Harry was slumped over the table in Potions class, doodling a snitch zooming through the clouds on his notes.

“Potter, sit up straight and pay attention!” Snape said in a clipped voice. Harry dragged himself upright. He’d been up late with Seamus and Dean. Seamus had gotten a new wizard chess set as an early Christmas present and they were showing Dean how to improve his game. Harry had asked Ron to play but he’d shrugged and gone to bed early instead.

“He’s been in a mood.” Hermione had said. “I haven’t even seen much of him in the last few weeks. He’ll come round.”

Harry sat like a sack of potatoes, staring out the window until Hermione nudged him.

“Huh?” He said.

“I asked you, Potter, what are some common properties of Asphodel?” Snape was holding the class textbook in his hand, open to somewhere in the middle.

Harry stared at him. Asphodel? Seriously? He immediately thought of being bent and smacked and his neck flushed. “It’s…used in potions?”

A few people sniggered, Draco included. Hermione’s hand went up.

Snape sighed. “Superb answer, Potter. Do you pay attention at all class or is your feeble mind unable to retain information one year to the next?”

Harry’s ears went pink. “Sorry, sir, I can’t think of anything right now.”

Snape glared at him and looked back at the book. “Ms. Granger?” He turned a page with one long, pale finger.

“Asphodel has narcotic properties and is used in the Draught of Living Death. Any potion that requires relaxation or a certain level of compliance usually contains Asphodel. It’s in the lily family and—”

“—that’s enough, Granger, we don’t need a dissertation.”

More of the Slytherins giggled and Hermione’s mouth shut with a snap. Harry hated when Snape went out of his way to make him look stupid and he really hated when Snape made his friends feel bad. Hermione was just answering his question, he didn’t have to be a git about it. Harry tore off a piece of parchment and jotted a quick note:Good answer. He’s an arsehole. He passed it to Hermione. She read it and the corner of her mouth went up before she handed it back.

“Potter!” Snape slammed the textbook hard on the table in front of Harry. Everyone jumped about a foot. Snape leaned over, his face a few inches away from Harry’s, glaring at him. “Give me that note.” His voice was low and horrible.

“What?” Harry started to squirm. Oh no.

“Give me your little love note.”

The room had gone silent. There was no way around it. Harry had the scrap of paper clutched in his now-sweaty hand. He hoped the ink would be obscured enough to become illegible. Slowly, he passed Professor Snape the note. He snatched it and read it, his dark eyes flitting across the short missive. He looked at Harry, furious. He crumpled the note and swooped around the table to where Harry was sitting. Harry tried not to cringe. Everyone held their breath. Snape grabbed Harry by the scruff and dragged him off the chair, walking him towards the front of the classroom. Harry struggled to keep up with his long, angry strides. Snape’s touch was like electricity on his skin and immediately a flash of pain electrified Harry’s whole body for a second before disappearing. He gasped at the sudden flash and vanish. Snape glanced down at him and the grip on Harry’s neck eased a fraction as he marched him towards his office door. The other students were so silent that birds could be heard outside the closed windows. Harry felt sick. No way Snape would punish him here—in the middle of class—in front of everyone? In front of the Slytherins? He didn’t know what would be worse, getting it in front of his friends or getting it in front of his enemies. His eyes got watery and Harry didn’t know whether to be relieved or horrified when Snape threw his office door open and turned. “Everyone begin reading chapter six. I’d better not hear a sound.” He pushed Potter into his office and slammed the door behind.

Harry immediately hurried to the far corner of the office behind Snape’s desk, rubbing the back of his neck. This was bad. Snape could kill him and vanish his body and there’d be no witnesses. His stomach hurt. He blinked furiously to clear his wet eyes.

“Sit.” Snape pointed at the chair in front of his desk. Harry crept around the desk, on the opposite side of Snape, and sat on the chair furthest from him.

“What the hell are you thinking, Potter?” Snape asked.

Harry hadn’t known what to expect but somehow it wasn’t this question. “Wh-what?”

“What happened last time you childishly insulted me?”

“Y-you spanked me?” His neck flushed with embarrassment.

Snape nodded slowly as if Harry was a moron. “So why did you insult me yet again?”

“Well, it was written. I didn’t say it!”

