Snape sneered his usual sneer at the mess. Harry edged backwards, trying not to get out of Snape’s sight. If worst came to worst, he would make a mad dash for the door. At top speed, running as fast as his legs would take him, he could probably be five miles away in an hour, so that meant it would take Snape about, oh, three seconds to catch him using magic. Without magic, maybe ten minutes, but Harry doubted it.

Face severe and taut, Snape wrapped both hands around his wand and began muttering under his breath. The wand glowed an odd green color before fading.

Without a word, Snape pointed the wand at Harry and gave it a quick flick.

Suddenly, the whole world turned upside down. Before he could catch his breath, Harry found himself staring at his shoes that were now stuck to the ceiling. His arms hung loosely towards the floor, but thankfully his shirt was tucked in so it didn’t fall over his head. From his precarious position, Snape was standing the wrong way, and Harry craned his head to the side, trying to get Snape right side up. Pull as he might, Harry could not budge his ankles from the ceiling, not that he cared to wiggle free and fall on his head.

With a sickening feeling, he remembered Snape’s memory from the Pensieve. This was almost the same position James had put Snape in so many years ago. Harry wondered if he was about to have his mouth scoured with soap or lose his pants, though that didn’t seem so terrible considering it was just the two of them and Snape had already seen Harry in the bathtub . . . Or maybe Snape would come up with new tortures while Harry dangled helplessly above.

"Still good," Snape commented on his wand. "It has Dark Magic binding it to me and only to me. Fortunately, you’re under my protection so it just blew a hole in the wall instead of in your head. Reparo!"

Harry watched the upside-down Snape point his wand at the broken wall. The wall leapt back into place, the dust disappearing. The mirror picked itself up off the floor, and the plates neatly hopped back on the wall one by one. The repairing might have looked cool if Harry had not been hanging from the ceiling. As it was, the tidying-up looked weird and creepy. Actually, the whole room was distorted; from Harry’s view, the dining room table was perched upside-down on the carpet-covered ceiling with all the plates not falling. His glasses began slipping off his face, and he used one hand to hold them in place.

Harry waited for the yelling to start, Snape’s sharp voice to break the scary silence of the room. However, Snape pointedly ignored his young ward. The potions master stepped over to the table and picked up his coffee cup. He took a last sip and set the cup down.

"Still hot, thanks to the wizard who invented the always-hot coffee pot. Well, really it was a teapot, but it works for coffee just as well. Have a pleasant evening – I’ll see you in the morning."

"What!" Harry yelled, twisting his body and waving his arms to try to stop Snape. "You can’t just leave me hanging here!"

"Why not?" Snape asked, a pleased look on his face. "I’ll know right where you are. Keeps you safe for another night."

"But – but it can’t be good for me, hanging upside-down," Harry protested. "All the blood’s running to my head. I-I could have brain damage."

Snape shrugged. "I wonder if anyone will know the difference?"

"Sna-a-ape!"

"Very well, I’ll give you a choice. Hang there or straight to bed."

Harry crossed his arms, a very difficult movement when hanging upside-down. "Fine, fine, I’ll go to bed. And there’s nothing I can say to get you to stay?"

"Not a word," Snape replied matter-of-factly. With another quick flick of the wand, Harry felt himself leave the ceiling. He was flipped over right before he hit the floor and managed to stand upright if somewhat shakily. He made sure his glasses were not going to fall before looking straight at Snape.

Spots appeared before his eyes, but Harry hastily blinked them away. "Just be careful, all right? Whoever you’re meeting, whatever you doing, don’t – don’t make anyone angry. You know, just stay quiet and in the background, and leave as quick as you can without drawing a lot of attention."

"I’ll be fine," Snape took a step towards his ward. "I promise I will return in one piece." He put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, and Harry immediately felt his heartbeat slow from its hurried pace. Everything would be all right now.

Snape turned towards the door, saying, "Besides, I have to be in one piece to give you a sound spanking in the morning."

