Harry peered down the stairs with trepidation. He had barely been back at the house an hour, and he had hidden himself in his room after he lugged his stuff up the stairs. Vampyr had pawed at the door, but when Harry would not open, the dog had finally gone downstairs.

Snape hadn't talked much, not since he had seen Harry after he fought the basilisk and confronted Lucius Malfoy. Snape hadn't said much then either - just herded Harry towards the hospital where he got cleaned up and bandaged by Pomfrey.

On the next to last day at school, Harry had felt a tickle in his throat which stayed despite the many times he swallowed throughout the day. The next day at the Feast, he had felt a little dizzy and cold as he sat at the table. He hadn't wanted much food, but when he saw Snape watching him from the professors' table, Harry served himself some food and pretended to eat with gusto.

On the train ride home, he felt worse, and though Ron and Hermione had clamored to know what was wrong, Harry gave them a brief smile and said he felt rather tired after the long school year. Ron tried to figure out if Harry was worried about staying with Snape all summer, but Hermione grabbed his arm and whispered for him not to ask.

The problem was, Harry decided as he peered down the stairs, he couldn't tell Snape he was feeling bad because Snape might think it had to do with Harry's adventures in the sewers, and Harry would do anything to avoid that conversation. Snape didn't seem too wrathful, but that was because Harry had lied and said Lockhart dragged him down through the pipes and that was the reason Harry had to fight for his life and Ginny's. Lockhart was currently crazy, and Ron and Ginny wouldn't say anything, but Harry knew that a few well-placed questions would have his story tumbling like a house of cards.

And he made it his mission not to let Snape catch him in a lie ever again. This would be their first summer together where Harry wasn't kidnapped and Snape wasn't insane. Well, as close to not being insane as Snape could get. And Harry did not want to start it out by whining about getting sick.

Besides, he told himself as he crept down the stairs, he wasn't sick. He would feel fine after a few hours outside and a good night's sleep.

Snape came out of the living room when Harry reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh, hi," Harry blinked.

"Hello," Snape frowned dourly.

"It's good to be back," Harry glanced around. "It looks nice here."

"Don't lie to me. Are you going to be as much trouble as you were the last few weeks at school?"

"No, sir," Harry looked at the floor.

"You feel all right, don't you?" Snape gave him a careful look. "No lasting effects of the basilisk?"

"No, sir, I'm fine," Harry said, and he smiled as much as he could without chattering his teeth. Why was the tiny house so cold?

"Go outside for a while, and don't bother me," Snape ordered.

Out in the backyard, Harry pretended to romp with the dog while Snape was watching from the window, but as soon as the man left, Harry planted himself down in the sun and had the dog lie close to him for warmth.

That night Snape seemed to cook a lot of supper, piling Harry's plate high with food and giving him a huge glass of milk to drink. Harry ate a few bites, but his stomach seemed to rebel, making the hot rolls in his mouth taste awful. He waited until Snape went to the stove to remove the whistling tea kettle to grab his whole chicken breast and feed it to the dog. When Snape got up for another roll, Harry fed the rest of his food to the dog.

"All done," he told Snape when the man turned back. "May I be excused?"

"Absolutely not. You have dishes to do. And then I want your whole trunk unpacked and put away before bed."

Washing dishes took an absurd amount of energy, and piling the dishes into the hot water burned his cold fingers. He felt fairly certain that he had a cold, but he knew that Snape would blame that on running about in the cold pipes and getting soaked and slimy. Harry thought anyone could get a cold and he didn't see why people were always looking for reasons why he got sick. Sometimes people just got sick, and it had nothing to do with what had happened to them in the past days.

Harry very much wanted to go to bed after the dishes, but it was only eight, and he knew Snape would suspect something if he headed to bed on his own accord at such an early hour. So Harry had to sit in the living room and pretend to read, keeping himself behind a large book and swiping at his nose with his sleeve. Finally at ten, Snape put down his own book and announced in a foreboding voice, "Bedtime."

"Not yet," Harry protested because he knew Snape expected it. "Another hour."

"Absolutely not. You might have snuck around Hogwarts at all hours of the night, but here for the rest of the summer you will be in bed by ten, until of course you are being punished in which case it will be much earlier."

Harry felt frustrated at that - he could have been in bed hours ago if he had just thought to annoy Snape and earn himself a punishment. But it was hard to think rationally with such a bad cold.

Once in bed, Harry chattered as he pulled up the covers. His bed had a sheet, thin blanket, and quilt, but they seemed threadbare to his aching limbs. Snape insisted he wear the silly nightshirt from last year, but Harry had grown and it barely reached his knees and added no warmth at all.

In the midst of the cold night, Harry awoke, feeling like he was slowly freezing to death. He raised a trembling hand up to his forehead; his fingers felt like ice to his burning forehead. He shakily took his quilt and doubled it up.

