.  ‘Dismissed.'

Relieved, Harry headed for the door, awkwardly wished his professor a good night and left.

As they had promised him, Hermione and Ron were waiting for Harry in a corner of the Common Room, as well as, Harry noticed, his heart beating faster...Ginny.

‘Harry! How did it go? What did Snape say? What did he make you do?' Hermione asked him as soon as she saw him.

Harry, as usual, felt a little irritated by Hermione's habit of bombarding him with so many questions at once. Tired as he was, he sat down in his favorite armchair near the fire, emitting an involuntary hiss as his backside made contact.

At least this chair is stuffed, he thought.

‘It went okay, I guess. He made me write an essay about losing my temper.'

Ron glanced at Harry's hands. ‘But it was a normal quill, wasn't it? Nothing like Umbridge's?'

Harry shook his head and went on to tell his friends about the details of his detention. Just as he had expected, Hermione was extremely interested in the charm placed on the school cane.

‘Oh Harry, I'm so glad that you followed my advice!' she said, looking a little pleased with herself.

‘And I'm happy you didn't follow mine,' Ron admittted, looking a little embarassed.

Harry grinned. He felt a strange sort of complacency sitting here together with his best friends, seeing how much they cared about him. The pressure that had been on his chest ever since the moment he cast the curse on Malfoy had now disappeared, and although his punishment was far from over, he knew that at least today he had nothing more to worry about.

‘Snape offered to heal me tomorrow after breakfast,' Harry told his friends.

They stared at him.

‘Well, that's going to be rather an intimate session with Snape, isn't it, with him massaging salve onto your naked arse?' Ron finally said with an expression of utter contempt on his face.

‘Oh, Ron, shut up!  You're tactless as ever,' Ginny spat, and Harry couldn't agree with her more. His naked arse, as Ron put it, was nothing he wanted to be discussed in Ginny's presence.

‘Ginny's right, Ron,' Hermione agreed with a frown before turning her attention to Harry.  ‘So what did you tell him then?' she inquired.

‘I didn't really,' Harry muttered in reply, regretting he had brought up the topic.  Changing the subject he added, ‘I won't be able to play Quidditch on Saturday. Ginny, you'll have to play Seeker again and Dean'll have to be Chaser in your place.'

His insides squirmed at the thought of Ginny and Dean making up and getting back together on that occasion.

Ginny smiled at him. ‘Don't worry, Harry. I feel really sorry for you, you know that, but we'll still flatten the other team!'

He nodded and supressed a yawn. ‘Well, I guess I'm off to bed. Today was sort of exhausting.'

......

‘How do you feel, Harry?' Hermione asked at breakfast.

Harry just shrugged.  ‘Okay I guess.' He couln't help the feeling that Snape's eyes were on him more than usual this morning, but he had avoided eye-contact so far.

‘Listen mate, I'm sorry for what I said yesterday, you know, about going to Snape. You definitely should go to see him,' Ron tried to persuade him.

Ron and Seamus had been shocked when they had seen Harry's backside in the showers. Harry couldn't blame them for it. The wheals had still been very visible, and his whole backside was badly bruised. Harry was sort of satisfied about it as he felt it excused his sobbing from the day before.  He would have felt like a wimp if there hadn't been anything left to see. He was tempted to let Snape see the bruising too; after all, Harry still felt embarrased about losing his composure during his caning.

But he shook his head.

‘No, Ron, it's not that bad. It'll be uncomfortable, but I can manage, and I don't feel like listening to any of Snape's comments. Besides, it's not worse than what every Muggle in my situation would have to deal with, is it? '

After breakfast they headed for their first lesson: Defence Against the Dark Arts with the Slytherins. Harry couldn't help but notice that they all shed him dark looks, except Malfoy who smirked when their eyes met.

‘Care for a soft cushion for your chair, Potter?'

The Slytherins roared with laughter. Before Harry could think of a smart retort Snape entered the room and the class fell silent.

‘Quills out and wands away.'

Was it mere coincidence that Snape was lecturing them about the theory of healing spells? Harry tried to force his face into a neutral expression.

‘What you always have to keep in mind," Snape began, "before you even think about healing, is to assess a situation correctly. If you don't, you can easily do more harm than good.'

His gaze lingered for a moment on Harry who felt himself blush - again! - as he knew Snape was thinking about the charm on the cane. The Professor continued his lecture.

‘Is healing urgent or can you wait for a more qualified healer? Are you dealing with an ordinary wound or a wound caused by Dark magic? How can you tell?'

Harry's thoughts drifted off to a certain bathroom and streams of blood on the floor. He closed his eyes. If Snape hadn't come, what could he have done? He'd never have been able to fetch Madam Pomfrey in time and would probably be sitting in a cell in Askaban right now. Maybe he should thank Snape for his immediate action...

‘Potter!'

His head jumped up and he looked into the furious face of his teacher.

‘Do you find what I have to say on healing spells so boring that you fall asleep in my class?'

‘I didn't ...'

‘Your arrogance is overwhelming, Potter. Ten points from Gryffindor.'

Harry closed his mouth. Any desire he might have felt a moment ago about thanking Profesor Snape had vaporised abruptly. Trying to hide his glare, he looked down at his parchment and busied himself with taking notes, determined not to look up again unless he was forced to do so.

Finally the lesson ended and Harry left in haste.

‘Well,' Hermione said satisfied, as she and Ron caught up with Harry, ‘that really was a very interesting lesson!'

Harry muttered something unintelligible.

‘Come on, Harry,' Ron said bracingly, ‘it's Potions with old Slughorn next. He's always thrilled with your brewing talent. That'll cheer you up.'

Hermione stopped abruptly. ‘But you're not going to use that book any longer, are you, Harry?'

‘Yes, I am!' Harry said defiantly.

‘Harry, I can't believe you still want to take tips from that so-called Half Blood Prince! Besides, you said Snape has seen in your mind where this curse came from. What if he's told Slughorn?'

‘Well,' Harry tried to defend his plan, ‘I only think he's seen it, and as for telling Slughorn, I'll just have to risk it. It would just look stupid now if all of a sudden I couldn't brew a single potion correctly.'

‘But Harry,' Hermione started again, but was interrupted by Ron this time.

‘Leave it, Hermione. Let Harry decide for himself.'

She fell silent, but her lips were so thin that Harry silently thought she could enter into competition with McGonagall.

When they arrived at the potions classroom in the dungeons, Harry tried to dismiss all thoughts of his last stay in this room and prepared his desk, installing his cauldron on a tripod and arranging his scales, cutting board and knife. A repressed groan from Ron caused him to look at his friend who was staring open-mouthed at the door. He turned around and gulped. In the doorframe stood none other than Severus Snape.

All conversations ceased at once.

‘Professor Slughorn is not feeling well at the moment,' Snape said casually as he made his way to the front-desk. ‘He has asked me to teach this class for him today.'

Harry blanched.

Snape stood beside Slughorn's desk and scrutinized the class, his gaze resting on Harry a bit longer than on the others. The silence in the classroom was absolute until Snape began to speak in a quiet voice.

‘As most of you have attended my Defence class as well, I have decided to further our discussion. You will be brewing a healing potion today. Though it is one of the easier healing potions, you may find it a bit complicated, as healing potions are among the most difficult to brew. However, as this is supposed to be a NEWT level class, you all should be able to do it, unless you managed to scrape by with a barely legitimized Exceeds Expectations, that is.'

He smirked and Harry felt his teacher's eyes burning into him once more.  Why had Snape been almost decent to him during his last detention but now was treating him just as bad as ever?

‘Open your books to page 315 and begin,' Snape commanded.

Harry hesitated. Should he dare to use his book? He longed to show Snape that indeed he belonged into this class and that he was well up to the task. He looked over to Hermione who met his eyes and quietly shook her head. Maybe he really shouldn't risk it.

‘Can I share your book?' he whispered deperately to Ron, who was sitting next to him.

Giving Harry a sympathetic half-smile, Ron seemed understanding. ‘Sure, mate', he whispered back and shoved his book into the middle of the desk. Both bent their heads down to read the instructions.

‘What's this over here?' Snape walked over to their table, smirking cruelly. ‘Can't afford your own book, Weasley?'

Ron blushed angrily. His fury was nothing compared to Harry's though, who glared at Snape hotly. ‘This is Ron's book... I forgot mine!' he said irritably.

‘Is that so, Potter?' Snape sneered at Harry. ‘Five points from Gryffindor, for not even being able to come to class prepared.' The man went to the cupboard and fetched a battered-looking copy of Advanced Potion Making. To Harry it looked horribly familiar. Snape flipped quickly through the pages and violently dropped it on the desk in front of Harry.

‘Here Potter, use this. It looks despicable from the outside but amazingly clean on the inside.'

The black eyes bore into Harry's.  The boy gulped. He knows! Harry thought desperately.

‘Thanks,' he muttered.

He quickly opened the book to the right page and started on his potion. Snape had been right: it was rather complicated. And this time, Harry didn't have the Prince's useful tips.  Having Snape's eyes constantly on him didn't help matters either.

Everything quickly began to bubble out of control. His potion, that was supposed to be a light blue liquid, had turned acid-green and was the consistency of thick glue.

‘Shit,' Harry muttered under his breath.

‘Language, Potter.' Snape's voice was waspish. ‘I wonder... how exactly did you make it into this NEWT class? It's shocking that you have managed to remain in here without Professor Slughorn throwing you out due to incompetence.'

The class was silent; one could have heard a feather fall. All eyes were peering uncomfortably into cauldrons, but it was obvious that everybody was listening intensely. Harry felt the heat rise inside of him.

‘Maybe I display more competence with Professor Slughorn, since he actually tries to teach me instead of just offending me.'

The absolute silence in the room became even more intense. Harry could have sworn that his classmates now had even stopped breathing. Snape's face contorted in anger, but he kept silent for a few highly unpleasant seconds.

‘Potter, I don't know if you think that just because you have already been assigned as many detentions with me as as you can possibly receive, you can be as insolent as you wish,' Snape finally said in a dangerous whisper that was just loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, ‘but be assured that I can find numerous ways to punish you, especially one of them you will not like at all. Do I make myself absolutely clear?'

Harry bit his lip, swallowing an angry remark. He refused to answer and heard a snicker from Malfoy. He was deeply embarrassed, knowing that every single one of his classmates was aware of what kind of punishment Snape was referring to.

Snape emitted a snort before sweeping over to Malfoy to inspect his potion. Harry glanced at Ron who rolled his eyes.

‘I knew there was something truly enjoyable missing in Potions class this year...' Harry muttered sarcastically to his friend, unfortunately a bit too loud, because ...

‘Stay after class, Potter.'

Harry paled. He caught Hermione's eye.  She appeared shocked, but her brow was furrowed anxiously. Harry scribbled a note on a piece of parchment Do you think he can do that? (feeling no need to specify what ‘that' meant). He hastily passed the note to Ron and Hermione who, after reading it, just shrugged and looked at him with helpless and worried expressions.

Harry cleaned out his cauldron and tidied up his desk. He was dreading the end of the lesson, and it seemed to him that the bell rang all too soon. Most pupils left the classroom hurriedly. Hermione and Ron, however, lingered a bit longer, obviously reluctant to leave Harry alone with Snape.

‘Granger, Weasley, out! Now!' Snape barked, and after a last pitiful glance at Harry, they fled.

Harry slowly got up from his chair and hesitantly walked towards Snape's desk where his teacher was still sitting.

‘All right, Potter,' Snape said, as he slowly stood up. ‘I will be back in 15 minutes, and I will deal with you then. Meanwhile I want you to clean out the classroom cupboard. Take everything out, clean the shelves and the inside of cupboard, and put everything back inside in nice order. Those are all things I need, and I won't waste my time looking for them simply because you produced a mess. Understood?' He conjured a bucket with soapy water and some rags out of thin air. ‘Begin now.  I want everything finished when I come back.'

‘Yes, sir.' Harry replied. Snape nodded and left. Harry flinched when he heard Snape's voice echo from the corridor, ‘Granger and Weasley! I will not tolerate your lurking in front of my door. That's ten points from Gryffindor!'

Harry went to the cupboard and opened it. Inside he could see books, rolls of parchment and boxes with chalk. He started on the top shelf and worked his way down methodically. He emptied always one shelf at a time, cleaned and dried it and put everything in again neatly. The work progressed quickly and Harry thought it woould be too good to be true if this was all of his punishment.

As he kneeled down to attack the last shelf, he drew in his breath. The bottom shelf was almost empty except for the cane lying visibly in the middle. He couldn't help thinking about Snape's words from just a few minutes ago ...   Those are all things I need ... and swallowed.

Snape, you bastard, he thought, you definitely wanted me to find this. He took it out, quickly wiped the last shelf and picked up the cane again from the floor. He couldn't help feeling a certain curiosity as he held it in his hands. He wondered whether he shouldn't be able to detect the charm placed on it but didn't know how. Sighing, he thought that his magical education was far from finished. When he heard steps in front of the door, he hastily threw the cane into the cupboard, stood up and closed the door. He had no interest in Snape finding him playing around with the cane.

When Snape entered the room, Harry approached the front desk choking out in a polite tone, ‘I've just finished, sir.'

The teacher nodded and silently picked up the book he had lent Harry that still lay on Harry's desk.

‘Do you have anything to say to me, Potter?' he asked.

‘No, sir.' Harry's insides squirmed uncomfortably.

‘Potter, there are many things that I will not tolerate; insolence is one of them.  Another is lying. Now... what do you have to say to me?'

Harry just looked at him. He felt paralyzed and couldn't think of anything to say. So he silently shook his head.

Snape's eyes flashed. ‘Hand over your school bag.'

Harry flinched but could see no way out of it now. He dragged his feet over to his bag, but instead of bringing the whole satchel over to Snape, Harry simply unpacked his Potions text, walked back over to his professor and held the book out to him.

‘I think this is what you're looking for, isn't it?' he offered quietly, not meeting Snape's eyes.

‘Indeed it is, Potter,' Snape said slowly, taking the book and flipping through the pages. He placed both books close to each other and exchanged the book covers in just the way Harry had done at the beginning of the term. He shoved the new book towards Harry. ‘This is yours, I believe.'

Harry nodded and looked at it miserably.

Snape's voice was a dangerous whisper: ‘I cannot believe, Potter, that you still wanted to use the other book. You tried to convince the headmaster and me that you were oh so sorry about using an unknown spell. Now had you been honest about that, wouldn't it have been the normal reaction to come clean and hand the book over immediately? No, you not only lied to me in the bathroom but also just a minute ago.'

‘But I only wanted to use the book for Potions! I didn't want to try out any other unkown spells!' Harry protested.

‘Your arrogance is almost offensive, Potter. Do you take me for an idiot? Did you think I would not find out, even if you had had class today with Professor Slughorn?' Snape's voice gradually increased in volume.

Harry shook his head vehemently. There were various offensive names that he would call his professor, but idiot certainly wasn't among them.

‘I want to become an auror, and I need a good Potions mark, sir,' Harry mumbled, staring at his feet. ‘And it was so easy with the potions tips inside. I guess I just thought it was worth the risk...' His voice faded.

‘Worth the risk...' Snape repeated, his face expressionless. ‘Well Potter, you are certainly going to find out if it was worth the risk, for you are going to be punished for it, as well as for your insolence in today's class.'

Harry felt his stomach contract and unconsciously cast a glance over to the cupboard.

Snape continued, ‘But not today. You may go to lunch now.'

Harry stood, rooted to the spot, staring at Snape.

‘Potter, what part of "go to lunch now" confused you? Go. I clearly stated I would punish you another day.'

‘Yes sir,' Harry muttered, hating Snape for his cruelty. He collected his things and left the classroom in haste, plodding gloomily toward the Great Hall. Though his appetite had lessened considerably he was anxious to find Ron and Hermione and tell them what had happened. Deep down, Harry hoped that Hermione could convince him that he needn't worry and that Snape would never be allowed to wallop him ever again.

But somehow he doubted that.

Harry's lunch and overall afternoon had not been very good. Hermione and Ron had failed to cheer him up, as they too were rather anxious about what Snape was planning on doing to Harry. Even Hermione, who had upset Harry only the day before with her assessment that Snape treated him fairly, was shocked when Harry told her about what had happened after Snape had made him stay after class.

‘Really Harry, making you find that cane, threatening you with it, and then sending you away to make you wait for it, that's ... well, psychological torture!' she exclaimed.

Ron nodded vigorously.

Harry silently agreed with her but wasn't pleased with her statement either. Somehow he had hoped for an ‘It was just an empty threat, Harry...' .

‘Well, he didn't really threaten me with it, he just said he would punish me, but he didn't say how,' Harry tried to convince them, even more himself.

Ron snorted. ‘Come on, mate, the way Snape said it was rather obvious, and if you ask me, just hinting at it makes it worse. If it were me, I would be less nervous if I knew for sure what was coming to me, and the old bat knows this!  The greasy git...'

