Snape pulled Harry inside the classroom and immediately warded the doors. "When I say everyone out, I mean you as well!"

Harry took a step back, more than a little unnerved. "Yes, sir."

"I had to specifically repeat Harry, out, and that must never happen!" Snape raged on. "Never, Harry! What if the situation had been more dire? When I think of what might have happened!"

"But Professor, I had just realised how to stop anything else from happening, that's all."

Snape stared at him, then took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his own nose as he shook his head. "Yes," he gruffly acknowledged. "I see that. Still, Harry . . ." With a sigh, then, he walked to the gaping crater in the classroom floor. Harry followed along behind. "As you seem to be the only one who can rid us of this awful potion . . ."

A little wary in case something else went wrong, Harry's whole body tensed as he incanted a Parseltongue, "Get out of here." It all went fine, though, perhaps because he'd been extra careful to hold his wand just as he had when the accident had happened.

Snape's dark eyes narrowed. "Perhaps you'd care to explain why you're utilizing wanded spells during class?"

His tone sounded measurably calmer than before, but instead of reassuring Harry, it made him even more nervous. "I didn't mean to, honest. I was having trouble making the charm work, that's all, and I tried a couple of different things and then I got distracted and held my wand wrong. But just by a little bit, I mean, hardly any magic went through it, I could tell--"

Snape took several more deep breaths as though deliberately calming himself down, then moved a hand to Harry's shoulder and patted it several times without stopping. "All right, Harry. It sounds as though you need to work more on your wandless control, but nothing so very terrible has occurred."

Nothing so terrible? He'd only humiliated himself in front of the father he'd been trying so hard to impress.

Swallowing back the rest of his panic, Harry ventured. "You aren't angry any longer, sir?"

"No. Though I would hope that I could be angry without causing you to hyperventilate, Harry." Letting go of his son's shoulder, Snape took a step back. "However, I would not describe my state of mind as one of anger. Concern, perhaps."

It suddenly got much easier to breathe. "Oh, good. Because when you told me to get back in here you sounded livid."

"I wasn't pleased," Snape said in a dark tone as he waved a contemptuous hand towards the congealed potion all over the workbench and floor. "But I'd already deduced that you alone could remedy this. I could hardly tell the class that, could I?"

So Snape had been angry all right, but he'd played it up a bit so the class would think Harry was staying behind because he was in trouble? Pretty Slytherin, Harry thought. "All right," he slowly said, feeling his heartbeat return to something normal. "But won't the other students figure out that something funny was going on? They all did see your spells fail, after all. Um . . . sorry about that, sir."

Snape's lips curled upward slightly. "Oh, they'll just assume it was like the time Mr Crabbe fouled his potion. It couldn't be banished, either, if you'll recall, not until the brew was brought out of magical flux. Charmed potions are even more notoriously temperamental."

"But you checked my potion--"

"Ah, but not your charm. You could have incanted anything, yes? Your classmates must be well aware by now how difficult it is for you to get your spells right. This incident will merely increase rumours of your ineptitude."

"Oh, great." Harry crossed his arms. Being the centre of attention for having messed up magic wasn't turning out to be any more fun than being stared at for winning that horrible tournament. But there was nothing to be done about that, so Harry tried to forget about it. There was no forgetting about the tight feeling in his chest, however. He just wanted to crawl into bed, pull the covers over his head, and pretend he'd messed up in some other class instead of right there in front of his father. Bed sounded good in any case. "Well, if we're done here, I'll head off . . ."

Snape practically glowered at him. "You don't think we have things to discuss?"

"Huh? Oh, you mean my punishment?" Harry sort of slumped. "I guess I'd better go tell my friends to go ahead, then."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Oh, indeed . . ." Striding to the door, he yanked it open to reveal Ron and Hermione hovering in the corridor. "You needed something, Miss Granger? Mr Weasley?"

"We were just waiting for Harry," Ron explained.

"Ah. Well as it happens he will be quite some time with me. I will see to it that he arrives safely at your common room. So, off with you." He made a shooing motion with his hand.

"But we were going to walk him to dinner--"

"Really, Miss Granger, I'm quite cognizant of the fact that my son needs to eat each evening," said Snape with a lilt of challenge in his voice. "Have you any further objection to him spending time with his father?"

"I wasn't objecting to that, sir--"

"Good." Snape closed the door in her face, but not before Hermione looked past him to give Harry a little wave of encouragement.

When Snape turned around, his expression was rather dark. "What did they think I was going to do? Eviscerate you?"

"They were just waiting so I could walk with them. Like we agreed, sir, out in Devon."

Snape look mildly bothered by something, which puzzled Harry as his memories of Devon were generally good ones.

"Hmm. Well, let us return to the cause of your mishap. Accidents, you realise, are very rarely strictly that," Snape said in what Harry thought of as his professor's voice. "Why were you uncertain about how to perform the charm, when I specifically assigned readings that would help you learn it in advance?"

Harry couldn't bear to answer that. Miserable, he just hung his head.

Snape sighed. "Harry, answer me. Did you do your homework?"

"Yes . . ."

A knowing look stole across Snape's features. "I am somewhat familiar with your study habits, you understand. Did you recognise that the readings were providing critical information? Did you give them your full and complete attention?"

Still looking at his feet, Harry shook his head. "I tried, honest. But it was really late and I was having loads of trouble concentrating. I didn't understand some of it, and . . . and what I did understand I didn't remember so well afterwards."

"This was last night, I presume? How late were you up?"

Harry flushed, wishing he didn't have to have this conversation. "Um, well I started in on your work at about four in the morning, something like that--"

"Four in the morning," Snape said in an ominous tone. "You started at four in the morning. I see. Is there any particular reason why you didn't attempt to do your potions readings at a more normal hour?"

"I didn't have time!" Harry cried, turning away to stare blankly at the chalkboard. "I kept trying to get to them but I had your extra essay to do, and the well-wish, and the duplication charm you told me to learn, not to mention finding a spell so Sals wouldn't get eaten and all my homework for my other classes which takes twice as long now that I can't use proper Latin like everybody else and--" Gulping, Harry forced himself to go quiet.

"I see," Snape said, very slowly. "And who gave you leave to stay up until four in the morning to do all this?"

"Well, you know in the Tower, we sort of do whatever we like . . ."

"Minerva and I will be having words," Snape snapped, "about her thoroughly lax supervision."

Harry could have said that Snape didn't tuck his Slytherins in every night, did he now . . . but he didn't quite dare.

"Now," Snape went right on. "Did you get any sleep at all last night?"

"No, sir--"

"You will desist at once from all these yes, sirs and no, sirs!" Snape suddenly demanded, his voice fierce. "I am not calling you Mr Potter, am I?"

Harry bit his lip. "No, but you're the teacher, aren't you? You can say whatever you like in class."

"We are not in class!" Snape sighed, appearing to calm himself with effort. "Harry, we both have adjustments to make. It is more difficult than I had anticipated having my son move out of my home." He held up a hand when Harry would have spoken. "However, you are where you need to be, so we will leave that aside. But as for class . . . Harry, this is a classroom, but we are not in class unless there are others present and instruction is underway."

"Oh." Harry felt sort of stupid then, at least until he remembered something. "But you called me Mr Potter, didn't you, when I asked about the cactus?"

"Once only, as a rather pointed hint."

"Oh, sorry, didn't realise."

Snape sank into a chair and rubbed his temples for a moment. "As I said, this is a period of adjustment. We will make our way through it, I have no doubt."