Vampyr was asleep on the floor, but he woke up at Harry's shifting.

"Come on," Harry whispered, his voice hurting to talk. "Up here with me. Keep me warm."

Vampyr made a whining noise. Harry guessed Snape had trained him not to jump up on the beds, and he also guessed that no amount of coaxing would get Vampyr to come up. Taking the sheet, blanket, and quilt with him, Harry rolled off the bed and stumbled to the cold, hard floor below. He pressed himself against the dog and wrapped the covers around both of them, desperate for any heat the dog would offer. It was slightly warmer than the bed, but Harry's whole body hurt against the hard floor.

He wished he had the nerve to go tell Snape he was sick. Snape would be furious at being woken in the middle of the night, but he might give Harry something to help with the chills and the aching and the headache that had started to form.

Harry slipped into a dream where he did go tell Snape, but Snape didn't understand and Harry had to shout out that he felt awful. Snape finally gave him medicine in the dream and he felt momentarily better, but Harry awoke to find himself still hurting on the floor.

Morning light finally came, and Harry dragged himself to the bathroom. He tried to tidy his hair and brush his teeth, but his sinuses were so stopped up he could barely breathe and he choked on a handful of water. A bout of coughing followed, but he turned the water up so Snape couldn't hear. He splashed cold water on his face (agony) and then pinched his cheeks and chin and forehead to give himself some color.

Thankfully, his glasses covered his red, bleary eyes, and by the time he was dressed, he convinced himself he could survive this illness. He was stronger than it - it would go away eventually. He had taken care of himself when he was sick at the Dursleys', and he could take care of himself at Snape's as well. He would stay still and let his body heal itself.

"I want you to start weeding the garden today," Snape announced at breakfast. He set down a plate of eggs, sausage, and rye toast before Harry along with a glass of milk.

Harry's stomach flipped right over at the sight of so much hearty food; the sizzling sausage was enough to make him nauseated. Why couldn't Snape give him a bowl of plain porridge? Or maybe just a cup of tea and dry toast? Why did Snape have to give him meals at all? Why couldn't Snape starve him and leave him in peace rather than torture him with breakfast?

Again Harry made use of Vampyr, and he took a few bites of food while Snape was watching. But Harry just kept moving the food in his mouth and spit it into a napkin when Snape looked away or got up.

After escaping breakfast, Harry went outside. The sky was overcast and gloomy, and Harry felt certain the whole world was trying to kill him with its coldness. He knelt by the flower beds and pulled out a few weeds, but he didn't have the strength to pull out more than the smallest weeds.

He hated that his body was failing him, and he wished he could find a warm spot on the face of the planet to curl up and sleep.

"What are you doing?" Snape stormed out of the house a long time later. "You've not done one bed, and it's almost noon. I'm not tolerating your insolence, not this summer, Potter!"

He yanked Harry off the ground by the collar, marching him into the kitchen which was mercifully warmer than the yard, and stood him in the corner.

"You'll stand there until lunch, and if I see any more disobedience, I'll paddle you until you can't sit down for the whole summer," Snape snarled. "I get stuck with you, and you turn into a horrid little brat who sets out to ruin my summer. There will be no more fun for you this summer - I will make this summer worse than the last one, and believe me, I can make your life a nightmare, young man, and -"

Harry leaned his head against the walls of the corner, letting Snape's berating wash over him. Standing was not something he wanted to do, but he preferred it over weeding. He wondered what he would have to do for Snape to make him stand there longer after lunch; Harry had plenty of ideas on how to rile Snape up, but it was a fine line between mildly irritating the man enough to earn mild punishments and infuriating him enough to gain a real chastisement. Whatever happened, Harry knew he could not endure a stern spanking at the moment; he just could not. He didn't want to kneel beside the gardens; he couldn't imagine the pain his head would be in if he was turned over Snape's knee.

"I'm not hungry," Harry said outright when lunch was ready and he was called from the corner.

Snape's eyes glinted, and the hard lines appeared around his mouth. "You will eat."

Harry looked at the food. Sandwiches, salad, and fruit. He could choke some of that down.

"Fine," he said. "I'll eat a little."

"What's wrong with your voice?" Snape asked as they sat down.

"Nothing. What's wrong with your voice?" Harry tried to use sarcasm to cover up his hoarseness.

"You will spend another hour in the corner after lunch," Snape decided.

The second hour in the corner was worse than the first, but Harry tried to brace himself for the duration. "I can do this, I can do this, I can do this," he said to himself over and over again, a mantra of desperation to get him through the hour.

When he was finally done, Snape told him to go back out to weed.

"And if you aren't through with at least four beds, I'm going to teach you a lesson about lazy little boys who ignore their fathers."