Snape’s shoulders sagged. “Potter, I despair of you! The potion is a curse, not a challenge. Are you trying to see how often you can upset me? Do you want to be smacked?”

“No! God! Of course not!”

Snape stormed over to him and Harry hunched his shoulders, cowering, expecting the man to start beating him over the head with his fists. Snape looked like he was about to grab Harry again, but when he saw the boy was cowering, he stopped.

“Then keep your insults off your tongue and off your quill, silly child! I am not going to waste more precious class time with this. How bad is the pain?”

“It’s tolerable.”

“Fine.” He put his hand down on the front of his desk, purposely leaning over the seated child to intimidate him. “You will go out there,” he pointed towards the classroom, “and you will sit and be respectful for the rest of class and then I want to see you in this office during my free hours.”

Harry couldn’t help it, his eyes filled with tears again. He hated that Snape was towering over him like this. He hated that he was going to get spanked again today and just for calling him an arsehole! This was all so frustrating and Snape was being an intimidating git on purpose.

“When are they?” He asked his knees, trying not cry.

Snape handed him a piece of paper off his desk. “My schedule this term.” His voice was a fraction less annoyed. Harry folded the page in half. His hands hurt. Snape stared down at him for a few moments and straightened.

“Alright, out you get.” He strode over to the door and Harry quickly wiped his eyes. Snape threw the door open and there was a general scrambling out in the classroom.

“Malfoy, sit down.” Snape commanded, striding into the room, “and put your wand away before I make you eat it.”

Harry snuck out after him and every eye landed on him as he made his way to the back of the classroom and sat down next to Hermione. People stared at him for a few more seconds, clearly trying to guess what had gone on in the office, before Snape got everyone’s attention and started asking people more questions. Harry could feel Ron and Hermione staring at him but he simply tucked the folded schedule into his pocket, sat up straight, and watched Snape teach.

-

“What did he say?” Hermione asked as they gathered their stuff when the bell rang. Harry could tell other people were lingering, wanting to hear his answer.

“Tell you later.” He said. They went to History of Magic and as usual, Binns lost the attention of most of the room within the first quarter of class. Harry slipped Snape’s schedule out of his pocket and read it. He had office hours for ninety minutes before lunch and two hours right after classes ended. He also supervised a quiet study period two days a week in the afternoon. Harry could make that work.

At lunch he told his friends what had happened in the office.

“I didn’t know what to think!” Hermione said once he’d explained. “I thought he was going to, you know.”

“Me too.” Harry said, dumping a handful of crisps on his plate. Ron didn’t say anything as he picked at his berry trifle. Harry had noticed that Ron jammed his spoon into the cream extra hard when Hermione let slip that Snape called the note Harry had passed her a “love note.” Still in a mood, Harry supposed.

Harry ended up losing track of time and missing Snape’s morning office hours. The pain of the stupid potion was tolerable, though it gradually grew over the course of the day. He did his best to ignore the aching bursts of pain until after classes ended. Neither Ron nor Hermione were in his final class so at the end of the day he steeled himself, hoisted his bag up on his shoulder with a wince, and headed for Snape’s office.

“Where are you going, Mr. Potter?” A sweet, sugary voice spoke behind him.

Umbridge. Damn that old toad.

“I have a meeting with Professor Snape.” Harry said as respectfully as he could. “He hates when we’re tardy,” he added, hoping it would encourage her to bugger off.

“A meeting regarding what?”

The fuck do you care?

“Er,” he thought fast. “I need help with potions. It’s not one of my strongest subjects.”

She gave him a searching glance. “I see. Well, it’s nice to see students so interested in their studies. It’s so…honestly refreshing.”

“Uh…”

“You’re an honest boy, right Mr. Potter?”

“I think s—I mean, yes.”

“Then you’ll surely admit that the Dark Lord did not come back last year?”

“Noooo, Professor, he’s definitely back.” Harry said, bristling at being called out like this. “He killed Cedric!”

“Nasty lies make nasty boys, Mr. Potter.” She said. Gone was the sugary sweetness. Her voice had a hard edge on it now.

“Then I’ll do my best not to lie.” He said. A flash of pain jolted his body and he gasped.

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you well, Mr. Potter?”

“Yes! Just, indigestion. Uh, I better go…” He said, stepping away.