The man looked tired, Harry thought. Really tired. Harry suddenly felt ten times worse than he had at first. Snape was probably having a horrible time each night, dealing with Draco's childish demands, and what had Harry done but made his days a trial as well? "I'm sorry--"

"If I hear you say that again tonight, I will need a Stomach Calming Draught."

That was all he needed; now he was actually making his father ill. "Um, do you want some water, or . . .?"

"No." Snape pointed at a nearby chair, one facing him at a slight angle. "I want you to sit there and discuss a few things with me." He didn't continue until Harry had been seated. "If you knew you hadn't done the readings sufficiently, why didn't you take advantage of my offer to go do them?"

"Um . . ."

"Harry," Snape said, his voice going stern, "if you cannot discuss things truthfully with me--"

You'll unadopt me?

Harry almost did a double-take, sitting there. Where the bloody hell had that thought come from?

"--then it will be much more difficult for us to overcome our problems," Snape finished. "So tell me, please. Why didn't you leave class and do your readings, as I specifically suggested?"

Swallowing, Harry braced himself. Snape never had liked to hear his teaching criticised, had he? But on the other hand, he had asked for the truth. "Well, you do tend to . . . er, mercilessly ridicule people who come to your class unprepared, don't you? And anyway, I didn't want you to think of me that way."

"What way?"

"Um, what you said. A first-year dolt. Or worse." When Snape said nothing, Harry went on, "Look, I just didn't want to disappoint you! If anybody should do your homework well, it ought to be me!"

Snape leaned back and steepled his fingers. "Why is that?"

Harry leaned back too, but his whole body still felt tense. "Gee, I don't know. Because I'm your son?"

"What has that to do with anything? Even if you were my natural-born son, I wouldn't necessarily expect you to inherit either my love or my facility for potion-making."

"No, I meant . . ." Frustrated, Harry tried to figure out what he had meant. It wasn't easy. The mass of emotions inside him was like a knotted ball of feelings boiling up to the surface but then slipping out of his grasp when he tried to reach for them. "I just thought . . . look, I may not like your subject best but I really respect you, and I owe you a lot, obviously, and with Draco giving you trouble I thought the least I could do was not raise my hand and announce that I was a lousy son too--"

Harry broke off, a little bit horrified with himself. He hadn't meant to say that Draco was a lousy son.

Snape, however, had latched onto something else. "You do not owe me," he stated, lacing his fingers together now. "I would like you to respect me, but I would not like to think you do so out of gratitude. If you set yourself to learn Potions, Harry, do it because you will need the knowledge in the future, not because your father is a Potions Master." Snape waited until he had absorbed that. "Are we clear?"

Harry smiled. "Yeah, I think so. Thanks."

Snape's expression remained rather severe. "Now, as to disappointing me. Perhaps you could explain why you failed to attend your Charms lesson this morning?"

Harry's jaw dropped. "You know about that?"

"One of the disadvantages of having your father on staff." Snape shrugged. "Have you an explanation? Madam Pomfrey said she hadn't seen you."

"You checked if I'd been hurt?"

"Yes, of course I checked! It isn't like you to miss your lessons . . ." Snape's voice hardened. "And I do not particularly care how difficult it is for you to work out new spells, you will not deal with it by skipping class."

"It wasn't that." Harry shifted in his chair. "I just needed to talk to Professor Sprout about the well-wish, that's all. I wanted to have it ready for when I come down tomorrow."

"Ah." Snape huffed slightly. "You are planning to grace us with your presence, then?"

"Huh?" Harry blinked. "You've known all along I was. I'm skipping Hogsmeade for it, remember?"

"Because I assigned you to."

"Well, not just that," Harry murmured. "There's also the well-wish."

"The well-wish that caused you to miss class."

"Yeah, and besides I have that extra essay ready like I said, all three feet of it--"

"And this is what you were up so late doing, the reason why you could not start your homework until four in the morning."

"Well, that and the well-wish, actually, but I was already up pretty late so Hermione could help me get my notes copied for Draco like you wanted--"

"Harry," Snape interrupted, "it seems to me that your saving-people-thing has found a new way to manifest itself. You appear to have developed a pleasing-people-thing."

Suddenly the dungeon classroom felt uncomfortably hot. "Uh, no I haven't. I just wanted you to be proud of me, you know."

"Harry, I am proud of you!" As though realising he had been shouting, Snape lowered his voice. "You do not need to buy my affection with essays or notes or well-wishes or certainly, not with a pretence that your homework is done when it is not. I told you, did I not, that you didn't need to be perfect?"

"Yeah, but I just thought that with Draco, you know, being such a prat . . ."

Snape chuckled softly then. "Ah, I understand now. You're competing with Draco."

"No, I'm not--"

"Oh, yes, you certainly are. He's intent on proving to himself that neither one of us will abandon him, and you're intent on proving that you can be as good as he can be bad." Snape leaned forward then, and caught both Harry's hands in his. "I'm given to understand that it's actually quite normal, this impulse. I don't much care for it, however. You shouldn't put yourself last like that, going all night without sleep to see to things that can be done another time."

Harry looked down at his shoes. Or tried to, anyway. What he saw was his father's strong hands clasping his. "I . . . I just didn't want you to say that I only thought about myself, I guess."

Snape's hands tightened, the pressure somehow comforting. "I don't think that of you. I know I used to say it quite often--"

"You said it last Friday night," Harry murmured, glancing up into his father's eyes.

"Friday night . . . Draco had just been expelled, Harry!"

"I know." Harry smiled a little bit, then. "I . . . I guess you weren't in the best frame of mind and I shouldn't have taken what you said so much to heart. But it just seemed like . . . well, I realised I had been being selfish, and I thought Draco should come first for a while, that's all."

"If you thought that then why haven't you once come down to visit?" Snape's voice was ragged by then. "Harry, I realise that Draco was quite horrid towards you on Sunday, but I thought you understood. He's pushing you away because he's afraid that what he has won't last. And in letting yourself be pushed, I suspect you are confirming that fear."

Harry's smile died. "Oh. That's not good." He shifted in his chair again. "I wasn't staying away because he was so rude. The casewitch said he'd need lots of time alone with you, that's all. And I was trying to make sure he got it."

Snape squeezed his hand still more, then let go and sat back with a sigh. "Ah, the casewitch. I'm surprised you'd take her advice so much to heart, after she was foolish enough to believe that preposterous rugby story."

"I thought of that, but you know, she was spot-on about Draco turning into a bit of a prat." Harry's spirits lifted a little when Snape raised his eyebrow at the phrase a bit. "And when he straight away made it clear he didn't want me tagging along to Hogsmeade, I figured he did need time with his new dad."

"A reasonable deduction." Standing then, Snape looked down at him. "I believe you are right in part; Draco does want to have my undivided attention at present. But he also wants to see you, and these conflicting needs will no doubt cause him to continue to be somewhat antagonistic when you visit." Snape's eyes were hooded by the end. "You will visit, I hope?"

"Yeah." Harry stood up and stretched. "How about I come down right now for dinner?"

"Actually, I told Draco earlier that I already had plans for dinner tonight. I thought it was time we talked."

"Oh, so even if I hadn't destroyed the floor--"

"Yes." Snape beckoned him with his fingers. "We'll eat in my office and you can tell me how your week has gone."

"But if he knows you're up here with me, won't he feel awfully left out?"

The Potions Master lifted his shoulders as though that couldn't be helped, "Draco is not the only one who needs to spend time with his father. He will simply have to share."