"Yes, sir," Harry whispered.

He did try. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he wanted to throw up but he hadn't eaten anything, and he was freezing, but he tried to weed.

For an hour, he clawed at the weeds, begging them to come up.

Then a light drizzle started.

Harry leaned back on his heels and stared up at the sky, watching the small droplets splatter on his glasses. He was cold and alone and sick, and he wanted to cry. Tears were welling in his eyes, and he hated himself for being so weak and needy and helpless.

He pushed himself up to his feet and staggered into the house, so dizzy he nearly fell over. He dragged himself into the living room where Snape was reading.

"What now?" Snape put down his book to glare. "How do you plan to bother me now?"

Harry turned towards the door, not saying anything. He took a step, resolved not to say anything. He would take care of himself; he always had and he didn't need Snape.

But he did.

Harry turned back. "I'm sick," he whispered.

"What?" Snape lifted his eyebrows.

"I'm sick," Harry said, a little louder. "I don't feel good. I don't know what's wrong, but -"

Snape stood up and swept over to him. Harry didn't step back; it took every bit of his strength to keep tears back. Sliding his fingers under Harry's fringe, Snape felt his forehead.

"You're burning up."

Snape lifted up his glasses to peer in his eyes, and Harry's world went blurry for a moment until Snape set them back on his nose.

"How long have you been sick?" Snape asked, reaching down to press his fingers around Harry's throat to check for swelling.

"A while."

"How long?" the question was sterner.

"Several days," Harry confessed.

"Are you hurting?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"I ache and my head hurts and it's hard to breathe."

"Mmm," Snape nodded.

Harry wondered what would happen now. Would Snape make him ask for a potion to feel better? Well, it wouldn't be the cruelest thing Snape had ever done, but -

Snape suddenly leaned Harry against the table. Harry knew what was coming next, but he could not believe that Snape would spank him while he felt so bad.

"You awful boy, how dare you not tell me you were sick?" Snape roared. And then he smacked Harry's bottom.

Well, it was almost a smack. More of a firm pat than a smack, not enough to cause any pain at all, but Harry burst into tears. He hated being punished by Snape, and the fact that Snape thought he needed to be reprimanded but didn't want to hurt Harry nearly broke Harry's heart.

Three more pats, and Harry couldn't see for the tears that kept coming.

"I'm sorry!" he wailed. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."

"You're about to be," Snape stood him up and started marching him towards the stairs, his hands tucked firmly under Harry's arms but not tight enough to hurt his ribs.

They stopped in the bathroom, and Snape deposited Harry on the lone chair while he stoppered the tub and began filling it with hot water.

"Don't move," Snape ordered, pointing a finger at Harry before stomping out.

Harry hastily took off his glasses and swiped at his face. He hoped the bath might help warm him up, but he expected Snape to bring back a potion to help him.

Snape did come back with several vials of potions, but he set them aside and dipped a hand in the water. "Good enough," he decided. He pulled Harry out of his chair and began tugging off his clothes.

"I can undress myself," Harry objected. "I'm almost thirteen, and that's too old to -"

"Silence," Snape ordered. He stripped Harry to his underwear and then supported him as he stepped into the tub, easing Harry down into the hot water.

Harry breathed out a long shuddering sigh at how good he felt, but Snape uncorked the potions and began pouring them in the bathwater. Harry stared as the water turned blue, purple, and red, before clearing again. Then the steam of the bath clouded his glasses, and Harry couldn't see.

Snape slipped his glasses off and put them on the chair before grabbing a folded towel. He put it on the edge of the tub and then leaned Harry back on it, padding his head against the hard porcelain. Snape shook out several more towels and spread them over the top of the tub, allowing the hot water to steam inside. He left Harry's head peeking out above the towels.

"You stay there and soak in the water," Snape ordered. "One potion is to keep the water hot, and you'll steam in it for a good half hour."

Harry nodded. He wasn't even sure if he could lift his head if he wanted to.

He zoned out, staring at the blurring world before him and listening to the soft ripple of water under all the towels. Snape had gone somewhere, but Harry felt sure he would come back eventually, and if he didn't, Harry wouldn't mind lying there forever. His headache had mostly gone, and without the cold, his body didn't hurt as much.

"All right," Snape finally appeared again. "Time to get dried off."

Harry couldn't see him until Snape peeled off the towels and helped himself out of the tub. Though he couldn't really see, Harry grabbed for the dry towel.

"I can dry myself," he objected. "Where's a pair of dry underwear?"

Snape had an odd look on his face, smirking slightly, but he let Harry dry himself off and even turned away to gather up the wet towels while Harry slipped on a fresh pair of underwear. He grabbed his glasses, and the world went clear again.

