Harry stared into Snape’s furious face and swallowed hard. His mouth was like sandpaper. "Sir, I -"

 

"Not. A. Word," Snape growled. Tightening his grip on Harry's collar, he began to unceremoniously drag Harry down a side street that led in the direction of Hogwarts. Harry found himself feeling incredibly grateful for the raging blizzard; the poor visibility meant that no one was around to see him being roughly hauled along by one highly aggrieved professor.

 

Snape did not speak - not as they exited the village, not as they hurried up the path to the castle gates, nothing. In fact, when the man barked, “Expecto patronum!” as they approached the Dementors guarding the castle grounds, Harry nearly jumped out of his skin.

 

The silver doe circling the two of them was surprisingly good at staving off the Dementors’ effects; it meant that Harry didn’t feel their usual draining misery whatsoever. Of course, Harry was so terrified of what was about to happen to him that he doubted even Dementors could make him feel worse than he already did.

 

Snape was actually going to kill him. This was it - he was going to completely snap, lock Harry in the darkest Hogwarts dungeon, torture him with thumbscrews and chop him into potions ingredients. Every now and then Harry chanced a look at the man, and every time he deeply regretted it. Snape’s face was a livid white, grim and drawn. His eyes were narrowed, lips pursed, and his jaw was so tense that it looked as if it could crack walnuts. His hand was like a vice on Harry’s neck, and it seemed as though he was barely restraining himself from reaching over and throttling Harry.

 

Harry wished he would start lecturing, or yelling, or anything. The silent anticipation as he waited for Snape to come down on him was positively hellish. As they entered the castle, Harry actually considered trying to run away from Snape - anything to get away from whatever was about to happen to him. Still, it was all hopeless. The man’s grip was too firm to escape, and he only released his hold on the scruff of Harry’s neck when they were inside Snape’s office. As the door slammed shut, Harry was filled with the overwhelming certainty that he would not be seeing the outside world again for a very, very long time.

 

Snape did not sit. He whirled over to his desk in a flurry of black robes and examined Harry with narrowed, furious eyes. He folded his arms and pressed his lips into a thin, bloodless line. Harry gulped.

 

Several agonising moments passed, during which Harry struggled to think of what to say or do. He had just opened his mouth to speak - what he would say, Harry wasn’t sure of - when Snape finally broke his silence.

 

“I do not force you to obey an excess of rules, Harry.” His tone was soft, practically a whisper. Somehow, that was more terrifying than Snape shouting at him. “And the ones I do instate have a purpose, shockingly enough. We’ve had multiple conversations about where you are and are not allowed to be… so imagine my surprise when I checked your location and found you were not tucked away in some corner of the castle, which you claimed was your day’s plan when you lied to my face this morning, but in the village. Are you allowed to visit Hogsmeade village, Harry?”

 

He bowed his head and didn’t respond.

 

“Of course, you think you’re above such petty things as rules, don’t you?” Snape’s whispers were edging more into growls. “You wouldn’t put much stock in such things as trust and obedience. I suppose my desire to prevent your brutal murder is just the height of cruelty, isn’t it?”

 

The reference to Black banished Harry's nervous anticipation in a moment. Burning fury replaced it as everything he'd heard in the pub came flooding right back, as well as the memory of Snape's role in keeping it from him.

 

  I trusted you. I trusted you, and you lied to me!

 

Harry swallowed hard, trying to keep a handle on his temper as Snape continued his rant.

 

"I see now that we oughtn't even bother to install protections!" Snape said, the volume of his voice climbing. "Perhaps we should hand Sirius Black a detailed list of instructions directing him on how to find you, since you're completely incapable of fulfilling any basic requirements set in place to keep you safe! Are you truly so daft that you snuck into Hogsmeade?! Have you a singular intelligent thought floating around inside that waste of space you call a skull?”

 

"I was under the cloak!" Harry protested, his anger with Snape only growing with every passing moment. "I was hidden!"

 

"Black is intimately familiar with the ins and outs of this particular cloak, as a matter of fact!" Snape shouted, waving the Invisibility Cloak around in the air before slamming it onto his desk. "It is not the protection you apparently think it is, which is why you should have stayed in the castle!"