Harry grinned. "You know, Draco has his good points, but I don't think sharing is really one of them."

"Then it's time he learns."

And that, Harry sensed, was Snape's final word on the matter. A warm feeling spreading through him, Harry followed his father into his office.

------------------------------------------------------

Eating in the potions office was a new experience. Not one Harry liked much, either. There were just too many horrible things floating in the jars that lined every shelf. Putrid, distorted things. Some of them looked alive, too. Alive and suffering.

Harry soon learned to keep his gaze focussed on his plate and his father's face. That helped.

And of course the chance to catch up with Snape made it all worthwhile.

Over roast chicken with jacket potatoes, they talked about Harry's week. Harry had a lot to say, though he left out Ron and Hermione's constant bickering. But there were loads of other things to talk about, so it wasn't until pudding that the conversation wound around to Nott's story about the plague. "Do you think it could have happened that way, Dad? Bella and Erik causing the whole thing by accident because they were trying to keep Nott from saying that he'd been at the Owlery stairs that afternoon?"

Snape took a few sips of wine before he answered. "In the first place, I cannot credit that Mr Nott would take it upon himself to so vigorously defend Draco against the accusation of murder. They used to be allies of a sort, but they were never close friends. Moreover, according to his own story, he already suspected that Miss Uwannawich and Mr Vanvelzeer had been persuaded by Lucius Malfoy to testify. I find it highly unlikely that Mr Nott would attempt to obstruct any of Malfoy's plans, especially after he's heard exactly how vicious Malfoy can be."

A reference to Samhain, Harry felt sure. "So Draco really has been writing to Nott? That part at least is true?"

"Yes. However, his story has a fatal flaw nonetheless. We know that since a memory charm was involved, Miss Uwannawich and Mr Vanvelzeer believed their own testimony. They might have been offended that Nott called them both liars, but I doubt they would find it necessary to curse him. Only a knowing accomplice is likely to act in such a way."

"True . . ." Harry poked his spoon into his trifle, over and over. "But that might just mean that he's wrong, not that he's lying. He didn't say he knew that Belladonna and Erik had cursed him. He just said he thought they had."

"All the same, I would advise you to put no faith in Mr Nott."

"Oh, I won't," Harry assured his father. "But you might see me partner with him or sit with him at the Slytherin table or something. As long as he thinks I'm likely to trust him, he'll keep talking, see? And he might let slip something useful."

"Doubtful. He's had six years in my house, Harry."

"Well, I've had six years in Gryffindor so I have to try."

Snape smiled. "Yes, I suppose you do. And given that you have already eaten with Slytherin, I think it's time to introduce you formally to my house."

Harry felt a headache coming on just thinking about that. "That's really not necessary, is it?" He tried for a weak joke. "I'm pretty sure they all know who I am."

Snape didn't laugh. "It truly is necessary. I already intimated to them once that you were under my protection--"

"Yeah, Nott told me. See, he does let slip interesting stuff I need to know."

"No wonder you wish to continue in his company." Snape sipped his wine again then set his glass down. "However, having you there at my side as I state as much again will tend to reinforce the message and make you safer here. I propose we see to it tomorrow night after your Potions lesson has been concluded."

"All right." Really, that probably was the very best time, right after the students had spent a day in Hogsmeade. Everyone would be in about as good a mood as they'd ever get. Harry wondered briefly if Snape had thought of that, then almost scoffed out loud. Who was he kidding? Of course Snape had thought of that! "Um, speaking of Potions, you never did tell me what my punishment was."

Snape tapped the table with his wand, banishing all the dishes except Harry's bowl. "No, I didn't. I think perhaps a full day of brewing with me will suffice. Before we are finished, you will have produced an adequate Waldenholfer's Acuity Draught, along with a few other potions and elixirs you missed out on earlier in the year. Tomorrow, we'll say."

Harry smothered a laugh. "I was going to come and brew tomorrow anyway!"

"Yes, but how many of your friends know that?" Snape raised an eyebrow. "So then, this will give you something to complain about. I must keep up appearances."

"I thought I wasn't going to get any special treatment on account of being your son." Harry wasn't sure why he was complaining. He didn't want to have to scrub cauldrons, after all, but neither did he like being set apart from the other students. He was tired of being different.

"You're welcome to stay late and mince flobberworms if you like." Snape stared at him as though assessing his reaction. "No? Why don't we simply agree that if you lose control of your magic again in my class, you will be assigned a proper detention. Can your very Gryffindor sense of fairness bear that compromise?"

Harry thought it was surprisingly reasonable coming from Snape, but something about it still bothered him. "Suppose I do my homework properly and all that and come to class prepared, but I still have troubles with the Parseltongue working right? That wouldn't be my fault, would it? So I don't think I ought to be punished for it."

Snape's nostrils flared. "I should expect less of you simply because your magical state poses you a challenge?"

Put like that it was hard to say yes, Harry thought a little resentfully.

"Should I also expect less of students whose magic is by its nature weak, Harry? Or should I insist they overcome that obstacle, even if it means putting in ten times as much effort as other students must devote?"

"Oh, all right." Feeling full, Harry rubbed his stomach a bit as he gave in on that one. "You're right. I'll just work harder, whatever it takes."

"It almost always takes sufficient sleep," Snape hinted.

"I'll be good," Harry promised, yawning. "And speaking of sleep, can you walk me back now? I think I'll turn in early and catch up."

"We have one more thing to discuss, actually. When you come down tomorrow, I would request you not do anything to alter the state of your room."

Harry blinked. "What are you talking about?"

Snape suddenly looked about as uncomfortable as Harry had ever seen. "Draco," he announced, his tones short and clipped. "He is being far more difficult than I had anticipated, and I admit I've been at somewhat of a loss for how to deal with him."

Uh-oh, that sounded pretty bad. "So, you changed my room around or something?"

A sharp scoffing noise filled the room. "No, certainly not. I merely told the house-elves that until they hear otherwise from me, they are to leave your room entirely alone. If Draco will not do his lines or his schoolwork, he will not have the cleaning and tidying services he takes for granted."

Harry set his spoon down. "He's refusing to do his lines and his schoolwork? I've been knocking myself out getting those notes copied every single night, and he's not even bothering to use them?"

Snape picked up his wand and banished Harry's dessert, the motion something furious. "He insists that as he has been expelled he no longer has to do any assignments. I am attempting to disabuse him of the notion."

"And the lines?"

"We've had more than one row about the lines." When Snape glanced at Harry, his dark eyes reflected pure frustration. "I can't seem to make him budge on either issue."

Harry reached a hand out and caught his father's fingers in his own, squeezing them as Snape had done so many times for him. Sometimes the simplest touch could convey mountains of reassurance; he knew that.

His father had taught him.

"Thank you, Harry," Snape said, his voice pitched low.

Harry smiled a little, but not in amusement. It was more an expression to bolster the man. "So, you told the house-elves to let Draco clean his own room, and he's being stubborn and letting it turn into a pigsty, I guess?"

"It was cleaner when you had geese and sheep in there."

Harry winced, remembering the mess the animals had caused. "I won't clean the room either, I promise. But what else have you tried? I mean, to get through to Draco?"

Snape pulled his hand from Harry's and began counting on his fingers. "All the books except his schoolbooks are charmed to stay shut, now. The Floo connects to the kitchens only during mealtimes and of course it's long been warded so he can't actually travel through it alone at any time. When he started amusing himself by taking ten showers a day I limited the hot water, as well."