‘Yeah, you're right,' Harry muttered miserably. ‘I just wonder if Snape has got the authority to do that. I mean, Dumbledore said that the last time was a special case just because they would have to expel me otherwise, so I can't imagine that Snape would be allowed to wallop me now everytime I cough.' He tried to speak casually, but it was difficult as an enormous lump began to swell in his throat.

‘Can't you just ask Dumbledore?' Hermione suggested. ‘Ron's right; no matter how he answers it will probably make you feel better, because then at least you know.'

‘I dunno...' Harry said thoughtfully, ‘It would be pretty embarassing, I think, but maybe I could.  I told you that he wanted to see me tonight for our next lesson anyway, didn't I?'

‘No, you didn't,' Hermione replied. ‘But that's perfect, because you can wait and decide if you want to ask depending on how it goes.'

A few hours later, Ron and Hermione had forced Harry to eat dinner, although he had no appetite at all

After the evening meal, he dragged his feet as he climbed spiral staircase to the headmaster's office.

‘Harry,' Dumbledore greeted him as he entered. ‘Come in and sit down. Sherbet lemon?'

Harry took one of Dumbledore's favourite sweets and sat down in the chair opposite of Dumbledore.

‘Thank you, sir.'

Dumbledore observed Harry's movements carefully, his eyes twinkling as usual.

‘Harry, I hope you don't mind my asking, but it looks as though you are still in discomfort?'

Harry felt embarassed as he muttered, 'Erm...yes, a bit.  I can manage, though.'

The old wizard nodded and said ‘I am sorry to hear that, Harry, but I suppose you know that I cannot help you with this even if I wanted to?'

‘Yes, I know, sir,' Harry replied hastily. ‘Professor Snape told me. Never mind, it's quite all right.'

Dumbledore aimed his wand at Harry's chair and muttered an incantation. Harry felt more comfortable at once. ‘That's all I can do for you; it's a cushioning charm...

‘Thank you, sir.  Erm... can you teach me how to do this charm?' Harry asked eagerly.

‘I could, but it would not be of much use to you. You see, Harry, all of the chairs that students normally use in Hogwarts, like in the Great Hall, classrooms, or even in the common rooms have had protective spells placed on them to prevent this charm from working. It has been this way for ages, and I suppose I do not have to tell you the reason.'

Harry just nodded.

The headmaster continued. ‘So I see that professor Snape has not assisted you? I expect he told you that he is the only one with the power to heal you?'

Harry squirmed uncomfortably, but this time, it wasn't because of his backside.

‘Well, he did offer to assist me, actually...  He said I could go and see him this morning after breakfast if I felt the need, but I decided not to go.'

‘Ah. And why is that, Harry?' Dumbledore asked quietly.

The boy merely shrugged. ‘I just didn't want to.'

Dumbledore paused and cleared his throat. ‘Harry, I am going to ask you something, and please answer me truthfully. If necessary take some time to think before you answer."

Harry said nothing. He merely sat quietly, listening intently. 

"Do you think you have reason to complain to me about the way Professor Snape has meted out your punishment?' 

This question caught Harry by surprise. In past years, there had been several occasions in which he had informed Dumbledore of his various suspicions concerning his potions teacher.  But Dumbledore had always made it clear how much he trusted the man. And now, he had not only given Harry the option of avoiding physical punishment from Snape the day before, but was actually encouraging Harry to complain about Snape?

So maybe he doesn't trust him completely, after all, he considered. Harry couldn't imagine passing up an opportunity to complain about his most hated professor.  It was simply too good to miss. Thinking about how harshly Snape had punished him, Harry remembered the seemingly endless succession of extremely painful strokes that Snape had obviously delivered with all his force and without mercy. However, he couldn't help but remember Snape's calmness as well, the lack of patronization...Snape assuring him it was almost over and Snape quietly offering him a tissue afterwards.

Harry hesitated for a moment longer, struggling internally before finally answering.

‘No sir, I don't have reason to complain. He was hard on me...he really was, but he wasn't cruel.'

Dumbledore nodded. 'So I take it that your decision not to accept his offer was not based on anger?'

‘No sir. Well, at least not anger from the punishment... I mean, you know that I don't like him.‘

The old wizard looked at Harry intensively before he stated, ‘Well Harry, I believe you when you say that Professor Snape was hard on you, probably harder than I would have been, but you should know that I wouldn't have let you off easily, either.'

Harry didn't know what to say.

‘I understand,' he finally replied in a small voice.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and folded his hands. Harry could tell that he was choosing his words carefully.

‘You see, Harry, I have often thought that the idea behind the charm on the cane was quite clever.' Seeing the incredulous expression on Harry's face, he chuckled lightly. ‘No, not because it will prolong the student's suffering... Not what you are most likely thinking.  No, Harry, what I mean is that the existence of this charm frequently caused teachers to propose the offer of healing the student a day or two after the punishment, just as Professor Snape did. And I can tell you Harry, the vast majority of the students accepted that offer. I suppose you are wondering why the student shouldn't simply be allowed to heal himself? One side of the story is, admittedly, that the teacher decides when the healing will take place. But more importantly, when done in this manner, I believe it is not merely a healing but also an act of reconciliation which would not take place otherwise.'

Harry stared at Dumbledore, the wheels in his mind reeling. ‘So what you are saying is that Snape made a peace offer and I rejected it...'

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling. ‘Professor Snape, Harry. Yes, I would say that sums it up rather nicely.'

Harry stared at him, bewildered. Was this why Snape had been behaving so horribly towards Harry during today's classes? If this was indeed the reason, Harry's pride had caused himself a lot of trouble. He swallowed.

‘Well I didn't see it that way...  And anyway it's too late now, isn't it?'

‘Probably yes.  But you shall know for next time, Harry.'

Harry mouth dropped open in shock. Next time? But then he saw that Dumbledore was chuckling lightly, and he closed his mouth again.

‘I was only joking, Harry. I do hope that you will never again find yourself in this position.'

Harry agreed. He definitely didn‘t want to find himself over a desk ever again! He felt that now was the best opportunity to ask.

‘Sir, when you had me caned ...' he couldn't help blushing just by saying it, ‘it was a single exception from the rule, wasn't it? I mean, corporal punishment is still not allowed at Hogwarts, is it?' He was pleased to notice that he had actually managed to ask his question in a calm voice, as if he were simply asking out of general interest.

Dumbledore peered at him over the rims of his spectacles. ‘What makes you ask this, Harry?' he inquired.

Harry squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. ‘Well, Sir, it's just that ...  Professor Snape said that since I had as many detentions with him as I could possibly get, he would think of another way to punish me, and so I wondered ...' He did not finish the sentence.

Dumbledore gave him a kind smile. ‘Yes, Harry, I understand. In fact, Professor Snape spoke to me about this issue at breakfast today, and I must say that I understand his dilemma. Handing out more detentions makes little sense, and requiring you write lines or something similar is not recommendable either, as your detentions already cut away quite a bit of your study time-time that you truly need, Harry.'

Harry tried to remain calm as he asked ‘So you mean, I'm the only student he's allowed to hit whenever he pleases? But that's not fair!'

Dumbledore raised his hands in a reassuring gesture. ‘Not so fast, Harry. First of all, you are in many respects a pupil unlike any other; after all, you are The-Boy-Who-Lived, and yes, that isn't fair. However, neither you nor I can help it. And this time you have to admit that you were fortunate not to be treated like everybody else, or you wouldn't be sitting here right now.'

The old wizard gave Harry a piercing look and seemed satisfied when Harry nodded, a bit reluctantly.

‘Secondly, about Professor Snape being ‘allowed to hit you whenever he pleases', as you put it, is not necessarily accurate. Professor Snape and I have agreed on the following: he is allowed to punish you physically, but it is only one option, Harry. You are not ever forced to accept it but are always free to come and see me, and I will punish you then.'

Harry swallowed hard. The day before he had found the thought of Dumbledore caning him unbearable, and this fact hadn't changed a bit. So there is only one option for me, really, he thought.

The headmaster smiled at him again. ‘How I would punish you would depend on the seriousness of your misdeed; however, it is rather unlikely that I would use corporal punishment.' It seemed to Harry as if Dumbledore could read his thoughts.

‘Anyway', Dumbledore continued, ‘It is rather a theoretic debate, isn't it? I am sure you will try to stay out of trouble, and once your detentions with professor Snape are over, everything will be back to normal again.'

Harry forced himself to nod silently. He had no desire whatsoever to tell the headmaster that he was already in huge trouble with Snape. Anxious to change the subject, he asked,

‘Sir, may I ask ... I mean, I was just wondering... have you ever been caned?'

‘I have Harry, and as a young teacher here I have given out several canings as well.  And believe me when I say that I enjoyed neither the one nor the other.' Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling, and Harry was pleased to see that he didn't seem to mind the question at all.

‘But, Sir, if you didn't like it why did you cane students in the first place?' Harry asked curiously.

Dumbledore sighed thoughtfully. ‘It was the usual, accepted punishment at the time, one I grew up with. I used it less than my colleagues, but still, I found it necessary to administer at times. And you must understand Harry that back in those times, the students had a different attitude towards it, too; it was not unusual and there were some students who preferred to get their punishment over with quickly instead of sitting through repeated detentions or being banned from Quidditch.'

He smiled at Harry, who had a slightly confused expression on his face. ‘I know this must sound odd for a student nowadays, and Harry, I do share your reservations. It's not just the physical pain that bothers you, is it?'

‘No, Sir,' Harry agreed, ‘it isn't.'

‘I can understand that, Harry. But please take the advice from an old man who has experienced both sides of the cane...  Try not to feel too humiliated. After all, how can you be humiliated if you are punished by someone who does not intend to humiliate you by doing it?'

Harry stared at him. That was quite a lot to process. ‘I don't know', he said finally. ‘I suppose I'll have to think about it.'

Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling. ‘Please do that, Harry. And I must say, I am very glad that we have had this little talk. To be honest, it was the reason why I wanted to see you tonight-to make sure that you possessed no bitterness concerning yesterday's events.'

Harry shook his head. ‘No, Sir,' he assured him, ‘I don't.'

The old wizard beamed at him. ‘I am happy to hear that, Harry, and you certainly deserve respect for it. So unless there is anything else you would like to discuss, you may go and join your friends again.'

Harry hesitated. ‘Well, yes, there is. It's about Malfoy. Sir, I'm sure he's up to something! When I went into that bathroom, he was there, crying, telling Moaning Myrtle he couldn't do what he had to do and that he would kill him. I am sure he was talking about Voldemort!'

Dumbledore sighed. 'Harry, I have told you before, you are not to worry about Mr. Malfoy.  Please trust me.'

Harry would not give up so easily. ‘Sir, he was really upset when he noticed I had heard him!'

‘And so would you be, Harry, if he had caught you crying...' Dumbledore's voice revealed a trace of impatience for the first time.

‘But he tried to use Crucio on me!' Harry insisted.

There was a short silence. ‘He missed?' Dumbledore asked.

‘No,' Harry muttered. ‘My curse hit him before he could finish.' He looked down at the floor.

‘Are you hoping for Draco to be punished for trying, or do you think nearly being killed has been sufficient?' the headmaster inquired.

The boy looked at him wide-eyed. ‘No, Sir, I didn't tell you because I wanted him to be punished.  I know it's no excuse for what I did, but I thought you should know.'

Dumbledore cleard his throat. ‘Very well. Thank you for telling me this, Harry, but I can only repeat myself: trust me, Harry.                               

They sat in silence for a long moment before Dumbledore finally broke the silence.

‘Is there anything else you wish to discuss?'

Harry shook his head and stood up. ‘Goodnight, Sir.'

‘Goodnight, Harry,' Dumbledore said gently and offered him the plate once more. ‘Take another sherbet lemon before you go.'

‘Thank you, sir.'

Accepting another sweet, Harry left the headmasters office. Though he was not satisfied with the part of the talk that concerned Malfoy, he thought the rest of the conversation definitely had given him plenty to think about.

Harry woke up early the next morning. He hadn't slept well at all as he had been thinking about his talk with Dumbledore from the evening before and what it implied about his relationship with Snape. Quietly, in order not to wake anyone, he dressed quickly and left the dormitory. The common room was still empty when Harry passed through it.

Gathering all his courage, Harry headed for the dungeons.

A short while later Harry stood in front of Snape's office and hesitated. When he had woken up, he had just assumed that Snape would be awake already, too; he couldn't imagine Snape as someone who slept late. Now that he thought about it, Harry couldn't imagine a sleeping Snape at all. Harry suppressed a nervous giggle when he imagined Snape opening his door in striped pyjamas but pulled himself together. Professor Snape wouldn't be sleeping in his office after all, so it would be safe.

As Harry knocked, he didn't know whether to feel relieved or upset when indeed he heard footsteps approach from the inside. The door opened, and Professor Snape stood in the doorframe glowering at Harry, his brows furrowed, but he didn't say anything.  

He doesn't exactly seem like a morning person, Harry thought anxiously.  He took deep breaths as he concentrated on getting a grip.

‘Erm...good morning, sir,' he began awkwardly. ‘Sorry for bothering you so early, but I just wanted to ask, erm, can I talk to you ... please?'

Not saying a word, Snape just stepped aside to let Harry pass. Silently he pointed to the chair in front of his desk before he settled behind it, picking up his mug of steaming tea that rested beside a huge stack of essays.  He took a great gulp before setting his mug down and glancing at Harry, who was fidgeting in his chair.

‘What could have possibly brought you here at this early hour, Potter?' he inquired.

Harry drew in a deep breath. Although he had thought a lot about this conversation during the night, the words weren't flowing as easily as they had at a safe distance from his teacher. He forced himself to look into Snape's eyes.

‘Sir, I wanted to thank you ... for healing Malfoy. I'm glad it was you who came in; I don't know if many people would have been able to perform the countercurse so quickly, and if you hadn't, well I'd probably be in Azkaban right now,' he said in a small voice and looked down at his hands, unable to stand Snape's eyes boring into his any longer.

Harry continued, only to break the awkward silence.

‘And yesterday, in the Defence lesson, when I had my eyes closed, it wasn't that I didn't care, it really wasn't!' he said, looking up again. ‘It was just when you spoke about wounds caused by Dark magic it all came back to me, and I realized for the first time that I really needed to thank you for saving Malfoy, well.. and me as well,' he finished.

Snape still remained silent, taking another sip of his tea. Lowering the cup once more, he began to speak in a quiet, slightly sarcastic voice.

‘You should know that had it been another teacher who found you, it is not very probable that you would have received a caning as it was I who persuaded the headmaster.  He was very reluctant about the whole matter. Did you realize?'

Harry was a bit taken aback. Couldn't this man just simply accept an honest thanks?  Snape expected an answer, though.

‘No, sir, I didn't know. But I guessed it. And I still prefer it this way to being responsible for Malfoy's death...' he replied indignantly. ‘Besides,' he added as an afterthought and swallowed, ‘it's my own fault that I suffered longer from it than necessary. It was stupid of me not to come to you yesterday and let you heal me.'

There. He had said it.

Snape nodded. ‘All right, Potter. Is there anything else?'

Harry hesitated. ‘Erm... yes maybe...  About my punishment from yesterday...'

‘What about it?'

Harry inwardly sighed.  Snape's attitude definitely wasn't helping!

‘I was wondering when you were going to do it, and...' He swallowed audibly. ‘...what you plan on doing...'

Snape raised his eyebrows, and his lips twitched slightly. ‘I think you do know rather well what I am intending to do, Potter, don't you?'

Harry felt his stomach contract. ‘I think so, but couldn't you think of something else, though?' he muttered, noticing angrily that he was blushing again.

His teacher considered him for a moment. ‘Perhaps I could...  But I will not. Potter, you cannot complain that you haven't been warned. However, if you want I can also drag you to the headmaster once more, tell him about everything and leave it up to him to deal with you. Whichever you prefer.' He looked at Harry expectantly.

Harry had already done plenty of thinking during the night. He didn't want to face Dumbledore and tell him that he had intended to keep the book after everything that had happened.  And he also felt ashamed that he was in trouble again so soon, only one night after the headmaster had considered the talk about punishments a mere theoretic debate. He had also given consideration to Dumbledore's deep thoughts about humiliation.  Meeting Snape's eyes, he looked intently into his face, relieved to find no trace of malice. Harry made up his mind and shook his head miserably.

‘No, sir, I don't want you to take me to Professor Dumbledore again. So, when are you going to do it?'

Snape gave him a thoughtful look. ‘What about doing it now?'

Harry flinched. ‘Erm ... Could you heal me before?' he asked hesitantly.

Snape nodded and stood up. He accio'ed a small jar from the shelf behind Harry and walked around the desk.

‘Drop your trousers, Potter,' he said simply. His face was unreadable.

Harry stood up and, a little hesitantly, bared his backside. Then he turned around to let his teacher have a look at it. He had checked in the dormitory when getting up and knew that there was still enough to see. The weals had faded somewhat but were still visible, and his bruises had just changed their colour.

It was a while before Snape spoke again.

‘Tell me Potter, do you enjoy playing the martyr?'

As Harry couldn't see his teacher's face, he didn't quite know what to make of this question.

‘No, I don't!' he answered indignantly.

‘I see. What, may I ask, is your reason for running around like this any longer than you have to?'