“Yes, off with you. Wouldn’t want to keep Professor Snape waiting. He’s quite the disciplinarian.”

“Yeah.” Harry smiled and turned on his heel, walking quickly to Snape’s office. He could feel Umbridge’s toady eyes on his back the whole time. What an awful woman. What was that remark about Snape being a disciplinarian? A thought slammed into his head. Oh god, does she suspect?

He worried the whole way down to the dungeons and wandered through the Potions classroom, lost in thought.

“Hey, Harry.” Zoe, the librarian, was at one of the longer tables near the front of the room, retrieving something grotesque and slimy from one of the jars Snape usually kept on his shelves in his office. Harry froze, not expecting anyone else to be in here.

“Oh hello Zoe.”

She was wearing thick gloves and there were pages of notes scattered on the desk. She had a cauldron set up and looked like she was about to brew something particularly complex. The thing in the jar squelched. Harry resisted the urge to make a face.

He wanted to ask what she was doing but didn’t want to bother her. He knocked on Snape’s office door.

“Enter!” The man called.

Harry crept in, feeling sullen and annoyed. He flung his school bag on the ground and slumped into one of the two armless chairs in front of Snape’s desk. Did Umbridge know? How would Umbridge know? The only people who knew about this horrible potion were McGonagall, Dumbledore, Snape, Ron, and Hermione. They wouldn’t tell anyone, he was certain. And Snape had punished him here in this office. It’s not like Umbridge could see into here, right? Harry glanced over at the crackling fireplace. Could she have spied on them using the floo system? No, there was no way she knew.

Snape was grading papers and paid no attention to him.

Harry glanced around the office. Snape’s desk was angled into the room, facing the door. There was an inviting fireplace on the far wall, popping merrily and heating what would otherwise be a dark, chill space. Every other inch of wall space was covered by shelves of books, gnarly things in glass jars, or little containers for potions. It was neat enough, but cluttered here and there with piles of parchments and skeletons of animals. There was a small table in the corner of the room opposite Snape’s desk and Harry remembered sitting there on the occasional detentions. There was a short staircase on the other side of the room with a big heavy door at the top. Harry figured that was the old bat’s torture chamber.

“Are you quite done examining my office?”

“I was just—” another attack, more like a spasm, wracked Harry’s body and he stifled a yelp.

Snape paused grading and looked up at him. “That bad?”

Harry nodded and rubbed his arm.

“Is it getting worse?” Snape put his red-ink quill aside and leaned back in his big chair.

“It might be.” He muttered.

“Where were you this morning?”

“I lost track of time. Pain wasn’t that bad yet.”

Snape stood up. He came around the desk and sat in the other chair beside Harry. He started pulling back his right sleeve, folding it up to his elbow.

“I hate this.” Harry said. He got to his feet as slowly as he could. He stared at Snape’s lap. He really did not want another spanking. It had been embarrassing and painful. Damn this potion!

“C’mon, Potter. We both have things we’d rather be doing.” Snape had a load of work and grading to do before tomorrow. He also had his monthly Head of House meeting in the next few minutes and today and he’d promised Poppy he’d make a load of various replacement potions for the infirmary. He did not like being interrupted on a busy day.

Snape wrapped his hand around Harry’s forearm and pulled him in between his legs. Harry got into position over his knee without further prompting and Snape once again grabbed for the hem of his robes to yank them up and out of the way. He flipped them over Harry’s back, revealing his backside clad in the dark uniform trousers. Harry hung there, his hands flat on the cold floor, feeling shamed and annoyed and nervous. Snape flicked his wand. The door locked. He muttered a silencing charm, enshrouding the room so no one could hear what was happening. He tossed his wand on the desk, then clamped his hand on Harry’s waist and raised his arm—

“Wait!” Harry yelled.

“Merlin—what?” Snape lowered his arm.

“Is your office bugged?”

“Bugged?”

“Can anyone spy on you in here?”

“What? What a question. No, Potter. No one can see your precious backside get smacked.”

“What about the fireplace? Floo?”

“It doesn’t work that way.” Snape shifted his legs. “Now hush!” Snape tightened his grip on Harry’s side and began smacking fast. He peppered his entire backside with hard slaps, putting his shoulder into it on a few of the harder blows. “I’m punishing you because once again,”

Smack! Smack!

