“So,” Blaise asked Harry after classes that day, “where'd you go?”

Harry swallowed. Shit. I forgot how pissed Blaise was gonna be. He lifted his chin and met his friend's eyes, ready to do battle. “I went home.”

Blaise didn't say anything, but kept the eye contact. His eyes held all the accusation that he didn't vocalize. As usual, it was Harry who caved and looked away. “I was fine, okay?”

Blaise spoke entirely neutrally. “I suppose I did say I'd have to get used to being lied to.”

“I didn't lie to you!” Harry protested, looking back up in surprise.

“You told me you wouldn't go home until the summer.”

Harry winced internally but protested, “I told you I didn't have to go home until the summer! I never said I wouldn't!”

“It was implied.”

Harry didn't have an answer for that, and found he had to look away once again, repeating. “I was fine.”

“Did they hit you?”

Harry looked back at him sharply. Don't ask that.

“Did they?”

Harry just continued to stare, angrily, and refused to speak. Leave it alone, Blaise.

After awhile Blaise tried again. “Was it worth it?”

“Was what worth it?”

“Lying to me. Sneaking out. Scaring the crap out of Snape. Going home. Getting hit. Was it worth it?”

Harry ignored him, but the silence quickly became to leaden for him, and he gritted his teeth and answered, “No. No, it wasn't worth it. Happy? Think you can manage to leave me alone now?”

“No, Harry,” Blaise said bitterly, “I'm not happy, and no, I can't leave it alone, because interestingly enough, it is not my goal to hurt you. But you fucked the hell up, and I want you to be safe. God forbid I show concern for a friend.”

“I don't need your fucking concern, okay? I had every right to go home! And I was fine!”

“And yet you can't tell me they didn't hit you.”

“It's none of your business!”

“I told you I'd stay out of it as long as I didn't think you were in danger! You told me you wouldn't go home until summer! You told me you'd be safe!”

Leave me alone! God DAMNIT can't you see I don't want to talk about this? “I was safe! I'm fine!”

“Great. You were fine, your family welcomed you home with open arms. That's why Snape missed all his morning classes to come find you, and why you came home so quickly, and why you're so happy to talk to me about them. Is that how it went, Harry? They welcomed you in and fed you breakfast and then sent you back here with hugs and tearful goodbyes? If you were fine, then answer my question. Tell me they didn't hit you.”

Harry felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. No, no that's not how it went. Why the FUCK do you think I don't want to talk about it? Shoving back frustrated tears, Harry shouted back at Blaise. “FINE! You want a fucking answer? NO! No, they didn't hit me! Now leave me the hell alone!”

Blaise just stared at him for a moment before unexpectedly backing off. “Fine. If you're more willing to lie to me than to talk about this, then I'm out of line. I apologize for prying.” He got out his potions textbook, clearly feeling that the conversation was over.

Fine. Have your fucking last word, Harry thought angrily, curling his legs up next to him on the couch.

After awhile, though, he noticed that Blaise wasn't reading, but just staring fixedly at his book. The expression he wore reminded Harry of the day he'd hit him. Why do I have to be such a fuck-up? He wondered. He felt guilt start to twist in his mind, and finally he had to say something.

“Yes. She hit me,” he said quietly, not looking at Blaise. “She slapped me and told me not to come home again.”

There was a pause, before Blaise finally responded, “I'm sorry.”

Harry didn't respond, struggling with his emotions.

“What're you going to do? I'd invite you home, but-”

“It's fine.”

“You got someplace to go?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

Harry hesitated, but finally admitted, “Snape.”

Blaise looked at him strangely. “You okay with that?”

Harry shrugged. “Don't have much of a choice, do I?”

Blaise frowned. “I suppose not.”

A short silence fell before Blaise finally said, “He really is an okay guy, you know.”

Harry frowned. “I know.”

Blaise smiled crookedly. “Good.”

Harry just shrugged, and Blaise added, “so, how much trouble are you in?”

“Surprisingly little, actually,” Harry said, glad for the change of conversation, “I've got detention tonight, and tomorrow, with McGonagall, and I've got to do a ton of apologies for inconveniencing people.”