 

Black would be familiar with it - the Invisibility Cloak was once James Potter's. James, who had been best mates with Sirius Black, who had been betrayed by him…

 

"I cannot believe you would do something this stupid!" Snape yelled. "Did you even think this through for a moment, Harry? Did you consider how dangerous it was for no one to know where you were? Did you contemplate the immense dangers of trying to hoodwink Dementors, especially given your heightened reaction to them? You're a damn fool!"

 

Harry glowered at the jars of floating dead things on Snape's office wall, his chest heaving with heavy, fast breaths. He was so angry that he felt like he could explode at any moment -

 

"Look at me when I'm speaking to you!" Snape shouted. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

 

Harry felt the last bits of his restraint snap, and he shouted, "I don't know! Do you have anything to say, Snape?!"

 

By now, Snape was truly apoplectic. The muscles in his jaw were practically convulsing. "It would be very unwise to cheek me at the minute, Potter -"

 

"I don't care!" he yelled. "You're a liar, you know that? A stupid liar!"

 

The furious expression on Snape's face became tinged with confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

 

"How could you?" Harry shouted, hands clenched into fists. "You didn't think I deserved to know Sirius Black betrayed my parents?! Even after I told you how much I hate being lied to, you kept lying to me about him!"

 

Snape winced and rested his hands on his desk. "Harry -"

 

"He was my dad's best friend!" Harry yelled, blood pounding in his ears, heart hammering like a drumbeat in his chest. "And I didn't know that, and I certainly didn't know that he’s my fucking godfather, or that he sold them out to Voldemort, because no one ever bothered to tell me! What, did it slip your mind or something? I’m the one he did this to, and none of you told me! What the hell is wrong with you, Snape?! I thought I could trust you!"

 

"Harry, calm down."

 

"NO!" Harry screeched, his throat raw and scratchy. "I WILL NOT CALM DOWN! YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME! SOMEONE SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME HE WAS BEHIND IT, THAT HE'S THE REASON THEY'RE DEAD, AND YOU KNEW! YOU KNEW, YOU BASTARD!"

 

Harry seized a jar with something purple floating in it off a shelf and in a rush of fury, threw it as hard as he possibly could at the floor, relishing the crunch and smash of broken glass, hoping it would ease the cresting grief in his chest. It didn't, so he drove his fist into the wall, imagining it to be Black’s smug, mad face -

 

Snape was on his feet in a flash. He shot over to Harry before he knew what was happening and grabbed Harry’s wrists in a vice-like grip. Snape pulled Harry flush against him and encircled his arms tightly around Harry’s body so that he was pinioned.

 

"LET GO OF ME!" Harry yelled, trying his hardest to writhe away.

 

"No," Snape said firmly. His grip was far too strong for Harry to struggle out of. "You’re going to hurt yourself."

 

"I DON'T CARE IF I DO!" Harry screeched. He heard something shatter nearby, but paid the sound no mind. "HE HURT ME! HE BETRAYED THEM, HE'S THE REASON I HEAR MY MUM DYING EVERY TIME I GET NEAR A DEMENTOR, IT'S ALL HIS FAULT AND I HATE HIM!"

 

"I know," Snape said softly.

 

"I hate him!" Harry shouted again, even though his voice was cracking from the despairing sob he was barely suppressing. "I hate him, I hate him, I hate him -"

 

And now Harry had completely gone and lost it again, and tears were burning in his eyes, hot and furious tears that he refused to let fall but couldn’t quite stop, and his shouts dissolved into ragged gasps as he struggled not to weep fully. Fighting off Snape suddenly felt like a herculean effort, and Harry just didn’t have it in him. He slumped backwards into Snape, going limp, barely able to hold his own weight up on his legs. Snape's grip loosened just enough to allow him to turn Harry around so his face was buried in Snape's robes. His arms wrapped around Harry's shaking shoulders, keeping him close. His grip was still too firm for Harry to escape, but there was now a comforting element to being held in a time where Harry felt like his entire world was crumbling.

 

"I hate him, too," Snape said bitterly.

 

"He was their friend!" 

 

"I know. I understand."

 

And he did. He knew Snape felt that same sense of smarting betrayal because whenever he spoke about Lily, the grief on his face was stark and striking. He missed her, too. Harry wondered if the pain felt the same for Snape as it did for him; a mass of jagged broken glass in the centre of his chest that cut a little deeper every time he gasped for air. He missed his mother, he missed his father, and Harry wanted them.