“you insulted me.”

“I-ow! I know! Ow!”

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Snape was purposely hitting him harder than he had last time and it didn’t take long for the boy to start struggling. Good. If the Nox rubrum sensed that the pain being inflicted was harsh enough, maybe that meant the attacks would stop sooner rather than later. If Potter hadn’t taken this blasted potion, Snape wouldn't faff around with smacking him for this offense. Childish name-calling hardly warranted a spanking. He would just give him detention and moved on with his packed day. However, regardless of whether or not Snape thought Harry deserved smacks, and regardless of how fair-or-not-fair the doling out of the punishment was, it was the potion that decided for them. If Harry transgressed, whether it was swearing at him or doing something really barmy like blowing up a classroom, the Nox rubrum would demand attention all the same. It was terrifically unfair.

After a round dozen smacks, Snape took a short break and rubbed his hand. Harry hung his head, keening pitifully. He reached back with fumbling fingers, trying to rub at his sore backside and failing to get a good angle. Snape slapped his hand away and raised his left heel, elevating Harry’s hips a little. He braced his hand on Harry’s shoulder and tilted him forward. The boy put his forearms flat on the floor. Snape ignored the worried noises Harry was making and raised his arm high. This was going to hurt. He smacked the boy right on the spot where bottom met leg. Harry shouted out.

Snape gave him another smack.

“Oh, ow! Fuck! Not so hard!”

Another almighty smack. Harry tried to scramble off his lap.

“Potter!” He snapped, tightening his leg over the boy’s. “One more.” He hit him again and leaned back in the chair with an eye on the clock to time the attack. He tried to rub the burning itch out of his right hand. “Anything?” Snape asked after a few minutes.

“No.” Harry’s voice was hoarse.

“Great.” Snape pulled him to his feet, ignoring his wet, red face, and went back to his desk and pile of grading. He stayed focused he could probably get through this stack before the Head’s meeting.

“I hate it!” Harry snapped. “I hate all of this!” He kicked his school bag across the floor and rubbed his sleeves over his face. “You’re being mean to me because you want me to suffer!”

“Believe it or not, Potter, I have better things to do than plot your demise!” Snape said from his desk. “I’ll leave that to the Dark Lord. Now calm down,” he dipped his quill into the ink pot, “or I’ll put you over my knee again.”

Harry didn’t think he could take another spanking so soon. He shook his head and furiously wiped his eyes.

“Don’t get so hysterical.” Snape said absently, glancing over the page in front of him. “This could be so much worse.”

“Worse?” Harry looked up at him. “How could this be bloody worse? Do you know how awful it is to have to find you so you can hit me”

Snape, out of patience, dropped the quill back into the inkpot and rose to his feet. He turned to the fireplace and grabbed a long iron poker. He shoved into a pile of glowing ash and and barked the word, “ignis!” The ashes popped and when Snape pulled the poker out, the tip was glowing white hot. He swung it around held it out to Harry. He backed up, able to feel the heat of the thing even from three feet away. “Where do you want to be branded? On your leg? On your arm?”

Harry was shaking his head back and forth fast.

“No?” Snape said. He tossed the poker towards the fireplace and grabbed a shining silver knife off the mantle. He grabbed Harry’s wrist and slapped the boy’s palm on his desk. “Which finger do you want to lose?” He held the knife over Harry’s hand, tilting it so it caught the firelight on it’s razor edge. “Or maybe a toe? An ear?”

Again Harry shook his head back and forth. “No, no. Nothing.”

Snape put the knife back. “Those are the other options, Potter. You don’t think this can get worse? It can always get worse. And I’m sure you haven’t put any thought into how frustrating this is for me.”

“You? I’m the one getting hit!”

“Do you have any idea how awful it is to have to devote so much of my minute free time trying to sort this mess out?” Snape shot back. “Every moment I get I am working on unfolding this potion. I’ve been in touch with colleagues all over the world, hoping someone knows something about the origin of it, the antidote, its bizarre ingredients, or something that will get us out of this mess.” He pushed some hair out of his face. He’d read the assessment over again and again. He’d heard of most of the things in the Nox rubrum but there was a disturbing number of ingredients he’d never heard of at all, and some of which he thought had gone extinct. There was no word yet on whether an antidote even existed.