Harry didn't know how to answer, he definitely didn't want to quote Ron about Snape massaging salve onto his naked arse being too intimate, so he evaded the question by muttering ‘It's what every Muggle would have to go through...'

Snape just snorted.

Harry felt his teacher's cool fingers smearing the salve onto his backside. All of a sudden his buttocks became very cold, then very hot for a moment until his skin became tepid again. Then he heard Snape mutter a healing spell repeatedly, causing a short prickling sensation. After that, Harry felt nothing.

Snape sent the jar magically back to the shelf and said ‘Get dressed, Potter, and sit down to see if you are completely healed.'

Harry did as he was told. In fact, he allowed himself to drop into the chair rather than sitting down carefully, as he had gotten used to during the last two days. There was no pain at all anymore.

‘Feeling good as new, I take it?' Snape inquired, raising an eyebrow.

The boy nodded. ‘Yeah, thanks,' he muttered.

‘Ready for the next round, then, Potter?'

Harry flinched. How he hated Snape's sarcasm! He felt the nervousness rise inside him once more but forced himself to stand up and say ‘Yes, sir.'

‘All right, let's go into the classroom then,' Snape said and swept over to the door. Harry tried to tell himself that he should be glad that his punishment was beginning, but another part of him felt it had been a mistake to go and see Snape before breakfast. He drew in a deep, shaky breath and followed his teacher to the adjacent classroom.

When they entered the dark room Snape casually flicked his wand causing all of the candles on the walls to light up. Closing the door behind Harry, just like the time before, he locked it, put silencing charms on it and with another flick of his wand, increased the height of the nearest desk. Then Snape walked over to the cupboard.

Without waiting for his teacher's order, Harry began fumbling with the fastenings of his robe. By the time Snape returned with the cane in hand, Harry had placed his folded robe over another desk and was holding out his wand out to Snape. He had to concentrate hard to prevent his hand from shaking, as his nervousness seemed to be increasing with every second. However, this time Harry knew to expect, and he worried less about Snape teasing him and more about the actual pain his teacher was going to cause him.

Snape pocketed Harry's wand and nodded, his face unreadable. ‘Six strokes, Potter: four for attempting to keep the book and two more for your lack of respect in class. Bend over.'

Harry pulled his shirt out of his trousers, bunching the fabric up around his waist as he assumed the all-too familiar position over the heightened desk. Clenching his teeth, he hoped that this time he would manage to keep his composure; after all Snape wasn't going to admimister as many cuts as he did last time.

Because Snape had been so angry the day before, Harry was surprised that his teacher had only assigned him two strokes for his so-called insolence, but he knew that a total of six would be hard enough to take, anyway. He heard steps behind him and closed his eyes. Dumbledore's philosophy on lack of humiliation was all very nice, but Harry couldn't help thinking that this position was highly undignified. His thoughts were interrupted by the dreaded tap of the cane on his backside.

Whoosh. Crack.

Wincing, Harry realized that it hurt just as much as he remembered from the last time. And he hated Snape's tapping and the swishing sound of the cane as they added to his anticipation of every single stroke.

‘One.'

Tap. Whoosh. Crack.

‘Two.'

How can anybody deliver such fierce strokes and sound so calm when counting them? Harry briefly wondered before trying to concentrate on his breathing.

Tap. Whoosh. Crack.

Harry gasped and noticed angrily that his eyes were filling with tears again. All right, I might cry, but I will definitely NOT sob, he told himself.

‘Three.'

Tap. Whoosh. Crack.

Harry gasped again and promised himself that he would choose to go to see Dumbledore for punishment in the future. Anything would be better than this!

‘Four.'

Tap. Whoosh. Crack.

He couldn't help jumping from the pain of the blow. Harry squirmed on the table, wondering if Snape could have possibly heated the cane, as every stroke burnt like fire.

‘Five.'

Oh, good, just one more. He let out a rickety breath and forced himself to remain steady in his position once more.

Tap. Whoosh. Crack.

Harry stifled a yelp. His whole backside was throbbing in pure agony.

‘Six.'

Harry opened his eyes, feeling the hot tears running down his cheeks. He caught sight of Snape's hand as he put the cane down on the desk.  When he felt his shirt tuck back into his trousers, Harry took this as his permission to rise. He quickly wiped the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hands before he slowly turned around and looked into his teacher's face.

Snape peered at him and then shook his head. ‘Some way to start a day, isn't it', he remarked dryly, giving Harry his wand back. ‘Go on then, breakfast will begin shortly.'

At the thought of breakfast Harry's stomach rumbled loudly.  The boy grimaced.

‘What is it, Potter?' Snape inquired.

‘Oh, I dunno,' Harry retorted sarcastically, before he could stop himself. ‘I was just trying to recall the happy memory of the last meal when I was able to enjoy sitting comfortably.' After the words had escaped him he was a bit worried that he had just caused even more trouble for himself but was relieved when he saw the corners of Snape's mouth twitch slightly.

‘Nothing like a good reminiscence...' Snape cleared his throat. ‘Tomorrow morning, when you come for your detention, I will heal you, unless of course you want to repeat your Muggle experience,' he added sarcastically.

‘No I don't,' Harry muttered and went to the door.

He turned around once more when he heard Snape add, ‘Potter?'

‘Yes, sir?'

‘Do me a favour and stay out of trouble today, at least with me. Until we meet tomorrow in detention, I would like to enjoy a Potter-free moment.'

‘The feeling's mutual,' Harry replied under his breath as he left in a haste. He definitely preferred a sarcastic Snape over an angry Snape, but found he couldn't take another second of any form of Snape before breakfast.

Harry had the feeling of déjà-vu as he closed the door to the potions classroom behind him and walked down the corridor, rubbing his throbbing backside.

Two whackings in three days, he thought a little bitterly.  Snape must be really happy now.

However, a small but truthful voice in his head said that he shouldn't really blame Snape.  The man had been right when he had claimed that he had warned Harry about the consequences.

Harry felt a little angry at himself for his stupidity but was also tremendously relieved now that his punishment was over. Bewildered he shook his head. If someone had told me a week ago that I would be thrashed by Snape of all teachers, I would have thought I'd die of shame or be looking for a way to kill him...

But it had happened twice, Harry realized, and both of them were still alive.

Meanwhile he had reached the next bathroom and entered. After looking into the mirror he drenched a towel in cold water and pressed the cool cloth to his face and over his eyes until he was quite optimistic that nobody would notice anything.

After hesitating for a brief moment, he locked himself in a cubicle, where he lowered his trousers. Harry sighed in relief as he pressed the cold towel against his buttocks with his right hand. Still he was a bit nervous. 

He watched his left hand intently. Nothing happened; he had guessed right.  As long as he didn't use magic, the charm on the cane wouldn't react. He suddenly thought of Dudley and wondered whether a cane was still used at Smeltings. When he had attended Muggle school, corporal punishment had been banned from state schools, but not from public schools.

Too bad Dudley and I don't talk to each other, he thought, actually feeling amused. We could exchange stories... He could tell me what non-magical means they use after a caning and I could give him some Murtlap essence. If he shared it, he would probably be the best-liked guy in school ...

Hissing slightly, he pulled his trousers up again - after all, he couldn't spend the whole morning in the toilet.

Unlike last time, Harry did not want to miss his next meal. He was really hungry, and he would have to sit in his lessons after breakfast anyway, so it didn't make much of a difference. Besides, two days ago his main reason for avoiding the Great Hall had been to avoid the looks of the others after knowing what he had done and how he had been punished.

At least there was a certain advantage in Snape keeping the cane in the dungeons, he thought, a little bitterly still.  That way Snape didn't have to walk Harry and the cane through half of the school building, making it obvious to everyone what was going to happen.

Entering the Great hall, he saw that Hermione and Ron had not yet arrived. He had just filled his plate when they did.

‘Hi Harry, there you are,' Ron greeted him as he dropped on the opposite bench. ‘I didn't hear you get up. We were wondering where you were.'

Harry muttered something unintelligible and busied himself with stuffing food into his mouth. Ron joined him enthusiastically, much to Harry's relief. Hermione sat down next to him and smiled at him.

‘Hi Harry. You really must have been up early, because I was doing some homework in the common room and didn't see you pass. Too bad you weren't there, I could have helped you with yours. With all your detentions it'll be hard for you to keep up to date with your homework, I guess.'

Harry forced a smile. ‘Yeah, you're right. Thanks for.....' He interrupted himself and looked at Ron who had choked on his food. Ron was staring at somebody behind Harry.

‘Mr Potter,' Harry heard a familiar voice behind him and turned his head around abruptly.

Snape was standing behind him, his expression unreadable.

‘You forgot your robe,' Snape said and held the dark, folded cloth out to Harry.

‘Oh,' Harry said, feeling a little awkward as he took it and placed it on the bench beside him. ‘I hadn't noticed. Erm, thanks for bringing it along'.

Snape nodded. ‘You are welcome. Enjoy your meal, Mr Potter.'

‘Yeah, thanks,' Harry muttered, ‘you, too, sir.'

After another nod Snape walked away towards the teachers' table.

There was a moment of awkward silence. Harry avoided looking at his friends and concentrated on his breakfast instead. He wasn't surprised that it was Hermione who spoke first.

‘Well, Harry...Professor Snape was extremely friendly when he talked to you, I mean compared to how he usually talks to you...' she began tentatively.

‘Yeah, he was,' Harry answered slowly, looking up at her. He could tell she wanted to say more but was still struggling to find the most tactful way to ask the obvious question.

Ron had less reservations.

‘Yeah mate, when I saw the bat behind you, I was sure he would order you to his office after breakfast to give you a whacking with what you told us last night about Dumbledore.  But since he brought your robe I guess you already got it?' His face showed an odd mixture of concern and curiosity.

‘Yeah, you're right,' Harry muttered.

‘Well, so at least that's out of the way then,' Ron said bracingly. ‘So, was it bad? Did you cry out?'

‘Ron!' Hermione exclaimed, appalled by Ron's curiosity.

‘It's okay,' Harry replied hastily. To his own astonishment he found that he did not really mind Ron's questions. In fact, he preferred Ron's straightforward questions over Hermione's desperate attempts at being tactful.  She actually made him feel more embarrassed. Harry was quite sure that he would have asked the same if he were in Ron's place.  Probably already after the first swishing, when his friends had remarkably restrained themselves from asking too many questions...

Looking at Ron, Harry shrugged. ‘Yeah, it was pretty bad, you can't imagine how much that cane hurts.  Snape really knows how to lay it on!'

At the sight of Ron's sympathetic look he added hastily, ‘It wasn't nearly as bad as last time though, I mean I couldn't hold back my tears, but at least I didn't cry out. Last time I did,' he admitted, feeling a little awkward.

Ron groaned. ‘I don't blame you after seeing your bum, but that must be bloody awful, mate, crying in front of the old bat? What I don't get, though, is how come he already walloped you today?  I mean, did you just go down to the dungeons and say, "Morning Professor Snape, I know that you're allowed to whack me now, so please go ahead"?'

Harry was beginning to feel stupid as he answered,  ‘Well, yeah, I did go down there by myself, but I just wanted to talk to him about ... things,' he finished a bit lamely as he couldn't find it in himself to go into details. He sighed. ‘Well, in the end he healed me over but then I got another swishing for yesterday.'

Ron shook his head and said, ‘Anyway mate, I find it amazing how calm you're acting about all this. I think in your place I'd be much more upset, well, I guess you were two days ago!'

‘Yeah, that might have been because I had just almost killed somebody,' Harry remarked sarcastically. ‘Really Ron, I'm quite all right. I mean sure, it hurts like hell and honestly, I'm not sure if what I did yesterday was really so horrible to deserve a whacking like that, but you're right, at least I don't have to worry about it anymore.'

Hermione nodded thoughtfully as she said, ‘Well, Harry, I think you really did the right thing to go there and talk to him. I mean, like I said, he was rather friendly just a minute ago...'

Harry shrugged and said, ‘Yeah, up to now he's been surprisingly decent. I mean, I've been crying in front of him and he hasn't even mentioned it once .' He frowned before he added as an afterthought, ‘It's just a little unfortunate that he obviously needs to whack me before he can stop acting like a bastard.'

Neither Ron nor Hermione knew what to say to this. They finished their breakfast in silence.

The first class after breakfast was Transfiguration. As usual, Professor McGonagall was rather demanding. Harry found himself struggling with the difficult tasks she set them as he lacked concentration. The pain in his bottom distracted him considerably and besides, it was the first lesson Harry had with his Head of House since she had told him off for shouting at Malfoy.  He was almost certain that she would want to speak to him about all this Sectumsempra business. So her words after the bell rang were no surprise.

‘Mr Potter, would you please stay after a moment.'

Harry waited until everybody had left and went over to her desk. ‘Professor?'

Her first words were unexpected.

'Mr Potter, will there be another Quidditch practice today?'

‘Erm, yes, Professor. Well, surely you know I won't be playing tomorrow, since I've got detention with Professor Snape'. He was trying hard to keep his voice neutral.

‘I do, Mr Potter.  But seeing as you are Captain, as well as Seeker, I think one can say that you are still participating through your team. So I wish you good luck with your training today.'

‘Yes Professor.' Harry wasn't sure what to make out of this conversation. Was she trying to cheer him up? Or was she hinting that his disappointment over not being able to play might let his team down? Surely he wasn't as selfish as that, was he?

‘I know flying will be quite uncomfortable for you today, but I trust you'll manage?'

Harry internally flinched at having his latest caning addressed by his Head of House, but her matter of fact way of addressing it prevented him from feeling too embarassed.

‘Yes Professor,' he said for the third time.

She nodded and gave him a tiny smile. ‘Mr Potter, I will not say anything more about the incident involving Mr Malfoy. You have received a severe punishment and are no doubt aware of the fact that you deserved it.'

She paused for a moment, and after a short nod from Harry she continued.

‘Professor Snape informed me this morning that he had reason to punish you again today. He didn't tell me why, but as much as he is concerned the affair is over and done with.  I saw no reason to inquire further. I understand that Professor Snape gave you the choice of reporting to the Headmaster instead?'

‘Yes Professor,' Harry answered again.  He felt an unexpected rush of gratitude towards Snape, whose discretion came to him as a surprise. Professor McGonagall went on, interrupting his thoughts.

‘Well, Mr Potter, if there are situations where you prefer Proofessor Snape's swift and immediate punishment to being reported to either the Headmaster or to me, that's fine. However, I do hope that you trust me enough as your Head of House to come to me if you think that you are unfairly punished?' she looked intently into his eyes and Harry was touched to see the concern in her face.

‘Oh, yes Professor,' he assured her hastily.

‘Good. Off you go then.'

Harry felt more than a little depressed as he made his way to the Quidditch pitch that afternoon. In fact, this was the first Quidditch practise, ever, that he wasn't looking forward to. All the other team-members were already on the pitch when he arrived. Harry swallowed and told himself to get a grip. No, he definitely wouldn't let his team down!

‘Hi,' he said a little hesitantly, hoping that his voice didn't betray how he really felt. ‘First of all, I want to apologize again that I won't be playing tomorrow.  But since I'm sure you'll win without me, we might as well just get started training, okay?'

And they got started. Harry found out all too soon that Professor McGonagall's prophecy that flying would be uncomfortable for him was a vast understatement, but to his own surprise he found that he actually enjoyed the training very much. Since the team had never played together in this formation, the training was very necessary, and Harry had to admit that it wasn't altogether bad that someone else was playing seeker - in fact it helped him train the entire team without holding a position himself.  He was able to concentrate entirely on training the others.

‘Right guys,' he said at the end of the training session, when everybody had landed on the ground again, panting and wiping dirt and sweat from their faces, ‘I am sure you will be great tomorrow! I wish I could watch you!'      

The team smiled sympathetically and clapped him on the back as they headed to the changing room.

Late at night, when Harry was already in bed, contemplating the day, he really did wish he could watch his team. Sure, if he had the opportunity to play Seeker in the match he wouldn't pass it up, but he would even be happy just to watch the others play.

Bewildered, he realized that for the first time, he actually felt more like a Team Captain than a mere Quidditch player.  And he was proud.

Harry was having a hard time at the breakfast table. Everybody around him was excited about the upcoming Quidditch match, and it seemed so cruel to have to walk to the dungeons instead of towards the Quidditch pitch later on.

He glanced towards the teachers' table and met Snape's eyes. He thought he saw a quick smirk and hastily looked away, a lump forming in his throat. Why couldn't Snape have agreed to postpone his detention, he wondered for the umptienth time. He sighed as he answered himself: It was obvious. Snape hated him.

Ron looked at him sympathetically. ‘I'm sorry, mate,' he muttered. ‘I hope that at least your detention won't be too dreadful.'

Harry tried to put on a brave face. ‘Yeah, I hope so, too. But look on the bright side, at least Snape's going to heal me; he promised me that.'

However, when he wished his team good luck for the last time and watched them leave excitedly for the Quidditch pitch before reluctantly directing his steps towards the dungeons, he would have gladly exchanged the chance of being healed for the privilege to join his teammates...or at least to watch the game from the stands.