"Where are my clothes?" Harry glanced around.

Snape's smirk grew to an evil grin. "Oh, while you were lolling in the tub, I went to find you something warm to sleep in. I had to enlarge it a little, but it should fit you."

Snape held up a white garment.

An awful moment of horror later, Harry realized that he was staring at a sleeping garment. A one piece, white sleeping garment that had feet at the end of the legs - just like the sleepers they put toddlers into. Snape turned the garment a little, and Harry saw that the back side had a drop seat. And worst of all, it had a hood attached to the collar, a bunny hood with big floppy bunny ears, and down the front of the garment ran a row of orange carrot buttons!

"I'm not getting into that!" Harry declared, his voice stronger after all the steam of the bath.

"Oh, yes, you are," Snape looked delighted. "This will keep you nice and toasty. But first," he grabbed a potion pot filled to the top with tan globs of what looked like fat, "this will be rubbed over your skin."

"I don't want that on me," Harry shook his head.

"You came to me and told me you were sick," Snape set the pot on the chair. "I'm doing everything in my power to make sure you heal properly. Now stand still."

Snape dipped his fingers into the pot and Harry made a disgusted face, but he stood still while Snape started rubbing the stuff into his shoulders. It felt greasy and sticky, but Harry felt more worried about having to wear those awful bunny pajamas than whatever Snape rubbed him down with.

Snape started lecturing, scolding him for waiting so long to reveal how sick he was. "I could see this as pure disobedience, Harry. You are not allowed to get sick and not tell me. I even asked if you were well this morning, and you lied to me. Wicked boy! You do not lie to me. Once you are well, we are having a serious talk about this, as well as a sound discussion about what you did in the Chamber of Secrets."

Harry bit his lip nervously, but he was too distracted by how much better he felt and Snape's rubbing and the bunny pajamas to think coherently. "I - I - I don't know. I was good in the Chamber."

"You told me Lockhart forced you down there. Is that true?"

Harry squirmed as Snape moved down to cover his back in the sticky potion. "No?"

"Harry," Snape's voice was low and stern.

"Maybe? I knew the truth about the Chamber, and I was worried about Hermione, and Ginny was taken, and I'm the only one who can speak to snakes so I had to rescue them."

"We will have a very long discussion once you recover," Snape promised.

"Then I'm never getting better!" Harry said.

"If you don't get better, I will spank you," Snape moved the pot and pushed Harry to sit down in the chair so he could start on his legs.

"You can't spank me when I'm sick," Harry managed to feel a small bit of comfort.

"Don't push me."

Snape finished with his legs and set to work on his stomach, which Harry found tortuous as it tickled somewhat, but Snape was fast and pulled Harry up to stand. He bent Harry against the sink and pulled down his underwear to hastily smear the potion over his bare bottom.

"Snape!" Harry objected. "I'm almost thirteen!"

"And I expect you to act your age and tell me when you're sick," Snape replied as the man pulled up his underwear. "When you don't, I take care of you like a toddler."

"So last summer I was a work boy, schoolboy, and apprentice, and this summer I'm a toddler?" Harry retorted.

"That's enough out of you. Stop upsetting yourself and step into these pajamas," Snape unbuttoned the outfit and dropped to one knee to hold it out for Harry to step into.

"This is humiliating," Harry groaned, but he lifted one foot for Snape to slide the pajamas on. He had to grab onto Snape's shoulders to keep from tripping over.

"A little humility is good for you," Snape helped him with the other foot.

"Humility and humiliation are not the same thing," Harry protested as Snape pulled the pajamas up. He slipped his hands into the sleeves, and Snape stood to button those beastly carrot buttons.

"Hush. You're still very sick, and I won't let you make yourself worse. Here, this will keep your fingers warm."

Harry watched as Snape pulled out what Harry thought were rounded sleeve cuffs on the pajamas. But the cuffs folded inside out and fit over his hands like big, fingerless mittens. He couldn't even use his fingers anymore.

"I am not wearing the hood!" Harry declared, feeling close to tears again. "No, I won't!"

"Very well, but if your head gets cold, I'm pulling it up," Snape warned. "Now turn around so I can button your seat up."

Harry did not know what to do as he turned. He was wearing pajamas that encased his feet and hands, and he wanted to be angry and upset at Snape, but the potion made his skin feel good. It didn't seem so greasy; it was warm and soothing, and he didn't ache anymore.

A wave of drowsiness hit him, and he lifted his hand (white paw) to cover his mouth. The pajamas were made of the softest cotton he had ever felt, and he struggled to keep his eyes open.

"Now we'll put you to bed," Snape announced.

Harry wrenched his eyes open to look at the plain clock on the wall. "It's not even five o'clock," he said, just because he thought he should object to going to bed in the middle of the afternoon.