Harry froze. "Wh-what?"

Snape looked back, his dark brows raised in surprise. "Oh, now, now, you didn’t think you’d be let off scott-free after trying to stun me with my own wand and blowing my house up again, did you? Mr. Potter, you know me better than that. Go up to bed like a good boy, without fuss, and I won’t use a ruler tomorrow."

The awful, sinking, squirmy feeling that made Harry want to shift around returned as it always did when he realized he was about to be disciplined. A part of him knew he deserved it, the same part which knew that Snape would never hurt him or cause him serious injury. But the other part of Harry wanted to argue, protest, and beg not to be spanked. He hated it, hated it! And Snape knew that and therefore thought it was a very effective punishment, blast him! But waiting would be the worst thing ever, having the punishment loom over his head like a hangman’s noose. He wouldn’t be able to rest or sleep or sit still, making Snape even angrier, and come tomorrow morning . . .

"No, not tomorrow," Harry said before he could stop himself. "I can’t go to bed knowing you’re going – you know. I’ll never go to sleep like that. Come on, can’t you just . . . you know?"

"Do it now?" Snape suggested.

Harry squirmed but admitted. "Yeah, all right, do it now. At least it will over with – and," he added quickly, "I’m agreeing with you so you don’t have to use the – the . . . you know."

"Interesting," Snape commented, as if he were observing an inter. "You can talk back to me all day long until I mention spanking and suddenly you’re all stammers and blushes. What could possibly bring about this change?"

Anger began steaming inside Harry. "And you enjoy it, don’t you? You like hurting me, humiliating me, just get back at my father."

"Stop before you get yourself in even more trouble," Snape said quietly. "You’ve been making the smallest bit of improvement on controlling your temper for the most part, but now we’re going to work on it when you are emotional or worried as well. Understand?"

------

Harry tossed on the bed trying to get comfortable. The bed was soft and warm as always, but with the burning ache of his behind, he felt too hot.

This was the fourth, no, fifth time he had been smacked by Snape in three weeks. It had to be a world record or something significant. Too bad wizards weren’t sent to Azkaban for disciplining unruly wards who misbehaved. Blast that self-righteous, all-knowing bat!

Harry tried to role on his side. He expected the movement to cause him to hiss painfully, but already the sting was disappearing, and he knew by morning he would be back to normal. So unfair. If he had to submit to the mortification of bending over Snape’s lap and getting spanked so hard – well, as he had thought before, he should be wearing serious marks of his punishment. Why couldn’t he be bruised from the top of his buttocks to mid thigh? And the next time Snape pulled down his trousers, he would see the horrible bruises that he had inflicted on his helpless ward. And then Snape would feel so guilty that he would suspend Harry’s next punishment and apologize for such abuse.

Ah, well, one could dream.

Where was Snape anyway? Something that could turn into a Death Eater’s meeting? What was that, like a party that could turn into an orgy? Or a – a something not so bad that turned into a something real bad? Who cared what it was like– where was Snape? What if he were writhing under the Cruciatus or being burnt and healed over and over again? What if Voldemort knew ways to torture someone and then patch them up so he could hear the screams again?

Or what if – oh, what if Snape wasn’t in pain at all? Maybe he was using the Death Eater meetings as an excuse to leave his bothersome ward and get out of the house for a while. What would Snape go out and do for fun? Drinking alone in a corner in a dark pub, scowling at other people having a good time, maybe popping children’s balloons and stealing candy from babies, then laughing when they cried. The potions master’s idea of a night out on the town. Meanwhile, Harry was stuck in bed, worrying. Selfish git.

Harry pulled his pillow into a ball under his head. No matter what Snape was doing, the fact remained that Harry was stuck in bed at Snapdragon Manor. He couldn’t wait until he was of age; if he stayed with Snape then, he could come and go as pleased with or without Snape’s permission. He could just hear himself now: "Go to bed? Are you kidding, Snape? I’m going out tonight to meet Ron. What time will I be back? Hopefully, before morning. Don’t stay up – I’ll let myself in."