“For worrying them, morelike,” Blaise said.

“Snape maybe,” Harry admitted, “and McGonagall.”

“You'd be surprised,” responded Blaise.

“Maybe,” Harry allowed.

Harry arrived at McGonagall's office at precisely 7:00, exactly as ordered, and knocked on the door. He was let in, and soon found himself set up in McGonagall's office exactly as if he had a transfiguration lesson – sitting across the desk from her such that were face to face and shared the broad working space. Lines, I guess? Or maybe an essay? As expected, McGonagall gave him a quill, and inkpot, and a piece of parchment.

“What am I supposed to write?”

“A list,” McGonagall answered. “You don't seem to understand how many people you affect when you put yourself in danger like you did this morning. I want you to write a detailed list of people who were affected by your escapade, and how. I will be writing a similar list, and we will compare. If yours is less complete than mine, you will rewrite it, so I suggest you do your best.”

She seemed to expect him to object, but though the format was different, it really wasn't all that different than conversations he'd had in detention with Snape before. He just shrugged, transfigured his quill and ink into a pen, and got started.

Well, obviously the people she wants me to apologize to, Harry thought, writing,

Okay, now how. He remembered something Blaise had said and wrote,

1.Professor Snape: missed his morning classes to come find me. He bit his lip and added, worried.

Looking up briefly at McGonagall, he added to her name and the others', wasted time looking for me.

He stared at the parchment, momentarily stuck, before remembering Blaise's reaction.

8.Blaise Zabini – worried.

He thought again for a moment before adding,

9.Hermione Granger – probably worried

He then added Ron's and Theo's names for good measure, but couldn't figure out right away what to write for 'how.' They probably weren't particularly worried. Finally he wrote,

He then found himself stuck again. McGonagall was still writing, so he knew he had to have missed something, but who else would care that he'd disappear other than his friends and those of the adults at the school that had to look for him? Kallie. Damn I forgot about her.

Finally he decided he was done, and put down his pen. McGonagall kept writing for awhile, then looked up.

“Finished?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, who did you put down first?”

“Snape.”

“Professor Snape.”

“Professor Snape.”

“And how was he affected?”

“He missed his classes to come find me, and-”

“Yes?”

“and he was worried.”

“Yes, very much so. That's a good start. Who's your next person?”

Harry looked down. “You.”

“And what about me?”

“You wasted time looking for me.”

“No.”

Harry looked up, confused. “But you said-”

“I spent time looking for you, yes, and this would not have been necessary had you not left the school. However, time spent keeping you safe is not wasted. Do you understand the difference?”

Harry shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Explain.”

Harry looked up at her, but again, he was used to similar distinctions with Snape. “You mean that I'm worth looking for.”

“Good. Yes. However, you missed the second half of how the morning's escapade affected me. Did I not mention before that I was worried?”

“Yes ma'am.”

“Good. And don't forget it. I do not appreciate having to spend time worrying over my students, especially when they do it on purpose.”

“I didn't do it on purpose. I just wanted to go home.”

“Did you not say this afternoon that you left because you were angry at Professor Snape?”

“Yeah...”

“Did you not then leave at least partly in order to get back at him?”

“Sort of...”

“Well there you go. You knew perfectly well that your leaving would make him frantic, and calculated that into your decision to go. Perhaps you did not deliberately worry me, but you deliberately worried him.”

Harry frowned. He had not thought of it that way at all, but he couldn't deny that it was the truth. He knew he had a tendency to take revenge for things but – but this is new. I'd've never thought to punish the Dursleys like that. They wouldn't've minded. He shook his head to rid himself of the thought and faced McGonagall again.

“Maybe,” he admitted.

“Well I assure you, that man does not need more stress in his life, and neither do I. I'll thank you not to add to it.”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“Good. Alright, next one.”

“Professor Flitwick wast-” he caught McGonagall's look and revised his statement, “-spent time looking for me. So did Professors Sprout and Dumbledore, and Hagrid and Madame Hooch.”