 

All Harry wanted was his parents, and Black had robbed him of them.

 

He shut his eyes as Snape continued to hold him and tried to imagine his mother or father in Snape’s place. He tried and tried, but they just felt so far away, and it was impossible to imagine…

 

But maybe this was a good enough substitute.

 

“Breathe, Harry,” Snape instructed, carding a hand through Harry’s hair. “You need to calm down.”

 

Harry gasped for breath through the lump in his throat, and tried to focus on the soothing motion of Snape’s hand on his head to distract himself from the choking devastation. He couldn’t work out if he was angry, or upset, or some horrid combination of both - all he knew was that he felt awful. It seemed like every time Harry thought he understood what had happened to his parents the rug was pulled out from under him, and he had to go through the pain all over again.

 

Harry did his best to breathe, to blink back the tears in his eyes, and eventually managed to calm himself down a little. He wasn’t going to cry over Black, he decided. That traitorous bastard wasn’t worth his tears. He sniffled, and shook himself furiously. He needed to get it together - he was being pathetic.

 

Harry tried to pull away from Snape, but his arms remained firm and unyielding. Harry winced, and abruptly remembered why they were in this position. He’d just snuck out to Hogsmeade, got caught, and had smashed up Snape’s office in the middle of a telling off. If he’d been in trouble before, Harry was certainly in for it now…

 

Snape ignored the movement at first, but when Harry tried more insistently to get away, he looked down and arched an eyebrow. “If I let go, are you going to control yourself?”

 

Harry felt his cheeks burn. “Er - yeah…”

 

“I know what you heard upset you, but you do not intentionally destroy my belongings, and you certainly do not start punching things,” Snape said sternly. “You cannot allow your temper to get away from you like that - it’s dangerous. You’ll injure yourself.”

 

“Sorry,” Harry whispered.

 

Snape finally released him from the hold, but he quickly gripped Harry’s shoulder with one hand. It was probably a good idea; Harry’s heart was hammering in his chest, and all he wanted to do was run away and hide. Snape reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out a Calming Draught, which he held in front of Harry. He would normally try to brush Snape off when he came out with potions, but he still felt very raw and emotional, so drank the Calming Draught without complaint. While the potion’s effects settled over him, Snape took the hand that Harry had punched the wall with and carefully looked it over for injuries. Something about that gesture - the fact that Snape still cared if Harry was hurt, even after what he’d done - made his throat tighten.

 

“What you heard about Black is obviously distressing, but we still need to address how you came to find this information.” Snape’s eyes looked oddly sympathetic, but his tone was stern again. He whirled his wand and conjured up a wooden chair in the corner of his office, facing the wall. He then proceeded to lead Harry over to it and firmly press him down so he was seated.

 

Harry craned his neck to look at Snape. He felt confused, and slightly scared. “What are you doing?”

 

“You are going to sit here, properly calm yourself down, and come up with a list of reasons why what you did today was a very, very bad idea,” Snape said in a low, firm voice. “I want at least four points.”

 

Harry’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

 

“You are obviously in desperate need of some time to reflect on the consequences of your actions,” Snape said, crossing his arms. “As you are clearly incapable of thinking things through, perhaps this will provide you with a very necessary opportunity to learn how to control your impulses. We will discuss Black later, if you have further questions regarding what you discovered.”

 

He swept away, leaving a grimacing Harry to stare at the cobbled walls of Snape’s office, cheeks burning with embarrassment at the childish punishment. He didn’t dare protest, though, since he was in such a massive heap of trouble. Sneaking off to Hogsmeade and smashing up Snape’s things tended to have that effect. He was obviously still furious with Harry, even though the row they’d been having had tampered itself down slightly after he’d gone to pieces like that… Harry couldn’t even begin to imagine the punishments he was about to be subjected to.

 

Although being stuck to a chair in a corner - Harry quickly realised he was under the influence of a Sticking Charm when he tried to shift in his seat and couldn’t move - well, it was certainly a miserable punishment in and of itself. Nothing to do but to stare at the walls and… and contemplate his actions, or whatever it was Snape wanted Harry to do. He was not used to that. The Dursleys were more ‘smack Harry around’ type disciplinarians, and the cupboard confinement was so they didn’t have to look at him or deal with him, not so Harry could engage in any sort of reflection on his bad behaviour.

