Harry rubbed the back of his neck, barely getting the itch gone before he had to put his quill tip back to touch the paper. He wrote another fifty words, all of them painstakingly neat, before he managed to tear his eyes away from the paper to glance at the timer. He took in the time left, and then his eyes went back to the paper like a magnet. Another hundred words, and he was able to get out, "This is torture."

"Less talk, more studying," Snape said, entirely too cheerful from his chair. It was a large leather chair with a stool to prop up his feet, and a tea tray sat on the side table along with a plate of sugary biscuits.

Though he couldn’t turn to see, Harry knew that Snape was enjoying his tea and crunching happily on the biscuits while his ward (who done nothing wrong and didn’t deserve it) was forced to study until the timer ran out. The fact that Snape had made him set it for a whole hour and a half only made Harry all the more frustrated. He was stuck studying, his eyes and pen practically glued to the paper in front of him while Snape got to eat and drink and enjoy watching him suffer. Harry sat in a very hard chair, hunched over a table, his fingers cramped from writing.

It was all bogus anyway. Reading his textbooks for next year was one thing – writing essays about them was completely unnecessary. But Snape had a firm belief that if he started writing about the subjects he would remember them longer than he normally would.

"Ah," Snape sighed, pouring himself some more tea, "life as it should be. A quiet evening with a strong cup of tea, enjoying a warm evening while the children stay in the corner reading, seen but not heard."

"Villian," Harry muttered, but kept writing. He couldn’t feel too annoyed though for the studying kept filling his thoughts, and he would forget that Snape was in the room as he wrote, concentrating on the work before him.

"I should send Miss Granger a thank letter for her thoughtfulness," Snape added.

Harry wanted to make some sort of comeback, but he just started on the tenth paragraph about the proper dicing and storage of bat livers.

They had not talked about the party, not beyond glancing over the gifts Harry had received. Snape had made him write thank-you letters the next morning: "It’s showing good taste and manners, Potter. Some of these gifts were quite expensive, and I won’t have you showing poor etiquette as long as you’re under my roof."

"But they won’t remember I’m under your roof," Harry had reminded him.

"Do it anyway," Snape had ordered.

Though he said nothing else and settled down to write the letters, Harry had not wanted to compose thank-you letters, poor etiquette or not. What were you supposed to say after Dear So-and-So, Thank you for the (name of gift)? How you were going to use the gift, how you enjoyed their consideration, how you could not imagine life without the new gift? Everything he wrote sounded so stiff and forced, like he was grinding out words to fill up the card. It had all been so much easier when his friends sent gifts to his relatives’ house and he told them thanks in person when they got to Hogwarts. Perhaps that was the price you had to pay for having a party. Harry almost wished Snape had told him no when he wanted to celebrate his birthday, so tedious were the letters.

Then Snape had to frown and tsk and shake his head over them. Harry had feared that the man would make he to them over, but Snape just told him to put them in letters and owl them straight off.

And though Neville probably didn’t remember, Harry couldn’t forget that awful spanking he had received right in front of Neville. It had all happened so fast that Harry had not had time to react – one moment he was yelling at Snape, and the next he was tucked against the man’s side, feeling Snape’s hand land so hard on his bottom that Harry could barely stand it. If Snape had smacked him on the back of the head or even knocked him to the ground, Harry could have stood up and shrugged the whole thing off as Snape’s temper or abuse or something that would have made Harry look casual towards pain and violence.

But no, Neville clearly saw that Harry was getting a spanking. Not a whipping or a belting or something that would have made Snape appear cruel, but an old-fashioned hand spanking on his sixteenth birthday. How humiliating.

But Harry remained silent about his punishment. He saw no need in reminding Snape of what he had tried to do, how rash and careless he had been about Snape and Neville’s feelings.

Finally, the last of the sand fell through the hourglass, and the time ended. Harry immediately flung his pen on the table and shook out his sore hand. He glared at Snape. "There, I’m done."

"Good," Snape nodded. "Set it on another hour."

"What? No!" Harry protested, wishing immediately it hadn’t come out so whiny.

"Then I suppose you can go to bed."

"It’s only eight o’clock."

"Then you won’t mind studying some more," Snape took another sip of tea.

Harry scowled, not knowing what to say.

"Of course," Snape added contemplatively, "if you want to behave yourself and stop sulking, I suppose you might have a bit of tea before I send you upstairs."