"So you're grounding him, basically." When Snape stared at him, Harry murmured, "Muggle term. Hmm, I don't know what else to suggest, really . . ."

"I don't expect you to solve this," Snape assured him, rising to his feet. "I simply needed you to realise that your room must be left for him to clean. Or not -- he knows he can have the elves back in just as soon as he begins doing his own work."

"He'll come around," Harry promised, standing up too and going over to give his father an encouraging hug. One more thing he'd learned from Snape.

"Merlin, I hope so," Snape groaned. "But my hair may be as grey as Albus' by the time he does."

------------------------------------------------------

"Well, wish me luck," Harry said as he hovered outside his father's door, clad in dress robes and clutching a tumbler filled with flowers.

"With Draco or with the Slytherins?"

"Both, I think," Harry told Ron. He held up the well-wish. "Does it look all right?"

Ron took a moment to study the crest. "Blimey, you even got it to move!"

"Yeah, and it looks even more stunning on glass than parchment."

Harry carefully avoided looking at Hermione as he delivered the veiled compliment, but her cheeks still went pink. And Ron saw.

"Oh, no wonder it looks so good. Miss Duplicaro herself transferred it." Rounding on Hermione, he snarled, "So you've been helping out Draco, have you?"

"I've been helping Harry!"

"Oh, sure."

Hermione stamped her foot. "Ronald Weasley, you're an idiot!"

"And you're bloody pathetic, you are--"

"You're both right," said a new voice from the door that had swung silently open. Draco's voice.

Hurriedly stuffing the well wish behind a fold in his robe, Harry turned around. "Hi, Draco."

"Oh, so you remember my name?" Draco turned on his heel and stomped off.

When Harry glanced back at his friends, he saw that Hermione was biting her lip in sympathy, while Ron was going red with anger. Well, at least they'd forgotten their annoyance with each other. For the moment, at least.

"He can't talk to you like that--" Ron started to say.

"Oh, like Fred and George never talk down to you," retorted Harry.

Ron lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "If you ask me, he doesn't deserve all the fuss you've gone to for him!"

"Well, nobody asked you," was Hermione's crisp reply.

"Shut up, Hermione!" Ron shouted back.

"I'll second that," called Draco from inside Snape's quarters.

Ron turned to Hermione with an I-told-you-so expression all over his face.

Hermione ignored it. "You have a nice day, Harry. We'll see you later."

"Yeah, see you later," Ron echoed, but he hesitated when he turned to leave. "Listen, Harry, I guess he can talk to you like that it you're willing to put up with it. But when it comes to brothers, I know what I'm talking about. Don't let him walk all over you. You have to give as good as you get."

"I'll keep that in mind." After Ron was down the hall, Harry went in and shut the door, careful to keep the well-wish hidden as he hung his school bag on the peg he always used for his stuff. "Where's Severus?"

Draco looked up from the sofa, where he'd apparently thrown himself in fit of pique. He actually had one foot on it and the other one on the floor. "Out."

"Out? He knew I was coming . . ."

"Well, Potter--" Draco suddenly broke off and shouted at the walls, "That's ten more points from Slytherin, mind!" Just as abruptly, he went back to his quietly contemptuous voice, "We thought you'd be here at ten. But oh no, you couldn't bear to leave your precious Mudblood and Weasel, could you--"

"Shut up!" snapped Harry, all his patience evaporating. He could put up with as much rudeness as Draco wanted to dish out, when it was directed at him, but he wasn't going to listen to Draco insult his friends.

Jumping up from the sofa, Draco narrowed his eyes. "Oooh, and who's going to make me?"

Harry clenched his fist, concern for Draco's obvious jealousy warring with his anger that the other boy had used that awful word. "I will, and this time you won't be landing any sucker punches," he grated.

"Why, because you'll use your scary dark powers on me? Oooh, I'm so frightened, Potter . . ."

Harry took a step towards his brother. "You use that nasty word again, even once, and I'll throw you to the floor and bloody your face, I swear." Another step forward. "And if you're Gryffindor enough to pull your wand on me again I might just shove it up your nose!" One more step, and he was close enough to touch Draco. "But I wouldn't pull my wand on you."

"Why the hell not?"

Harry reached out and gave Draco a tiny push that caused the other boy to tumble backwards onto the sofa. "Because I love you, you moron."

Draco hurriedly sat up, colour high in his cheeks as he muttered, "You don't fight fair."

Chuckling a little, Harry sat down, too. It was a little tricky keeping the well-wish hidden, but he managed. "I'd think you would admire that, Draco. You know, Slytherin?"

"You're a bit behind the times, but that's what happens when you can't be bothered to come down even once all week," retorted Draco. "Haven't you heard the news? I hate Slytherin."

Harry ignored the part about him not visiting. "Oh, come on, no you don't . . . listen, Goyle asked me how you were. Seemed to miss you helping him with his homework."

Draco flushed even pinker. "I didn't help him, Harry. I don't do that. I just let him copy off me."

"Funny, when you were tutoring me I thought you were pretty good at it. Well, after I started believing you wouldn't kill me. You never once offered to let me just copy."

"Yeah, 'cause Severus would have killed me."

"Oh, how would he even have known--"

"Apart from the fact that you're this goody-two-shoes who would have run to tell him?"

"I am not!"

"Are too. I bet you've even got your extra essay all done already, don't you?"

Now Harry was the one flushing. "How do you know he set me an essay?"

"What, you think he's your father only? He does talk to me, you know! It's not like there's been anybody else to talk to down here this week, now is it!" Draco narrowed his eyes. "So is your extra essay all ready to hand in, you show off?"

"Yes!"

"Ha! I knew it!"

"Why don't you worry about doing your own assignments instead of getting mad that I'm doing mine?" shouted Harry.

"Oh, so he told you about that, did he?"

"What, you think he's your father only? He does talk to me too, you know!"

Draco was breathing heavily by then, his chest moving up and down in rapid sequence. As if he couldn't bear to be near Harry, he moved to one of the chairs in the room, crossing his arms in front of him as he sat down in a huff. "So why are you so dressed up, anyway? It's kind of stupid considering you're here to brew."

By then, Harry was wishing he hadn't worn dress robes, or even made Draco a blasted well-wish.

"Oh . . ." Draco's expression suddenly brightened. Just as if he hadn't spent the whole visit so far being an utter arse, he all at once drawled, "He comes down in dress robes and asks straight away for Severus, and he's been keeping one hand tucked away all this time . . . I just wonder. Could he have a well-wish for somebody, hmmm?"

Harry was too irritated to go along with Draco's lightning change of mood. "Maybe I just don't want you to see the hand I melted off during Potions yesterday."

Draco's face went pale. "Severus didn't say . . . oh yeah, right, Harry. That makes sense. Dress robes go so well with a melted hand, after all." He barked a short laugh.

"Well, I did melt the classroom floor, anyway."

"You did not!"

"Yeah, I did." Harry leaned his head back and sighed. "Wanded magic, just a tad. Accident."

"Oh great, just let the niffler out of the bag, Harry! Let everyone know your secrets! It's not as if you might, say, need them to stay alive, is it!"

Well, at least that time Draco's sarcasm had a real point. He did care, he just didn't know how to say so without cloaking it in hostility. "Nobody knew what went wrong," Harry explained, suddenly exhausted. "Severus saw to that. And I'll be more careful in future."

"You'd better be, or I just might shove your wand up your nose!"