"Move along," Snape ordered.

Harry looked down at his legs, but his covered feet didn't move, and he felt too tired to walk.

"Of all the annoying cheek," Snape grumbled. He put a hand behind Harry's back and scooped him up. The swiftness of the move surprised Harry and he grabbed onto Snape's neck as he was carried from the bathroom to his bedroom. He wondered briefly where Vampyr was, but Snape deposited him on the bed on his side and covered him up.

Harry wasn't sure if he was awake anymore - he felt warmer and more comfortable than he had been in months. Once Snape removed his glasses, Harry had no reason to keep his eyes open. He let them slide shut, and somewhere in his deep fall into sleep, he felt Snape tucking the covers around his shoulders and over his mittened hands.

"Wretched, worthless boy," Snape pressed his lips into a straight line as he watched Harry slip off. "How do you manage to get yourself into such trouble? You have a lot to answer for. Lying and getting sick and worrying me to no end. If you ever pull this nonsense again, I will leave you in the cellar to rot."

It was rather odd, in light of Snape's harsh words, that he took a seat next to the bed and situated himself to watch the boy sleep. He tried to convince himself that he did not really care, that he only wanted to see whether or not the boy would live for the next few hours, but he frowned in concern as he watched each deep breath the bunny-clad boy took, easing only the slightest edge off his worry.

Harry woke late that evening when Snape came up with soup, water, and a potion for him to take. Harry managed to push himself up on his pillow long enough for Snape to feed him the soup. Harry was too sleepy to free his hands from the mittens, and he kept his eyes almost closed as Snape fed him spoonful after spoonful. Once or twice Harry nearly dozed off, but Snape said,

"Stay awake, Potter. You're eating all this soup before you sleep for the night."

"Not hungry," Harry mumbled, but he woke himself up long enough to take the next spoonful.

After the soup, Snape made him take the yucky potion, but the glass of water after helped wash away the taste. Then Harry got to snuggle back down in the bed while Snape palmed his forehead.

"Your fever is breaking. By morning it should be gone."

If Harry hadn't been so tired, he might have squirmed at the ominous tone in Snape's voice, but Harry just closed his eyes and let his exhaustion take him over. He was warm and full, and had he been able to stay awake any longer, he might have thought how happy he was that Snape took care of him.

Morning light streamed through the window when Harry opened his eyes next. Two things struck him at once. One was how much better he felt, and the second was that he needed to go to the bathroom very much.

He struggled out of bed and padded down the hall. The bunny pajamas proved difficult to work around, but he used his teeth to pull back the mitten of one hand and then unbutton some of the carrot buttons. When he finished, he buttoned back up and ventured back to his bedroom to get dressed.

A thought occurred to him - just how dreadful would he look if he put the bunny hood up? What would he look like - Harry Potter the hero of the Wizarding World in bunny pajamas with hoodie ears, mittens, and feet?

He eased the hood up over his head and then tucked his hand back into the mitten. Then he stepped in front of the long mirror in his room.

Harry had seen some awful things in his life: Voldemort sticking out of Quirrell's head, the basilisk in the Chamber, and Hermione frozen and lifeless. But those were nothing compared to the sheer horror of seeing himself looking adorable in a bunny suit. Even though he had grown a few inches in the last year, he looked like a very small boy. His dark hair poked out around the hood, and his eyes were a soft green against all the white.

Just to scare himself further, Harry wrinkled his nose up like a bunny.

Too terrible for words.

He backed away from the mirror and went to the bureau to look for clothes. Then he heard Snape's footsteps on the stairs.

Harry gulped. Snape's potions worked fast and could heal him overnight. If he was well enough to get out of bed, then Snape would think he was well enough to have a talk.

Harry put his hands over the dropseat of his pajamas. Last night a spanking hadn't seemed so scary because he knew Snape would take care of him first, but today he knew he was much better and nothing would stop Snape from delivering a thorough blistering.

Which, in Harry's mind, seemed completely unnecessary. He knew what he had done was wrong. He should have told Snape he felt bad, back when they were at Hogwarts. He knew he had made a mistake, and he didn't see why he had to suffer through a hard spanking just to pound the fact of his mistake into his head (and his bottom).

He could play sick, but that would only prolong the punishment. And Snape had ways of knowing when he was lying which might lead to (gulp) two spankings.

All these thoughts flashed through Harry's mind in a split second, and he lost his mind at the end of it. He ran towards the window, threw it open, and climbed out on the roof. He edged his way on the sloping roof to one of the gables.

"Harry?" Snape's voice rang through his bedroom. "Where are you? Where did you go?"

Harry stayed silent, barely breathing.

"Where are you?" Snape's voice got louder and sterner. A second later, Snape leaned out the window, and Harry nearly slipped off the roof in fright.