Harry didn’t need a second invitation. He hurried to the chair opposite of Snape and sat down. Snape poured him a cup of tea into an empty cup, adding a cube of sugar and a bit of cream. Had he been given a choice, Harry would have rather had a glass of cold pumpkin juice on such a warm night, but he took the tea with saying only, "Thanks."

He did not ask for a biscuit, knowing Snape was sure to make remarks about little boys who did not need sugar before bed. But Snape saw his glance towards the tray and indulgently offered it towards him. "Just two, Potter. You had enough sugar at supper with all that leftover cake."

"You only let me have one piece," Harry objected as he took the two biggest biscuits he could see.

"A piece big enough to be two pieces. You’re obsessed with cramming as much sugar as you can into your system."

"How else will I rot my teeth out?" Harry gave him a carefree grin before chomping into the sweet biscuit. It was plain vanilla and did not seem as sweet as it might have been after the tea, but Harry savored every crumb. He didn’t know what he liked so much about sitting there, drinking tea and eating biscuits with Snape as the candles cast cozy glows on the walls. There was something nice and familiar and peaceful about it, like they had all the time in the world. Like there had never been any hard or angry feelings between the two of them. Like they were just two ordinary fellows having a pleasant evening instead of the reluctant hero of the wizarding world and a bitter Death-Eater-turned-Spy trapped together for the summer.

Even when Harry finished his tea and biscuits, Snape offered him more tea and even extended the plate again, saying "Only one more."

It was as close to the perfect end of an evening that Harry could hope for.

"Draco is coming in two days," Snape announced.

So much for ideal tranquility.

Harry put his teacup on table with a groan. "Oh, here it comes."

"Here comes what?" Snape lifted a questioning eyebrow.

"The lecture about how I should behave while Draco’s here. I don’t know why you agreed to let him stay."

"Potter –"

"No, I was here first. I get to stay for the summer, and he shouldn’t get to. It’s not like he couldn’t stay anywhere else. He probably has loads of family or friends or admires of his family that would give him the best bedroom and run of the house for his stay. Meanwhile, I’m stuck on a narrow bed into your room and not allowed to go anywhere by myself. He’ll be all smug and nasty – ‘Oh, Potter, got yourself chucked out on your ear? Your ruddy relatives not care about your sorry self and put you on the streets? Professor Snape take you in like an unwanted stray, scratching at your fleas?’"

"My," Snape tilted his head to the side as he observed Harry. "You do a very good Draco impression. Is this a new gift or have you spent hours mocking others to perfect it?"

"New gift," Harry muttered. He expected Snape to chastise him for his rudeness, to declare that Harry was only a guest and had no say over who came in the house. But the man was not bothered at all.

"Do Mr. Weasley now," Snape ordered. "With whine in his voice and the embarrassed mumble and hunched over shoulders."

"Hey, leave Ron alone," Harry complained. "It’s just Draco – ugh! I can’t stand him." When Snape looked unsympathetic, Harry challenged, "How would you like it if at my age, you had to spent a week with my father?"

"I would find a good hiding place," Snape answered matter-of-factly.

"You know what I mean. We hate each other. And you let him get away with everything."

"Not everything," Snape contended.

"I won’t put up with him," Harry crossed his arms. "If he starts on me, I’m going to let him have it. I’m not taking his tricks or his insults or his sneering at me."

"Yes, you will," Snape grew stern. "I have been most courteous to you this summer –"

"Yeah, whaling on my ass," Harry groused.

"Potter, watch your language or it will be the soap. I’ve have been quite patient and understanding with you for a whole month now. It’s high time for you to return that kindness and treat another guest with the same courtesy."

"Good," Harry leaned back in his chair. "I get order Draco around and smack him when he gets out of line. Yelling at him for every little thing, sending him to the corner for simply saying how he feels, forcing nasty potions down his throat just to watch him grimace."

"Of course, it might be easier to lock you in your room for a week," Snape mused. "It certainly would be quieter. And I suppose you can go back to sleep in your own bedroom tonight, provided you don’t get into further trouble. But you will behave when Draco arrives. I’m serious, Potter."

"Never known you when you weren’t," Harry mumbled. He knew he was reaching the end of his rope. Any minute now, Snape’s voice would deepen, and he would wear that unbending guardian face that demanded obedience. It was all fun and games until the deep voice and stern face; then Harry had better sit up and listen.

