I must not tell lies.

Harry bit his lip as, for the hundredth time that evening, the words became etched in his flesh again. He would not give Umbridge the satisfaction of hearing him hiss or whimper. He'd been through worse, and he would bear this like he had everything else. Still, the toad must have seen him bite his lip and blink because suddenly she was smiling at him as the kittens on her sickeningly pink walls continued to tumble over each other.

"Have you learned your lesson now, Mr. Potter?" she said sweetly.

"That I must not tell lies?" Harry questioned. Without waiting for an answer, he pressed on, "I learned that lesson a long time ago." She cleared her throat purposefully.

"I'm sure Madame Pomfrey could give you something for that," Harry then offered, trying to keep the ever growing sense of satisfaction from his voice.

"Mr. Potter," Umbridge began, suddenly cold and serious, any pretense of her facade having disappeared with Harry's last smart remark, "it has come to my attention that you are Severus' Snape's ward now."

"Son," Harry corrected, almost proudly.

"Son, then," Umbridge continued. "As one of the few people here whose reputation is almost as bad as my own, I cannot see Professor Snape tolerating such backtalk. I'm sure if I simply had a talk with him, things would become increasingly miserable for you." Harry's face twisted into a grimace.

"Please don't do that," he replied, trying to keep as much dignity in his voice as possible. He had been serving detention every night this week with Umbridge for having justified his absence in her class by explaining that he had already killed You-Know-Who earlier, for a second time, and this accounted for his third rise and fall.

I must not tell lies.

Over the course of this week, Harry hadn't had any time to see Snape, except for Potions class. Their contact was short and curt. Harry had intended to wander into Snape's office at some point, but these detentions had messed up his plans. Harry certainly did not want the first thing to happen after this awkward and ill-timed silence between them to be about backtalk. It wasn't that Harry feared Snape would hurt him for his backtalk to Umbridge. It was rather that Harry remembered with awful clarity when Snape had ordered him to have nothing to do with the blood quill.

Nervously, Harry glanced at the bloody words on the back of his hand and turned it so that neither of them could see it. It felt wrong to just run to Snape with a complaint about Umbridge. Yes, her detentions were terrible, awful, painful, and humiliating, but it wasn't anything he couldn't cope with. Part of his subconscious reminded him that he might even be grateful for the opportunity to hurt himself. At that, he scowled and felt his cheeks go warm as he refused to look at Umbridge.

"Well, I won't tell Professor Snape this time, then," Umbridge said, "but that is not going to be a rule, I promise you, Mr. Potter." She rose and walked close, where the volume of her voice dropped to the faintest whisper, to a point where Harry had to strain to hear her, despite the proximity. "You will learn respect, even if I have to beat it into you."

"Already been done," Harry whispered back.

"Dismissed," Umbridge said. "Have a good evening."

"You too," Harry spat, as he picked up his bag and darted towards the door.

He really would have to start watching himself around the toad if she was going to drag Snape into this. Harry particularly did not want to deal with explaining why he had directly disobeyed Snape's abundantly clear orders regarding corporal punishment during detentions.

This was the third night Harry was returning to the dorm with his hand still bleeding freely. He'd already asked Hermione to have a salve ready for when he got back, and she had agreed.

When he stepped through the portrait, he spotted the salve in a bowl in the corner of the dorm, but no Hermione or Ron was there to greet him with a smile. Harry realized he had been looking forward to that more than the relief of the burning in his hand. So he sat down and put his hand in the bowl, still glad that Hermione had thought to leave him the remedy.

He spotted a piece of paper poking out from under the bowl and pulled it out.

Sorry about not being here tonight. Something came up. Ron and I will be back as soon as possible.

It wasn't signed, but only one person had handwriting that neat.

And almost as soon as Harry had finished reading, he heard his name called from the new entries to the dorm. Looking up, he saw Hermione and Ron upon their return, and Harry smiled at them.

Earlier that evening, Hermione and Ron were getting the salve ready for Harry. He had already left for his detention.

"I don't know why Snape allows Harry to be treated like that!" Hermione huffed as she dropped a heavy bowl onto the table.

"Well this is Snape we're talking about," Ron pointed out.

"Ron, that's not an argument," Hermione snapped. "The man clearly cares about Harry." Her voice broke a bit. Ron and Hermione's eyes met, and they didn't need to say what they were thinking. Snape knew Harry's secrets of the summer - he had known before the two of them - and he was caring for their friend. They knew they needed to give Snape the benefit of the doubt when it came to genuinely caring about the Boy-Who-Lived. Though they weren't sure why Snape had not pressed Harry for details about his week, seeing how previously, the two of them had been spending increasing amounts of time together. Harry had told them as much that he hadn't seen Snape except for classes and meals all week.

"Maybe he doesn't know," Ron said softly. Hermione stopped and blinked once, twice, three times.

"Then we're going to change that," Hermione replied, equally softly.

"What? Tell on Harry?" Ron seemed aghast.

"Yes, exactly that. We're going to tell on Harry before this gets out of hand. And by Merlin, Ronald Weasley, you're coming with me."