 

He didn’t think Snape had stuck him here so he was out of sight and out of mind, though. He could still hear Snape shifting around in the background - there were muttered spells, and the sounds of broken glass tinkling. Harry abruptly remembered that he’d smashed that jar, and he was fairly certain he’d also broken some things with a wave of accidental magic. Harry tensed on instinct, but forced himself to relax. He took a few breaths in through gritted teeth. Snape was not going to flip out and hit him for accidental magic, Harry reminded himself. The Dursleys would, but that was not normal behaviour. He remembered what Snape had told him: accidental magic was expected in times of emotional distress, and he couldn’t control it. He was not in trouble - for that, at least…

 

It sounded like Snape had taken a seat at his desk. Papers rustled. Harry sighed, his shoulders slumping. He was not enjoying this. Even sitting around and feeling grumpy while Snape told him off would be better than staring at a blank wall with nothing to do…

 

Considering how ticked off Snape was, though, Harry would still be getting a classic lecture if he knew anything about the man. How great.

 

So. Contemplating. Harry couldn’t really think of four reasons - he only had one. Black. He wasn’t allowed to go to Hogsmeade because Sirius Black, who was apparently his bloody godfather, could pop out and finish him off. Harry swallowed hard, trying to ignore the anger coursing through him. The Calming Draught did help - he felt less like smashing things now, at the very least - but that didn’t mean Harry wasn’t furious about what Black had done to him and his family, or that he wasn’t still very cross with Snape for not telling him that Black was his godfather. Snape had an annoying tendency to keep things from Harry because he thought they’d be… upsetting, or whatever. Harry didn’t like that.

 

Although, he thought reluctantly, maybe Snape had a half-decent reason for doing so. Finding out about Black had sent him into something of a meltdown just then, and what did Harry knowing even achieve? It just meant he felt even worse about his parents being dead. It also meant he really, really wanted to hunt down Black and get revenge. Exactly what everyone had been worried about Harry doing.

 

He hated when Snape had a point.

 

Harry ground his teeth and stared harder at the misshapen cobblestones. He didn’t know why Snape had decided on four reasons. It seemed like a very arbitrary number, especially since there was obviously just the one reason why he wasn’t allowed to go to Hogsmeade: Sirius Black. Why else was there a problem?

 

Harry supposed it was because Snape had told him to do something and he’d deliberately disobeyed, even though he knew he wasn’t supposed to be in the village. That was why he shouldn’t have done it. Maybe Snape saw it as a disrespect thing, so Harry should have stayed in the castle because he respected Snape’s authority?

 

And no one had known where he was, either. There was probably some teacher-related reason for there to be all the permission slips, as well as everyone having to get their name ticked off by Filch as they went to the village. It was so the staff knew where they were. If Harry had collapsed in Hogsmeade or something then no one would have known where to find him, especially since he was hidden under the Invisibility Cloak. He supposed that also wasn’t good…

 

Why else?

 

It took Harry a good few minutes to think it up: the Dementors. They had featured in Snape’s rant. He thought Harry had snuck out through the front gates to get to Hogsmeade - an assumption Harry wasn’t going to correct, because he’d quite like to keep ahold of the Marauders Map - and that meant going past the Dementors. And Harry fainted whenever he got too close to one, so Snape was probably worried he could have come into contact with one and lost consciousness alone, in the snow, under the cloak.

 

He’d probably been very worried about Harry when he worked out where he was from the tracker. Guilt squirmed in Harry’s stomach. He still wasn’t used to having people worry about him, so it was a hard thing to remember to account for. Snape was always paranoid about Black, so he’d probably been scared that Harry would be blown up at any moment while he was out of school.

 

That wasn’t even including the Dementors. They both knew how bad the effect they had on Harry was. When he’d been a crying wreck the other week over the Dementors and what he’d heard, Snape had been the one to comfort him, after all. He probably hadn’t liked seeing Harry like that. Because… because he cared about Harry’s wellbeing, so seeing him upset had to be unpleasant. He’d actually said himself how horrible it was to see Harry struggling without being able to help, and Snape never talked about things like feelings, so he must have really felt bad about the whole situation. Then, Harry went and did something like this. It must feel like a complete slap in the face…

 

Harry’s shoulders slumped, and he bit down on his lip. He didn’t feel angry anymore - he felt deeply, horribly ashamed. As much as he wanted to go into Hogsmeade like everybody else, he shouldn’t have taken matters into his own hands. He had been really, really stupid.