"You will control yourself when he is here," Snape continued as if Harry had not spoken. "You will obey the rules, and I won’t have any fighting, arguing, mean looks, pranks, or other nonsense. You will act like two young gentlemen sharing a house for seven days with every consideration for your host, lest he strangle you both."

Harry wanted to object, to say that he could never get along with Draco. It just wasn’t possible. But instead, all he said was, "It won’t be fair," in a very subdued voice.

Snape looked up, taking in the trouble expression on his ward’s face. "What won’t?"

"You two. You’ll gang up on me like at school –"

"Potter –"

"No, you’ll be all Slytherin buddies sticking together, and I’ll be blamed for everything."

"First of all, we are not ‘Slytherin buddies’ at school – we are teacher and student. Secondly, I do not plan to blame you for everything since I plan to see that you behave. And thirdly, if you have any trouble with Draco, I expect you to come to me with it, not take matters into your own hands."

"Yeah, like a tattle-tale."

"No, like a responsible, intelligent young man who does not have time for childish fights. Am I understood?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir," Harry wanted to spit out the words, but he said them very respectfully.

"Good. Oh, and Potter?"

"Yes . . . sir?"

"I will be watching you and Mr. Malfoy. Remember that."

As if I could forget it, Harry thought but did not say.

------

Draco was going to get it. That much Harry decided as he watched the outside front stairs. He could feel adrenaline pumping through his whole body. Draco – spoiled, selfish, nasty little Draco Malfoy with his rich parents and expensive robes and Pure Blood status. Let’s see how tough he was with no Crabbe and Goyle there to protect him. Harry smiled evilly, imagining the look on Draco’s face when he realized that he would be spending the whole week with Harry Potter.

Harry wasn’t quite sure how the whole secrecy about he was spending the summer thing would work if Draco could see him and knew he was staying with Snape. Maybe Snape would erase Draco’s memory at the end – Harry couldn’t wait to see the blank look on Draco’s face once he had been Obliviated. Or maybe Snape would put a curse on Draco so he couldn’t tell what he knew. He would just go around, wanting to tell everyone, but unable to get the words out. Harry could picture him grunting and sweating as he tried to speak until people thought he had gone mad.

How else could Snape keep him quiet? A tight muzzle? A cloth gag? Maybe a charm that every time Draco wanted to spill the beans his arm would rise up and he would hit himself across the face? Lovely – Draco Malfoy slamming his hand into his face over and over again as everyone watched and laughed.

"Come away from the window," Snape directed.

"Why?" Harry glanced over his shoulder. "Will they see me if I don’t?"

"No, you’re getting breath-marks and fingerprints all over the glass that the house elves have just cleaned."

"Fine," Harry stepped away from the window. He glanced at Snape, then paused. "Where are the robes?"

"Excuse me?"

"The black robes," Harry blinked. "Why are you wearing just trousers and a black shirt?"

"Someone kept complaining that I look like a bat swooping around," Snape straightened his sleeves. "And though robes are easier to work in with potions, what with the spills and the fumes, I thought I would put them aside, mainly so I don’t have to hear the whining."

"You still look like a bat," Harry said. Snape turned on him, menacingly, and Harry gave an impulsive grin and added, "Just kidding."

"I should hope so," Snape said ominously. "Now, Mrs. Malfoy is dropping Draco off. She can not see you, but Draco can. Stay out of sight until she leaves. Then come into the foyer when I call you –"

"So I can give Malfoy the welcome he deserves."

"Potter . . .!"
"I know, I know. Behave!"

A ringing sound filled the room.

"Ah, they’re here," Snape turned towards the foyer.

Harry could here the front door opening.

"Careful, you rat," he heard Narcissa snap.

"Sorry, so sorry, mistress," a tiny voice squeaked out.

"Blasted house elf nearly dropped all of Draco’s luggage," Narcissa said, sounding put out and short-tempered.

Harry edged towards the door, still hidden but wanting to hear the conversation.

"Mother," Draco’s drawl filled the entrance hall, "do go and stop fussing."