"What are you doing there?" Snape demanded. "In this house at once!"

Harry shook his head, too scared to speak.

"Young man, you will come over here this second if you hope to live to the end of summer."

Harry shook his head again. Snape seemed to swell with wrath, but then he took a long breath. "Harry, you will come into this bedroom immediately. For every minute you stay out there, I will add ten swats to your punishment. Starting now."

Snape leaned back in the window. Harry waited a few seconds and then he began scooting down to the edge of the roof. He lowered himself by his hands and then held onto the roof for a second before dropping the last five feet to the ground below. It hurt a little, but he broke into a run for the woods, limping slightly as he went.

He had no idea where he planned to run in bunny pajamas, but he wanted to put as much space between him and Snape as possible. Harry went right for the big tree where he had climbed last year when Snape was mad at him for planting the garden wrong and making a mess of the kitchen. Harry climbed up in the tree and huddled on the big branch about eight feet up. He still had the hood up, and he didn't want to pull it down because the air was slightly cool.

Minutes crawled by. The longer he sat up in the tree, the more distraught Harry became. Had he gone back in his bedroom and taken the punishment like a man, it would have been over and he would be making Snape feel bad for punishing him by grimacing as he sat down and giving sad puppy looks until Snape relented and did something to make him feel better. It might be in the form of a treat like sugary biscuits or a nice walk or a later bedtime or a game of chess or no chores for the day. And the sting of the spanking would disappear, and by lunchtime Harry would barely remember that he had been punished.

All wonderful, except for the part where he wasn't past the spanking yet. He had been so sick, and now Snape didn't even care, and Harry was stuck in a tree dressed like a bunny which made the whole situation all the worse.

Then it started to rain. Raindrops pattered down all around the forest, but Harry huddled under the tree, hoping he could stay as dry as possible.

He was hungry, too. The soup seemed like hours ago, and maybe Snape had hot porridge for breakfast and buttered toast and cool milk. And after breakfast, Snape might let him rest a little while longer - Harry didn't think he was completely healed yet because his throat was still a little scratchy.

Snape was an evil man, making his adopted son run out in the cold and rain after he had been so sick.

"Harry!"

Snapes's voice rang out, and Harry nearly pitched out of the tree in terror at Snape's sudden Apparition.

"No!" Harry tried to climb out of the tree to escape.

"I have something to say and you're going to listen," Snape said.

Harry froze, thinking he better listen as he was well up in the tree and Snape was very close and fast. "Y-yes, sir?"

"You are going to come down from the tree, follow me back into the house where I will deal with this new disobedience. After that, I will clean you up and you will go to bed for the rest of the morning. Should you be a good boy until then, I will let you up for the rest of the day, and tonight we will have a talk about hiding any sickness from me. If you try to fight me now, I will take a switch to you here and then proceed with the rest of the day. And if I see the slightest bit of resistance, I will make sure that you wear those pajamas on the night of the Sorting in front of the whole school."

Before he realized what he was doing, Harry slipped down from the tree and went to stand beside Snape. Snape did not touch him, but they walked together back to the road and then to the house. Once in the warm living room, Snape took a seat on an armless chair and motioned for Harry to come closer.

To his surprise, Harry felt tears welling up as he drew near. "No, please - please don't. Don't spank me. I promise to be good."

"You are a good boy - a few mistakes do not make you a bad boy," Snape pulled him close. "But you have been very naughty and refusing to listen to me."

He reached up to feel Harry's forehead and frowned. "You're warm again. Should you relapse, I will add a third spanking for your stubbornness."

"That's not fair," Harry protested. "I never meant to get sick. And I don't mean to get into trouble. Trouble just finds me."

"Indeed it does," Snape pulled him over his lap, reaching to unbutton the dropseat and tug down his underwear.

Harry felt cool air wash over his bare bottom and it took all the strength he had not to reach back to cover himself. He concentrated on breathing and blinking to clear his eyes. How awful to start crying before a spanking!

Snape picked up his ruler and smacked the small bottom in front of him. Harry gave a small cry, and Snape paddled him again. Eight sharp smacks were laid down one right after another. Harry was crying quietly, but Snape pulled him and stood him in front, right between Snape's knees.

"Look at me," Snape said quietly.

Harry wiped his eyes with one white-mittened paw and then he met Snape's eyes.

"There will be no more running from me," Snape told him. "Not a single one."

Harry shook his head. "No more running."

Snape looked very severe, but he patted Harry on the back as way of comfort.

Harry blinked, sending more tears down his cheeks.

"You are not getting a hug," Snape growled. "Not even a little one. No, put that sad look away. You deserved every one of those swats, and the only reason I didn't paddle you into next week is because you are still a little sick. Now stop those tears before you make yourself worse."