Upon arriving at Snape's office, he took a deep breath and knocked. When he heard Snape's voice he entered hesitantly and quietly locked the door behind him. But Snape wasn't behind his desk. Allowing his eyes to sway in searching, Harry spotted Snape standing in a corner of the room, taking down some vials from a shelf.

Harry's eyes stayed fixed of their own volition on a jar close to Snape's head. It was filled with a transparent liquid and swimming around inside were things that... looked like eyes. Harry gulped. He didn't even want to know what creature they had been taken from and wondered how anybody could stand looking at that jar for longer than five minutes.

Why can't Snape just close all these creepy things up in a cupboard in his office? he wondered. He really must be mental to like his room like this.

‘If you have finished gawking and making faces, Potter, don't you think a "Good morning, sir" would be appropriate?' Snape's irritated snarl brought him back abruptly to the present. He swallowed.

‘Er, yeah, good morning, sir,' he muttered. ‘Sorry, I was ... erm, distracted.'

‘So I noticed,' Snape drawled sarcastically. ‘I would recommend that you cease being distracted in my presence, otherwise this is going to be a very long detention. Do you understand me?'

‘Yes,' Harry hissed between his teeth Given Snape's attitude, it was going to be a long detention anyway.

‘Yes, what?' Snape asked, his tone dangerously hushed.

‘Yes, sir...' Harry spat, refraining at the last moment from rolling his eyes but unable to control his tone.

Snape frowned at him. ‘I would also recommend to watch your tone with me. Do you want me to heal you?'

Harry stared at him. So Snape wanted to make his healing dependant on how he behaved? No, he decided, he was not going to play along. Either Snape would heal him or he wouldn't, but Harry was not going to beg; neither would he let Snape blackmail him.

‘Yes, I do', he said simply, leaving out the "sir" or a "please" on purpose and waited for Snape's reaction. To his utter surprise, Snape merely said ‘Drop your trousers, then' and accioed the same jar he had used the day before.

Bewildered, Harry, slipped off his robe and did as he was told. He turned around to let Snape treat his backside. He still felt a little awkward about it, though he wasn't nearly as embarrassed as he'd been the day before.

‘So, Potter,' he heard Snape say while he felt cool fingers applying salve, ‘was it worth the risk?'

Harry ground his teeth and didn't answer. He hated Snape for teasing him and was glad the man couldn't see his face.

Snape's fingers stopped moving.

‘Mr Potter, I expect an answer. Was it worth the risk?'

‘Well, it could have worked out!' Harry retorted defiantly.

His professor snorted and Harry felt him continue spreading salve. ‘Yes, it could have, Potter,' he said ironically, ‘if I were a complete idiot.'

Harry knew better than to reply, realizing it would only lead to more embarassment. He heard Snape mutter a healing spell and after the familiar, weird sensation swept over his skin, the pain disappeared.

‘There you are, Potter,' Snape said matter-of-factly. ‘You may get dressed again.'

Harry quickly pulled up and fastened his trousers before turning around. ‘Thank you, sir,' he said quietly, meeting Snape's eyes. The man merely nodded and settled behind his desk.

‘Take a seat, then, Potter.'

Harry hastened to obey, appreciating that for the first time in days he could sit without discomfort and promised himself that it would stay that way. He swallowed when Snape only peered at him. Harry tried to calmly return the stare but found Snape's silence too hard to bear. So he asked the question that had haunted him for the last two days.

‘Sir, when you told Professor Slughorn about the book...how did he react?'

Snape raised his eyebrows. ‘What makes you so certain I told him, Mr Potter?'

Harry stared at him in disbelief. ‘You didn't?'

Snape's face was unreadable as he said ‘Indeed I did not.'

‘But...why?' Harry stammered before he could stop himself.

The man smirked. ‘I suppose I didn't want to miss the fun of watching you struggling in Potions, trying to keep up your fame of natural talent... And besides, it didn't occur to me to ruin your chance of - how did you put it - "displaying your competence with a teacher who is trying to teach you".'

Harry blushed. He had no idea what to say, and he felt an odd mixture of emotions - mostly anger at Snape for being so openly malicious about his future struggle in Potions lessons. But Harry was also relieved that Snape had kept his secret. Snape didn't even seem to expect an answer from him. Instead he placed several vials on the table in front of him and continued speaking.

‘I read your essay, Potter. As I had assumed, it was an interesting read indeed, and I truly believe that you will find these detentions quite necessary. Shall we get started then?'

‘Yes, sir,' Harry muttered.

Snape shoved the taller of the vials towards him. ‘Drink that, Potter.'

Hary stared at him. Years ago, Snape had threatened him with slipping Veritaserum into his Pumpkin Juice, and although he knew that the man had provided Umbridge with fake Veritaserum the year before, drinking an unknown substance given to him by Snape just seemed wrong.

‘Potter,' Snape said in his quiet, dangerous voice, ‘I seem to remember that you concluded your essay with the promise that you would cooperate as well as you could. Am I to believe that following the simple order to drink a potion is above your abilities?'

Harry swallowed and grabbed the bottle, carefully uncorking it.

‘What is it?' he asked.

‘An invention of mine,' Snape answered dryly. Harry wasn't reassured in the least, but he didn't dare refuse any longer. Valiantly, he emptied the vial, trying to ignore the horrible taste. He looked up at Snape, waiting. Harry didn't feel a thing.

Snape opened the desk drawer and took out a bracelet. ‘Give me your arm, Potter.' He put the bracelet around Harry's wrist, and after he gave a flick of his wand the bracelet started to gleam a light green.

‘I borrowed the bracelet from Madam Pomfrey. It measures your pulse. It should be dark green now, but it appears that you already have a slightly quickened pulse. Nervous, Potter?' he smirked.

Harry scowled.

Ignoring this, Snape continued, ‘It will take a few minutes until the potion will begin working,' Snape explained. ‘What it does is simply amplify any emotion you feel. So your task during this detention will be to sustain the bracelet's colour.'

Harry nodded nervously. ‘What's in the other vial...sir?' he asked hesitantly.

‘The antidote,' Snape answered. The effects of the other potion will wear off after a while on its own, but given your temper I thought it wise to have something here just in case. ' He looked at Harry and sneered. ‘You should know, Potter, I would not be as kind as the headmaster should you start vandalizing my office.'

Harry blushed. He was still ashamed about last year's behaviour; he should have known that Snape would use each and every piece of information he had given him in the essay just to torment him. Bastard! he thought, and his heart started hammering.

‘Oh, I see we're getting started...' Snape remarked as he looked at Harry's bracelet, which had turned completely yellow. ‘Control yourself, Potter. Let it turn green again.'

Harry became even more furious. Snape was acting exactly as he had during their Occlumency lessons; he wasn't teaching him at all!

‘Would you mind telling me how am I supposed to do that?' Harry nearly shouted. The bracelet turned orange.

‘Concentrate, Potter. First on your breathing, breathe regularly.'

Harry tried to do it. Breathe regularly, in - out - in - out.... he told himself and couldn't help remembering that the last time he had concentrated on his breathing had been while he was bent over a desk trying to take Snape's vicious strokes as stoically as he could. This association didn't exactly help to calm him down.

‘You're not doing it, Potter. I'd rather not know what you are thinking about, but it's something apart from breathing and you will ban the thought from your mind now.'

It's easy for you to say...you haven't been walloped like that. I'd like to see you ban the thought of getting the cane, Harry thought, glancing at his bracelet. The shade of orange had intensified.

‘Close your eyes Potter. Take a deep breath and try to feel the air going through your body. Then exhale slowly.'

Startled into obedience by Snape's unusual calm tone, Harry did as he was told. When Snape finally told him to open his eyes ageain, he saw that the bracelet had at least faded back to yellow.

‘Well, that's a start. Now concentrate on your heartbeat. Place your hand on your heart, feel your pulse and try to slow it down a little,' Snape ordered.

‘But how..?'

Snpae rolled his eyes. ‘ You do call yourself a wizard, Potter, do you not?. If you concentrate you will have more control over your body than the average muggle.'

Harry clenched his teeth to supress an angry retort. He knew he should be used to Snape's attitude by now, but he figured that it must have been the potion that turned a slight indignant sensation into outright anger. His heart started hammering again and he watched as the bracelet turned orange once more.

Determined to show Snape he could do it, Harry closed his eyes in order to ward off all distractions and placed his right hand over his heart, feeling the quick beats against his palm. He concentrated on his breathing once more, exhaling every fourth beat. Concentrating on the synchronous action of his lungs and his heart, he tried to slightly delay his breathing. Harry was so absorbed in what he was doing that he was startled when Snape spoke after a while.

‘There you go. You can open your eyes.'

When Harry did, he noticed that his bracelet had turned green, but he didn't really need to look; his whole body felt relaxed and calm.Triumphantly, Harry looked up at Snape.

‘That certainly was a start,' the man said coolly. ‘However, in real life you will not always have a peaceful amount of time to force yourself to concentrate; instead, you'll have to control your emotions among whatever you are doing. So come along.' He pointed to a table in the corner of the room, which, Harry noticed in horror, had a cauldron, a cutting board and a dagger lying on top. ‘You will help me brew while you continue practising.'

Harry stared at him open-mouthed. Brewing a potion in Potions class with Snape hovering over him was horrible enough, and now he had to do it alone with that man. Even worse, he was still feeling the effects of that awful potion...and the bracelet made him nervous! This was a nightmare.

Snape smirked as he glanced at Harry's bracelet. It was throbbing with a red glow. ‘I see you are truly excited about the possibility of working alongside me, Potter,' he remarked.

The bracelet's shade of red intensified. Harry closed his eyes and tried to calm down again. When he had finally managed it, he stiffly walked over to the other table.

The brewing turned out to be just as horrible as Harry had imagined. Snape kept criticising what he was doing, all the time making cutting remarks about what was expected of a NEWT student. Harry found it increasingly difficult just to get the bracelet to turn yellow for even short intervals of time. Mostly it alternated between orange and red.

He also found that he hardly had a chance to concentrate on his heartbeat, not with his anger toward Snape growing by the minute. Harry was having a hard enough time biting his tongue. He wondered if Snape would punish him for disrespect. There was no way he could be made responsible for anything he said while drugged, could he? Either way, Harry was determined not to risk it.

At one o'clock Snape finally sighed.

‘I think that will do.' He picked up the smaller vial. ‘Drink this, Potter.'

Harry emptied the vial in haste, smiling crookedly in relief as the tension and coiled emotion slowly left his body. He yanked off the bracelet and then peered into the cauldron.

‘It's the potion I drank, isn't it?' he asked.

Snape inclined his head. ‘It is, and I am rather certain we will need quite a lot of it.'

Harry inwardly groaned, wondering how many detentions like this he would be able to bear. Then he had an idea.

‘Professor?' he asked hesitantly. ‘I was wondering...could I take some of the potion with me? So I can practise until next week?'

Snape raised his eyebrows. ‘You want to practise, Potter? I find that hard to believe.'

Harry shuffled his feet. ‘Well, you said it was my responsibility how many detentions I get. So if I have the chance, I'd rather practise a bit on my own, or maybe with Hermione...' he muttered.

There was an awkward silence as his teacher ogled him suspiciously.

‘I suppose you know what I would do with you if you use the potion for anything else but your own practise, like slipping it into someone's drink, perhaps?'

Harry swallowed hard, clenching his teeth against the defensiveness that had instantly risen in his chest. But figuring his bum was more important than his pride, he finally nodded. After all, another reason for wanting to get his detentions out of the way as quickly as possible was to avoid the extra disciplinary authority Snape had over him at the moment.

‘All right,' Snape said slowly. ‘Ask Miss Granger if she will agree to help you. If she does, she is to come to me in the afternoon. I will give her the potions and teach her the bracelet's activation spell as well as whatever else she will need to know. You must never practise alone, Potter-"

‘I won't...'

‘And as I don't yet trust your obedience,' Snape continued, ‘Miss Granger will keep the potions. I have the faint hope that she at least will have enough sense to understand that it will be her task to prevent you from having a heart-attack.'

Harry couldn't help feeling offended by Snape's continuous distrust and had to struggle hard to refrain from giving an angry retort.

‘Yes, sir', he merely answered, feeling impatient now. The Quidditch match was probably already over, but maybe...just maybe if he made a quick run to the stands... ‘May I leave, then?'

Snape smirked. ‘Why the hurry, Potter? Are you that eager to console your defeated team that you let down?'

Harry heard the blood pounding in his ears. ‘They won't be defeated; they're a great team, even without me!' he spat at Snape. ‘We had a great practise session yesterday, and anyway, it wasn't my decision not to play today ... it was yours.'

‘Watch your tone, Potter,' Snape said sharply, but then he continued more calmly, ‘No, it wasn't your decision not to play, but it was still your fault, was it not?'

It wasn't a question.

Harry stared at his feet. ‘You know it was,' he admitted reluctantly and forced himself to meet Snape's eyes again.

The professor nodded. ‘And so do you. Dismissed, Potter'.

Was it  worth it to run down to the stands? He asked a portrait of an old witch who was busy embroidering .

‘Excuse me, do you know if the Quidditch match is over already?'

‘I believe so,' she answered unentusiastically, though not unfriendly. ‘About half an hour ago a whole herd of students went stampeding through.'

Harry felt a twinge of disappointment, but mostly he felt anxious. ‘And do you know who won?' he asked.

The old witch shook her head. ‘You'll have to find out yourself. I wasn't interested in Quidditch when I was alive, and I'm not going to start now.'

Harry was already sprinting up the stairs to Gryffindor tower. ‘Thanks!' he called back over his shoulder.

A roar of celebration greeted him whe he entered the common room. Several hands pulled him out of the portrait hole.

‘We won!' yelled Ron, bounding into sight and brandishing the silver Cup in Harry's face. ‘We won! Four hundred and fifty to  hundred and forty! We won!'

Harry looked around, his heart thumping with sheer elation; Ginny suddenly  ran towards him and threw her arms around him. And without thinking, without planning it, Harry kissed her.

After several long moments they boke apart. The room had gone very quiet. Then several people wolf-whistled. Harry looked over the top of Ginny's head to see Dean Thomas holding a shattered glass, Hermione was beaming, but his eyes sought Ron. At last he found him, still clutching the Cup and wearing an expression appropriate to having been clubbed over the head. For a fraction of a second they looked at each other; then Ron gave a tiny jerk of his head that Harry understood to mean, ‘Well - if you must.'

Harry grinned down at Ginny, and together they left through the portrait hole, away from the  sea of curious eyes.

It was warm and sunny outside as they settled down next to the lake. Harry couldn't remember when he had last felt so happy. Suddenly Quidditch didn't seem as important as before and so it wasn't until a few hours later that he asked Ginny to tell him more about the Quidditch match.

After she had filled him in, she asked,

‘So, how did your detention go?'

Harry groaned. ‘Don't ask. It was horrible.'

‘Did he say how many more you'll have to serve?' Ginny inquired.

‘No, it depends on how...' Harry suddenly jumped to his feet and shouted, ‘Oh, shit! I've got to find Hermione!'

Ginny had a slight frown on her face as she looked at him, confused.

‘Sorry, Ginny,' Harry said, feeling a little embarassed. ‘Let's just go back and I'll explain later, okay?'

A short time later Ginny headed back to the Common room while Harry was sprinting toward the library, rightfully assuming that Hermione would have taken refuge there from the noisy celebrations to get some peace for studying.

When he sat down next to her, she gave him a bewildered look.  ‘Harry, what's up?'

Harry took a deep breath as he started to explain, a little incoherently.

‘Hermione, please, you've got to help me. It's about Snape's detention... You can't imagine how horrible it was today.'

‘He didn't cane you again, did he?' Hermione suddenly sat upright, looking extremely worried.

Harry felt a rush of gratitude when he caught on to her protectiveness and shook his head. ‘No, nothing like that. He didn't hit me or threaten me with the cane. He even healed me just like he  promised. It was just...well...he was just his usual horrid self.' He swallowed thickly. ‘The bastard,' he added.

Hermione looked at him reproachfully.

‘Sorry,' Harry said hastily, ‘but you can't imagine what he did! Remember that you said yesterday he treated me decently and I said it was just unfortunate that he needed to whack me before he could do so? Anyway, it obviously didn't last until this morning, because he snarled at me right from the beginning. Then I had to drink a horrible potion that was supposed to enhance my emotions, and then he put a bracelet around  my wrist that measured my pulse and told me to stay calm and then he made be BREW! Together with him!'

He was taken aback on seeing Hermione's lips twitch. ‘ It's not funny! You can imagine the kind of comments he made  the whole time!'

Hermione tried to calm him down. ‘Yes I can; it was just a little funny the way you said it. But I don't understand. How am I supposed to help you?'

Harry quickly explained exactly how and then looked at her apologetically. ‘I'm sorry, Hermione, it seems I set up something like a detention for you.'

Hermione shook her head. ‘Me of all people, who has always warned you about that stupid so-called "Prince"."  She sighed.   "All right. Do I have to go there now?'