"Draco, Mother only wants to make sure you have everything you need. Professor Snape will take excellent care of you, Father says. Do you know, Severus, that my husband was given only twenty-four hours to visit us? Can you believe it? Twenty-four hours, like some common hoodlum off the streets. I still can’t believe that he is still in that rotting prison. I was sure the Ministry would come to their senses before now and release him. Watch it, Homy, that is my son’s broomstick. Break it, and I’ll break all your fingers. As you can see, Severus, I don’t have a moment of peace with these imbeciles around. Now, Draco, you are sure you have everything?"

"Yes, Mother, just go."

"I don’t know why Lucius is so adamant that he stay here," Narcissa went on. "He should be able to go with me, but Lucius says no, so it has to be no. As if his opinion counts that much while he sits in Azkaban. I am so tired of people talking about him. Well, come, Draco, and give Mother a kiss."

"Mother," Draco complained.

"Draco," her voice was sharper and Harry could picture the gleam in her eyes, "kiss Mother now."

Draco must have done so because the next thing Narcissa said was "Oh, well, I’m off. I’ll be back to take him home a week from today. Severus, I left a whole list of things for him to do and not to do while he’s here."

"Yes, yes," Snape said hastily. "I’m sure I can read it for myself. Enjoy your trip, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Please, Severus, no formality between us. Draco, mind your godfather."

Harry nearly fell over. Godfather? Godfather! Snape was Draco’s stinking godfather? Harry nearly marched into the entrance hall and shouted out the question. All this time that bat of a potions master was godfather to Draco Malfoy and Snape hadn’t said a word. It figured – the old git was as tight-mouthed as a clam, knowing everything and saying nothing.

Harry was seething and feeling generally cranky and put out, so much so that he heard Snape call "Come into the foyer, please," without realizing the man was speaking to him. Once Harry realized it, he stalked into the next room.

Draco Malfoy was standing beside a stack of trucks, boxes, and a broom case, looking as if he had come to stay for half a year. He was dressed in dark trousers and an expensive shirt, looking like the rich snob that he so very was. His pale blond hair, almost white, was smoothed back, and Harry wanted nothing more than to bust open his lip at his conceited expression.

But the expression vanished when he saw Harry. Draco’s mouth actually fell open, and he blinked in disbelief. "Is that -?"

"Yes, Draco, it is," Snape began quietly, but Draco didn’t listen.

"You sodding son of a bitch," Draco roared. "You’re the reason my father’s in prison."

"Oh, yeah?" Harry yelled back, ready for a fight. "Well, he’s the reason Sirius is dead so I hope he rots there like that the piece of cow dung he is."

Draco rushed at him. Harry did not wait for the blond-haired boy to reach him – Harry charged, too. They collided hard, pushing the other back a step or two.

"Stop it!" Snape ordered, but no one was listening to him.

"Come, Potter," Draco challenged. "Show me how a measly Gryffindor fights."

"Shut up, you piece of Slytherin slime."

They were not the cleverest of insults, but considering the venom with which they were spat out, the taunts succeeded in making both boys even more furious. They collided again, this time Harry grabbing Draco by the front of his expensive shirt to throw him down, and Draco trying to land a punch on Harry’s face.

"I said enough!" Snape bellowed.

Most fighting at Hogwarts had been done at the end of a wand, lots of hexes and charms flying through the air. Harry had not been in a lot of fights – when he was younger, Dudley liked to use him for a punching bag, but Harry had learned to stay out of his way. Yet, Harry had seen enough fights to know to swing hard and push and scuffle and try to knock Draco to the floor in order to win.

Draco for all his arrogance and confidence had not participated in many physical fights either, but he gave it his best.

Somehow, Harry got shoved to the floor. He barely had time to register the hard wood banging against him before Draco was on top of him, fists swinging like crazy. Draco had not landed more than two or three punches and none of them very hard when Harry rammed an elbow in his midsection. Draco gasped for breath, and Harry used that break to throw Draco off him. He was about to jump on Draco and bloody up his perfect, Pure Blood teeth when a strong hand grabbed the back of his neck.

Harry felt himself being hauled up and whirled about to meet eye-to-eye with a very displeased Snape.

"I thought I told you to stop," Snape snarled, giving Harry a shake. "Draco, get up!"

"He started it," Draco scowled, rubbing his jaw where Harry was sure he had not hit him hard at all.

"I did not. You rushed at me," Harry argued.

"You started insulting my father."

"Well, you yelled at me first."