 

Just when Harry thought he couldn’t bear the weight of his guilty thoughts anymore, a hand landed on his shoulder. Harry felt the Sticking Charm release, and he was tugged to his feet and turned around. It was Snape, whose face had the relatively blank, slack look that signalled the use of Occlumency. It suddenly occurred to Harry that the punishment he’d just endured might have been so Snape could also have a minute to get control of himself and calm down, too.

 

“Well? I assume you have your reasons?”

 

“Er - yeah.” Harry stared at the floor, feeling embarrassed and ashamed.

 

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you, please.”

 

Harry reluctantly lifted his gaze to meet Snape’s eyes, feeling very uncomfortable. Snape raised his eyebrows. “Reasons?”

 

“I shouldn’t have gone because of Black,” Harry muttered.

 

“And?”

 

This was the worst. Harry sighed, feeling more and more embarrassed with every passing second. He felt like a scolded child.

 

“Because you told me not to, and I should have done as you said,” Harry muttered. "And because none of the professors knew where I was, which is bad. Um… oh, and because of the Dementors, since I have a bad reaction to them and all. I’m really sorry, sir. I… I know it was stupid.”

 

“You need to think before you act,” Snape said sternly. “And you need to treat your health and life with the care it merits, Harry. Sirius Black is a very dangerous man.

 

“I know,” Harry said, wrapping his arms around himself. The guilt was gnawing at the insides, to the point where he felt like he had a horrible stomach ache.

 

“Since I can’t trust you to behave yourself, you’re not to leave my sight for the foreseeable future,” Snape said. “If you’re going to act like a heedless child when unsupervised, then I don’t want you off on your own. You’re confined to these quarters for the remainder of the Christmas holidays unless I am around to accompany you out, and while you’re inside you will complete whatever tasks I assign to you in my laboratory.”

 

Harry winced. He was probably going to be gutting Flobberworms and getting lectured well into January, then… and not leaving Snape’s sight? What a nightmare!

 

Snape noticed his reaction and scowled. “You ought to consider yourself very lucky that’s all you’re dealing with - I’d have sent any other student directly to the Headmaster for breaking the school rules so flagrantly!”

 

“Sorry,” Harry said miserably. The note of disappointment in Snape’s voice was making him feel far more awful than any amount of anger could.

 

“You ought to be,” Snape said sternly. “Because of all this, I am also going to confiscate your Invisibility Cloak.”

 

A surge of anger rose in Harry. “What? No! You can’t do that!”

 

Snape’s eyes flashed. “I can, and I will. I knew it was a bad idea from the start to allow you to keep it after you used it to run away in August, and this shows that you obviously cannot be trusted to use it appropriately -”

 

“It’s all I have of my dad!” Harry shouted. “I don’t have anything else, you can’t take it away from me!”

 

Snape paused for a moment, a clear conflict of emotions flitting over his face. After several moments, he tightly nodded to himself. “Then I will keep it in my room and show you where it is, so you can come and see it as you please if it’s genuinely that important to you. Do not abuse that privilege and steal it away to use, or I will take it away and put it somewhere you won’t find until you’re of age. Do you understand?”

 

Harry nodded vigorously. That was a far better compromise than he’d been expecting. It did mean he couldn’t sneak out of Snape’s quarters at night if the urge struck him, but at least he wasn’t losing the only bit of James Potter he had this way…

 

Snape suddenly reached out a hand and placed it on Harry’s shoulder. His face turned from stern to sympathetic. “I… I regret that you had to find out about Black this way.”

 

Harry swallowed, and nodded.

 

“I simply wished to protect you, Harry,” Snape said quietly. “I was concerned you might react - well…”

 

Exactly like I did, Harry thought with a grimace. He sort of wanted to stay angry at Snape, but couldn’t manage it properly. As much as Harry hated being lied to, he thought he sort of lost the right to be cross when he’d reacted so explosively to the truth, which was exactly what Snape must have been worried about. And, in a way, it was sort of nice to have someone worry about preserving his feelings. Harry had never experienced that before.

 

“And you’re not going to do anything stupid with this newfound knowledge, are you?” Snape squeezed Harry’s shoulder sharply, his fingers digging in. A warning.