Harry thought that was a funny threat when he heard it come back at him, but he didn't smile, because it reminded him of what had started them fighting in the first place. "Don't call Hermione that filthy name again."

Draco didn't say he wouldn't. But at least he didn't start going on about how he would, either. That had to be worth something.

------------------------------------------------------

"Good morning, Harry," said Snape as he stepped out of the Floo. As he looked to his right, his gaze seemed to settle on the stack of blank parchment sitting on the dining room table. Harry thought he saw rather than heard a sigh.

"My social calendar has been rather full this morning, I'm afraid," Draco drawled. "But now that Harry's finally deigned to visit us, I'm sure my spirits will pick up and I'll be able to fit a line or two into my busy day."

Harry stood, wishing Draco would shut up. He was nervous enough without all the sarcastic commentary. Everything he'd read in the last few days seemed to blur in his head until he could hardly recall what he was supposed to do or say. Until, that is, he remembered Draco doing this months ago.

Snape had been deeply moved, Harry knew.

That helped steady his nerves.

Harry walked across the room to his father, withdrawing the well-wish from the fold in his robes as he moved. Once he was close enough to Snape, he smiled and reached out for both Snape's hands, awkwardly holding the flower-filled tumbler between them. Then, it was just a matter of looking into his father's eyes. In them, he found all the pride and confidence he could possibly need. "Severus . . . upon this hallowed day your joy is made complete. May the years to come be many, and overflow with all I wish for you and yours."

Snape nodded his thanks as he looked down at the well-wish. Unaccountably, his hands on Harry's tightened, but not like the way they did when he was trying to give his son some encouragement. This grip, Harry thought, was more like shock.

"Where did you find that glass?"

Well, that certainly answered the question of whether Snape knew about his family crest. "It's just a glass . . . but Hermione found the crest for me in a book on family histories."

Snape nodded again, his dark eyes turbulent. At least it wasn't with anger, but Harry still had the feeling he'd managed to deeply upset the man.

Whatever the matter was, though, it could obviously wait, for Snape was going back to the form of the ceremony. He touched each plant in turn, his fingertip stroking softly over the leaves and flowers, then murmured, "Well chosen, Harry."

Harry couldn't help but blush at the next part, but it was part of the ceremony, so he went ahead and did it. Balancing the well-wish on one palm, he used his free hand to lift each of Snape's hands to his lips, where he brushed a gentle kiss across the knuckles. Then steeling himself, he reached up on tip-toe to try to kiss his father's cheek.

Harry wasn't tall enough, though. Snape had to bend down a little to make that work.

Draco had stood up, but been absolutely quiet throughout, Harry realised as he stepped away from their father. It made for a nice change. When he handed Draco the well-wish, the other boy looked like he might burst into tears. Harry tried to act like he hadn't noticed that as he gave a slight bow and then stepped back.

Pulling in a long breath, Draco swallowed once or twice. "Thank you, Harry."

"You're welcome."

"Oh, some of these are very good wishes," Draco said as he touched a finger to each plant, the way Snape had done. "Nettle, plantain, sarsaparilla, alyssum, Echinacea . . ."

Now who's the show off? Harry wanted to ask.

Draco apparently had too much reverence for the ceremony to wish to mar it, but now that the formalities were over, his perpetual bad mood began to come roaring back. "I must say, Harry, alyssum's a bit of a rude wish, don't you think?"

Harry shook his head, determined not to be drawn into a fight. That didn't mean he wouldn't answer truthfully, of course. After his talk with Snape--and maybe after the one with Ron in the hall, too--he felt like he didn't have to hold back so much. "Alyssum's a perfect wish for you," he told his brother, his voice a bit dry. "You really do need to learn to moderate your anger. You know, impulse control?"

Draco gave him a thin smile. "And the sarsaparilla's nice, but most probably unnecessary. I already do have plenty of money. Or will, when the goblins finish setting up their greedy little fee schedules, or whatever it is they're doing to hold things up."

"It's a wish for love, Draco."

"Oh." Draco's eyes were glittering by then, never a good sign. "Well, Harry, if you choose ambiguous plants your wishes can be misread. If you had grown up in a proper environment you would know that."

"If you'd been raised by people with manners instead of your damned stilted politeness--" Harry broke that thought off and just waved for Draco to get on with it.

"Let's see, nettle for protection, Echinacea for strengthening spells . . . those are both solid wishes, if a bit common," drawled Draco. "But this is quite unusual. And really perfect for me, I suppose. Plantain for snake repelling." He laughed, clearly liking that last wish so much that he couldn't find a thing wrong with it.

"Those are very well chosen wishes indeed, Harry," said Snape from where he was still standing by the Floo.

"Oh yes, a very good first try," added Draco, his voice gone so smarmy that Harry wanted to hit him. "But five, you know, that's almost an insult. If I didn't know how ignorant you were of wizarding culture, I'd be hurt you didn't make any more wishes than that."

Harry'd had enough of being talked down to. "But five was all I could do," he explained, hiding his smile. Draco might be a know it all when it came to plants and their properties, but he'd missed Harry's special surprise, hadn't he? "Because all the wishes stand for something else, Draco. Something with five letters."

Draco stared at Harry suspiciously, then snapped his gaze down to the plants. "Alyssum, sarsaparilla, plantain, Echinacea, nettle," he murmured, clearly turning that over in his mind. "Oh. Well that's pretty rude of you, isn't it?" he suddenly snarled. "I happen to think I already am fairly eloquent, thank you very much! How dare you march in here with a well-wish that's nothing but an implication that I can't even speak properly!"

"What?"

"Aspen," Draco snarled. "Your nasty little collection of plants spells aspen! Which, as any properly educated wizard knows, is a wish for eloquence--"

Harry rearranged letters in his head. "Oh. No . . . well, it does spell that but it also spells something else."

Draco eyes blazed as he thought that over. Harry knew the exact moment when he'd got it at last; those silver eyes of his lit up with another kind of light. "Oh," he said, his voice all at once so soft Harry could barely hear it. "Snape."

"Yes." Harry smiled, and then Draco did as well. A real smile, nothing like the sarcastic awful ones he'd been sporting earlier.

"It really is a very nice set of wishes you came up with. I . . . I wish I hadn't been so . . ." Clearing his throat and looking away from Harry, Draco began to stare at the fire in the Floo instead. "I suppose you're right and I do need to work on moderating my anger. I don't know why I'm so angry, really. Well, I do know why I hate Slytherin but I really don't know why I should feel so angry with you half the time . . ."

"Half the time?" Harry gently mocked.

"Most of the time," Draco admitted, blinking. "I . . . well it didn't help that you were off having so much fun with all your friends all week, and I was stuck down here alone."

Harry thought better than to say he'd been deliberately staying away. "I'll have more time to visit from now on," he settled for explaining. "Now that the well-wish is done. I had to figure out the whole thing twice, see, once I thought of making the wishes into an acronym for your new name."

Draco smiled again. Still sincerely, though it was a little bit tired. Like he hadn't been sleeping much either . . . or maybe like he'd done way too much sleeping over the past few days. "That was really very clever."

"It goes with the crest," said Harry, glancing back at their father. His dark eyes were giving nothing away, but there was no mistaking the reaction he'd had upon first seeing the emblem. As Draco lifted up his well-wish to look at the tumbler more closely, Harry went on, "Snape family crest."

"Really?" Draco studied the shifting colours. "There's more than one branch of Snapes, I think . . ." For once, he was simply giving information rather than pointing out how much Harry didn't know. "Are you sure this one is for our family?"