Harry scowled at the floor. Snape was right. Harry hadn’t considered that Snape was putting so much work into sorting the potion. “I still bloody hate it.” Harry muttered. The heat was gone from his words.

Snape spoke in a calm but stern tone. “I do you the decency of spanking you in my office behind closed doors, just the two of us. Dumbledore told me to do whatever I have to do to get us through this. Do you realize that if I was as vile as you think I am, I could drag you in front of the entire school at breakfast every day, take down your trousers, and put the cane to you on the claim that it was the only way to stop your attacks? I could come into your common room and do it in front of your Gryffindor friends. I could have spanked you in front of the class today! Face it, Potter, this is as good as it’s going to get and I’m your best bet at getting this nonsense fixed!”

“Why didn’t you then?” Harry snarled, angry that Snape had made a point and horrified at the idea of being bared and caned in front of the whole school. “Why don’t you just beat me in front of everyone, then?”

“Because I hate this too!” Snape barked. He paused, took a breath, and lowered his voice. “Believe it or not I don’t exactly enjoy either beating the students or wasting my time. Public humiliation, punishment or not, never did anyone any good.” And the fact that hitting you when you don’t deserve it makes me feel like my sodding father doesn’t help either.

Harry went silent, fuming.

Dumbledore’s words floated back to Snape, “There’s no reason you need to be ‘the bad guy,’ Severus. This potion affects you both, for better or for worse….try to see this as an opportunity to loosen up, if you’d like.”

He still had no idea how he was supposed to ‘loosen up’ around the infuriating child. Both of them were silent for a few moments. “Go.” Snape said.

Harry grabbed his bag and fled.

-

A sign was posted outside the Great Hall a few days later. One of many. Umbridge had been putting forth decrees left and right, declaring this or that off limits. It had started with simple things like forbidding spell-check quills, then forbade unlicensed candy (probably had Fred and George to blame for that), this new one though declared Umbridge the Hogwarts High Inquisitor.

“What the hell is that?” Dean asked as they stood outside the Hall, reading.

“Appointed by the Ministry of Magic.” Hermione said. “This gives practically the same power as Dumbledore!” She clenched her fists. “The Ministry is sticking it’s nose in at Hogwarts. I knew it. How is Dumbledore allowing this?”

“There’s not much he can do.” Fred and George came up behind them. “This isn’t his school, the funding comes from the Ministry.”

“It’s bollocks.” Seamus said.

“Well put, my friend.” George said. “Let’s eat.”

Harry ate dinner quickly, not wanting to engage in conversation. He was annoyed for reasons he couldn’t even explain. He just felt so angry lately. Hermione gave him a sympathetic glance and tried to spark a conversation. Ron shoveled mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“I’m going upstairs.” Harry said after some more stifled conversation from Hermione. “Thanks Hermione.” He said loudly, “you’re a good friend.” He glared at Ron and stormed off.

He went up to the common room, empty now since everyone was still at dinner. He wanted to punch something. Ron wasn’t talking to him, they weren’t making any progress on the potion, Umbridge was a terrible old hag, and he had to tiptoe extra carefully around Snape. He should do homework but he was too upset to focus. He thought about going downstairs and wandering outside with his invisibility cloak, or finding Malfoy and starting a fight.

There were noises on the stairs and then Dean, Seamus, and Ron appeared. Hermione and Katie Bell trailed, chatting.

Ron glanced at Harry and turned to go the dorms.

“What the hell, Ron!?” Harry shouted. Everyone froze and stared at him. “Why aren’t you talking to me? What did I do?”

Katie and Hermione headed for their dorms, wanting to give the boys some privacy. Seamus and Dean were staring at Harry until Hermione nudged them. They took the hint and everyone left.

“Just forget it.” Ron said.

“Forget what? Can you tell me what I did because I have no idea.”

“What does it matter? You always get everything you want anyway because you’re the golden boy!”
“What the hell? What are you on about?”

“She obviously picked you so go on, go be happy together. Leave me out of it!” He snarled. He stormed upstairs, leaving Harry more confused than before.

-

That night, Harry had a nightmare. He tossed and turned and then the scar on his forehead ached.

