It was one of those times that reminded Harry of his weaknesses. He had them, he hated them, and he hid them very well. But sometimes they seemed to rear their awful heads at the wrong time, and one of those weaknesses was how he felt in front of an irate adult male. 

It was that same look; that loathing, hateful look that Harry always got from his uncle, as if he were some nasty bug that had gotten on the man’s shoes. Usually after such a look, Harry would feel the man’s hand against his face. As Snape took a single stride towards him, Harry couldn’t help but cringe and flinch away, squeezing his eyes shut and fearing the worst was finally about to happen. 

After all, there was no one here to stop Snape from lashing out at Harry. There was no one to scold Snape for ‘punishing’ Harry in such a way. The man certainly couldn’t do it in class or the hallways or even in detentions – Dumbledore probably wouldn’t like it. But here, hidden away in the dungeons, no one would believe Harry’s word against a Professor. 

Just like no one believed him as a child. 

So, Harry waited, his eyes squeezed shut, for the blow that was sure to follow. 

But it didn’t come. 

After a moment, Harry peeked an eye open to see Snape standing over him, his dark eyes narrowed as he studied Harry. The man looked puzzled, thoroughly puzzled by his reaction. Harry blushed, realizing his mistake. S–so, Snape wasn’t going to physically punish him for that outburst? Even when he had the chance? But surely the man wouldn’t be able to last long against that. Sooner or later, just like before, Snape would get fed up and then do what all male adults had ever done in Harry’s life – brutally retaliate. 

However, Harry was startled when Snape grabbed him with a firm grasp by the underarm. Panic became to flood through his chest. 

“What—” 

“Potter, shut up,” snarled Snape, marching to the fireplace. He grabbed a handful of floo powder from a jar that sat on the mantle, tossing it into the orange red flames. There was a rush and roar of emerald green flames that blew into Harry’s face. A moment later, he was pulled into the green flames with Snape. 

“Defense Against the Dark Arts office!” shouted Snape. 

As the flames billowed upwards, Harry vaguely wondered why Snape didn’t say ‘Umbridge’s office’ – it was shorter, after all – but the thought was quickly erased as an enormous amount of soot entered his mouth. He became too occupied with clearing that out to think any more. There was a startled gasp at their sudden arrival. 

Pink.

So much pink. 

Kittens. 

So many mewling kittens. 

Harry felt nauseated at being inside this office again. He hated this place. He hated the wallpaper, he hated the plates, he hated the cats, and he hated her – more than he ever hated the man that was now clutching his arm and almost even more than Voldemort himself. With Voldemort, one knew exactly what was up with the lunatic. With Umbridge, she was like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a nasty vixen that would tear apart her prey with subtle vengeance. Harry couldn’t help but wonder if she was a Slytherin. She had to be. 

“S–Severus! What a surprise,” said Umbridge, standing up from behind her desk. Her soft eyes darkened at the sight of Harry. “Mr. Potter… My, my, I wasn’t expecting you until tonight.” 

Harry’s blood chilled. He gave the woman a sharp nod before becoming extremely interested in the pink carpeting at his feet. He wanted to get away. In that moment, he felt an overwhelming helplessness. He was trapped. There was no safe haven for him any more, now was there? He couldn’t even escape to Gryffindor Tower. Hogwarts used to be his home, but now it was invaded with this pink toad like horror. 

It just wasn’t fair… 

Life for Harry Potter rarely ever was that – fair. 

It took every amount of self control that Severus had developed throughout his entire life to not sneer in revulsion at this woman. He knew dark when he saw it and this woman was certainly a nasty piece of work. He was extremely lucky that she was much older than him and that their paths never crossed while at school. People like her gave his house a terrible name, never mind the Dark Lord himself. 

“Dolores,” said Severus, inclining his head slightly; trying hard not to be sick at calling the woman by her first name. Desperate times called for desperate measures. There was no way he was going to spend his evening with this woman. Potter was bad enough! “A situation has arose and I was wondering if you would aid me in clearing it up.” 

Potter looked up at him, surprise mixed with horror etched across his young features. Severus truly wished to sneer down at the boy, but after that odd reaction he’d gotten out of Potter in his quarters, he decided that dealing with the toad first – as the entire staff, along with the entire student body, had come to refer to this woman – would be the best course of action. He’d deal with Potter’s idiosyncrasies later. 

Severus tried not to gag ungracefully as Umbridge’s cheeks went a matching shade to the wallpaper that adorned her office. It quickly cleared, however, as she looked directly at Potter. 

“And I have feeling it has something to do with Mr. Potter, am I right, Severus?” 

“Indeed,” said Snape, inclining his head once more. “I shall come straight to the point, then. I am under the impression that Mr. Potter has a detention with you tonight? Yes, I thought so. As I have more important things to do than watch Mr. Potter attend detention, I would prefer that I completely oversee his punishment.” 

Harry blinked, now officially shocked. He’d never, in a billion years, thought that Snape would bail him out. But that was exactly what the man was doing. He was getting him out of detention with the hag! Snape probably didn’t think he was doing Harry any favors, but Harry could’ve hugged the man for it – but that’d wouldn’t go over well. 

The man would probably pass out anyways from such affectionate contact with a ‘Potter’. 

Although… 

That would be quite interesting to see. Harry would definitely have to consider that… Maybe… Seeing Snape faint would be hilarious – too bad Harry didn’t have a camera. 