Our family. Now that was nice.

"Pretty sure," Harry admitted. "I compared facts in a couple of books and it seems like it is."

Harry wasn't going to say any more on that matter, but Draco didn't have quite his wealth of sensitivity. "Severus? Do you know?"

Snape's lips twisted as he came forward and took the glass from Draco, his fingers tracing over the outline of the crest. For a long moment he stared at it, clearly lost in thought, before slowly answering, "Yes, I know."

"And? And?" Draco's voice was lilting with excitement, sort of the way it had been on Christmas morning. All Harry could think was that shedding his Malfoy roots really did mean a lot to his brother. More than Harry had realised. Much more.

Casting Harry a wry look--as though he expected a plot, actually--Snape handed the well-wish back to Draco. "Those initials in the corner are my father's," he admitted. "Hostilian Snape. He drew the crest."

"Oh . . . " Draco beamed a bright smile all around. "No wonder it's so modern, then. Sort of like a Jackson Pollock, only without all the splotchiness. I love it, Severus."

"Who's Jackson Pollock?"

"Oh, Muggle abstract artist," Draco said absently as he went back to studying the crest. He must have caught Harry's look of astonishment, though, because a sly little grin curled his lips. "You know how I like opera, Harry. Surely it's dawned on you before now that I do appreciate a few Muggle things." His smile became more openly vicious. "Lucius would be horrified, of course."

"Harry," Snape interrupted, "I believe it's time for us to begin."

Draco seemed oblivious to the undercurrents in the room. "Severus, I think your father must have been very talented. Was he an artist by trade?"

The question was innocuous enough, but it made Snape's face go a shade or two whiter. "Yes. Now, if you will excuse us, Harry needs to change into clothes more appropriate for brewing--"

"There aren't too many wizard artists," Draco said, his tones warm with admiration. It was much better than him being so rude all the time, of course, but by then Harry was dearly wishing he'd realise how difficult this conversation was for their father. "Did he sculpt as well, or only paint? And can I meet him someday? Please?"

Please from Draco was an almost unheard-of event. Too bad it had to come at a time like this, when Snape was wound so tight. "He sculpted as well, yes," the Potions Master grated. "But you may not meet him as he has long since died."

"A portrait," Draco said, almost bouncing in his eagerness. "You must have one tucked away somewhere--"

"Why must I?"

"Because he was an artist!"

"He was a purist," corrected Snape, his voice utterly cold by then. "In more ways than one. He would never stoop to waste his talents on lowly representational art, Draco." Snape began to walk toward the potions laboratory then, his gait stiff.

Draco looked crestfallen, and not just because he couldn't talk art with Hostilian Snape. "What did I say?"

The laboratory door slammed.

"Are you completely dense?" whispered Harry. "He doesn't want to talk about his father, any more than you want to tell fond stories of Lucius or I'd like to reminisce about the Dursleys!"

Draco actually flinched. "I didn't know!"

"Well, try to remember it now that you do. And Draco, if you really want to make it up to him, then stop being such a spoiled prat and do your lines and homework!"

Closing his eyes, Draco gave a sharp nod. "All right, I will. I . . . yeah, I guess I should snap out of this . . . mood . . . Um, Harry? Just so you know, the room's a bit messy right now."

"Well if you'd do your assignments it wouldn't have to be."

"Oh, he told you that as well."

Harry shrugged and moved off toward the door to their room. His fingers were already on the knob when Draco suddenly said, his voice wavering, "Harry . . . I can tell you put a lot of work and thought into the well-wish. I really, really like how the whole thing is wrapped around my name." Draco curled his lips in a tremulous smile. "And snake repelling . . . that's just bloody brilliant."

"Well you'll still have to put up with Sals, you know." Frowning, Harry went on, "I can't understand how you can dislike Sals. She's not big enough to hurt anyone, and Hagrid told me she's not poisonous, not that she bites. She wouldn't hurt you--"

"She got you hurt pretty badly."

Harry considered that. "That wasn't her fault. And anyway . . . it was awful, but I ended up getting the one thing I'd always longed for."

Smiling, Harry went into the bedroom to change out of his dress robes.

------------------------------------------------------

A bit messy turned out to be more than a bit of an understatement. Harry's smile died as he stared in shock at the clothes and sundry items littered all over the floor. And the towels . . . in the damp of the dungeons, it looked as though some of them were planning to grow mould. Wrinkling his nose with disgust, Harry picked his way around them to his trunk so he could fetch out a plain robe.

The inside of his trunk wasn't the way he had left it. Nothing seemed to be missing, but still, Harry didn't like the feeling that his things were being pawed through.

"Draco!" When the blond boy poked his head through the door, Harry slammed the lid of his trunk, his robe slung over one arm. "Why have you been going through my things?"

Draco lifted his nose in the air as though he smelled something foul. Probably the towels, Harry thought.

"Well, thank you for accusing me without so much as a by-your-leave," sneered the other boy, "but as it just so happens, Severus is the one who went through your things!"

Harry studied his brother, looking for any hint of deceit. Draco never had been a good liar, so if he was lying now, there ought to be some sign of it. But there wasn't. All Harry saw on his brother's face was anger, offence, and a desire to get even for the slur. Though why it should be such a slur was a mystery to Harry. He didn't exactly think Draco was above stealing, after all.

"Why would Severus be going through my things?"

Draco shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and did his apparent best to stare Harry down.

"All right, I'm sorry!" exclaimed Harry. "I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."

"No, you shouldn't have," came Draco's icy reply. "Apology not accepted. You can just go straight to hell, Potter." And then, after he stomped from the room and slammed the door hard, a shout: "That's another ten points from fucking Slytherin!"

------------------------------------------------------

Harry didn't exactly appreciate that Snape had gone through his trunk, but he decided that since his father wasn't in the best of moods at the moment, he could put off asking about it. Draco had probably only suggested that so that Harry could get on their father's bad side, anyway. Why else wouldn't he just simply answer the question?

Because you'd just insulted him, maybe?

Harry had to admit there was some truth in that, but he still figured that Draco would blow the misunderstanding out of all proportion and use it as an excuse to not do his lines, after all.

When Harry stepped out of his room, though, he was surprised to see Draco at the kitchen table, quill in hand, working industriously away. He'd put the well-wish in the centre of the table and was glancing up at it from time to time as he wrote.

"I really am sorry," Harry said again.

Draco looked up, his silver eyes hiding something. "Yeah, me too," he said, his tones short. "Just go brew, Harry."

------------------------------------------------------

Waldenholfer's Acuity Draught wasn't so very difficult when he had Snape right there to help him. It was a bit harder the second time, when Snape just sat on a stool and watched, but Harry's brew was still passably good.

Scratch, scratch, scratch . . . that was what they heard after they'd each taken a sip of the finished potion.

"Draco's working really hard on his lines," Harry whispered. Funny, it sounded like he was talking in his regular voice.

Snape moved a finger to his lips and kept listening, though Harry suspected he hardly needed a draught to hear the sound of quill on parchment.

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

Nodding, the lines around his eyes relaxing, Snape handed Harry the antidote to the draught and gestured for him to drink. Once their senses were restored to normal, he asked in a low voice, "What did you say to your brother?"