 

Harry bit his lip and looked away, not wanting to lie. Snape seized his jaw and pulled Harry’s face up so he was forced to look into the man’s eyes. “Harry. Answer me.”

 

“Azkaban isn’t a punishment for him.” Harry jutted his chin out. “I heard Fudge talking. He doesn’t get affected by the Dementors like normal people do - he doesn’t have to hear her -”

 

“Black is not worth dying for, and let me be clear - if he finds you, he will kill you easily,” Snape said bluntly. “Promise me that you’re not going to go after him, Harry. No matter how angry you are, no matter how entitled you are to revenge, do not take matters into your own hands. Give me your word.”

 

Harry almost refused on principle, but Snape’s face looked oddly pained, and so worried, and as annoyed as Harry still was with the man, he hated that. He didn’t want Snape to worry about him…

 

“I promise,” he said reluctantly.

 

“I trust you,” Snape said, finally dropping his hand. “Do not break my trust once again, or I will be sorely disappointed.”

 

He began to walk through to his quarters without another word, and Harry followed, scowling. Trust Snape to whip out the emotional blackmail…

 

Snape quickly made his way through the living room and into his bedroom, where Harry had never been before. It was a fair bit larger than Harry’s bedroom, and filled with bookshelves and a few intricate-looking tapestries. Snape led Harry to his wardrobe and opened it. It was filled with at least a dozen pairs of black robes, to Harry’s amusement.

 

Snape took the Invisibility Cloak out, folded it deftly and placed it on the top shelf of his wardrobe. “You can come and get it as you wish, but keep it in this room. I will be checking.”

 

“Since when am I allowed in here?”

 

“I see no issue with it, unless you take it upon yourself to rifle through my drawers.”

 

Harry was now very curious as to what Snape kept in his drawers, but nodded his agreement not to anyway.

 

“We’ll eat dinner down here tonight, since you’re grounded to my quarters,” Snape said.

 

Harry sighed. He’d really wanted to go to the Great Hall and see his friends after running off like that - they were probably really worried about him. It was the last day before the holidays, too! He wasn’t going to get to tell them goodbye! Still, considering how much trouble he was in, Harry didn’t dare ask Snape if he could seek Ron and Hermione out. He supposed he could always write to them…

 

Except he couldn’t get to the Owlery. Harry grimaced.

 

He made to go out of the door, but Snape remained in the way. He looked hesitant.

 

“Sir?”

 

Snape watched him closely for several moments. “Harry, if I ever encounter Black… I will make sure he is punished. Personally.”

 

Harry couldn’t resist a shudder. Snape’s eyes had gone dark and furious, filled with a dangerous sort of fire that Harry instinctively shied away from. No disobeyed rule or cheeky remark could ever make Snape look this angry, Harry thought. There was only one way to describe his expression: murderous.

 

And in that moment, Harry knew that if Snape ever found Black, he’d kill him.

 

Harry didn’t know if he wanted Black dead, precisely - he didn’t know what he wanted, really. All he wanted was something, some sort of proper punishment. He might not be able to get justice for himself, but if Snape did it for Harry…

 

“I promise you, I will avenge her. Them.” Snape’s face grew pained. “Do not place the burden of murder on your own conscience.”

 

“What about your conscience?”

 

“Do not feel the need to concern yourself with such things.” Snape looked away from Harry, who found his eyes darting down to Snape’s left forearm. Always kept hidden. Bearing the Dark Mark.

 

Severus was a Death Eater. Draco’s words from last month echoed in Harry’s mind. He knows how to fight dirty, the same way Black would. He’s more willing to cross some moral lines.

 

Harry found himself suddenly wondering just what Snape had done as a Death Eater, while the other part of him instinctively shied away from such questions. He knew the answers would disturb him greatly, and that scared Harry. He didn’t want to taint his image of Snape - he didn’t know if he could bear it.

 

“I really do hate him,” Harry said again, hugging himself with his arms. “How could a person betray their friend like that?”

 

A look of dark and twisted pain crossed Snape’s face. He pressed his lips together and stared at the wall, not responding to Harry’s question. Something about his reaction felt off, but Harry couldn’t put a finger on why. Well, it wasn’t like there was an answer to why people did such things…

 

“Er - I’m gonna go change,” Harry said, gesturing to himself. His clothes were damp and cold, soaked with half-melted snow.