‘I think so... he said this afternoon,' Harry muttered. ‘Thanks, Hermione. You're a real friend.'

‘Yes, I am,' Hermione said dryly, all amusement now washed from her expression. ‘And as a real friend I am helping you on the condition that in spite of being deeply in love, you will not neglect your studies! You'd better stay here while I go see Snape.'

‘Yes, mum,' Harry replied, and upon seeing the look on her face hastily added, ‘Okay, okay, I get it. You're right. I don't have my school things with me, so can I borrow from you what I need?'

‘Sure.' Hermione smiled at him. ‘I'll be off then.'

Harry's gaze followed her as  she left the library without looking back. He admired her friend for the calmness she displayed --  after all, it was Snape's office where she was heading! Sighing, he started his Defence homework . The last lesson with Snape had been pretty awful, and he was determined that doing poorly on his homework would not become a reason for further trouble with him.

He had almost finished it when Hermione came back. She was looking thoughtful.

‘Did he give you a hard time?' Harry asked at once.

‘Well, he is Snape,' she answered, evading a direct answer. ‘Harry, we won't be able to start practising straight away. I need to think properly about how best to do this with you, all right?'

‘Er, yeah, sure,' Harry replied, a little surprised. ‘ Just tell me when you're ready.'

The following week passed all too quickly for Harry's liking. Being around Ginny just felt so right; he didn't even mind all the gossiping that took place about their relationship. On the contrary, it was a nice change for people to  talk about something that made him feel so good compared to  talking about Harry having performed some horrible dark magic or being the first student caned  in several decades.

Even Snape failed to wind him up. Harry came to his Defence class well prepared-he had put a lot of work into his homework and had done a fair bit of research in the process. Of course that didn't mean that he didn't get any sarcastic remarks from Snape at all, but he somehow was so at ease with himself that he didn't really care. Hermione was very pleased with him when the bell rang, and he hadn't lost a single point for Gryffindor.

His potion-brewing could have gone worse as well. Sure, without the Prince's book his performance wasn't fantastic, but he was determined not to give Snape the pleasure of hearing from Slughorn that he had failed his class, so he managed to collect his concentration and at least brew an acceptable potion.  

Slughorn didn't seem too surprised about Harry's decline in skill, in fact he blinked at him and whispered conspiratorially, ‘Feeling a bit distracted, Harry m'boy? Quite an exciting week you've had, both good and bad...' Harry didn't feel the need to correct this opinion.

When the next weekend approached, Harry couldn't help feeling apprehensive. Hermione had not practised with him yet, which made him feel a little disappointed, though he could see her point. She had blatantly refused just making him drink that potion and trying to rile him up.

‘Honestly Harry, it just wouldn't work. You wouldn't get angry at me so easily. I would really have to be mean to you and you can't ask  me to do that,' she had said and upon seeing his disappointment added, ‘I'm afraid you'll have to test your self-control with Snape, but I will help you! I searched the library for books on relaxation techniques, but there wasn't anything, so I've owled my parents and asked them to send me books. I'm sure they'll  find some for me.'

And indeed they did. On Friday morning, when the post was delivered, three owls approached Hermione, each delivering a neatly wrapped package in the unmistakable shape of a book.

Students were so used to packages of that shape arriving for Hermione that they didn't pay much attention.  Hermione opened the packages and beamed.  She showed Harry the books, and he read the titles: Calming the Anxious Mind, A Guide to Meditation, and Relaxation and Stress Management Techniques.

They sounded helpful, though Harry couldn't help but groan internally about the mere volume of paper. He felt immensely relieved when Hermione said,

‘Maybe I'll  skim over the books first and decide which one you should just read and with which one we'll  have to work together on. Oh Harry, this is so good. I'm sure you will be just fine when we‘ve  finished these.'

Harry was  as amazed as always about the efficiency Hermione displayed when it came to studying. He felt a little guilty when he thought about all the time this would cost Hermione but was reassured when he saw the obvious enthusiasm in her eyes as she wrapped the books again, hiding their titles.

Saturday morning came and Harry found himself in a bad mood. He was dreading his upcoming detention with Snape. He could picture  Snape doing his best to wind him up humiliating him again as much as he could, and there was no denying Snape's talent in that field.

Everybody around him was chatting happily as this was also a Hogsmeade weekend. Harry sighed. The first Hogsmeade weekend after he had gotten together with Ginny, and he had to spend his Saturday in detention with Snape!

Anger bubbled up inside of him. He had been caned, after all; hadn't he been punished enough?

A little while later, a still furious Harry stood in front of Snape's door and tried to calm himself. Angry as he was, he had enough sense to be aware that it wouldn't help to display insolence to Snape right from the beginning.

‘Good morning, sir,' he said stiffly upon entering the professor's office. Snape was sitting at his desk and a quick glance to the other side of the room confirmed Harry's fears: the table there, again, was prepared for brewing.

‘Potter.' The professor scrutinized him shortly before gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. ‘Take a seat.'

Harry obeyed silently.

‘Did you remember to bring the bracelet with you?'

‘Yes, sir.' Harry pulled it out of his robe and placed it on the desk before him. In fact, he hadn't remembered; Hermione had and given it to him right before he went down to the dungeons, but he saw no need to tell Snape that. He realized, that given his present mood, it was probably  best to say as little as possible.

‘I am sure you would have had numerous ideas on how to spend a nice, sunny day like this in Hogsmeade,' Snape said in his silky voice. ‘And with whom,' he added, showing his yellow teeth as he smiled briefly.

Harry already felt the blood pounding in his ears, staring at Snape and thinking how much he disliked the professor.

‘So let's hope today's outcome will be worth both our trouble,' the man continued, opening a drawer of his desk, taking out two vials and placing them on top. ‘Did you practise with Miss Granger, Potter?'

That was the question that Harry had expected and had not been looking forward to.

‘No, I haven't,' he muttered and saw Snape raise his eyebrows.

‘Well, at least this time, unlike during our Occlumency lessons, you admit it openly. One should be thankful for small progresses, I suppose,' his teacher merely replied.

Harry wasn't sure whether Snape was angry or not, but after all, the man hadn't intended Harry to practise originally. Rather, it had been his own idea, so there was really no need to apologize. At the moment he found he couldn't care less if Snape thought he had been lazy or not, but he felt the need to explain for Hermione's sake. He knew that she would hate it if any teacher thought she had failed to fulfill a task.

‘Hermione felt she needed some more time to prepare herself for working with me... sir,' he added upon seeing his teacher frown. ‘She asked her parents to send her some books on meditation and relaxation techniques and said we would work on them together.'

Snape's eyebrows shot up. ‘Meditation? She isn't planning on teaching you Yoga as well, is she?' he asked sarcastically.

That did it. Harry felt his resolve to stay silent crumble. ‘Don't ridicule her like that!' he shouted at Snape. ‘At least she's trying to help me, unlike you!  You're  just using this opportunity to make me miserable; you are just a sadistic...' he stopped, panting.

Snape leaned forward and brought his face closer to Harry's. ‘Watch your attitude, Potter,' he hissed.

‘But what I said is true!' Harry insisted, in spite of knowing in the back of his mind that he would have to pay for his outburst. ‘She really put a lot of thought into this and sacrificed her time to help me! And you're just make fun of her because she does a better job than you will ever do!'

Snape's voice was a dangerous whisper. ‘I'm warning you for the last time, Potter....'

Harry remained silent, staring at Snape, refusing to blink. His teacher drew a deep breath and continued.

‘I will not tolerate your insolence, Potter, and you will not prevent me from expressing my astonishment about Miss Granger's ... unconventional methods; although, having had to teach the know-it-all for so many years I should have expected something like this...' He shook his head, his lips twitching and went on ‘ After all, she is a mu...'

‘Don't you dare call her Mudblood!' Harry shouted, interrupting him. ‘That's the real problem you have with her, isn't it? You Slytherins are all alike, you can't stand that you Purebloods aren't  always the smartest people in the world!'

Snape stared at him. ‘Potter, you will stop this instant or you will regret it,' he said slowly.

‘No, I will not! I saw how you called my mum a Mudblood, remember? Just the way your precious Malfoy does with Hermione!' He panted hard and felt real hate towards the man in front of him. ‘You must have really despised my mum; she stood up for you and you called her "filthy mudblood"!'

Snape's eyes flashed. ‘How dare you...' His face twisted and Harry leaned back in his chair as far as he could, knowing he had gone too far. He wouldn't put it past Snape to curse him here and now. Instinctively he scrambled for his wand to protect himself.

‘Expelliarmus!'

Even in his present state of mind he couldn't help feeling amazed at the speed in which Snape had acted. His professor stood in front of him, having caught Harry's wand with his left hand and making a visible effort to calm down while he was staring down at his student.

Harry slowly got up from his chair to get to the same height as Snape, maintaining eye-contact while he saw Snape pocket his wand in his peripheral vision.  He didn't think  that Snape would curse him now, but still, he flinched whenSnape doled out a flick of his wand. Snape's cupboard door burst open and the cane came flying into Snape's outstretched hand.

‘Over the desk, Potter.  Right now!' His eyes flashed, but his voice was calm, deadly calm, Harry thought.

‘No,' Harry said simply. There was no way he would let himself be whacked by Snape now. Even if Snape looked remarkably calm, Harry didn't doubt that the strokes the man would deal out would be more than fierce.

But, more importantly, Harry had said nothing but the truth and did not deserve another caning.

‘You refuse?' Snape asked slowly.

‘Yes, I do.' Harry didn't avert his eyes and was pleased to notice that his voice sounded calm as well and didn't shake.

Snape placed Harry's wand on the desk between them.

‘Get out of my sight then,' he said in a toneless voice.

Harry grabbed his wand and pocketed it. Slowly he walked to the door, and without looking back at his professor he left the office and quietly closed the door behind him.

Outside on the corridor he drew a deep breath, shaking all over, and suddenly broke into a run, which he didn't slow down until he arrived in Gryffindor tower.

Harry entered the common room. It was empty except for some very noisy first and second years who were obviously taking advantage of having the common room to themselves. He felt a twinge of disappointment when he remembered that everybody else had gone to Hogsmeade, something that his confrontation with Snape had pushed from his mind. After the disastrous detention, he really needed to tell his friends about what had happened.

Well, Snape had kicked him out of his office, so why shouldn't he make the best of it and go off to Hogsmeade? Nobody had told him he couldn't. Suddenly he became aware that he was still standing in the open entrance and a number of younger students were staring at him curiously.

‘Erm.. never mind, I'll be off to Hogsmeade as well', he muttered and retreated hastily.

It didn't take him long to find Hermione and Ron in the village. They were sitting together at a tiny table close to a window in "The Three Broomsticks". Harry looked around, but Ginny was nowhere to be seen. He bought a bottle of butterbeer at the bar and went to meet his friends. Both stared at him, bewildered, as he grabbed a chair from another table and joined them.

‘Did Professor Snape let you off?' Hermione asked incredulously.

‘Well, sort of...' Harry took a sip from his bottle.

‘You're kidding, mate!' Ron stared at him. ‘Snape would never let you off! What really happened?'

‘To be exact, he told me to get out of his sight. So I came here,' Harry explained as lightly as he could, raising the bottle once more. ‘Cheers.'

Ron stared at him open-mouthed and Hermione groaned. ‘Oh, Harry, what did you do?'

Harry felt anger rise inside him. ‘What makes you think I did anything? It's Snape, he's just a complete arse!'

‘True, mate, but what exactly did he do thís time?' Ron enquired.

‘I don't want to talk about it right now,' Harry muttered. It was strange. Not long ago he had wanted to share everything with his friends, but now he found that he couldn't. It would have meant telling Hermione that Snape had called her a Mudblood, and he knew that Hermione would be deeply upset to know that any teacher would use such a term, even Snape. To change the subject, he asked, ‘Do you know where Ginny is?'

‘Yes', Hermione replied. ‘Since you couldn't come here with her, she decided not to come to Hogsmeade and stayed back at the library to revise for her OWLs.'

Harry was disappointed. He had actually got out of his detention for the day, but Ginny still wasn't with him! Still, he told himself, he shouldn't complain. Even without Ginny, "The Three Broomsticks" was by far a more pleasant place than Snape's office! So he drained his butterbeer and asked, ‘You want me to get another round?'

Ron nodded but then exclaimed, ‘Harry, there's Hedwig!'

Indeed, the white owl was sitting outside on the window-sill and was pecking against the window. Harry hastily opened the window wondering how long his bird had been trying to capture their attention amidst all the noise in the room. Quickly he untied the small bit of parchment from her left leg. Hedwig hooted and took off. Harry wondered who would use his own owl to send him a message, but he found the answer quickly when he unfolded the sheet and recognized the familiar handwriting.

Harry,

Please report to my office immediately to discuss your behaviour in today's detention with Professor Snape.

A. Dumbledore

Harry swallowed hard and looked at his friends, who were waiting attentively. Without a word he handed them the parchment to read, and their expressions turned anxious.

‘Well, I suppose that means I won't be ordering another round,' Harry said as casually as he could, trying to hide his nervousness. The headmaster's note had sounded decidedly frosty, and Harry wondered what Snape must have told him to produce such a response from the normally gentle old man.

Hermione just looked at him mutely, while Ron muttered ‘Good luck, mate'. Harry nodded and stood up. ‘See you later', he forced himself to say nonchalantly before he made his way back to school.

Not quite sure what to expect from this meeting, he reassured himself that he had confronted Snape with nothing but the truth so he didn't have anything to fear. Yes, Dumbledore's note had appeared none too friendly, but of course Snape had given him a biased version of what had really happened between the two of them. Dumbledore was fair; he would let Harry tell his side of the story. Why was it then that his nervousnesss was increasing with every step that brought him closer to Dumbledore's office? When he arrived in front of the Gargoyles, they were obviously expecting him and let him pass even without waiting for the password,.

‘Good morning, sir.' He greeted Dumbledore timidly, and the headmaster gave him an uncharacteristically curt nod.

‘Harry. Please sit down.'

Dumbledore's face was somber and he was scruinizing Harry with eyes that, for once, didn't twinkle. He hadn't offered him a sherbet lemon, either. Harry swallowed and concentrated on keeping his hands still. Although he had been in Dumbledore's office many times before, this was the first time that he had been summoned there for punishment (if one didn't count the time after the Sectumsempra spell), and he had to admit he was really nervous. The cool atmosphere was very different from his usual talks with the headmaster.

‘You know why you are here, Harry.' It wasn't a question.

‘Yes, sir.' Harry decided not to say anything more than necessary for the time being but rather to wait and see with what Dumbledore would confront him. He didn't have to wait long.

‘Professor Snape told me that you yelled at him and drew your wand on him. He said he intended to cane you for your misbehaviour but you refused. What do you have to say to that?'

‘That's not the way it happened! He insulted Hermione! He made fun of her and called her a know-it-all and a Mudblood, and so I got angry,' Harry replied heatedly. ‘And then Snape got mad at me and I thought he was going to hex me, so I drew my wand. It was a reflex, actually. I was only going to defend myself, not attack him!'

‘I see,' Dumbledore said softly and frowned. ‘Has Professor Snape' - there was a certain stress on the word "Professor"- ever thrown a hex at you during your numerous ...  disputes over the last six years?'

‘Well... no,' Harry admitted awkwardly. Just a glass jar, he added to himself, but he wasn't going to say it loud; that was a memory he didn't want to share with anybody.

Dumbledore nodded, his bright blue eyes boring into Harry's. ‘If I am correctly informed, there has been another incident before today when you were caned by Professor Snape, other than the one I assigned. Then, unlike today, you didn't refuse. What was different this time?'

‘I didn't deserve it this time!' Harry burst out indignantly. ‘Besides, Snape was really mad, he would have probably killed me!' He drew a deep breath and continued, a little more calmly, ‘I mean, I don't think I really deserved it the last time either, but at least that time I could sort of understand his point of view, and he wasn't angry when he did it.' Catching himself fumbling with a loose thread of his robe he willed his hands into passiveness again. ‘Honestly, sir, you didn't see him today. Like I said, he would have killed me! And enjoyed it,' he added bitterly.

After a brief pause he looked up at Dumbledore challengingly. ‘I still can't understand why you're letting Snape hit me,' he said brusquely, then added hastily, ‘Well, not that first time, that was...' He swallowed and didn't finish the sentence. ‘I meant after that,' he muttered.

The old man sighed. ‘To be honest, Harry, I hadn't planned on doing so. When Professor Snape pointed out that it had become useless assigning more detentions to you, I advised him to send you to me if he deemed it necessary. Professor Snape then pointed out that you should be given a choice in the matter. What was I supposed to say against that, given the fact that you had preferred his discipline over mine on at least one occasion?'

Harry couldn't suppress a snort. The way the headmaster put it, an outsider might gain the impression that Snape indeed was a considerate person. As if! That git just enjoys manipulating Dumbledore so he can get what he wants - permission to welt my arse! a bitter voice in his head whispered.

Dumbledore pretended not to have heard anything and went on quietly. ‘It seems it was the correct decision, as in fact your choice the very next day proved him right.'

Harry blushed and droppped his gaze. His head came up again as the headmaster continued talking.

