Snape walked quietly into his study, not daring to look behind him but feeling that he had at least slightly diffused the situation.  He could hear Harry set the dishes into the sink, not quietly, but at least without a melodramatic slam. He took a deep breath and tried to reassure himself that against his best instincts, he needed to remain calm.  

He thought back to his conversation with Dumbledore, and tried to remind himself that he wasn’t doing this because he cared so much about the emotional whims of an overdramatic 12-year old, but because this particular boy represented so much to the wizarding world. Honestly, just the thought of this snot-nosed tween being the hope of so many people made him want to gag, but there was also a part of him who knew he was being unfair. He trusted Albus, and he knew that despite the fact that he looked like James had just spit him out, he also had Lily inside of him. He stopped himself from thinking of this further, it was all just too much.

Focus on the task at hand, he thought to himself. He wasn’t at Hogwarts, he didn’t have to play the role of the much-feared Potion’s Master, he was frankly exhausted and he was on his own territory. Snape sat down in his favorite wing-backed chair.  He took another long sip of tea, a deep breath and picked up a copy of the latest Daily Prophet. Harry slinked in with a sulky look on his face, eyes cast down, tear-stained face but at least he seemed to be in some control of his emotions.  

“Take a seat, Harry.  I’ve left the Quiddich section on the coffee table, along with the Comics.” Harry said nothing but plopped down on the couch with a sigh that made it obvious he was still in a mood.  Snape fought the urge to roll his eyes and tell him to take the attitude down a notch, but he knew Harry was dangerously close to breaking down and frankly, he didn’t have the energy for it right now.  

“If you’d prefer, you may choose to enlighten yourself with a book from my collection, although I ask that you only take those within your reach.” He let a wry smile slip as he continued, “As much as it might amuse me to see you lose an arm, or Merlin forbid,” he drawled sarcastically, “watch you disappear forever into the depths of one of the darker tomes, I’m afraid there are members of your fan-club who would irritate me to no end if you didn’t return to Hogwarts in one piece.”

Harry sat silently, his eyes still staring at the floor.  He was feeling a mix of so many emotions that he didn’t even know how to react.  The anger that had welled-up in him had subsided somewhat, but he was confused. He felt chastised and ashamed. He knew that he had let his anger get the best of him, and that despite the warnings, it was more than just “accidental magic.” He had threatened Dudley with his wand, and even though he hadn’t necessarily meant to cast a spell, the combination of his wand and his anger had resulted in a chain of events that he wasn’t proud of. He really just wanted to scare him off, but things had gotten out of hand (and not for the first time that summer), and he knew he was in deep trouble this time.  

Still, he thought to himself, how could he have ended up here, with Snape of all people. He truly regretted what he’d done but with the light of day, and the dull warmth of his recently smacked behind, he knew he wasn’t going to wake up from this nightmare. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was glad that he hadn’t been taken away and thrown into an institution somewhere.  

Harry didn’t say anything but reached for the Quiddich section. He stared at the moving image of one of the Seekers from the Chudley Canons executing an incredible dive for a snitch, but his mind was still elsewhere. As much as he loathed Snape, part of him was glad to be away from the Dursley’s, and he certainly was grateful to be sitting in a comfortable living room instead of a concrete floor in juvenile detention. Although, he wasn’t THAT comfortable sitting. 

The minutes ticked by, marked by a low tick coming from a grandfather clock in the back of the parlor. Snape quietly sipped his tea and read through the newspaper in silence. He was generally a man of few words, and he reveled in his ‘alone time’ to collect his thoughts and prepare his mental game plan. Although it was quiet, his mind was reeling with everything that had happened over the last 12 hours, but he tried not to show it. 

As it approached 9am, Snape put town his tea cup and his paper and looked over at Harry, who had been staring at the same page for half an hour. Knowing he had to break the silence, but not wanting to provoke another tantrum, he looked over at the sulking tween and attempted to choose his words carefully...although he couldn’t entirely depart from his baseline snark.  

“ Well then, if you’ve finished with your melodrama for the moment, perhaps we should discuss the details of this arrangement, and what I expect from you for the rest of the summer.”  He paused and waited for an answer.

Harry held onto the paper but still couldn’t bring himself to meet his professor’s eyes. Several sassy replies danced in his head, but given that he could still feel the remnants of Snape’s earlier displeasure on his backside, he decided to keep it simple. “Okay.” he said quietly, without looking up.  

“You would do well to look at me when I speak to you, “ said Snape, calmly but with authority. He really wasn’t in the mood for a battle of wills over something so trivial, but he also knew that it was important not to show any weakness if he wanted to set the boundaries for the next two months. 

Harry laid the paper down on his lap and looked up through the top of his glasses, his head still hung down, and his body telegraphing his shame and resignation.   “Sorry,” Harry mumbled.  

“Sorry, what?” Snape said, doing his best to try to maintain his stern professor tone.

 “Sorry, sir” Harry replied dutifully.

 “Right, well, I’ve indulged your abysmal attitude this morning, but this is where it ends, Potter.  However regrettable, Dumbledore and the Ministry have decided that you will remain under my strict supervision for the next two months, and I intend to fulfill my duty. As such, I would like to lay some ground rules so that we can attempt to make this as painless as possible.”