“Yes, they did. And?”

“And?”

“They are adults at the school responsible for your well-being.”

“They worried?” Harry asked.

“Yes.”

“Oh.” He hadn't really expected that. Oops.

“Yes, oh. Who else?”

“My friends. 'Specially Blaise.”

“Why especially him?”

“Well Theo and Ron might've noticed, but wouldn't've worried much. Hermione might've noticed, but not as quickly as Blaise, and she doesn't know as much and so probably didn't really worry. Blaise notices stuff.”

“Doesn't know as much?”

Harry looked at her. If it were Snape, he'd just shake his head to signal that he didn't want to answer the question, but it had never come up with McGonagall before. How did he tell her that she was edging on things he didn't want to talk about without saying it? He suspected she already knew about things at home, but he wasn't sure, and at any rate he didn't want to talk about it with her. Apparently he took too long thinking about it, because McGonagall asked, “Is it such a difficult question?”

Harry shrugged. “Blaise just knows stuff,” he finally said. “He was really mad to hear that I went home.”

“Oh,” said McGonagall, finally seeming to understand. “I apologize. I didn't realize it was a personal question.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. She knew what he was talking about, and wasn't going to press. “Thank you.”

“Now, if you don't think your other friends were worried, how were they affected?”

“Well, Hermione might've been worried, but I haven't talked to her yet. I don't know if she noticed I was gone before I was back.”

“She did.”

Harry frowned. “Okay, then she was probably a bit worried, but Theo and Ron probably weren't. I just included them 'cause Ron's my partner in Herbology, and Theo eats with me at breakfast.”

“Alright then, you might be correct. Who else did you put down?”

“Kallie,” Harry said. “She didn't like not knowing where I was.”

“I am not surprised. She is another person who feels responsible for your well-being. You are the one to best know how she felt. Who else?”

Harry bit his lip. “That's all I could think of.”

“You are missing your prefects, the Gryffindor prefects, and all of students in the classes Professor Snape usually teaches.”

Harry stared at her for a second, but didn't respond, and McGonagall continued. “Now, tell me how.”

“My prefects – did Snape get mad?”

“No, however Prefect Stone especially felt that it was through his negligence that you were able to put yourself in danger.”

Harry looked at her. “I didn't realize,” he finally admitted.

“So I figured. Which is exactly why we're doing this. How about the Gryffindor prefects?”

“They're not responsible for me,” Harry objected.

“They're responsible for the lower years of all four houses. All of the prefects are.”

“But that's not fair! They couldn't've known I left the dorm!”

“No, they couldn't've. But you and your friends act as though you were members of both houses. The prefects from both houses count on each other to be watching you on the others' territories. Your ability to slip past all of them is naturally going to worry them, especially considering it was only a week ago the five of you went missing and ended up fighting a troll. Another time when you ran off without considering the repercussions.”

Harry looked down, ashamed. He hadn't realized, either time, what his prefects would have thought to find him gone on their watch. He didn't mind causing trouble for adults, most of the time, but he had nothing against his prefects.

“I addition, Percy is Ron's older brother. Has it never occurred to you that he might be looking out for you especially?”

“Did he even notice I was gone?” he asked, “I was back by lunch. And sure, he's helped me out a time or two, but-”

“He's been watching out for you ever since the incident with Mr. Flint. Yes, he did notice that you had disappeared. He reacted similarly to the Slytherin prefects. I had enormous trouble convincing him that he should not hold himself responsible for this incident.”

“It's not my fault if he thinks being Prefect means he runs the whole bloody school!” Harry protested.

“Language, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall admonished sharply.

“Sorry,” Harry said, “but it's true.”

“It is true that Percy's attitude is not your fault," McGonagall agreed, before saying severely, “it is, however, your fault that you did not think of the people who care about you when you left the school premises.”

“I'm already apologizing to people, what more do you want?”

“I want you to understand what you are apologizing for, Harry. This is not like when you are rude in class and have to apologize. Having people care for you makes you responsible for their feelings as well as your own. You cannot just do whatever you want.”