Umbridge blinked a few times, her eyes flicking back between Snape and Harry. She looked confused by Snape’s request. Now that Harry thought about it, Snape hadn’t mentioned the most important reason why the man would have to stay with him. 

“I’m not sure I understand your request, Severus,” said Umbridge, her voice humming slightly. “Why would you have to stay?” 

Good luck explaining this mess, thought Harry dully. 

“Well, I suppose I should tell you,” said Snape, putting on a sigh that Harry swore was fake. “It shall be all over the school sooner than later anyways and the Headmaster will be arranging our schedules to deal with this matter.” 

“What matter?” said Umbridge, her voice rising slightly; looking irritated that there was something she didn’t know. 

“The unfortunate one that has befallen Mr. Potter and myself,” said Snape, his expression completely impassive. Harry almost laughed at the expression on Umbridge’s face. Was Snape… dragging this out on purpose? Umbridge looked completely drowned in her curiousness. She glanced back and forth between the two of them, her face expectant. She didn’t say anything more, fully waiting for the answer. 

“To put it plainly, Mr. Potter and myself are stuck together,” said Snape flatly. “A spell has made it so that we may not be more than ten feet apart. Therefore, I would prefer that you transfer his detention to myself as I do not wish to babysit Mr. Potter twice.” 

Umbridge opened her mouth as the shock nearly bowled her over. 

“So,” continued Snape. Harry could tell that the man was gritting his teeth. Snape must not like Umbridge either – that amused Harry. “I shall take over Potter’s detention tonight.” 

The Potions Master’s tone was obvious that this wasn’t up for debate. But if only the man knew – this was Umbridge. In the mere two weeks that school had start, Harry could already tell the woman acted as if her word was law here. 

“Oh, but I’m not sure if I can do that,” said Umbridge, her prim voice high as she regarded Harry with that expression that was a crossover between one a mother gave to her wayward son and one a predator gave its dinner. Her voice flowed through the air like twisted silk. “I’m afraid that my lesson hasn’t sunk in quite yet with Mr. Potter.” 

Harry shivered at Snape’s side, in spite of himself. His skin crawled at the thought of another detention with this woman. He unconsciously took a step back, his arm still being held in Snape’s unyielding grasp. Harry glanced over at Snape. The man’s dark eyes were boring into him, before they narrowed and looked back at Umbridge. Harry dropped his gaze to the awful carpet, shivering once more. 

“Exactly what are you making Mr. Potter do to learn his ‘lesson’ as you say.” 

Harry closed his eyes, feeling sick. 

“Lines, Severus. Mr. Potter has been writing lines, haven’t you, young man?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” whispered Harry instantly, still not looking up. 

Snape snorted. 

“Mr. Potter might not learn his lesson if he’s shuffled off to another adult,” continued Umbridge. “He needs consistency. He needs discipline and I worry that he’ll not have it if I let someone else take control over his punishment, considering the lack of discipline that he’s had in his previous years.” 

Harry’s head snapped up, his mouth slowly dropping. He couldn’t believe it. He had to give the horrid woman some credit – she sure had some nerve. There was no doubt in Harry’s mind, the woman has basically told Snape that he wasn’t a good disciplinarian. Snape! As if! The man took points and gave out detentions at the same rate that Dumbledore gave out lemon drops! The man’s presence was enough to send students scurrying away in terror. 

Then, he felt deathly ill at the woman’s words. He hated the way she made him sound, as if he were some troublemaker like his uncle and aunt always said to the neighbors. 

There was a sickly silence after Umbridge spoke. Harry could feel it – Snape was fuming at the woman’s statement. The thin, pale fingers that were grasping Harry’s arm tightened. The man took a deep breath, as if attempting to calm himself – but Harry suspected he was failing at it. 

“Surely… you aren’t suggesting that I am not a good disciplinarian, are you?” 

There was an audible gulp from Harry as he swallowed nervously. The man’s voice was deathly soft, his dark eyes boring straight into Umbridge. It was downright scary and  Harry was still being held in place by the man – there was no running away from this. Although, he was absolutely thrilled that the venom in Snape’s voice was directed at the small woman in front of them and not at himself. 

Umbridge only gave the man a small smile, completely unaffected by Snape’s glower. 

She has a death wish! 

There was a pause in Harry’s thinking. 

Oh, good, thank Merlin! 

“I am merely suggesting that perhaps present discipline methods in this school need to be reevaluated and altered for the better.” 

“Interesting,” mused Snape darkly. “You are suggesting that – suggesting that I can’t control my students. Me, the first Potions Master in decades to never have a casualty the Potion classroom. Me, the greasy bat of the dungeons – don’t you look at me like that, Potter, I know everything – who makes first years cry and seventh years defecate themselves from my mere presence. How interesting.” 

Harry’s eyes widened as amusement flooded over the fear. He had to clamp his mouth shut as tightly as he could to hold back the laugh that was threatening to burst forth. 

Before Umbridge could say anything else, Snape continued, his tone sharp and snappy. 

“Needless to say, I shall be taking over Mr. Potter’s detention tonight. I have more than enough ways underneath my arsenal to teach an errant student what it means to flout rules and offer disrespect – far more than mere lines.” 

Snape gave the woman a sneer before he threw another handful of floo powder into the fire. Harry didn’t even have a chance to think before he was dragged into the roaring green flames for the second time in the past ten minutes. 

“Professor Snape’s office!” 

There was a rush of fire, green flames dying in their wake as they left an open mouthed Umbridge staring dumbly at the empty fireplace.