And Harry would swing on his cloak and Apparate out of the manor while Snape could do nothing but sigh and shake his head. Of course, why would he be staying with Snape once he was of age? He would have his own house, maybe a flat in London or a cottage in the country.

Yet, as Harry snuggled into his pillow for the third time, he didn’t understand why living on his own as an adult did not excite him as much as living with Snape as an adult. Maybe it would be more fun to show Snape that he was all grown-up; by himself, they was no one to impress.

Harry heard the clock strike once. A few more minutes passed, and then the bedroom door opened, casting a beam on light on the wooden floor.

Harry pretended to close his eyes, but left them open slits. He saw Snape walk in, in one piece, thank goodness. It was too dark to see if the man were in pain, but he wasn’t limping or bleeding that Harry could make out.

Harry lay very still as Snape walked over to his bed. For a moment, Harry feared that Snape would realize he wasn’t asleep, and the last thing Harry wanted was another lecture on obedience. Besides, he had tried to go asleep, he really had. It wasn’t like the other night when Harry had stayed awake deliberately.

Harry felt a warm hand on his back, pressing down protectively. "There’s a good boy," he heard Snape murmured under his breath. "Too bad you can’t be this good when you’re awake."

But the hand stayed just a moment later before Snape moved away. And Harry found himself wishing it might have stayed a bit longer, perhaps patting until he had dozed off.

He heard Snape get into bed, and the light from the hall vanished. Suddenly, Harry’s eyes felt too heavy too keep open, and they slid shut. As he drifted off to sleep, Harry pondered on how upside-down his life had become.

------

"This is wrong," Snape frowned.

"It’s not," Harry insisted stubbornly. "I used the books you gave me, all of them. How can it be wrong?"

"The sequence of ingredients is wrong," Snape tapped on the paper with a stern finger. "And you have toads’ livers listed instead of bats’. Rushing through things, Mr. Potter, won’t make me let you go flying any sooner this afternoon."

Harry looked up, startled. "You’re going to let me fly?"

"Yes," Snape marked red corrections all over Harry’s paper.

"On my broom?"

"No, on the back of a giant butterfly. Of course, on your broom. But just over the garden and only for a half hour."

"But it’s only been a week since I went to Malfoy Manor." Harry had no idea why he was reminding Snape of his earlier misbehavior. Why didn’t he just say thanks and let it go like a normal person would?

"I know, but you need some fresh air, and I need some adult time," Snape returned the paper, which looked as if it were bleeding. "Recopy this essay with the corrections I’ve made, and you can go outside."

Harry sat back down, and for a few minutes, the only sound was the scratch of quills on papers as they both wrote. Harry had almost finished the essay when he ventured, "After I fly, could I swim in the lake for a while? You know, for exercise?"

Snape turned his dark eyes towards his ward. "Don’t push it, Potter. You’re flying against my better judgement as it is. And speaking of things against my better judgement, we need to discuss something."

Harry groaned. What had he done wrong now?

"Your birthday."

Harry’s mouth dropped open. "My – my birthday?"

Snape sighed. "Yes, Potter, it’s the day on which you entered the world, and most people tend to think of the day thereafter as their birthday."

"Ha-ha, so funny," Harry retorted. "I thought I wasn’t going to do anything for my birthday cause I’ve been so bad as you would say."

"I never said that," Snape stated. "Not the being bad part, which you were and subsequently punished for your naughtiness, but I never forbade your birthday. You were the one who brought the whole ordeal up a while ago. I assumed you still wanted to meet your friends to celebrate, but if you’ve changed your mind . . ."

"No, I want to see Ron and Hermione. Where are we going to meet? Their houses? Diagon Alley?"

"They’re coming here," Snape said, looking down at his papers.

Harry blinked, saying nothing.