Harry shrugged a little bit as he began to properly bottle his draught, and tried to speak in a matter-of-fact voice. "Not much. He could tell he'd stuck his foot in it, asking so many questions about your father, so I told him if he could make up for it by not being such a prat." When he glanced up at Snape, the man looked all right with that, Harry thought. Probably that was what gave him the nerve to go on, "About the crest, sir--"

Sir. Harry broke off, shaking his head at himself. "Well, at least you can always tell when I'm uneasy."

"I'd prefer you not be." Snape deftly levitated some wax into a small cauldron and began melting it so Harry could seal his bottles. "You wanted to ask about the crest?"

"No, I just wanted to make sure you knew I didn't know that H.S. stood for your father. I . . . I wouldn't have used the crest if I'd known it would . . . er, bring up bad memories."

Snape gave a single, sharp nod. "You appear to have become more than competent with duplication charms."

Harry laughed a little. "Hermione."

"Ah."

They worked for a while in silence to finish bottling the draughts and clear away the mess left from Harry's brewing, and then Snape assigned Harry to brew a potion that had been covered earlier in the year. This one, in Harry's view, was much less useful. Well, he supposed it could come in handy if you had a problem with warts, but since he didn't . . .

"So where were you this morning?" he asked as he counted out the correct number of frog eyes and wincing, began to squash each one flat.

"Albus requested a meeting."

"What about? Me?"

Snape put his hand over Harry's and showed him how to move the pestle to achieve a better result with the frog eyes. "Not everything is about you, Harry."

"Then what?"

"I am in fact attempting to improve the Wolfsbane." Snape moved his hand and watched as Harry continued to work. "Albus merely wished to know how that was going."

"Improve it how?"

"To repress the change entirely."

Harry jerked his hand, skidding the pestle sideways and sending a frog's eye flying. "Oh, that'd be fantastic!"

"Don't become too excited. It isn't going well," Snape dryly informed him.

"Well, keep at it. Do you need some help? I'd be glad to render fat or crush beetles or whatever."

"I see. All that is needed to make you enthusiastic about potions is the possibility of helping Lupin."

"Well . . . " Harry gave his father a sheepish smile. Then something occurred to him. "You've been working on this project a while, haven't you? And not trying too terribly hard to keep it under wraps, I think. So that's why you Polyjuiced yourself into Remus when it was his moon time! You wanted rumours to get out that the Order was working on the Wolfsbane!"

"Very well reasoned." Snape sounded impressed, Harry thought. That was nice.

"You know I thought at the time it was strange, your coming with me as Remus when the full moon was coming on. But then I just figured there had to be some plot afoot. I'd have worked it out sooner, I think, if I hadn't got so distracted by . . . other things."

"Yes, you've had an eventful year."

"Ha, aren't they all," murmured Harry.

"Not quite like this one, I think." Snape quirked a small smile. "I suppose that as you have figured out the bulk of the plot on your own, you may was well know the rest. The Order wanted to give the impression that such a potion was being worked on and tested, so the werewolves wouldn't be tempted by Voldemort's offers of Muggle prey. However, since it would have been a tactical error to imply the potion was ready when in fact it was not, I was quite careful not to be seen outside Privet Drive when the full moon was at its peak."

"Did it work? The plan?"

"In part. Lupin has been recruiting werewolves, you understand, as well as pursuing his . . . other duties. He has reported both success and failure." Snape scowled. "Not every werewolf, apparently, desires a more normal life. But those who do will be with us, I believe."

"When will the improved Wolfsbane be ready?" asked Harry as he tossed the frog eyes into the oil bubbling away in his cauldron.

Snape sighed. "Quite possibly never. Other potions can be tested as often as one desires, but with but one trial possible each month?"

Since Remus was away, Harry had to wonder . . . "But who are you testing it on? I mean, you wouldn't owl a potion to Remus, would you, considering . . ."

"No. Albus has contacts with those who know others in your . . . friend's situation. It is safer for them not to be seen corresponding directly with me, or indeed, with anyone in the Order."

"Well, if you do need some help chopping or stirring or anything--"

"Yes, Harry," Snape drawled. "I will keep you in mind."

Laughing a little, Harry tried to concentrate then on making a perfect wart-removal potion.

------------------------------------------------------

Snape and Harry worked straight through until about three, when they broke off to have some lunch. Draco had obviously eaten earlier and hadn't bothered to clean up after himself; the table was strewn with dirty dishes and used cutlery. Sighing, Snape banished everything except the well-wish.

Curious about how many lines Draco had written, Harry looked around for the stacks of parchment he'd noticed earlier, but they were nowhere to be seen. From the sound of things, Draco was taking a shower, so Harry reasoned he must have taken his work into the bedroom. He knew a strong urge to go have a look in there, but since he'd just rebuked Draco--unfairly, as it turned out--for snooping, he decided he'd better not.

After lunch they brewed yet another potion, this one a draught that made you steady on your feet.

Much better than wart removal, Harry thought. Could come in handy if you had to cross a river or climb a slippery slope.

Draco was at the table again when they went out for dinner. When he saw them come out he swept his scattered parchments into a pile and hurried off to the bedroom with them, as though ashamed he'd actually been working. Well, he'd had to write over and over that he wouldn't act like a Gryffindor, so Harry supposed he probably was feeling a little bit embarrassed. He came right out to join them for dinner, though, so that was good.

What was even better was that the whole way through the meal, he didn't say one rude thing.

Of course, that might have been because he didn't say much of anything. Draco seemed to be in a little bit of a brooding mood, but Harry took his cue from Snape and didn't press him to join in the conversation.

After dinner was when the evening took a turn for the worse.

"Here," said Harry, fetching his essay out of his school bag.

Snape unrolled the scroll and began reading it, his dark eyes intent. "You appear to appreciate the danger you were inviting," he admitted when he'd finished.

Harry nodded. "Yes. I don't suppose you want to hear that I'm sorry . . . but I am."

"Just see to it that you use better judgment in future." Snape's gaze sought out Draco, who was sitting on the sofa by then. "I should like to see your work as well."

Draco shrugged as he got up. "Sure. It's just lines, though. I didn't get to any schoolwork." He came back with a messy pile of parchments in his hands, and plunked them down onto the table.

Snape touched them with a finger, then drew his wand.

Draco took a step back, his back stiff, his hands shoved deep down into his pockets.

One whispered spell later, and the Potions Master was frowning. "Harry, I should have told you last night that it would be best if you didn't lend Draco any parchment until further notice."

Harry drew his eyebrows together. "I didn't lend him any . . ."

"Then he has helped himself, I fear."

Harry didn't actually care, though it would have been nicer if Draco had asked before taking some from Harry's bag, but still . . . "Why does it matter, Dad?"

Snape was glowering by then, but it was Draco who answered.

"Because Dad here is just like you, Harry! He doesn't trust me an inch; actually went around spelling every parchment he could find so I couldn't cheat! Never mind that I used to cheat like mad and he knew it and never said a word. In fact he liked it then. Very Slytherin--"

"It's only Slytherin if you're not caught out at it," said Harry. "Otherwise it's just stupid."

"Figures you would think so," Draco shouted. "So I duplicated lines, so what? It's your fault anyway!"

"How is it my fault?" Harry shouted right back.

"I wasn't going to take your sodding parchment, I wasn't! I was going to start in on my lines for real!" Draco was screaming by then. From the look on Snape's face, Harry had a feeling his brother had been doing a lot of it. "But then you had to go and accuse me of going through your trunk, when it was Severus who went through it, looking for parchment! Well, if the two of you are going to both accuse me of sneakiness I figured I might as well get on with it! I wanted to work on sketching the crest, anyway!" With that, Draco yanked a few sheets of parchment from his pocket and brandished them like some sort of weapon.