"I can still beat the stuffing out of you, you four-eyed freak."

"Ooo, you don’t look so tough without your gorillas around to protect you."

"Enough!" Snape bellowed, halting all the taunting. "You two better behave or –"

"What is he doing here?" Draco demanded. "Isn’t he supposed to be hiding somewhere with those filthy muggles until school starts? No one knows where he goes, but he shows up looking all pale and wimpy when he comes back."

"Shut your mouth," Harry retorted. "I have just as much right to be here as you. Maybe more because Snape’s my temporary guardian for the summer."

Draco’s eyes bugged out. "That’s not true! You helped put my father in prison. Snape would never let you stay here! He’s supposed to hand you over to the Dark Lord as soon as he gets the chance. That’s what Father says, and Mother agrees."

"Get ready for a shock," Harry jeered. "Your precious mother and father aren’t right about everything. Snape’s letting me stay, and so far he doesn’t plan to hand me over to anyone."

"But he might take a hand to you if you don’t be quiet," Snape said in an ominous voice. Harry stepped back a bit, suddenly aware that he had been yelling.

"I don’t believe it," Draco shook his head. "Professor, tell me the truth."

"Draco," Snape said in a very low voice that sounded both firm and sad.

Draco looked from his potions master and then to Harry and then back to Snape. He seemed overwhelmed, as if someone had yanked a rug out from under his feet and he had toppled to the ground. Then Draco gave a cry of anger and rushed at Harry again.

Harry was ready for him. This time they both landed a punch (Draco getting one on the jaw, Harry high on his right cheekbone) before Snape pulled them apart. He kept a hand on each boy’s collar and shook them firmly.

"You two better stop that right now, or neither of you will enjoy the next seven days. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered, knowing it was the only answer Snape would accept.

"Draco?"

"But he -!"

"Draco!"

"Yes, sir," Draco grumbled.

"I expected better from both of you," Snape continued his lecture, holding them apart. "You, Draco, come from a very prestigious family and it is not fitting for you to roll around the floor like a mad dog. You, Potter, are supposed to set a good example as people look up to you both in and out of school, and you’ve been here longer so that makes Draco your guest as well."

Harry glanced at Draco, but said nothing. Part of him wanted to beat on Draco again, and another part of him wanted to protest that Snape was playing favorites. After all, Draco got to be called by his first name while Harry was still Potter.

"Draco, one of the house elves will take you upstairs," Snape told the blond-haired boy. "You’ll be sleeping in the green bedroom –"

"That’s my room!" Harry exploded.

"Yes," Snape nodded calmly. "I changed the large bed into two smaller ones. No reason you two can’t share a bedroom. You both sleep in dorms at school, and it will be easier to keep track of you."

"I’m not sleeping in the same room as him!" Draco hollered, teeth bared. "I won’t sit at the same table with him! I don’t want to breathe the same air as him!"

"You put us in the same room to sleep, and only one of us is waking up alive," Harry threatened, glaring at Draco.

"Oh, you want to take me?" Draco sneered. "I’ll paint the walls with your stinking half-blood."

"Really? Without Daddy to run to and whine?" Harry taunted. "I’ll smother you with your pillow while you cry for your mother."

Draco reached for him, bucking against Snape’s steady hand on his collar, but he couldn’t reach Harry.

"That’s it," Snape ordered. "Draco, upstairs now! Potter, into my study. You’ll be studying until I get him settled. Then we all are going to have a talk."

Snape gave Harry a helping shove in the direction of the study. Harry wished he could think of a good retort, one last insult to fling at Draco who was still in Snape’s grasp.

Harry went into the study, but he left the door open, hoping to hear Snape or Draco say something else. But all he could hear was the sound of footsteps heading up the stairs. Harry plopped down into a chair, absentmindedly putting his feet on the seat of another chair.

Draco for a whole week. But without wands, without friends, without henchmen – the possibilities were endless. Draco might be a Slytherin, but Harry had Gryffindor courage and brains. And he had to be smarter than Draco. There would be hundreds, maybe thousands of ways to make the spoiled brat’s life miserable.

Harry would have to be careful though. Everything must be thought through, reasoned deviously, plotted careful. Stuff that would annoy Draco until he screamed, but couldn’t be linked to Harry directly. It would take a great deal of preparation and planning.

And Snape couldn’t watch him all the time.