‘But let's not digress any longer and come back to today's events. I take it from your words that drawing your wand on your Professor happened instinctively out of self-defence, although he has never attacked you in the past and in fact you know him to have protected you several times. Given your history with all the fights and violence you've had to endure, though, I accept your explanation and will let this pass, although threatening a teacher with one's wand is an infraction for which students have been expelled in the past.'

Harry gulped. He had expected to have to explain himself for yelling at Snape, however he had never imagined he had faced possible expulsion. Considering how heated things had become earlier, drawing his wand had come to him naturally, and he hadn't really thought about it until now. Had it been the final straw for Snape?

‘Yes, sir', he muttered unable to think of anything else to say.

Dumbledore's voice took on a certain chill as he went on. ‘However, your history is no excuse for your blatant disrespect of your professor. And I do not accept your excuse of becoming angry under provocation. I will not tolerate your yelling at a professor, particularly since it is obvious that it wasn't just a temporary lack of respect. No, Harry, this is a serious problem, as you constantly demonstrate. For instance, during our conversation have you once referred to Professor Snape by his title?'

Harry's temper flared up. ‘You're right, I don't feel respect for him! But that's not my fault! This man has treated me like shit ever since I first met him! How can you expect me to be respectful towards him, when he has insulted me and my friends since our first day here? I can't believe you even want me to respect someone who calls his students Mudbloods!'

The older man raised his hand commandingly, and Harry's fury dissipated as rapidly as it had flared.

‘Sorry', Harry muttered.

‘I know Professor Snape is not a kind man, Harry. I do not expect you to like him. But he is on our side, a very intelligent and skilled wizard, and the least that you owe him for his efforts is respect. After all there is hardly anyone else who runs as many risks for his life as he does and sacrifices so much for our cause.'

Ignoring Harry's dubious look, he continued, ‘Given all your dislike of Professsor Snape, have you ever stopped to think about what being a spy implies?'

Harry merely shrugged. In fact, he had not, but it seemed to him that Snape with his slimy ways was just cut out for that job, instead of fighting openly and bravely. Dumbledore seemed to sense this, as his eyes bored into Harry's, making him feel even more uncomfortable.

‘Being a spy means spending a large amount of time in Voldemort's presence - not the most pleasant company, as I am sure you would agree. It means never being able for a second to let your guard down, for Voldemort is likely the most skilled Legilimens at present. Professor Snape's life literally depends on his ability to shield his mind from Voldemort every single second. A single lapse would result in immediate detection and a very painful death. Surely you can imagine how much concentration is needed for such a deception?'

Harry blushed again under the headmaster's sharp gaze. He would have preferred not to be reminded of his fruitless occlumency lessons. The man continued, ‘Professor Snape joined the Death Eaters when he was young, as you well know. This single decision - which he made when he was little older than you - has haunted him ever since - and most likely will do so - for the rest of his life. Perhaps you understand how easy it is for someone your age to make a disastrously poor decision?' He quirked an eye at Harry who reddened even further. ‘By working as a spy, Professor Snape tries every day to atone for his horrible mistake.'

To his amazement, Harry found that he was actually feeling  sympathy for Professor Snape. It was terrifying to realize how much a single bad decision could ruin one's life. His thoughts went to Draco. He was sure the boy had taken the Dark Mark. Would the day also come when Draco would regret his decision? The headmaster's next words interrupted his thoughts.

‘I want you to imagine yourself in Professor Snape's position. You are a spy, and that means that you always have to act like a true Death Eater. You are forced to be present when atrocities are committed, and there are numerous occasions where you wish to protect the victims but cannot. Instead you have to watch, seeming to approve, while hating yourself every second for being there.'

Harry gulped. This was something he didn't want to imagine. It had been bad enough to witness certain things through his visions, actually being present without being able to do anything....

‘I am sure you agree that all this is not very conducive to developing or maintaining a cheerful personality,' Dumbledore continued inexorably, ignoring Harry's growing guilt. ‘Nor is Professor Snape's disposition improved by the nightmares that inevitably result. I would have thought that  you of all people would be sympathetic to that. But this is not all, Harry.

‘As a spy you must be friendless. Many of the Death Eaters you work with watch you very closely as they don't trust you, and rightly so. You despise their cause but have to hide it from them. And as for the Order, many of its members look down on you with contempt and constantly challenge your loyalty. Being a spy is not very heroic. But he carries out perhaps the hardest and most dangerous work, and his efforts are hardly ever appreciated. What's more, many of your so-called colleagues don't trust you as they think you are playing an even more complicated game, enjoying the atrocities you are forced to witness. Given all that, Harry, is it so hard for you to understand why Professor Snape can be cruel and cutting? Why he does not treat you - or indeed most students - with kindness or,' he sighed, ‘respect? Can you also understand why that does not relieve you of the obligation to treat him appropriately?'

‘But how can you know ...' Harry stopped. He knew Dumbledore wouldn't answer what he really wanted to ask and in fact had already asked him in the past. So he merely asked in a defeated voice, ‘You trust him absolutely, don't you, sir?'

Dumbledore held his gaze and said slowly, ‘I would trust Severus Snape with my life; in fact I am sure the day will come where I will place my life in Professor Snape's hands.'

‘Right,' Harry sighed. ‘If you say so. I guess I can live with him being ill-tempered. But I still won't let him call Hermione a Mudblood!'

‘Did he really?' Dumbledore asked him.

‘Yes!' Harry exclaimed. ‘I told you that's what made me so angry!'

‘Please take the time to think, Harry. Did you really hear Professor Snape say that word?'

Puzzled, Harry hesitated. ‘Well... not the whole word,' he finally admitted, ‘I didn't let him finish. But it was obvious what he was going to say!'

‘What makes you so sure he wasn't just going to say "Muggle-born"?' Dumbledore asked sharply. ‘You jumped to a conclusion.'

‘Well, his precious Slytherins call her Mudblood all the time! And I never see him object!' Harry replied indignantly.

‘Have you ever witnessed them saying it in his presence?' Dumbledore inquired.

Harry had to think hard about it. ‘No,' he admitted reluctantly, ‘but Hermione is so smart and he always makes fun of  her and puts her down, even in class. It's got to be because she's Muggle-born!'

Dumbledore frowned. ‘As I just said, Harry, you must not jump to conclusions so often. I will tell you this now, and I want you always to remember: With Professor Snape there is much that is not as it seems.'

He let these words sink in and added, his voice full of conviction: ‘Professor Snape would never refer to a student by that offensive term.'

‘Oh yes, he would!' Harry protested. ‘I know he called my mother a Mudblood, and that was even after she helped him!'

‘I see. Am I right to assume you are referring to a certain memory?'

Harry nodded.

‘That was more than 20 years ago, when Professor Snape was merely fifteen. What's more, would you deny that he found himself in rather an unpleasant situation at the time? Have you never found yourself saying something in the heat of the moment and only to later regret it? You've never said anything to Mr Weasley or Ms Granger that you later wished you could erase from their memory?'

Harry muttered something inaudible, feeling ashamed that the headmaster obviously knew the memory and was aware about what his father had done.

‘How would you like it if a person judged you from how you reacted in such a degrading, humiliating situation? Don't you think it possible that even you might, in a similar situation, have snapped at Ms Granger if she had rescued you?'

Harry didn't answer and dropped his head. He could remember the furious and helpless feeling so well, what it was like to be bullied in front of a large group of onlookers.

‘I expect an answer, Harry,' Dumbledore insisted, his tone sharp, and Harry's head shot up again. He now felt beyond uncomfortable and even wondered if he just shouldn't have accepted whatever Snape had wanted to deal out. Any whacking would have been better than having Dumbledore speak to him like this. Well, not necessarily better, he told himself when he remembered the excruciating lines of agony that had striped his bum when Snape had caned him, but not much worse, either, and it would have been over by now.

‘Erm, I guess I might say something awful in that situation, sir, and I wouldn't like to be judged by it for the rest of my life, sir', he muttered.

‘I thought you wouldn't. So I hope you understand that Professor Snape got angry when you mentioned that particular memory.' There was a short pause. ‘After all, what your father did to him that day is unexcusable.'

‘I know!' Harry exclaimed, feeling defensive. ‘Really, I do, and when I saw it I really felt sorry for Snape, I mean, Dudley has done the same thing to me. Well, okay, maybe not quite as bad, but I know how he must have felt. But I mean, that's not my fault, there's nothing I can do about it, or do you want me to apologize to him for what my father did?' he challenged.

‘No, Harry', the headmaster replied quietly. ‘You are only supposed to apologize for what you did.'

‘But I didn't do anything!'

‘You looked,' Dumbledore said simply.

‘Yes,' Harry said miserably. ‘I did, and I wish I hadn't. It was horrible to see my father behave like he did.'

Dumbledore watched him with a stern expression on his face. ‘So this is why you regret having looked? Because it showed you James in an unfavourable moment?'

Harry just nodded. He had so few memories of his parents, it made him feel sick that one of the strongest memories of his father was of the man - well, boy - being a despicable bully. He was surprised to see the headmaster frown at him.

‘While I can understand why that would bother you, it disappoints me that you do not also regret it because of Professor Snape. You violated his privacy. How do you think he feels about your having seen him in such a situation?'

Harry swallowed hard. ‘Horrible,' he muttered. But then he defended himself, ‘But sir, during those lessons he saw a lot of things from my life that were embarrassing for me. If he was so concerned about privacy, why didn't he give me the chance to hide things from him as well?'

‘Professor Snape and I did discuss that option', the old wizard replied. ‘However, we decided against it. I feared you might hide your visions in the Pensieve as well as any unpleasant childhood memories, and we did not feel we could risk that. Can you understand that?'

Harry gave a reluctant nod. ‘But I still don't agree!'

The headmaster sighed. ‘I know.'

After a pause, while both sat in thought, Dumbledore peered at Harry over the rim of his glasses. ‘As I have said, I know that Professor Snape is not a kind man, and I know that he often gives you a hard time in class. Now please tell me, did he ever use anything that he saw during Occlumency lessons against you?'

‘No', Harry admitted. Now that he thought about it, it really surprised him that his teacher hadn't.

‘I thought not', Dumbledore said sternly. ‘Professor Snape did not sink so low as to use the knowledge he gained from accessing your mind against you. But you did, Harry. You did.'

Harry closed his eyes. The headmaster was right - he had done the very thing that he had feared Snape would do, while the man had scrupulously avoided such an act. He felt truly horrible. The disappointment in Dumbledore's voice was hard to bear, and Harry thought it would have been easier if he had yelled at him. He cleared his throat and tried to find his voice.

‘So, when Sn.... erm, Professor Snape wanted to give me the cane today, do you think I deserved it?' he asked hesitantly.

‘I do', Harry flinched at that but the headmaster hadn't finished yet, ‘although I think you did the right thing in refusing this morning.'

Harry blinked in confusion. ‘I don't understand, sir'.

‘It was the right decision not to submit to Professor Snape's punishment if you feared he was too angry to deliver it in an appropriate manner. Besides, it wouldn't have made sense as you obviously didn't realize what you had done wrong.'

There was silence after these words. The old wizard leaned back in his chair, seemingly seeing no need to say anything more. Harry had an odd feeling in his stomach. What would Dumbledore do with him now? His thoughts wandered back to his last conversation with the old wizard, where the man had said it was highly unlikely that he would use corporal punishment, but he hadn't specified what he would do. Harry swallowed and forced himself to speak.

‘So, now that I have realized it... are you going to punish me?'

Dumbledore's face was sombre as he answered. ‘No Harry, I will not let you off so easily this time.'

Harry was more confused than ever by now. Not so easily this time? What was that supposed to mean? He considered the punishments he had lately received at Snape's hands to be anything but easy! He opened his mouth, but closed it again as he didn't know what to say. His confusion must have shown on his face, as the headmaster explained, ‘Punishment is rather a simple concept, Harry, and as such it works fine on children. As a child you do something wrong, you get punished and you hopefully learn from it. End of story. However, it is just a few months until you come of age, Harry, and so I think you should, now that you understand where you went wrong, be given the chance - and the obligation - to decide for yourself what you are going to do about it.'

‘You mean, I should punish myself?' Harry asked incredulously.

‘Not exactly,' Dumbledore said. ‘After all, we are not living in the Middle Age when people would flagellate themselves for their sins. Just think about what you feel you need to to. It is your decision; I will not force you to do anything.'

Harry was still sitting motionless in his chair. He suddenly noticed that he had his hands clenched into fists in his lap.Wiping his sweaty palms on his robe he found he was unable to say anything coherent. Dumbledore didn't seem to expect anything from him, either, for he merely peered at him and said, ‘That's all for now, then. You may go.'

‘Yes, sir,' Harry whispered as he rose from his chair, more confused than ever. He turned to go, feeling well and truly chastened and wondering what he could do to fix the situation.

As he reached for the doorknob, the headmaster spoke again. ‘Harry.'

Harry turned around, bracing himself for one final expression of the headmaster's disappointment in him.

‘Harry, standing on the threshold of adulthood is a difficult time for any young man. Circumstances have made it particularly difficult for you - lacking parents or loving guardians to help guide you, having enormous and unfair expectations placed upon you, living your life under constant public scrutiny... I just want you to know that, occasional lapses aside, I am very proud of the man you have become. And that is why I am confident that you will do the right thing in this situation.'

'Thank you, sir', Harry muttered, even more thunderstruck than when the headmaster had indicated that he should punish himself.

‘And, Harry,' there was a new tone in the headmaster's voice, and Harry's heart leaped as he finally recognized a twinkle in the old man's eye. It wasn't as bright as usual, but it was definitely there, for the first time in the entire interview. ‘you will learn from this experience and you will become a better person from it. Of this I am confident. Another challenge you must face at your time of life is the absence of the sense of perspective that experience will give you. As dreadful as your recent behaviour has been, it is not the end of the world - though you may find yourself having to endure some unpleasant moments with Professor Snape in the near term.'

Harry couldn't suppress a grimace, and the headmaster's small smile widened.  ‘Off you go then, Harry.'

If asked later, Harry could not have told anyone how he had got into the Gryffindor common room. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he walked merely automatically. Passing through the portrait of the Fat Lady, he noted at once that Hermione and Ron had returned from Hogsmeade and were waiting for him in a corner. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to talk to them or not, but there seemed to be no way out of it anyway, so he walked over to meet them.

‘How did it go, mate?' Ron asked uncertainly.

Harry merely shrugged.

‘Oh, Harry, you look as pale as a ghost!' Hermione exclaimed, but hastily lowered her voice to an urgent whisper. ‘What on earth did Dumbledore do to you?'

Harry sighed, not knowing what to say. Resolutely, Hermione stood up. ‘Come on, let's go for a walk around the lake and you can tell us then.'

It was a warm and sunny day outside, and while they were walking Harry drew a deep breath. His friends were watching him anxiously but without urging him to speak. Harry suddenly felt a profound rush of gratitude that he had them at his side, always willing to share his troubles. What would he do without them? They were true friends. Dumbledore's words rang inside his head: As a spy you must be friendless. He shuddered internally. Didn't Snape ever feel the need to talk to a trusted friend?

‘Thanks', he blurted out. At their bewildered looks he explained, ‘For being here. For returning early from Hogsmeade. Well... for everything.'

Ron and Hermione looked a little embarassed at first, then Ron spoke. ‘Really, mate, what did Dumbledore do?'

Harry wondered how many days had passed since the three of them had been walking along this same place and he told them what had happened in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Walking made talking easier for him but he still struggled for the best way to begin. ‘He didn't do anything, really, just talked. But that was bad enough. You know, when I was with Snape, I got in a row with him, and when I thought that Snape would attack me, I drew my wand on him. Dumbledore wasn't too impressed.'

‘I bet he wasn't,' Ron whistled. ‘I'm surprised that Snape just threw you out of his office.'

‘Actually, he wanted to give me the cane,' Harry admitted, ‘but I didn't let him. And Dumbledore believed me when I said I just wanted to defend myself and that given my history it was understandable. He was more pissed off with my shouting at Snape, really.'

‘What was your row with Snape about?' Hermione asked softly.

Harry looked at her and decided he wouldn't hide it from her anymore; she deserved the truth. He gave them a detailed report on what had happened between him and Snape, only leaving out the bit concerning how he had watched Snape's memory.

‘Bloody Hell!' If anything, Ron sounded impressed. ‘No wonder Snape got mad! Still, what you said was true, wasn't it? I can see how Dumbledore would have to tell you off for disrespect, but I wouldn't have thought he'd be so hard on you.'

Harry sighed. He didn't feel up to repeating Dumbledore's lecture to his friends; it had been painful enough listening to it.

‘Oh, Harry.' Hermione struggled for words. ‘I really appreciate that you tried to defend me, but be careful with Snape! And why did you think Snape would call me a Mudblood? In all these years, he's called me many things but not that. After all, he's in the Order!' She hesitated a moment before she asked, ‘Was this what made Snape so mad? That you assumed he would use that word on his students?'

Harry swallowed. ‘There's something I never told you,' he muttered. ‘Remember last year, when Snape suddenly stopped giving me Occlumency lessons?'