Harry didn't make a sound, but the tears kept coming, huge tears rolling down very fast.

"This is nothing but more disobedience," Snape said, but he finally pulled Harry in. Harry put his arms around Snape, and Snape let him lay his head on his shoulder for a second and even reached up to pat those floppy bunny ears. "Why, oh, why, must you be so much trouble?

Harry didn't answer as he enjoyed the embrace. His tears disappeared quickly, but he kept sniffing a little past the tears so Snape would hold him a bit longer. But of course, Snape pulled away before Harry wanted and immediately took him by the hand up the stairs to bed.

It wasn't until he stood by the bed that Harry realized the drop seat was still down and he furiously tugged up his underwear and tried to button the back buttons with his mittened hands. Snape smacked his hands away and buttoned him up before casting a cleansing charm that cleaned all the dirt and mud off Harry's pajamas.

"I don't want to go back to bed," Harry said. "I'm not sick anymore. And I'm hungry."

"Of course, you're hungry, you greedy thing. Had you been a good little boy, you could have come downstairs for a proper breakfast, but you'll eat up here."

The breakfast Snape brought up was delicious with eggs and toast and thick porridge with tea and milk. Harry couldn't finish it all, but Snape made no comment.

After he was done, Harry felt very full and sleepy, and he burrowed down in the covers, trying to fall asleep before Snape could get the idea of giving him another nasty potion. Fortunately, Snape made no movement towards the potion. He gave Harry a swat on the bottom, warning, "I better not catch you out of bed again" and then left with the food. Harry relaxed and allowed himself to slip into that pleasant drowsy state between waking and dreams, a hazy peace that let his thoughts tumble over like waves over a beach. In a very short time, he slipped down into sleep, pondering over the fact that he cried over eight swats of a ruler just as much as a long punishment and that he hated when Snape had to punish him. He also wished he had the strength to pull down his stupid bunny hood, but before he could wake himself up enough to pull it down, he was already asleep.

That evening Snape allowed him to get out bed and come downstairs for supper. Harry had changed into everyday clothes before tiptoeing down the stairs and entering the kitchen.

"Why did you change?" Snape asked as he set food on the table. "You're just going to go up afterward and get back into them."

"I'm not wearing those pajamas ever again," Harry took his seat.

"Yes, you are. You'll wear those for the next month."

"You're just being mean now," Harry declared. "They're babyish, and I'm not a baby."

"You act like one," Snape sat across from Harry. "Climbing out of windows and climbing up trees when I told you to stay in bed. Is this how you plan to behave yourself all summer?"

"Maybe," Harry felt very rebellious as he picked up his spoon. "But if you make me wear them again, I'm running away for good."

"Don't be naughty. You already have another spanking coming tonight."

That effectively ruined the supper. Harry lost his appetite and picked at the food. He kept feeling tears pricking at his eyes, and his mouth kept pulling down at the corners. He tried not to sniff, he tried to pretend that he was brave, he tried to act like the hero of the Wizarding World would act. But it was one thing to put on a brave face in class or in the Chamber of Secrets where everyone was watching or counting on him. It was quite a different matter to sit across the table from the man who had adopted him and whom Harry loved more than he would ever be able to say, and know that the same man planned on spanking him because he thought Harry deserved it.

"I'm sorry," Harry managed. "I'm sorry I got sick."

"Quiet!" Snape raised cold black eyes to his. "You know perfectly well that I will not be spanking you for getting sick. Why will I spank you?"

"Because I didn't tell you I was sick and I tried to hide it."

"Precisely. Why else?"

"Because I ran away?"

"No, we already took care of that. Why else?"

Harry didn't want to answer but he forced himself to whisper, "Because I put myself into danger. I'm sorry, Dad, I'm really sorry."

Snape huffed, but he got up from the table. "Stop carrying on. You'll make yourself worse. Do you want to get this over with so we can have supper and a pleasant evening before bed?"

Harry nodded and slipped off his chair. Snape cast a heating spell over the food so it would stay warm and he took Vampyr outside before putting a hand on Harry's shoulders and guiding him into the living room. Once there, Snape pulled Harry over his lap and began swatting him with his hand, lecturing soundly.

"You don't hide things from me, young man. If you are sick, you tell me. You don't put yourself in unnecessary danger. If you are caught in a bad situation, you come ask me what to do. And you do not lie to me."

Snape set to spanking him hard and steady, letting those words hang in the air as he swatted the seat of his adopted son. Harry, who had been crying from the table, had not stopped, but his sobs were controlled and soft as he let out his grief and guilt without slipping into hysterics. Even through the sting and the lecture, Harry knew that they were almost finished with the whole awful business. He had to endure the spanking, and then he and Snape could be themselves again.