Why do people keep saying that? I never asked anybody to care about me! But he was, fortunately or unfortunately, learning that around here, that didn't work as an excuse. People would get involved even when he did things that should only affect him, and they would get pissed off over it, and there was nothing he could do about it. It frustrated him, but screaming about it wouldn't help. “So what now, then?” Harry asked, annoyed.

“Now you rewrite that list of yours, including the additions I have suggested. Then I've got lines for you to write.”

He ducked his head, feeling defeated. She did say that she'd make the detentions unpleasant. I guess I shouldn't've underestimated her. He'd been nothing but yelled at all day, it felt like. The only one who'd been just nice to him had been Snape, and suddenly Harry felt a strange longing for his company. It didn't feel right, having detention with McGonagall. It should be Snape. It was always Snape. And it's always bloody miserable, dumbass. If Snape'd decided to get mad you'd be in the corner the whole time. Just write your damn list and be grateful you didn't get suspended.

And so Harry started writing his second list without complaint.

After his detention, Harry remembered that he was still grounded, and returned to his dorm. Theo and Blaise were in the common room, but he'd had a very long day and just wanted to go to bed. He waved to them on the way by, but didn't even stop before climbing the stairs into the dormitory.

Wednesday morning, Harry had Charms and Herbology, and so got those two apologies done first. Both professors were nice enough about accepting his more-or-less sincere apology, but Flitwick said something before Harry left that bothered him: “I accept your apology, young Mr. Potter, but you should know it's not me you should be apologizing to,” he'd said. “You make sure you apologize to Professor Snape. We were all worried, but he was frantic.”

He was glad to be done with the two apologies, though, and decided to get done two more during his History of Magic class. McGonagall had allowed him to do up to two of the apologies in written form, and he'd decided on Madame Hooch and Professor Dumbledore: Madame Hooch because getting a hold of her could be difficult and inconvenient, and Professor Dumbledore because he had no interest in being alone in an office with the man, under any circumstances. He wrote both letters almost exactly the same.

I apologize for having inconvenienced you this morning. I should have better considered the consequences of my actions. Sincerely, Harry Potter

After History was lunch, and Harry returned to his dorm, before remembering that he had to actually send his letters, and he could only do that from the Owlery. But he wasn't allowed out of the dorm without permission. He went back out of the dorm to walk to Snape's office and knocked tentatively on his door. Bid to enter, Harry came in to stand nervously in front of Snape's desk.

“Sir?” He said uncertainly.

“Yes, Harry?” Snape answered.

Harry flushed. You're acting like an idiot. Just ask. “I- I wanted to ask- could I go to the owlery? Mc- Professor McGonagall made me apologize to the professors who looked for me, and she said I could do two in writing if I wanted.”

Snape looked at him for a moment before saying, “it would be better if you did them in person. Who are you writing to?”

Harry bit his lip. He's not gonna let me? But McGonagall said I could! “Madame Hooch and Professor Dumbledore.”

When Snape paused in thought, Harry said softly, “you said I wasn't in trouble, sir.” A treacherous voice in the back of his head whispered, of course he won't be fair. He's still a grown-up, remember? He wasn't sure why it bothered him – adults were unfair, that's the way things were- but somehow he really wanted Snape to be, anyway. He said I wasn't in trouble with him! Why's he being weird?

“You aren't.”

“Then why can't I do them in letters? Professor McGonagall said I could!”

“I did not say that I would forbid you to do the two in writing. I simply said that apologies are better done in person. I would encourage you to approach at least Madame Hooch personally. You have my permission to break your grounding in order to do so.”

And Dumbledore? Harry wondered.

“Dumbledore will not harm you, Harry. He is certainly much more easily approachable than I. However, if you wish to apologize in writing, you also have my permission to go to the Owlery. Like I said, I also do not forbid you to do the apology to Madame Hooch in writing, I would simply encourage you to consider doing it in person like your other apologies.”

Oh. That's okay, then. “Yes, sir. May I go, then?”

“Yes, you may, and thank you for being polite.”