Both friends nodded silently.

‘Well, I didn't tell you the truth back then,' Harry admitted, staring at the floor. ‘He didn't stop because he thought I got the hang of it. He stopped because he threw me out of his office and said he never wanted to see me there ever again.'

‘Why?' Hermione whispered, looking at him wide-eyed.

‘He had borrowed Dumbledore's pensieve for the lessons and stored some of his memories there before each lesson, in case I managed to break into his mind. Well, on that last lesson, he had to leave the office urgently and I ... didn't leave straight away.... and I peeked.'

Harry felt himself blush. He felt so ashamed of what he had done, much more than the year before when the feeling of shame at his own actions had been masked by loathing for what his father had done. He raised his gaze and looked at his staring friends. ‘Snape came back earlier than I had thought ... and he caught me inside his memory,' he added softly.

‘Oh, Harry', Hermione said softly. Harry couldn't help the thought that every other sentence out of Hermione's mouth started with "Oh, Harry."

He was glad that Ron distracted her as he asked,'So what did Snape do to you?'

‘He was livid,' Harry told him, shuddering at the memory of the man's eyes. ‘But he didn't do anything to me, not really.' Should he tell them how Snape had yanked him out of the pensieve and pushed him to the floor, how he had thrown a glass jar at him? No, he decided, that's between Snape and me.

The look that Ron shot him clearly showed that he wasn't so easily fooled, but he didn't press the point. Instead he asked curiously, ‘If Snape had stowed it away, it must have been something he really didn't want you to see. Was it very bad?'

‘Yeah,' Harry muttered, then added in a firmer voice., ‘but I can't tell you about it. I promised Snape I wouldn't tell anybody, and I mean, I shouldn't have looked in the first place.'

‘Well, I think I'd have probably looked, too,' Ron admitted, making Harry feel slightly better.

Hermione frowned. ‘This is certainly interesting, but what does it have to do with what happened today?'

‘During my row with Snape I used what I had seen in his pensieve against him. I think that was what made him so angry ... and Dumbledore, too. But Dumbledore said that although I deserved to be punished, he wouldn't punish me because I'm old enough to decide for myself what I should do to make it right.'

There was a long silence as the three friends looked at each other. Then Harry sighed, ‘No offence, guys, but I think I need to be alone now and do some thinking, OK?'

Hermione and Ron looked at him uncertainly then exchanged a glance. ‘Sure, mate', Ron said bracingly. ‘See you later.' Hermione just nodded encouragingly and together they headed back for the castle, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.

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Dinner in the Great Hall was, as usual, a noisy affair. Harry pushed the food on his plate from one side to the other, having hardly any appetite at all. He had dared to look at the teaches' table only once. Snape was there, glowering down at his plate, and Harry was glad that they hadn't made eye contact. Ron and Hermione were shooting him nervous glances every few moments.

‘So, Harry,' Hermione asked tentatively. ‘Have you thought about what you're going to do?'

‘Yep.' Harry nodded grimly. ‘I'm going to see Snape right after dinner. I just hope he isn't busy with someone else. I'd better check on my map before I go there.'

‘Well,' Ron said hesitantly, ‘are you sure it's a good idea to do this tonight? I mean, I don't know how Snape will take being disrupted on a Saturday evening, by you of all people, and besides, I mean, have you seen his face? He's still in a horrible mood! Why not wait until he's had a chance to cool down? You could go there tomorrow morning or -  no! - even better, go on Monday morning before class. At least he can't keep you that long then.'

Harry shook his head. ‘No, Ron, I want to get this over with. And I definitely don't want to go in the morning. After all, there's a good chance I'll end up getting whacked again - and at least this way I'll be able to lie down afterwards and try to sleep off the worst of it.' He was surprised that he could talk so matter of factly about the chance of being caned again, and judging from the bewildered faces of Ron and Hermione, so were they.

Hermione actually blushed a little when she proposed hesitantly, ‘Well Harry, if you think that's likely to happen, maybe you can prepare yourself a bit? Wear an extra pair of underwear or something? Or does Snape...  check?'

Harry shook his head, internally shuddering when he thought how humiliating that would be. But Ron warned, ‘Don't do it, mate. He might find out somehow and then...' He didn't finish the sentence.

‘Yes, that would be more than embarrassing,' Harry agreed. ‘No, I'll just take what comes.' He actually manged a small grin. ‘Really you two, what happened to you, changing roles? Hermione giving ideas how to cheat and Ron warning me against it?'

However, by the time Harry found himself in front of Snape's door, any trace of amusement had faded. He gulped and knocked. When he heard heavy steps from inside the office, he drew a deep breath and wiped his sweaty palms on his robe. The door opened and Snape stood with his arms folded on the threshold, glaring at him.

Harry cleared his throat. ‘Sir, may I talk to you, please?' he managed to choke out.

He wouldn't have thought it possible for Snape's glare to intensify, but it did. ‘And what makes you think I would want to spoil my evening by talking to you, Potter?' the man spat.

Harry flinched at the hatred in Snape's voice as he pronounced his last name. ‘Please sir, I'm sorry!' he pleaded.

‘I'm not interested,' was the cold reply.

Harry felt his stomach contract. Abruptly he realized how much Dumbledore's words had affected him. He no longer felt the hatred and contempt for Snape that he once had. He still didn't like the man, but he respected him, and - to his own surprise - he found he was desperately sorry for how he had treated him. Harry still didn't feel all that guilty about having defended Hermione from Snape's snarky comments about her teaching yoga and being a know-it-all, but he had to make Snape understand just how badly he felt for having used the man's memories against him and jumping to conclusions. He put up his hand to forestall the professor's closing the door. Even if it meant taking another dose of the cane, Harry wanted to know Snape had - if not forgiven him - at least recognised his remorse.

‘I'm sorry, sir!' he insisted. ‘Please....!'

Snape paused and stared at him strangely for a moment. Then he sighed and stepped aside to let Harry pass. ‘Come in and sit down, Potter.'

Relieved, but at the same time increasingly apprehensive, Harry sat down in the chair opposite Snape's desk. Bracing himself for what he would do next, he slowly drew his wand.  

Head bowed, he laid his wand on the table and carefully pushed it over to Snape's end of the desk. Folding his hands in his lap, he stared down at them and, heart hammering, waited for Snape's reaction. During his solitary walk around the lake, he had spent a lot of time wondering how best to proceed. Handing his wand over right at the beginning had seemed the best way to show Snape he was willing to have this encounter on Snape's terms. He just hoped Snape would understand the gesture. When he heard nothing, he hesitantly looked up and met Snape's eyes.

‘What did you want to say to me, Potter?' Snape looked at him coldly. Harry's wand was still lying on the desk, untouched.

Harry swallowed. ‘I wanted to apologize, sir, for shouting at you and for drawing my wand. And I wanted you to know that I wasn't going to attack you. I really wasn't! You just looked so angry and I thought you were going to hex me, so it was a reflex action.'

‘A reflex action,' Snape repeated sarcastically.

‘Yes,' Harry insisted. ‘But I'm still sorry, and I know I shouldn't have shouted at you like I did. And...' He dropped his gaze, his voice barely above a whisper, ‘I'm very sorry for mentioning the memory. I shouldn't have done that. You - you've never used any of the memories you saw in my head against me, and I'm sorry that I did.' He still kept his gaze on the floor. ‘And it‘s not as if I've never said anything stupid when I was furious. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions.'

There, it was out. Harry was glad that he'd been allowed to say it all without interruption. Now he waited nervously for Snape to speak.

‘So, Potter, to what do I owe this sudden, remorseful display? Have you suddenly matured? Or are you simply here because the headmaster ordered you to come? I trust he has expressed his displeasure and punished you?'

Harry swallowed. He had made a vow to himself that, on this occasion at least, he would be absolutely honest with Snape, no matter what might result. If the man caught him in a single lie, Harry was certain Snape wouldn't believe any of his sincere apologies, and Harry didn't want to risk that. ‘He didn't tell me to come here... Sir', he hastily added. ‘And he didn't punish me, either. But he did "express his displeasure" and make me see that what I did was wrong. I hadn't seen it like that before.'

‘Oh?' Snape drawled. ‘How had you seen it, Potter?'

‘Well,' Harry paused, gathering his thoughts. ‘You were ridiculing Hermione, and that made me angry. I was already annoyed about having to be in detention when everyone else was off at Hogsmeade and I just decided that this time I wasn't going to sit there and take it. I knew I wasn't exactly being respectful, but ....'. He swallowed. He knew if he went on with what he wanted to say, Snape wouldn't be pleased in the least. On the other hand, this was probably the only chance he'd get where Snape had hinted that he was willing to listen to him, so it would be immensely stupid not to use the opportunity. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, he thought. ‘I didn't feel like I had to.'

Oh no, I'm really going to get it now... he thought when he saw Snape's face contort in fury and hastily went on. ‘You see, sir, I know you've saved my life several times, but you've also treated me unfairly right from the beginning. I mean, on my very first day at Hogwarts, you made it clear that you disliked me, and I hadn't done anything to you! Then after that first potions lesson, everyone knew you hated me, but I had no idea why! Well, now I know it's because of my father, but honestly, I was just a scared and nervous eleven-year old!

‘Was it just because I looked like him? There was nothing I could do about that! And I never wanted my fame. I hate it when everybody stares at me. But you've always assumed that I enjoyed it, always said I was arrogant.... You've never treated me with any respect, so I didn't feel like I should treat you with any!'

Harry suddenly realized to his utter astonishment that, although his voice had risen considerably, Snape had neither interrupted nor attacked him but just was looking with a stony face at him. He swallowed and continued in a calmer tone. ‘You won't believe it, but Potions was one of the subjects I'd been looking forward to most before coming here. When Hagrid took me shopping for my school things, I loved the scales and my cauldron and those interesting ingredients and I couldn't wait to learn how to use them. Well, until that first lesson, anyway.'

He stopped. How might things have worked out  if Snape had treated him fairly from the beginning? Would he have liked Potions? After all, Professor Slughorn always said that his mother had been an apt hand at potions. Harry sighed and looked at his Professor, whose face was unreadable. ‘Sir, I know I haven't been a model student. But I'm also sure that many times my potions weren't worse than the others', but I was the only one who got a zero. And I know that you have always been angry at my rule-breaking, and I understand that, I mean, you are a teacher, but...‘ He struggled to find the right words. ‘I mean, I'm a student and everybody breaks a rule now and then, and when we get caught we serve detention...' He stopped, noticing himself that what he said didn't make much sense, and Snape's raised eyebrows seemed to confirm this. ‘What I mean is, the other teachers don't like it when I break the rules, but they just punish me and that's it. With me you always take it personally, like I do it deliberately to make you mad. You've said I consider myself above the rules, but that's not true!'

‘Isn't it, Potter?' Snape questioned him icily. ‘It appears to me that when it comes to rulebreaking, you have broken all the records. Well, at least if we leave the Weasley twins out of the competition. And, to use your own words, not many "scared and nervous eleven-year-olds" make a habit of wandering the castle at night, in the restricted section of the library no less!'

Harry gulped at the hostile tone. He still thought he hadn't considered himself above the rules. He understood that if he had been caught he would have been punished. But he couldn't think fast enough of a way to express this line of thought. Snape was still speaking.

‘You, Potter, broke the rules again and again, and when you heard that your father had also done so, it got even worse. After Lupin gave you that infernal map that insulted me, there was no stopping you!'

‘It wasn't him,' Harry muttered.

‘Do not interrupt me! This map that your father co-manufactured helped you to feel truly immune to being found out, didn't it? Oh, you were only too glad to follow in your wonderful father's footsteps, weren't you, Potter?'

Harry said nothing. This was so unfair. Snape was harping on his rule-breaking, when his bad treatment of Harry had started even before Harry had broken a single rule. The blood was rushing in his ears. Calm down, he told himself. He'll never listen to you otherwise! And there was still something he needed to tell Snape, and he wanted the man to believe him.

‘Sir,' he said, ‘it's true that I used to like it when people said I was like my dad. For the first eleven years of my life, I didn't know anything about my parents except the lies my aunt and uncle told me. When I got here and people told me my dad was brave and smart and good at Quidditch -then of course, I wanted to be like him. But, please believe me, when I saw the memory in the pensieve I was shocked to see him behaving like an idiot! When you caught me in the pensieve you asked if I was having fun, but you never let me answer. Well, let me answer now: absolutely not! I may break the rules, but I am not a bully. I know what it's like to be bullied, thanks to my cousin! And I found it horrible to see my dad treat you like that!'

‘I'm aware of that, Potter.'

The calm tone halted Harry's impassioned speech. It took a moment before he could find his voice. ‘You are?' Harry asked, bewildered.

‘Lupin informed me that you had told them off for their behaviour. He said you were devastated by what you had seen.'

‘I was,' Harry admitted miserably. ‘Everyone except you had always said he was a good person, but then I saw him act like such a prat... ‘ He added, hardly above a whisper, ‘I wish I had never looked.'

‘Yet it never occured to you to apologize. It took the headmaster for that.' Snape's cool statement made Harry flinch.

‘Yeah, you're right,' he agreed unhappily. ‘I felt more sorry for myself for seeing him like that than for you at knowing I had seen it. But the headmaster made me see how selfish that was. I'm truly sorry, Professor,' he said, dragging his eyes up to meet Snape's. ‘Please believe me. I know you must hate the thought I saw you like that. I can understand why you were furious - and still are.' He swallowed hard.

‘Yes, Potter, I was furious. And believe me, had I then had the authority to cane you, I would definitely have made use of it. Who knows, it might have saved both of us some trouble and grief.'

Harry could only guess at what the man meant. Did Snape mean that, after caning Harry, he would have been willing to continue Occlumency lessons? That Voldemort wouldn't then have succeeded in luring him into the Department of Mysteries? That Sirius - ? A lump started building in his throat and he was almost grateful for Snape's next sarcastic remark.

‘At the very least, it would undoubtedly have made one of us feel much better afterwards.'

Harry nodded silently and looked down at his hands. He could understand that. ‘You could still do it,' he said quietly. Oh, no, Harry, you idiot, are you daft, did you just suggest that? Blushing, he nervously looked up and saw Snape peer at him, his face inscrutable.

‘A whole year later? I don't think so, Potter. I may hold a grudge, but even for me that's a bit much.'

Harry suppressed a deep sigh of relief. That was almost a joke. Encouraged, he asked tentatively, ‘Sir, would you mind telling me...My dad, was he generally like that? You know, a bully?'

Snape considered him for a moment. ‘No, Potter. Not generally.' Harry breathed another sigh of relief. ‘Just with me,' the man continued coolly.

‘Oh.' Harry felt there was nothing he really could say to that. Instead, he felt the need to explain one last thing. ‘Sir, I just wanted you to know, when I looked into your pensieve, I didn't do it because I wanted to see embarassing things from your private life. Really! It was just that nobody was telling me anything, and I thought you might have some information about the Order in the pensieve, and I would find out what it was all about with the Department of Mysteries, but then when I saw my dad in there I just couldn't leave...'

‘Let me see if I understood you correctly,' Snape said slowly.‘You didn't want to embarrass me but rather looked into my pensieve in order to find out about Order business that I might have wanted to hide from you.' He paused and said quietly, ‘I see.'

‘Yes,' Harry confirmed, relieved that Snape obviously believed him.

‘And it didn't occur to you,' Snape went on, still quietly, ‘that any information hidden there would have been there for a reason? You are aware what the Dark Lord would have done to me if he had broken through your non-existent occlumency shields and found memories concerning my work for the Order in your mind?' He shook his head. ‘Really, Potter, I know that you dislike me, but I have been unaware until now how cunningly you have worked to bring about my painful death!'

Harry was just staring at his teacher. Now that Snape put it like that, he couldn't help to see the logic in what the man said.

‘I.... I didn't think!' he stammered.

‘That, Potter,' Snape said icily, ‘is exactly your problem. You never think!'

Harry felt defensive. True, looking into Snape's pensieve had definitely been a bad idea, but to say he never thought....

‘Well, Hermione does!' he said flippantly.

To his utter surprise, no rebuke followed. Snape merely said forcefully, ‘Yes, thank Merlin, she does! I am only glad, Potter, that you prove more sensible in your choice of friends than in your choice of actions!'

Harry blinked. Okay, that had definitely been an insult aimed at him, but hadn't it also been a compliment for Hermione? It couldn't be, but...

‘In fact, you should listen more closely to what she says. Especially during the next few weeks, when she will be explaining those relaxation techniques to you.'

Now he felt as if he was dreaming. ‘But earlier you thought that the whole idea was just ridiculous!' he protested.

‘I never said that, Potter', Snape snapped. ‘And if you hadn't been in such a foul mood from the moment you entered my office, you might not have jumped to that conclusion. Although, I forget, jumping to self-righteous conclusions about other people is a speciality of yours!'

‘But,' Harry protested feebly, ‘you did make fun of her wanting to teach me meditation! Sir.'

‘And you blame me for that?' Snape remarked drily. ‘You fail to see that the thought of you of all people sitting on the floor, meditating, is about as bizarre as the idea of Professor Trelawney playing Quidditch?'