 

Snape shook himself, and his face lost some tension. “Wise - you must be freezing. Door open once you’re done, please.”

 

Harry wrinkled his nose. “Come on, why? What, do you think I’m going to tunnel through the wall to Hogsmeade or something?”

 

“Harry, you have quite frankly destroyed any modicum of trust I had in you, so I cannot possibly fathom what you’ll do unsupervised,” Snape said icily. “And seeing as you just lost a fist fight with my office wall, you’ll forgive me for being the slightest bit worried about what unhealthy coping mechanisms you will choose to employ next. It is abundantly clear that I need to keep an eye on you right now.”

 

Harry felt something in his chest twinge painfully, and the shame rose again, hot and choking. Snape couldn't trust him. That made Harry feel a million times worse than any shouting match could…

 

“If you behave with the impulse control of a toddler, then I will treat you like one,” Snape said coolly. “Independence is a privilege, one which you have lost today. I’m very disappointed in you, Harry.”

 

He would have preferred it if Snape struck him. The words stung worse than any slap, that much was certain. Harry hugged his midsection and stared at the floor.

 

“I - I really am sorry,” he said softly. “Honest. I didn’t mean - I just… I feel so left out when everyone gets to go and I don’t.”

 

“And I understand that must be unpleasant, but it’s just not safe,” Snape stressed. “He broke into the castle barely a month ago, Harry; we know he’s in the area, and we know he’s after you. I also know that you understand exactly why I’ve put these rules in place, so you don’t get to disobey me just because you don’t like them.”

 

“It's not fair,” Harry muttered.

 

“Life isn't fair,” Snape said bluntly. “Believe me, I would also prefer it if a homicidal maniac wasn’t after you, but as this is the situation we find ourselves in, I must act accordingly. That includes implementing consequences for you disobeying me, as much as you may dislike it.”

 

“I'm sorry.” Harry didn't know what else to say. He squeezed his eyes shut - they were prickling with a horrid dampness, and he didn’t want Snape to see.

 

Snape sighed. “I know you are. Go and change now, before you catch your death.”

 

Harry nodded and took himself off to his room, where he quickly changed into non-snowy clothes. He reluctantly opened the door a smidge, then scowled as it flew open fully. Snape really meant it when he said he wanted Harry under constant supervision, apparently.

 

  I’m very disappointed in you.

 

Harry, struggling very hard against the dark thoughts at the edge of his mind that were telling him Snape hated him forever now, sat cross-legged on the floor and took out his photo album. He flicked through the pictures of his smiling parents, before coming to a halt at the one of their wedding day. The laughing man with chin-length black hair and smiling eyes at last had a name. Sirius Black.

 

Hatred rose in Harry, hot and choking. Had Black been working for You-Know-Who even here? Had he stood at James’ side at the wedding knowing he was going to betray his best friends? If he hadn’t, what had changed? What made him go bad?

 

He stared at the photo for a very long time, almost entranced. He was so occupied with his own thoughts that he didn’t notice Draco had walked in until the other boy was practically on top of him.

 

“You’re in trouble, aren’t you?”

 

Harry scowled at his unbearably smug tone. “Snape told you?”

 

Draco shrugged. “I put it together. Granger and Weasley kept following me around and asking if I’d seen you on the way back to the castle, Severus had his angry face on when I got down here, and you look miserable. What did you do?”

 

“Snuck into Hogsmeade,” Harry admitted reluctantly.

 

Draco looked a mixture of horrified and thrilled. "Merlin's beard, you have balls!"

 

"It was stupid," Harry muttered, setting the photo album to one side and wrapping his arms around his knees. "I'm in so much trouble…”

 

Draco's excited expression faded, to be replaced by a look of worry. His eyes flicked to the open album. "Those are your parents?"

 

"Yeah."

 

Draco padded through the room and settled down at the foot of his bed next to Harry. He looked at the wedding photo closely. "They look happy."

 

"Yeah." Harry stared at his knees, feeling thoroughly miserable. "And see their best man? Sirius bloody Black. Apparently, he sold them out to Voldemort, which no one bothered to tell me…"

 

A strange flurry of emotions flitted across Draco's face. He bit his lip anxiously, but didn't look nearly as surprised as Harry would have expected. He stared at Draco suspiciously, and several things abruptly fell into place.