Harry looked up at him, horrified, and saw Snape smirk. He made a face.

“Wasn't doing it on purpose.”

“Even better, then,” Snape said implacably.

Harry made another face, and then left, realizing that Snape had won. So what else is new?

From Snape's office, Harry went to the Owlery, and gave Hedwig the letter for Dumbledore. He held onto the letter for Madame Hooch for a moment, unsure. It really was a pain in the butt to find her, and he wasn't going to do what Snape wanted all the time just because the man was being nicer to him than not, lately. Besides, as Snape so helpfully pointed out, I already did the 'good kid' thing once today. Maybe I need a break! Still, he read over the note he'd written and decided to make it a little nicer, writing instead,

Madame Hooch, I sincerely apologize for having inconvenienced you this morning. I should have better considered the consequences of my actions. I'll try to do better in the future. Sincerely, Harry Potter

The one for Dumbledore, already sent, he didn't worry about. It was highly doubtful that the headmaster of the school had gone out of his way to look for him, anyway.

That afternoon, Harry's last class was the tutoring session with McGonagall, and his recent transgressions weren't even mentioned. Afterwards, he returned to his dormitory, knowing that he would have no time to do his homework that evening because of his detention.

When he got there, and went up into the dorm to bring down his book-bag, he found Hedwig waiting for him, a letter clenched in her beak.

He took the letter and unfolded it, finding a short note in a hand he didn't recognize.

Dear Harry: I thank you for your letter, and accept your apology. I also agree that you should have thought better before taking such rash action, and ask that you consider what you would have done differently, had you thought it through. Awaiting your reply, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

He wants me to reply? Harry wondered. He hadn't expected that. He couldn't just accept my apology and be done with it? What would he do if Harry didn't reply? Would he tell Snape that Harry was ignoring him? Would he come find him? No good. Better to just reply. But what would he do, if he had a chance to do things differently? Just 'cause Snape had been right didn't mean Harry hadn't had a reason to go and find out for himself. And it wasn't like Snape would've ever given him permission to go, if he'd asked first. He'd had to sneak out. But I could've kept them from all having to look for me maybe.

Professor:

I would have left a note. Harry Potter

He sent the note back the note with Hedwig, hoping that that would satisfy the Headmaster so he'd leave him alone. Done with that, he grabbed his bookbag and headed down to the common room.

Fifteen minutes later, Kallie popped into the common room with Harry's dinner, and a letter.

Dear Harry:

A note would, indeed, save the faculty much worry and trouble. It would not, however, help Professor Snape any to find out that you had returned home. In fact, I daresay it made him quite a bit more upset when he figured that out as it was. Awaiting your reply, Albus Dumbledore

Harry read the note, annoyed. He wants me to reply again? And it's not my fault if I can't please everybody!

Professor Snape had no right to ban me from going home. Harry

Kallie had stayed as he wrote, but popped out obligingly as soon as he handed her the note. Harry ate his dinner – a plate of wonderful shepherd's pie that he was sure Kallie had made herself – and just as he finished, Kallie popped back in with another note.

Dear Harry: I will not bore you with a reminder that leaving the school premises without permission is against the rules for all students – you just did, thought Harry – but I would point out that I did not comment on Professor Snape's actions, but rather your own. Perhaps framing it as a question will make my meaning clear. The person most affected by your actions was Professor Snape. What would you do to alleviate Professor Snape's understandable anxiety? Yours, Albus Dumbledore

You didn't say you were awaiting a reply, Harry thought mutinously, but he knew the headmaster was. Annoyed at the questions, Harry penned a quick note:

I would leave earlier such that he wouldn't realize I'd gone. Harry.

That ought to shut him up. When Kallie left and didn't immediately come back, Harry relaxed a little and settled into doing his homework. Half an hour later, though, a different house-elf came bearing a note.

Dear Harry, that might, indeed work. However, are you certain that Professor Snape was totally unjustified in preventing you from returning to your relatives? Was he wrong in his assumptions of what might happen to you if you did? Yours, Albus Dumbledore

Harry stared at the letter for a moment before scrawling at the bottom of it,

I apologize, Professor, but I have homework to do. Harry

This letter, finally, elicited no reply.