Hermione had scribbled out a note to Harry, so that he didn't worry if they hadn't gotten back before he did. If they returned first, she would simply burn the note. The two of them left the dorm, and in a few minutes, Hermione was knocking on Snape's office door.

"Come in!" Snape barked, as Hermione pushed the door open, Ron following in her shadow.

Wordlessly, Hermione closed the door, and waited for Snape to acknowledge them.

"What do you want?" he snapped, giving them his full attention despite his tone.

"It's about Harry," Hermione began.

"I gathered," Snape drawled. "Have you ever come to see me when it isn't about Harry?"

"Well, no, sir," Hermione stammered.

"What is it?"

"Well, sir," Hermione paused. "It's Umbridge. She's had him in detention all week, sir, and he comes back worse every night. She's making him write with a - "

"Blood quill?" Snape cut her off. He hissed as he threw his own - ordinary - quill into the ink well. "How long has this been happening? All week you say? Not before?"

"No, sir," Hermione said, "but this is Friday."

"I know what day it is, Granger," Snape said. He sighed. "I've told Potter..."

"Don't be too hard on him," Ron interjected.

"Or what, Weasley?"

"Just please don't," Ron reiterated. "He's been awfully quiet, and we're not sure - I mean - he seems okay sometimes, and then, it's like he remembers, and he'll just leave and go to his dorm room and not come out for hours. We're worried about him. Sir." Snape sighed again, now rolling his quill between his fingers thoughtfully.

"As are we all," Snape said quietly.

"You didn't know about his detentions, sir?" Hermione pressed.

"No, I did not," Snape confirmed.

"With all due respect," Hermione said, clearing her throat, clearly gathering her courage. Snape raised an inquiring eyebrow at the girl. "Sir. It seems a little irresponsible of you to have gone this long without seeing Harry." That earned her a unbridled sneer from the Professor.

"Obviously," he drawled, "you have no idea what's been happening. I was not going to push my presence on Mr. Potter, due to personal reasons. It was within his prerogative to choose not to see me, and I had concluded that had been his choice, and I would respect it. Five points from Gryffindor for impertinence." Hermione's eyes narrowed at Snape.

"Ten points from Slytherin for sheer gall," Hermione retorted, full knowing she had crossed the line farther than she ever had with any professor. Ron looked at her like she had grown a third head. Snape rose, his chair scraping the floor. He placed his hands on the desk and leaned toward where Hermione stood. She didn't back down. Instead she glared back.

"Do you care to repeat that, Miss Granger?" Snape asked, his tone deadly.

"You have been the best thing Harry's had since his - summer," Hermione began. "You can't just abandon him. He'll spiral out of our control. He's already doing that. Rather than working at cross-purposes, don't you think it's time for you to take up your responsibility to him? You know Harry isn't ready to reach out for help by himself yet. And unless you're giving up on him entirely, you need to be the one to reach out to him, despite how it may wound your sense of pride."

"Out! Out! Get out of my office!" Snape shouted. "And fifteen points from Gryffindor for placing no value on your lives!" Ron certainly did not need to be told twice to leave. He was at the door before Snape had finished. Hermione was not long behind, though a small smile played on her lips.

When they were safely out of the office, neither one noticed that there were 20 red rocks falling back into Gryffindor's hourglass, and 10 green ones being sucked away from Slytherin's.

"Minerva, I'm going to kill her."

"No, you won't, Severus."

"Yes, I will, I'm going to kill her."

"Oh, come on, think. You don't really mean that."

"Yes, I do, I'm going to kill her."

"Think of Harry."

"That's why I'm going to kill her."

"Not even Dumbledore will be able to keep you out of Azkaban for that."

Severus sighed as he sank back into one of Minerva's cushioned arm chairs and took a sip of the tea she had served him.

"Fine," Severus pouted. "Can I torture her instead?" Minerva laughed. Severus pouted some more.

"You resemble a petulant child," Minerva told him.

"I do not!" Severus replied, indignant. He went back to brooding for a moment.

"I'm going to kill her," he stated again. "She hurt my son."

"Just try to stay out of Azkaban," Minerva sighed.

Severus shot her a glare as severe as the one Miss Granger had received and left his half drunk tea on the table as he left Minerva's chambers without any further word of good-bye.

Harry smiled as his friends entered the Gryffindor common room.

"Hey, guys," he said, his hand still soaking in the cool salve.

"Hi, mate," Ron replied, sitting across from him, Hermione taking a place next to him.

"Where did you go?" Harry asked.

"Um..." Ron began and looked at Hermione to save him.

"I remembered a question about some homework due tomorrow," Hermione sighed.

"That would explain why Ron looks like he's had an allergy attack," Harry observed casually. "What subject?"

"Potions," Hermione said.

"Ah," Harry acknowledged awkwardly. "Did Snape say anything interesting?"

"He took 20 points from Gryffindor!" Ron shouted, though the common room was too noisy for anyone else to have heard.

"Typical," Harry said as he glanced at the hour glasses. Gryffindor had the same number of points as before, and Slytherin had lost ten. Harry wondered what had really transpired in the Professor's office.

Harry thought about the irony of Hermione's explanation.

She did not have I must not tell lies carved into her hand.