 

"You knew, didn't you?"

 

Draco hesitated, then reluctantly nodded. A rush of outrage struck Harry.

 

“And you didn’t tell me?!” he said angrily. “What sort of friend are you? I had a right to know!”

 

“I couldn’t!”

 

“Why?” Harry demanded. “I would have told you if we were in the same position! How could you lie to me like that?!”

 

“I didn’t tell you because Severus forced me to keep it secret!” Draco said, voice pained. “He told me you might go after Black if you found out, and it would be my responsibility for telling you!”

 

“Oh.” Harry winced, some of his anger dying away. Draco looked incredibly anxious.

 

“You aren’t going to try and find him, right?” he whispered.

 

Harry shook his head. “Snape made me promise not to.”

 

Draco sighed. "Good."

 

Harry stayed silent for several moments, then finally admitted it. "I still wish I could make Black pay for what he did myself. Azkaban isn't a proper punishment - the Dementors don't even affect him, you know. He sits in his cell and does the bloody crossword! He should be punished properly, and I wish I could do it."

 

Harry could hear what Ron and Hermione would say to him in response to that. It's a bad idea, Black is too dangerous, don't do it…

 

Draco said none of these things. He stared at Harry and said, "I'd want to do the same thing. You deserve revenge, after what he did to you."

 

Harry didn't quite think that smiling was the appropriate response to a consensus on vengeance, but he did it anyway. It felt good to be understood.

 

"Just please don't go out of your way to hunt him down or something, Harry," Draco pleaded. "He's a maniac. I… I don't want anything to happen to you."

 

Something twisted in Harry's chest. "I won't do anything stupid. Snape would kill me if Black didn't manage it first, after all."

 

"Right."

 

Harry sighed and sat back against the bed, running a finger over his parents' faces. "How'd you find out, anyway? Did Snape tell you?"

 

Harry couldn't help the rapidly rising feeling of bitterness that accompanied his statement. He didn't like the idea of Snape telling Draco things about Harry's life that Harry himself didn't know… it really bothered him for some reason.

 

"No. I was researching my father and what he did in the war in some old papers from the library, and Black ended up as a footnote a fair few times, considering our unfortunate relation," Draco explained. "Quite a few of them mentioned him betraying your parents, which is when I went to Severus and he forced me to keep quiet. I didn't know about the godfather thing, though. That's pretty rubbish."

 

"Yeah…"

 

Draco stared at Harry for a long moment. “You have a really shit time of things, you know that?”

 

Harry grimaced. “Believe me, I know.”

 

Draco hesitated for a moment, then reached out a hand and squeezed Harry's shoulder. Somehow, that little gesture helped him feel the tiniest bit better.

 

“Draco?” Snape called through the quarters. “A word?”

 

“I’ll be back," Draco said.

 

“You don’t have to -”

 

“I’ll be back,” he said firmly, getting to his feet and retreating from the room. He and Snape began to have a quiet, murmured conversation that Harry probably could have listened in on if he bothered to pay attention. He was too preoccupied with maudlin thoughts of his parents and the process of repeatedly flipping through the album…

 

When Draco returned to the room at last, his demeanour had completely changed. His eyes were wide, his face was ashen, and he was holding onto a piece of parchment with slightly shaky hands.

 

Harry shut the album and placed it to one side, alarmed. Draco looked so grim that Harry immediately thought someone must have died. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

 

Draco didn’t reply. He took a seat next to Harry and passed him the letter without a word. Harry looked down at the elegant, curling calligraphy that filled the page. Curious as to what could have invoked such a reaction in Draco, he began to read.

 

  Dear Draco,

 

  I hope you are well, and that your studies at Hogwarts are proceeding nicely. While we have never formally met, I would like to introduce myself - I am Andromeda Tonks, your mother’s sister and your aunt. 

 

  As you are in all likelihood aware, Narcissa and I have not communicated with much frequency over the last decade. Despite this, I would be delighted to have an opportunity to become properly acquainted with you, if you are willing. I shall be in London on December the twentieth, so if you are available and have the permission of your guardian, it would be my pleasure to meet you in Toffit’s Tearoom at ten o’clock to chat.

 

  I hope you have a pleasant Christmas holiday, and cordially anticipate your reply.

 

  Yours sincerely,

 

  Andromeda Tonks