Snape still could not believe he was going to be stuck with this insolent brat for the next two months. His summer months had always been sacred, and he had planned to spend this vacation working on some of his latest potions and maybe writing up a few articles for the Journal of Medicinal Salves and Magical Potions. This was his time to recharge, away from the ungrateful and hormonal teenagers, and yet here he was babysitting, not just any student, but the one boy whose face alone makes his blood boil, his temper flare, and a tiny part of his heart ache with sadness. 

He really had tried everything to convince Dumbledore that this was an absurd idea, and that he couldn’t possible care for a child, much less, THE Harry Potter. They had gone back and forth for hours, but at he end of the discussion, Albus had played his trump cards and there was no way that Severus could refuse him. This was bigger than both of them and he knew it. Despite his best efforts, Snape had buckled under the thinly veiled emotional blackmail, and against his better judgement, his thoughts over the last day had drifted continuously back to Lily. He hated to admit it, but he knew if she were there he would never be able to say no to her. He also knew that made him weak, so he pushed those thoughts and feelings as far away as possible.  

Composing himself, he came back into his stern professor mode. “We are here, Mr. Potter, because you are unable to control your emotions and suffer from a serious lack in self-discipline, no doubt a result of years being spoiled and pampered without consequence. As a result, the responsibility has now fallen on me to ensure that we put an end to your unacceptable, and frankly dangerous, behavior.”

Snape paused for dramatic effect. Harry’s eyes had returned to the ground, where he was drawing invisible circles on the oriental rug with his foot.  Snape resisted the urge to demand eye contact again, and decided to continue. One has to choose his battles, he thought.

”As much as you may have enjoyed spending past summers being idle and lazy, that will not be tolerated here.”

 He waited for a sarcastic retort, but none came.   “I expect you to get up each morning and shower, make your bed, and tidy your room before coming to breakfast at 8:00am. You will then spend each morning before lunch reading and revising from your school books. I don’t think I need to explain to you, Mr. Potter, that your school work this past year has been less than stellar. While you may blame your years of muggle education for a lack in preparedness, moving forward, there will be no more excuses.”

Snape was starting to get into this now, and he wanted to ride his momentum to drive the point across, although he knew he had to be careful because Harry was still very vulnerable, and if he pushed it too far he would end up dealing with a meltdown. As irritated as he was to be spending his summer looking after the boy, there was a small part of him that was quite enjoying the fact that he was finally going to be able to put him in line. He was so tired of everyone coddling Harry, making excuses for him, and letting him flaunt the rules at every turn.  How could he ever fulfill the prophecy if he couldn’t even make it through a day without a tantrum or an emotional outburst?

He knew he had a lot of work to do, but Snape was up to the challenge. He couldn’t lie, he loved the idea that he had total control over the brat now, and he could finally see to it that his days of being treated like a prince were over.

“After lunch, you will do chores and then have time to go outside, weather permitting. In the afternoons you will do assignments on your own or we will work on specific skills together.  There may be times where I request your help in the potion’s lab, but if I am busy, I expect you to entertain yourself without drama.”

He paused again, waiting for a bit of cheek, but Harry stayed silent.

“You will have access to your room, the kitchen, the living room, and any common areas downstairs. My library, my lab, my bedroom, and any other rooms with the door closed are expressly off-limits unless I give you permission. You are to be in your room each evening at 9pm, and you may read or otherwise amuse yourself until lights are out at 10pm.”

” Finally, I would hope that after this morning you understand that I will absolutely not tolerate any disrespect, disobedience, or any other willful misbehavior in this house. If you fail to follow these rules, you will be punished... and believe me, Mr. Potter, I will not hesitate to put you over my knee each and every time you step out of line.  Do I make myself clear?”

 “Yes, sir.” Harry said, flatly, showing no emotion on his face. He felt like he was in a nightmare, but as much as he wished he could just wake up and none of this had happened, he knew he was stuck.  He felt defeated, bordering on hopeless, but he also realized there wasn’t much he could do right now. He was truly emotionally exhausted. 

Snape exhaled slowly. He could see that Harry was starting to withdraw into himself, and as much as he wanted to break him of his emotionally self-indulgent habits, he recognized that he wasn’t going to get very far if he pushed too much at once.  

“For now, I would like you to take this morning to reflect on your behavior. You will write two feet about the importance of controlling your anger, and the consequences of allowing your emotions to overtake you. I will call you down when it is time for lunch. You are dismissed.”

Without a word, Harry got up from the couch and walked solemnly to his bedroom. When he got upstairs, he laid down on his bed and allowed his thoughts to overtake him. He thought about his life at the Durseley’s and all he’d been through these many years. He thought about Ron and Hermione and how happy he had been at Hogwart’s, and then imagined how devastated he would be if he could never go back. He regretted ever threatening Dudley with his wand, and replayed the chaotic images that had taken place the night before. He thought about his parents and how his life might have been different if they had lived. Then his face burned red-hot with shame when he wondered if they would be disappointed in him right now. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks and he felt heavy with the weight of his new reality. 

Downstairs, Snape sipped his tea and steeped in his own deep thoughts. His life had changed so quickly. He was annoyed and angry and bitter—because those were emotions he allowed himself— but he also felt overwhelmed with the responsibility of having to care for this boy, and not just any boy, but THE boy. He realized that despite his cold and calm exterior, there were emotions stirring inside of him as well.  He quickly snapped out of it and allowed a small sneer to pass across his face. For the love of Merlin, he thought to himself, get yourself together, we already have one too many over-emotional people in this house.