He dreamed he was gliding down a dark corridor, sliding along the cool floor on his belly. He thought himself alone, but no….at the end of the corridor, a door. He nosed through and glided along the carpet towards a man dozing at his desk. Harry—rather, the body he was in—flicked his tongue out and tasted the scent of the man on the air. Harry felt like he was on a mission but he couldn’t remember who had sent him or why. He badly wanted to bite this man, to rend his flesh to taste his blood. He coiled his great body, rising into the air. The man shifted in the chair and startled awake. He drew his wand, fearful. Harry tasted the delicious fear. A faint pain in his head throbbed between his eyes. He ignored it. His body swelled and he darted forward, sinking his pointed fangs deep into the man’s flesh. He shouted out in pain and blood spurted across Harry’s jaws, spilled onto the floor, down his gullet. The throb intensified…hurting, hurting, hurting—

“Harry! Harry!” Someone was calling his name. Someone far away. He opened his eyes. Dean and Seamus and Ron were standing around his bed, looking worried.

Harry blinked. His heart was pounding. His scar was on fire. “Attacked,” he managed, “Ron, your dad—oh shit, that was your dad—the snake attacked him!”

“What?”

Harry leaned over and threw up on the floor.

“I’m getting help!”

Was that Neville? Someone ran off.

Harry’s scar was burning white hot. He groaned and clapped a hand to it. “Your dad is hurt. So much blood everywhere. We have to go.” Harry swung his legs to get out of bed.

“Harry, stay there.” Ron said, sounding concerned. “Neville’s gone to get help.”

Seconds (hours?) later McGonagall was at Harry’s side. “What happened, Potter?”

Harry was thrilled to see her. She’d always taken him seriously and she’d know what to do.

“Professor.” He clutched the sleeve of her tartan dressing gown. “Ron’s dad was attacked. There was so much blood. We have to do something, he’ll die!”

Ron made a distressed noise and McGonagall straightened up.

“Right, Potter, we’re going to see the Headmaster.”

-

They hustled to Dumbledore’s office. Harry gulped. Mr. Weasley was like the father he never had. He’d always welcomed Harry into his home and treated him like one of his own. A queasy sort of ache lurched in Harry’s chest and he wanted to barf again. No, not Mr. Weasley. Anyone but Mr. Weasley. He could not die.

Ron stared at him as they walked the moonlit corridor, worried.

“Fizzing Whizzbee!” McGonagall cried to the gargoyle, and they went up to Dumbledore’s office. The man was sitting in his chair like he’d been expecting them and it wasn’t gone two in the morning.
McGonagall started explaining. “Harry had a nightmare.”

“It wasn’t a nightmare.” Harry said. “It was a, a, vision, or something. The snake, Voldemort’s snake, attacked Mr. Weasley and we need to find him and not sit around talking about it. There was so much blood.”

The door opened silently and Snape came in. Harry really wanted to barf now.

Dumbledore said some things to the portraits and off they vanished. After that, everything moved very quickly. Harry was given a cup of something warm and a stern male voice said, “drink it, Potter.” He swallowed the medicinal potion down and felt a little less queasy and worried. Ginny and the twins showed up, looking ill and concerned. Dumbledore said something about St. Mungo’s and Grimmauld Place. Harry’s scar ached.

“Get up.” Snape pulled him to his feet and Harry tried not to flinch as the man’s warm hand wrapped around his bicep. Harry put his hand on the port key that Dumbledore had that would bring them all to Grimmauld Place. There was that unpleasant yanking sensation, then they were off.

They landed in the dark kitchen. Kreacher looked disgusted at their arrival and crept away, muttering to himself.

“What happened?” Sirius asked. He looked a bit shabby, like he needed a shave and fresh clothes. “Are you all okay? The portrait told me about Arthur…”

“Yeah, Harry, what’s going on?” Ginny asked. They were all staring at him. Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, Sirius, and, Harry’s stomach flipped unpleasantly, Snape had come with too.

Harry sat down and took a deep breath. He relayed what he’d seen in the vision in as much detail as possible, leaving out the bits where he was actually the snake doing the biting.

“What are we sitting around here for? We have to go to St. Mungo’s!” Said Ginny.

“No way.” Sirius said.

“That’s our dad!” George protested.