Snape would return to his snide, sarcastic self with his disparaging comments and grim moods, but Harry could freely snip back at him and enjoy tormenting Snape a bit too much. Even if Snape would never admit it, Harry knew there was a part of his father who liked being sassed and forced to be nice and made to care for Harry. Snape liked playing the stern authoritarian father with his severe rules and sharp reprimands a little too much, but Harry was willing to let him play that role, provided that Snape had some sort of boundaries set for him.

However, boundaries for Snape meant even stricter boundaries for Harry, who was finding the spanking to last longer than he preferred.

"Ow! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Please - ow! No more, I can't bear it."

"You could bear much more than I give you," Snape scoffed. "If I was seeing that you got what you deserved, I'd take a cane to you and make sure you didn't sit for a month."

Through his tears, Harry rolled his eyes, but Snape couldn't see, of course. During the autumn, Snape had once threatened to cane him if he got into anymore trouble, and Harry had glanced apprehensively at the thick walking cane in Snape's study. He had felt fairly certain Snape would not cane him with such a thick cane, but Snape had liked how fearful Harry seemed, and thus Snape brought up the cane every time he wanted to impress on Harry the seriousness of his disobedience and scare him a little too. Once he realized Snape never planned to use the cane, Harry wasn't quite so afraid, but he played along in case Snape decided he wasn't scared enough and gave him a lash or two.

"I really am sorry," Harry said. "Don't - ow! - don't cane me. I couldn't bear the cane."

"Indeed you couldn't," Snape sounded very satisfied. He slapped his hand down on Harry's bottom one last time before pulling Harry to his feet. "Are you going to be good now?"

Harry wiped his eyes hastily and gave Snape his most angelic smile.

"Cheeky brat," Snape sneered. "You must persist in this disobedience despite - what? No, you're not getting another hug."

"Yes, I am," Harry stomped his foot on the floor, a movement that hurt with his sore bottom. He would have trouble sitting comfortably for dinner, but at least the worst was over. "I have to suffer through a spanking, so you have to suffer through a hug. That's the bargain."

"We never made a bargain!"

"Yes, we did - I remember it."

There had been no such bargain or even a verbal agreement that came close to those terms, but Snape snarled and pulled Harry in for a tight hug.

"Now come along and have your supper," Snape stood. "And let's see if you can stay of trouble for the rest of the night. Really, Harry, you haven't been here a week, and you've been nothing but naughty and troublesome, and I should put you down in the cellar until school starts."

Harry grinned guiltily as Snape groused all the way back into the kitchen. Harry felt hungrier than ever, but sitting hurt as his bottom was hot and achy. A good night of sleep would erase the last trace of it, but Harry leaned forward to keep his weight on the back of his thighs as he dug into his plate of hot food.

Snape, the evil sadist, stepped behind him and took hold of his shoulders to make him sit right. Harry hissed as he was forced to sit back on his poor bottom, but Snape just said, "Sit up straight, my boy."

Harry ate as fast as he could, but Snape wouldn't excuse him, making him stay uncomfortable as Snape ate slowly and then enjoyed two cups of hot tea afterwards.

"Very good," Snape set the cup down. "Would you like to sit there while I tidy up or would you rather go take a bath?"

"Bath," Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he finally got to stand.

Snape left him to soak in the tub again, and Harry enjoyed the healing potions in the hot water for a good hour while Snape washed the dishes. To Harry's immense relief, the bunny pajamas did not make an appearance and Harry got to wear his regular nightclothes, but Snape warned,

"Should you get sick again, it's back into them straight away."

"You like torturing me," Harry grumbled as he climbed into bed, yawning. "I should have asked Dumbledore to let me stay at Hogwarts. Where's Vampyr? I missed him last night."

"He'll come up in a bit," Snape covered Harry up. "And starting tomorrow, there will be a strict schedule of chores, lessons, and gardening for you. There will be no free time or play time or anything resembling fun."

"Because I'm a horrid boy!" Harry nodded cheerfully. "I deserve to live in a cold dungeon among beetles and wear rags and eat moldy bread and get beaten with a broomstick every night."

Snape glowered. "No one said anything about eating moldy bread. Go to sleep."

"Less than four weeks to my birthday," Harry snuggled into his pillow. "Have you gotten me a present?"

Snape was speechless with outrage.

"I don't want anything to do with a bunny," Harry said as his eyes fluttered close. "No bunny clothes . . . or bunny food . . . or bunny pictures . . . nothing bunny . . ."

Snape gazed down at the sleeping boy, his breathing deep and soft, and Snape allowed himself a small smile. So much trouble and worry for one very naughty boy.

Snape walked out of the room and closed the door, confident the boy was down for the night. And the first thing Snape would do the next morning would be to nail down the window so one mischievous bunny couldn't escape.