Harry's detention that evening was held in McGonagall's classroom, and turned out to be lines. Harry noted, bemused, that McGonagall's lines were quite similar to Snape's – long, and tending to address the general behavior rather than any specific wrongdoing. Today's mantra was, “I will not allow my emotions to push me towards rash actions. Doing so worries and inconveniences those responsible for my well-being.”

When he'd finished writing it 100 times, he was directed to scrub the classroom floor. It was unpleasant, but not as bad as the day before, and he was released at 10:00 to return to his dormitory. Before he left, he walked to the desk where McGonagall was working and said quickly,

“'M sorry I worried you and made you look for me. It was dumb.” He considered adding that he should have left a note, but suspected that she wouldn't react well to that. Let her think he regretted going at all. The conversation with Dumbledore had clarified a couple of things for him, most obviously the fact that he didn't regret going home. The trip hadn't been fun, but he'd had to know whether Snape's statement was true or not. Snape being right didn't make the answer any less important.

At any rate, he was sorry he'd worried McGonagall – a lot more sorry than he'd been for the other professors – and the professor accepted his apology with good grace, leaving only Hagrid and Snape left to talk to. And I have to ask Snape's permission to go see Hagrid anyway. This is a pain in the ass.

The next day after class, Harry decided that he'd put it off long enough: he had to apologize to Snape. Problem was, he really, really didn't want to. McGonagall's words about him purposefully worrying Snape bugged him. He really hadn't thought about it that way, but it was kinda true. How could he apologize when he'd done it on purpose? Sure, he regretted it now, especially when Snape'd been so nice about everything, but it wasn't like he could tell Snape, “I'm sorry I was stupid,” like he had before, because he hadn't really been stupid. He'd been angry, but it wasn't really a mistake, and he didn't really regret going. What did he regret? Worrying Snape. But what could he do about that? As the headmaster had pointed out, leaving a note wouldn't've worked. He could've left earlier, and not worried Snape, but then, at the time, worrying Snape had been part of the point. What he really regretted was not going, per se, but rather going with the intention of having Snape discover him gone. Only Snape didn't know he'd done it on purpose, so how could he apologize for it? By telling him. Only that was something he very much did not want to do. And why would I? Why on earth would I even consider actively telling him something that he's got no chance of finding out on his own and that's just gonna get me in more trouble?

And so he stood outside of Snape's office door, unsure what the hell he was going to do once let inside, and almost as terrified of knocking as he'd been at the beginning of the year. And, just like at the beginning of the year, he bit his lip and knocked.

“Enter.”

As usual when he was in trouble for something, Harry came to stand nervously in front of Snape's desk. Snape looked at him, and then, when Harry didn't immediately say anything, asked, “you wished to speak to me?”

“Yes, sir. I came to apologize for my behavior on Tuesday. I- I shouldn't've-” He trailed off, unsure what he wanted to say.

“Should not have what?” Snape prompted, though his voice held no vitriole.

Finally Harry lifted his chin and said defiantly, “I don't regret going, sir. It wasn't any fun, but I had to know whether what you said was true.”

To Harry's surprise, Snape did not get angry. He simply nodded and said, “I can understand that. What do you regret, then? Or have you changed your mind about apologizing?”

Harry looked down, biting his lip. “N-no I do want to apologize it's just - just not for that.”

Snape just waited, and finally Harry got up the courage to whisper, “I was angry, sir. I left partly 'cause I was mad, and I knew you'd be upset to find me gone, 'specially if I went home.”

He peeked up to see Snape regarding him gravely, brows furrowed. Finally the man said, voice completely neutral, “Congratulations, then.”

Harry ducked his head even further, finding himself trembling despite, or really in reaction to, Snape's innocuous words and neutral tone. Neutral was not good, with Snape. Neutral usually meant he was trying to hold his temper, and might well be failing. Why did you tell him, idiot? You really think he's going to just forgive you and everything'll be okay? When the man didn't continue, though, Harry finally questioned, “sir?”