“And what are you going to tell them when they ask how you knew a huge snake attacked him?” Sirius asked.

“Who cares?! He might be dying!” Ginny shouted.

“I’m with Ginny.” Ron muttered, “C’mon, guys, let’s go.”

“No!” Sirius growled. “We can’t let on to the fact that Harry is apparently having visions from Voldemort about things that are happening miles away!”

Harry glanced up, worried. Snape was staring at him, standing in the far corner of the kitchen like a gargoyle. Harry looked away, feeling ashamed for some reason. Every time he looked at Snape he remembered that the man had spanked him.

“What about mum?” Ron asked.

“Dumbledore said Fawkes would tell her.” Fred said absently.

“Someone will let us know when there’s something to know.” Sirius said. He sounded tired. He waved his wand and produced a round of butterbeers. The Weasleys sat reluctantly at the table to start their vigil. No one was going to sleep tonight.

“Well, the brats are settled.” Snape said to Sirius. “I must be heading to my flat, far earlier than expected, mind—” He sounded put out about this.

“Oh no,” Sirius said to him, “You’re not going anywhere. You and I are having words.”

Snape narrowed his eyes. “I already got your letter. Fine kindling for my fire. And words? Please, I am a busy man, Black. That’s nothing you would know about, stuck in this…” he looked around, “place.” The disgust was evident in his voice.

Fred raised his eyebrows and took a swig from his butterbeer. Ron and Ginny and George exchanged looks. Harry watched his godfather and Snape.

“Upstairs.” Sirius said. Snape stared at him, then swept towards the stairs. Sirius followed and he laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder as he passed.

“What’s that about?” Ginny asked when they’d left.

Harry looked at Ron, wondering if he’d tell them. It then occurred to Harry that Ron didn’t know he wrote to Sirius because they hadn’t been speaking.

“Dunno.” Harry said. He sipped his butterbeer.

Sirius slammed the door closed at the top of the stairs so they wouldn’t be overheard.

“If you ever touch Harry again…”

“Oh I should have figured he’d come crying to you about that.” Snape said, bored.

Sirius fisted his hands in Snape’s lapels and shoved him against the wall. “Listen to me, Snivellus,” Sirius growled, “I will kill you if you hit him again.”

“That’s inconvenient, considering this potion has bound us together. If I’m dead Harry will die too, hence my flat nearby.”

“What?” Sirius blurted. “What flat? You don’t have a flat near here.”

“Get your paws off me.” Snape shoved him back. “Look at you. Such righteous indignation over something you know nothing about. You don’t have the facts! Harry took the Nox rubrum under your roof. Did he tell you about the attacks he gets? How if he doesn’t bind himself to a master—me, in this case—those attacks will eventually take his life? Did he tell you how I have to inconvenience myself and continually consume the Solis argenti lest he be without a master and die? Did he tell you how I didn’t even want to have any part of this? If he strays too far from my side, it may kill him. It may not. We don’t know exactly how inconvenient all our lives have become since he imbibed this blasted potion. Did he tell you any of that?”

Sirius felt sick. “What is this potion?”

“It’s called the Draught of Asphodel. It’s made of up two potions, one called Nox rubrum and the other Solis argenti. It’s very dark, very complicated, and your godson consumed it under your watch and now I’m left to pick up the pieces and fix your mess.”

“Why…” Sirius shook his head, trying to process all this. “Why do you hit him?”

“It’s part of the potion.” Snape said. “If he upsets me I have to hit him. Of course I could also brand his flesh or take a limb for my potion stores, but I think a simple spanking is the best course of action.”

“You bastard.” Sirius said. None of this was Snape’s fault and Sirius absolutely hated that. It was his fault, all of it. He allowed Mundungus to keep the potions in the house. Why hadn’t he just made Harry a fresh healing potion? Why did he send him off to find his own?

“Call me all the names you like, it won’t change the fact that I have to punish your godson to keep him alive. The potion deems it so and until we find an antidote…”

“Find the damn antidote!”

“We’re working on it. But unlike you I do not have unlimited leisure time to pursue this.”
“I’ll pursue it. What do you need?”

Snape snorted. “Please. You’d hurt yourself. Leave this to the experts, Black. Now I really must be off. Have fun babysitting.” With that, he apparated away with a crack.