Snape finally glanced up at him. "What? Is that so shocking?"

"No," Harry managed, "I’m just waiting for the real Severus Snape to appear and whoever you are to disappear."

"This is your home for the summer. You should have your birthday here."

"This is my – my . . . seriously, what have you done with Snape? The Snape I know won’t let a house elf visit me and yells at me when I make the smallest noise. The Snape I know can’t wait for school to start, but enjoys humiliating me while I’m here."

"You’re delusional," Snape decided, unaffected. "You like to paint me as a villain –"

"And you gladly oblige by acting like one," Harry returned. He liked the way he and Snape could spare verbally now without Snape getting angry. It was something he never had with Sirius. Sirius had treated him like an adult, but his godfather had never jabbed words with him in such a teasing, snide way. It was nice to know that even though Snape might yell and discipline, he would let Harry be himself when they were just hanging out.

"So the night of July 31st we’ll have Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger over. Anyone else?"

"Dobby," Harry said the first name that came to mind. Heck, if Snape was asking, Harry might as well add to the list. "And maybe Seamus Finnigan."

"All right, if you must."

Harry decided to go for broke. "And Neville."

Snape’s eyes jerked up, glittering and dark. Harry held his gaze, refusing to budge.

"Very well," Snape’s voice was tight. "If you must have Mr. Longbottom, he may come. Give me the essay, and go flying."

------

Flying felt great, especially after being restricted for so long. Harry put some extra speed into his broom, going as fast as he could without falling off completely. He whizzed down the garden path and barely missed the bird feeder. Next, he swooped down over the squares where the squirts of water were jumping up. He tried to dash past them fast enough not to get hit, but the water squirted up faster than he could fly.

Like a mad daredevil, Harry began racing around the turns of the hedges. He was making excellent time until he cut it too sharp, skidded around a tree, and fell into the lake. He came up, grinning and shaking water off. So much for not swimming. On impulse, he turned towards the manor that loomed over the lake.

"Hey, Snape," he hollered. "I accidentally fell in. Since I’m already wet, can I swim for a while? I won’t go out too far or try any tricks, and this way you can have peace and quiet for another hour. What do you say?"

No sound came from the house. Harry had decided that either Snape hadn’t heard or didn’t want to respond when suddenly his wet clothes changed into a pair of swimming trucks. Harry looked down at them; the trunks reached his knees and were a soft green color with tiny white snakes chasing each other all over.

He laughed, refusing to be annoyed. "Whatever." And he dove into the lake.

The water felt so cool and fresh to his sweaty limbs. It was perfect bliss to float on the water, gently waving his arms to keep himself afloat and gazing up at the blue sky.

There had to be a way to get Snape and Neville to stop being enemies. Well, more like at odds with each other, Snape always scaring Neville half to death. The party was the best place to do it. If only he could get Neville to see that Snape was just a man with faults like everyone else, and Snape to see that Neville had his reasons for acting so jumpy. Neville might be persuaded, but Snape? Ah, Harry would have to walk very lightly there. Still, the birthday party was the best, if only, place he could get them together before school started. He really would be a hero if he could help both Neville and Snape work through their differences.

Harry treaded in the water for a while, then began swimming in circles to stretch out his arms and legs.

The lake was not a slimy, murky pit of water like most lakes he had seen. The bottom was sandy like the beach, and the water was so clear he could see the bottom until he stirred all the sand. Little fish darted away from him, and Harry stood perfectly still, hoping the fish would come back. They finally edged closer, swimming up to his bare legs as if to inspect the hair that has recently started growing there. As quick as he could, Harry plunged his hands in the water and tried to catch one, but the fish swam away, and he had to wait again until they ventured back.

The swans came towards him, and Harry thought of trying to catch them as well. But they looked like such magnificence, grandiose creatures (not to mention sharp-beaked) that he just splashed them instead. They turned away haughtily and glided far away from the awkward creature throwing water in the air.