“It is certainly the most Slytherin tactic you've yet used against me, as well as the most effective by far,” Snape said, “I must say I would have much preferred the farm animals.”

Harry swallowed, finding tears stinging his eyes. You don't care if he likes you, remember? You don't give a damn what he thinks. “'M sorry,” he finally whispered.

Snape took a deep breath, and came around the desk. Harry stiffened, turning towards Snape, but didn't back off. To his surprise, Snape crouched down to be on level with him, and lifted his chin to make him meet his eyes. Harry found he couldn't bear it, and tried to pull away, but Snape held firm, and Harry met his eyes again to find them surprisingly gentle.

“Don't do it again, you hear me?” His voice held a seriousness and a command that Harry could feel in his bones.

“No sir,” Harry said fervently.

“Good,” Snape said matter-of-factly, releasing him. “You're forgiven, then.”

It was so abrupt that Harry didn't know exactly what to think right away. He'd expected a storm and gotten – well, Snape had definitely let him know that he wasn't pleased, but he'd survived the experience, and the man didn't hate him. Harry looked at Snape in confusion before finally saying, “Thank you, sir.”

Snape nodded once and stood up, saying, “come with me.”

Bewildered, but grateful that he wasn't just dismissed, Harry followed Snape out of the room. To his increasing confusion, he found himself led deeper into a part of the dungeons he'd never entered. Then Snape stopped, and opened a door, and ushered him into what looked like...a living room. A warm, beige, burgundy, and brown living room with a beat-up-looking dark brown leather couch and a matching loveseat, and bookshelves covering all the walls. Harry had just realized that he was in Snape's personal quarters when Snape pointed to the loveseat and said, “sit.”

Harry obeyed, finding the chair as comfy as it looked, and Snape left the room. Harry took the opportunity to look more closely at the room, realizing that the books in the room were arranged by subject, and then into alphabetical order, and that there was a fireplace in a corner, with a mantle. The mantle was covered with various objects, including several picture frames, but Harry was too far away to make out the pictures.

When Snape came back out, he was carrying a box with small, round holes punched at even intervals on the sides. Harry was confused for a moment before a little purple paw came out of one of the holes, claws extended, and swiped at Snape's arm. Harry felt his eyes go wide as he whispered, “Psycho kitty?” The paw swiped at Snape again, and this time Snape gave in, putting the box on the ground as he muttered, “psycho kitty. How appropriate.” As soon as the box was on the ground and open, the little purple monster streaked over to Harry and started climbing his robes.

“Ow ow ow you have claws, remember? Ouch, stop!” Then the kitty was on his shoulder and hiding between his hair and the back of his neck. And...purring. Harry felt himself start to smile as he lifted a hand slowly up to pet her. She batted at his hand briefly before letting him pet her impossibly soft fur. She was so tiny that her purrs vibrated her whole body.

“I take it you like her?” Snape asked.

Harry looked up at him, eyes shining. “I- you – I get to keep her?”

Snape smiled. “Well I'm certainly not going to deal with her any longer. I was going to wait until you were off grounding, but Miss 'Psycho kitty' has been out for my blood since I brought her here.”

Harry just smiled bigger. Good kitty. “She's got personality,” he said proudly.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “So she does. She has a strong tendency to throw herself into fights she has no hope of winning just for the sake of proving she's not scared of anything. Not unlike somebody else I know, I might point out.”

Harry scowled at him briefly, but quickly regained his smile as the strange spikey purple kitty rubbed up against the back of his neck. He swallowed hard as he found a lump forming in his throat. When he'd mastered the unexpected flood of emotion, he rasped out a quiet, “Thank you, sir.”

Snape smiled again. “You are very welcome, Harry. Just don't let her distract you in class.”

“No, sir,” Harry promised, wrapping a hand around his neck to grab his crazy kitty and bring her to his face. She promptly batted at his nose with both paws, making him laugh and put her back on his shoulder, where she once again settled herself underneath his hair. I have a kitty, Harry told himself over and over again. MY Psycho kitty.