Harry almost laughed out loud at the mental image of the loony woman on a broom with all her shawls fluttering around her. ‘Maybe she'd see the snitch with her Inner Eye', he grinned.

‘Maybe, Potter.' Did Snape's lips just twitch? Harry wasn't sure. He became aware that he himself was still grinning and was completely taken aback. Of all scenarios he had imagined before he came to Snape's office, none of them included a single moment where he would be even faintly amused. But, he realized with a sense of shock, Snape actually did have a sense of humour, albeit one that was often cutting.

‘So, you mean, you weren't laughing about Hermione, but about me?' he inquired hopefully.

‘Indeed, Potter.' Snape eyed him for a moment. ‘You become incensed at the thought that I might be mocking Miss Granger, but can find it amusing if you are the target of my humour?'

Harry shrugged awkwardly. It sounded weird when you put it like that, but he was always more protective of his friends than of himself.

Snape gave him another odd look, then dropped the subject. ‘Given your personality, I am sure Miss Granger has immersed herself into what may well prove her most challenging project.' Harry was sure now; the man was barely suppressing a smirk. ‘But given her dogged persistence, I believe she is well suited to the job.'

He peered at Harry and hesitated before continuing. ‘I realize, Potter, that my methods to train you to control your temper have been somewhat... drastic. And it might well be that Miss Granger's approach will work better for you, especially since you obviously trust her and don't suspect her of "just wanting to make you miserable".' He quoted Harry's outburst from the morning.

Harry stared at him, unable to believe what he had just heard. There could be no doubt: Snape had just complimented Hermione!

‘I have better things to do on Saturday mornings than have you yell at me, Potter,' his teacher continued quietly. ‘so I will suspend your detentions. Instead you will work with Miss Granger. But mark me! I will keep my eye on you to ensure that you practise and make progress. If you do, we will consider your detentions with me finished. If you don't...' There was an ominous pause.

‘I will!' Harry assured him hastily. ‘I promise!' He couldn't believe what he had just heard! Not only was Snape letting him live, but he had cancelled his detentions as well? This was too good to be true.

‘Is there anything else about the Sectumsempra affair or today's events that you would like to tell me?' Snape asked, looking into Harry's eyes.

‘No, sir,' the boy said softly. He felt limp with relief - Snape had listened to him, had even seemed to accept his apology, and had - incredibly! - let him off of further detentions!

‘I see. Then we will complete this now.'

With those words, Harry's sense of relief evaporated. He watched anxiously as his professor got up and moved across the room. Harry swallowed as Snape walked over to the cupboard and opened it. He had a pretty good idea what the man would take out. He briefly closed his eyes. Come on, Harry, you knew you were going to get it, so pull yourself together! He scolded himself. At least Snape has calmed down, so it probably won't be any worse than what you got before...

He opened his eyes and saw that Snape indeed held the cane in his hand and was approaching him. Drawing a deep breath, he forced himself to stand up and take a step towards the desk.

‘Yes, sir,' he whispered and started undoing the fastenings of his robe.

‘Potter,' Snape said calmly, holding the cane out to him, ‘take this and put it back where it belongs.'

‘What!?' Harry spluttered.

‘Take the cane and put it back where we got it from,' Snape repeated impatiently. ‘I trust you remember where that was?'

‘Y-yes,' Harry stammered, ‘but aren't you going to ... you know?'

‘Cane you?' Snape shook his head. ‘No. I have no intention of doing so again.' He hesitated. ‘It might have been a mistake the last time as well.'

Harry stared at him, utterly bewildered. What had got into Snape? That had almost sounded like an apology!

‘That's okay', he mumbled, too stunned to say anything else. ‘Erm, I did tell you that Professor Dumbledore didn't punish me, didn't I?'he asked, just to make sure that Snape wasn't letting him off under a misapprehension.

‘You never before appeared to be someone who minded getting out of a punishment.' Snape raised his eyebrows.  ‘And last time I looked, you were no house-elf. But, certainly, if you insist... ‘ He flexed the cane meaningfully.

‘No!' Harry shouted hastily, then blushed crimson. ‘Of course not,' he muttered, hurrying to take the cane from his teacher before Snape could change his mind.

As Snape handed him the cane, Harry couldn't suppress a feeling of both relief and gratitude towards Snape. He recognized the man's gesture for what it was - Snape could have just dismissed him and taken the cane back himself, without a word to Harry. But instead, he was letting Harry put the cane back, making it clear that as far as he was concerned, the whole Sectumsempra affair was well and truly over, and whatever conflicts the two might have in the future, Harry didn't have to worry about the cane being brought into use. ‘Thanks', he mumbled, unable to say more past the lump in his throat.

Snape nodded. ‘Don't forget your wand, Mr. Potter.'

Harry picked it up and walked to the door, thinking that over the past two weeks, he had never made it to this door without Snape throwing a last remark at him.

‘Potter?'

Harry suppressed a grin as he turned around. It felt good to know he had finally figured out what to expect from the man! ‘Sir?'

‘I just wanted to warn you, Potter. There is no need to indulge in your usual disrespect. I said "put it back", not "snap it in two and feed the pieces to the Giant Squid". After all, I might have need of it again, mightn't I?'

Two weeks ago, Harry would have been upset by that remark. He would have assumed Snape was taunting him, pointing out that he could, at any time, force Harry to retrieve the cane. Two weeks ago, he would have assumed that Snape would enjoy laying into him. But now he thought that their relationship had changed. He and Snape would certainly never be friends - but they could be ... comrades, working together to defeat Voldemort. And with his better insight into the dour Potions Master, Harry suddenly knew that Snape was as determined to avoid using the cane on him as he himself was to avoid receiving it. Yes, while Snape's actual warning was certainly meant seriously, the threat that was issued with it was just another sample of Snape's cruel humour. Well, he could surely deal with that.

‘Don't worry, sir,' he said, his face straight. ‘I'll stow it away neatly so that you will have no problem finding it.'

Yes, he could have sworn the man's lips twitched. Encouraged, he grinned and added, 'After all, you might need it for Malfoy.'

Snape rolled his eyes. ‘Good night, Mr Potter.'

Bound by the headmaster's spell, Harry stared mutely in shock as the jet of green light erupted from Snape's wand and hit Dumbledore's chest, blasting the old wizard into the air. For a split second he seemed to hang suspended beneath the shining skull, and then he fell backwards, over the battlements and out of sight. Harry refused to believe what he had just seen. Was this a trick? But how...?

‘Out of here, quickly,' ordered Snape, seizing Draco Malfoy by the scruff of the neck and forcing him through the door. Suddenly Harry realized that he could move again, and it was in that moment that the truth hit him. The green light had been no trick, it had been real. Dumbledore had to be dead, otherwise he still wouldn't be able to move. Snape had killed Dumbledore, he really had...

Half in a daze, he saw the other Death Eaters who had watched Dumbledore die hastily leave the tower, and from down below he heard Snape shout, ‘It's over, time to go!'

His professor's voice brought him back to his senses. No, the murderer would not leave the scene of the crime so easily; he would see to that! He sprinted down the spiral staircase, down to the lower levels where the fight was still raging, though the death eaters were retreating.

Harry had no interest in the fighting: his only aim now was to get to Snape before the man could leave the school's anti-Apparition wards. As he was stil wearing his invisibility cloak, no curses were aimed directly at him, but he still had to duck several that were flying around. Once he reached the door, he roughly pushed aside an astonished Death Eater and ran down the corridor. There were more steps to take and in his hurry, he tripped on his invisibility cloak and fell down the last steps. Cursing, he jumped up and grabbed the cloak that lay beside him. He didn't bother to put it on again; it just slowed him down anyway. Instead, he tossed it into an empty classroom and banged the door shut. He would fetch it later after he had dealt with Snape.

Finally he left the castle and ran towards the gate. Draco must have already disapparated, but Snape was still there, obviously waiting for his Death Eater friends. Harry could hear theír footsteps behind him. He didn't bother to turn around though; reaching Snape was all that mattered now.

When he heard a female voice yell a curse behind him, for a fraction of a second he thought he had made a grave mistake, then he heard a dull noise at his back and an invisible force abruptly threw him to the ground. Right next to him, a bush erupted into flames. 

Harry groaned. His knees and elbows hurt from the fall, but he was otherwise unscathed. Had that woman missed him and hit the bush? But what had been that strange sound at his back? Had someone cast a shield spell for him? Were the Order members already here too?

‘No!' He heard Snape yell at the witch from up ahead of him. ‘Have you forgotten our orders? Potter belongs to the Dark Lord! We are to leave him! Go! Go!! You, too, hurry up!' he shouted at the other Death Eaters.

Luckily for Harry, they listened to Snape and rushed past him, though one didn't miss the chance to give Harry a kick in the side as the teen struggled to rise.

By the time Harry had finally scrambled to his feet, the Death Eaters had disappeared - all but one. Snape's lonely silhouette could still be seen right beside the Apparition barrier.

Why didn't he disapparate as well? Harry wondered briefly, then quickly covered the short distance that separated him from Snape. Just as well; he won't get away so easily!

‘Sectumsempra!' he yelled, waving his wand wildly, but Snape deflected the spell with a quick flick of his own wand.

‘You dare use my own spell against me, Potter?' he hissed dangerously. ‘It was I who invented it  -  I, the Half-Blood Prince!'

The revelation only served to infuriate Harry more.  You are the Half-Blood Prince? You invented that spell and then thrashed me mercilessly for using it? You bloody hypocrite! ‘Stupefy!' he yelled, and another red jet of light flew at Snape, but the man again blocked the spell easily.

‘You will never win a duel if you don't master nonverbal spells, Potter!' Snape spat.

Don't you dare lecture me now! I hate you, and I really think I can do this now. I definitely mean it, and to hell with its being illegal, Harry thought as he shouted. ‘Crucio!'

For a moment he thought he had succeeded, but at the last moment Snape managed to erect a shield and the curse was deflected. However, Harry refused to give up, and opened his mouth for a second try, when suddenly his wand flew out of his hand and, to his utter horror, was caught by Snape. Yes, Snape was extremely apt at nonverbal spells; he had demonstrated this numerous times in the classroom.

‘No Unforgivables from you, Potter!' Snape commanded. ‘You have neither the ability nor the nerve!'

Well, maybe not, thought Harry angrily, at least not now that I am disarmed, but that doesn't mean I won't keep fighting!  Fists raised, he flung himself at Snape Muggle-style, but a Jelly-Legs Jinx dropped him to the ground. He cursed and spat out mud. There was no way he could stand up, but he raised himself to a sitting position and glared at Snape who had approached and now stood less than five feet from him.

Was this the end? He was as defenceless as Dumbledore had been less than twenty minutes ago. Would he now meet the same fate at the hands of the same man? Harry's heart hammered, but it was out of hatred for Snape and his betrayal, not out of fear. ‘Kill me, then,' he panted. ‘Kill me like you killed him, you coward!'

Snape's facial features contorted in rage. ‘Never - ‘ his wand whipped through the air  ‘-call me a -‘  another whipping movement of his wand followed, this time in the opposite direction ‘-coward!' he hissed furiously.

Harry cried out in pain, and his hands flew to his face where livid welts on both cheeks burned tremendously.

The sharp pain cut through Harry's rage, allowing him to think more rationally.

Harry glanced at his fingers. He was surprised there was no blood on them given how much his face hurt. But Snape obviously hadn't injured him seriously. Harry couldn't help but feel bewildered. He had tried to Sectumsempra and Crucio the man, and all that Snape did in return was to use a Jelly Legs Jinx and Expelliaramus, but when he called the man a coward, that caused him to lose his temper and lash out?

Besides, Snape couldn't deny it, Dumbledore had been defenceless, and, what's more, he had trusted Snape and never suspected what he had planned. Harry stared accusingly at Snape again. ‘Dumbledore trusted you absolutely,'  he said tonelessly.

‘Yes, Potter.' Snape's voice was no more than a hoarse whisper. ‘He did.'

‘How could you?' Harry's voice broke. He felt completely overwhelmed. During the past weeks he and Snape had managed to treat each other civilly, even respectfully. And then, just a few hours ago, he had suffered a huge shock when Sybil Trelawney revealed Snape's role in the murder of his parents.

Yes, he had realized that by performing his spying duties Snape was atoning for fatal decisions in his past, and he'd even felt a certain sympathy for his teacher, but those crimes had always been something abstract. Learning that Snape was directly responsible for his own parents' deaths had suddenly made that past a lot more personal and a lot harder to accept.

Still, Dumbledore had managed to convince him of Snape's ignorance as to who the prophecy was about at the time and his subsequent deep regret when he had realized what his actions had caused. It had been hard for Harry to accept, and had it not been for their changed relationship he would never even have considered trying to see things from Snape's perspective, But he had in the end and he had promised Dumbledore to try not to let this revelation affect the trust he had managed to develop for Snape. And now this. The ultimate betrayal.

‘And I trusted you, too,' he said in a low voice and swallowed. A lump was forming in his throat, and he realized that now that his wild rage had disappeared, grief was setting in. It was not only grief for the loss of Dumbledore, the most important mentor and the closest thing to a grandfather he had ever had, but also grief about a betrayal by yet another person whom he had trusted. The fact that it had been such hard work to build that trust only intensified the feeling of loss.

‘I did what had to be done,' Snape said quietly, meeting his eyes, ‘as you will have to do one day, Potter.'

Harry stared at him, surprised by Snape's answer. He had expected Snape to sneer at him and ridicule him for his stupidity in trusting the wrong person, but this was... odd. Snape was almost talking as if they were still on the same side, but this didn't make sense...

Dumbledore's words shot through his mind, I will tell you this now, and I want you always to remember: with Professor Snape there is much that is not as it seems.

‘Professor Dumbledore trusted you absolutely,' he repeated slowly, desperately trying to organize the whirling thoughts in his head. Could Dumbledore have been so wrong? He had been so sure. Again he heard the echo of the headmaster's words: I would trust Severus Snape with my life; in fact I am sure the day will come where I will place my life in Professor Snape's hands.

And he did, Harry thought bitterly. He trusted him with his life, but Snape didn't protect it, he took it instead! Then a wild thought crossed his mind. Could it be that Dumbledore had misled him with his words? That the Headmaster had in reality meant just that? But why should he want Snape to do that?

Imagine yourself in Professor Snape's position. You are a spy, and that means that you always have to act like a true Death Eater, had been Dumbledore's words. Yes, Dumbledore knew that if Snape killed him, it would once and for all resolve all doubt concerning Snape's loyalty to Voldemort. But to let someone kill you just to protect their cover, that was pure madness!

Still, Dumbledore was a bit mad, and his attitude towards death was ... well, different. What had he said to Voldemort a year ago? Your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness... And back in first year, Ron had stated that Dumbledore was off his rocker when Harry had quoted the headmaster's words: After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.

Yes, thought Harry desperately, that might be true for you, but you left me! I need you! The feeling of immense loss tightened his throat. He suddenly wished that the theory he had about Snape's loyalty could be true, so that at least Snape  would be still there to be counted upon. He opened his mouth and almost asked Snape, but then closed it again without saying anything. What answer did he expect? And what answer could he believe? Silently he scrutinized Snape, searching for answers in his eyes. The man didn't evade his gaze. He, in turn, considered Harry musingly.

‘And I am sure, Mr Potter,' said Snape deliberately, ‘that when the time comes, you, too, will be able to do what needs to be done.'

Harry swallowed hard. Snape had just addressed his biggest fear, the one he had hidden from his friends all year. Yes, he had shared with them the details about the lessons with Dumbledore, the memories and the horcruxes, but the thought that had always been at the back of his mind, was, that once all the horcruxes would be destroyed, he would still have to meet Voldemort and kill him.

Yes, Ron and Hermione knew that, and they had been supportive, wondering together with him what advanced defence techniques Dumbledore was going to teach Harry so that he would be up to the task. But even if he were technically able to defeat Voldemort, what if he couldn't bring himself to kill someone, even Voldemort?  Harry had never confessed to them this fear of his own weakness at the crucial moment, and now Snape was addressing it and expressing such confidence, in fact, he was the only person ever to do so.

The sound of voices startled him out of his thoughts and he saw a group of people coming out of the castle. Snape raised his wand. Harry had his gaze fixed on him but didn't flinch.

‘Finite.' Snape undid the Jelly-Legs Jinx and threw Harry's wand to him. Harry caught it, but didn't try to curse the other man again.

He was so confused he didn't know what to think. He should probably try to delay Snape until the Order members arrived, but what if they killed Snape before they had a chance to find out where Snape's true loyalties lay?

But was there even a question at all, or it was just wistful thinking that he - and Dumbledore - hadn't misplaced their trust?

Harry felt precious time running out as he stared desperately into Snape's face. For a brief instant he had the impression that Snape wanted to say something, but the man remained silent, his gaze fixed on Harry. Then, with a stiff nod to him, Snape turned on the spot and disapparated. Harry stared doubtfully at the empty spot. He was sure he would meet the man again. All he could do was hope that when that time came, they would be on the same side.