Next, Harry thought he saw a turtle burrowing into the bottom of the lake, and Harry splashed over to it, hoping to catch him. If he saw a real snake, it might be fun to grab it and stuff it under Snape’s upturned teacup the next morning.

A part of him knew he was acting much too childishly for someone about to turn sixteen, but it was fun to goof around in the lake with no worries. He didn’t realize how long he had been out until he heard Snape calling him in for supper.

Dripping and tired, he met Snape at the door.

"You’re sunburned," Snape noted. He pressed two fingers down on Harry’s wet shoulder. They both watched the skin turn white where Snape had pressed and then turn red again.

Harry shrugged, though he was already felling hot. "I’ll be fine."

Snape drew out his wand. An incantation and a wave, and Harry’s skin turned from a red to a tan and cooled immediately.

"Thanks," Harry said as he took the towel that Snape held out.

"Yes, well, since you didn’t save us a lot of trouble and drown, I guess you can have some supper."

"Fine," Harry said, stifling a yawn. "I’ll try to choke on supper and go that way."

The only reply he received was a firm hand pushing him towards the dining room where a hearty meal awaited.

------

"Stop squirming," Snape ordered.

Harry glared up at him. "I’m not."

"Yes, you are."

"Well, I’m trying not to."

"If you don’t stand still, I’ll never get your tie tied properly, and then you can never go to your party."

Harry tried to stay still as Snape looped the tie around his upturned collar. "What if no one comes?"

"Then you’ll know once and for all that you have no friends and you really are a pathetical failure. Stop pouting – you had everyone reply to your invitations, and they’re all coming, even Mr. Finnigan who was visiting relatives in Ireland, and I think it was a ridiculous distance to travel considering you’re not that close of friends."

"Yeah, sure, we are." Harry looked nervously towards the entrance hall. "Best friends forever. Do they even know where they’re going? Will they break the wards? How will they get through?"

"Individual portkeys that only allow the invitee to come," Snape explained, turning the tie over and under until it was a neat knot. "They will have no idea where this is, nor will we tell them anything more than you are staying here with me this summer. Any further questions will be ignored."

"Someone’s thought of everything," Harry said snidely. He was rewarded with Snape jerking his tie a little too tight.

"Behave yourself, Mr. Potter, or you’ll find this a very short and unpleasant birthday party." Snape turned down Harry’s white collar and straightened his tie. "There, you look somewhat presentable. You’re the star of the show tonight so mind your manners and don’t do anything too outrageous or Potter-ish, like showing off."

"Potter-ish?" Harry repeated, trying not to snigger. "What is that? Anything that annoys the bat of a potions master?"

"And no talking back to me," Snape was a bit stern. "I have a reputation to keep, or I’ll have no end of problems with my classes come autumn. If you do anything to jeopardize that reputation, I’ll Obliviate everyone, send them home, and the term birthday spanking will have an entirely new context for you."

Harry stood in his tracks. "Wait, you weren’t think of giving me one, even in private?"

"Not if you behave," Snape threw the words over his shoulder as he entered the entrance hall.

Harry shook his head, but followed Snape into the room. Harry was dressed in a coat and tails, but to his surprise, Snape had left off the robe and wore a dark suit with ebony buttons up the front. His dark hair looked a little short and cleaner, but Snape frowned at Harry’s own hair.

"For the last time," Snape put his hand on the top of Harry’s head, "lie flat!"

Harry was about to retort, when the doorbell rang. A house elf scampered to the door in a clean tea cozy.

Snape put both hands on Harry’s shoulders and moved him to stand a little ahead, facing the door. "Stand up straight," Snape instructed. "Hands by your side, no fidgeting. You’re greeting guests into Snapdragon Manor, after all."

Heart pounding, palms sweaty, and completely unsure why he should feel so nervous about having his friends come to his birthday, Harry stared at the door.

The house elf opened it, and the first guest stepped inside.