Harry saw version after version of the crest done in black and white, some of them jerkily moving. Well, at least he knew what all the scratching noises had been.

"It's not my doing you like to cheat," Harry pointed out, though he did keep his voice to a normal pitch that time. "You just admitted that you used to cheat all the time."

"It is so your fault! You're a Gryffindor, so I thought you wouldn't like it much if I stole from you. And I wasn't going to! But since you already thought I had--"

"And why would I think a thing like that? Hmm, could it be because you did steal from me? As in, my invisibility cloak?"

"I borrowed it, Potter! Oh, sorry! Ten more points from--"

"Stop that at once," Snape finally said, standing up from his position at the table. "You know perfectly well you're not in charge of the counters."

"Well you are--"

"And you further know," Snape interrupted in a loud voice, "that I am not indulging your childish acrimony towards your house! Now, as for stealing, Draco, Harry and I had every reason to believe you would make free with his belongings when you felt the need was urgent! Do not use that to excuse your pitifully transparent attempt to evade your responsibilities!"

"Oh, like it was that big a deal--"

Harry couldn't believe his ears. Every trace of good feeling toward Draco--not to mention his resolve to keep his voice level--vanished straight away. "It was a big deal!" he yelled, stomping right over to where his brother was leaning against the wall. "It was a huge deal! You used my cloak to sneak out and got yourself accused of murder! You got expelled from school because you stole it! And then Dad took it away, because of you! And it was my father's!"

To Harry's horror, tears started to seep out the corners of his eyes, and he realised he wanted nothing better than to punch Draco straight in the face. Even though by then, Draco looked about as dreadful as Harry felt. Oh, maybe he just wanted to hit something. The wall . . .

Harry clenched both his fists into a tight balls.

"I meant the lines," Draco said in an undertone, shock written across every syllable. "Shite, Harry, the lines."

Whirling away, Harry gasped to get his breath back past the vise compressing his chest. He found himself colliding with Snape, who had moved to stand behind him. His father gathered him into a close hug, his hands moving up and down over Harry's back. "It's all right, Harry. Your father's cloak is safe and sound."

"Yeah, but you took it," Harry cried, the anger inside him just building and building until he felt like he'd fly apart from the pressure. Draco forgotten, Harry shoved against his father, hard, but Snape didn't let him go. "You take everything! I hardly have anything of his, and you took it all away! I thought you said you'd forgiven him!"

"Oh, Harry . . ." Snape's voice blew softly across the top of his hair. "It's only two things, you know, and I had good reason--"

"It's three things!" Harry tried to calm himself down, he really did, but the awful feelings inside him were still pouring out and he didn't know how to make them stop. He wanted them to; they hurt something awful. "You took my dad's mirror, too!"

The hands on his back had changed to patting him, now. "That was Black's, I thought?"

"No! Sirius gave me the one that used to be my father's!"

Draco spoke quietly behind him. "I'm sorry, Harry--"

Something about his brother's voice--that voice that had tossed so many insults his way in recent days--spiralled Harry's anger out of control. Snape's grip had eased off, so Harry yanked himself backwards and spun around, his clenched fist raised.

A voice inside of him was wailing, demanding he release his fury into a barrage of violence, but another part of him didn't want to hit his brother. And in trying not to, his anger came pouring out another way.

A gust of cold air suddenly swept through the room, a whooshing noise surrounding the three of them as something like a wraith rushed snakelike through the air. Draco's fringe flew up from the force of it, the manifestation coming closest to him, and then the thing, whatever it was, flew straight at the wall an inch from his head, hitting it with a noise like a thunderclap.

Draco leapt away, his mouth dropping open as he looked back at the granite wall, now coated in a fine layer of cracking ice.

"What the bloody hell was that?"

Well, at least the accidental magic had accomplished one thing. Harry didn't feel angry any longer; he just felt drained. "That was me, trying not to hit you."

"Oh . . ." Draco swallowed, one finger reaching out to poke at the icy wall.

"Perhaps you might consider before you next provoke your brother that he's prone to releasing dark powers when pushed hard enough," Snape warned. "You are unharmed?"

Draco actually looked himself over as though checking. "Yeah . . . it didn't hurt me, whatever it was."

"Harry?"

Harry felt shaken up, especially considering he'd thought his powers were under better control than that, but he nodded.

"Good." The Potions Master paused a moment, evidently weighing his options, for when he spoke it was to say, "Draco. I do believe I've been patient enough with your obstinacy. If you have now resorted to ferreting out unspelled parchments so that you may lie your way through your punishment, there is only one thing to do."

Snape held a hand out, palm facing upwards. "Return my grandfather's wand at once."

Now Draco was the one who looked shaken up. "I . . . I'm sorry, Severus. I don't know what's got into me, I really don't. I'll do your lines--"

"Yes, you will," said Snape, his voice as calm as the lake on a windless day. "What you won't do is magic. Any magic, until you're through your lines and caught up on your schoolwork. Now, return my grandfather's wand."

Draco slowly pulled it from his pocket and held it out, but Snape didn't take it. He waited until Draco reached out further and put it in his hand.

Snape wasted no time in tucking it away inside his robes.

Draco, Harry thought, looked like he might pass out. A dramatic reaction . . . an overreaction, in Harry's view, but then, Draco had always had magic, hadn't he? From his earliest memories, Lucius had let him start learning, ignoring the Ministry rules about underage magic. When his wand had been taken away before, he'd known that he had another.

But now . . . he looked utterly bereft.

"It's all right," Harry said, feeling really bad for his brother. Not that he blamed Snape, who'd tried lesser punishments first. "It's not so bad as you think. Remember how long I went without any magic, Draco . . . and at least you can still use the Floo and such; you don't need a wand for that . . ."

The other boy glanced up, his eyes dull-hued and listless. "But I'm not like you, Harry."

I'm a pureblood, Harry expected him to say. I'm a real wizard and you're just a boy with a Muggleborn mother.

But that wasn't what Draco was thinking.

"You're brave," he whispered, looking about as lost and hopeless as Harry had ever seen. "You stood up to . . . him. And I can't even say his name!" His tone started to go high-pitched, tilting towards hysteria. "I couldn't even stand up to my father and tell him I wouldn't go into that madman's service! All I could do was crawl to him and steal your wand." And then, eyes wild, "I gave his wand back, Severus! His wand, and you know how important his wand is-- you have to give me mine!"

He lunged, his hand making a clawing motion as he tried to reach inside Snape's robes.

Snape took one step back, which caused Draco to pitch forward and lose his balance. Righting himself at once, he glared.

At Snape and Harry both.

The Potions Master kept to the same calm voice he'd used throughout. "You shall have your wand back when you begin to conduct yourself as a proper young wizard."

"Oh, what's so fucking proper about lines?" Draco snarled.

"I won't argue this point again. Go to your room."

For a long moment, Draco looked as though he would defy that. But in the end, he turned away without a word and left them. The bedroom door closed softly. No slam. But Harry thought the noise ominous, all the same.

"Um, I lived down here without magic," he had to say. "And it's sort of tough. He won't be able to turn the lights off at night, for starters. At least the loo will flush but--"

Snape raised an eyebrow and cast a silencing spell. "You think I was too harsh?"

"Well, no . . . that was pretty sneaky, him finding a way to cheat on his lines, and I guess he can't do it again, not without a wand, but . . . I mean, didn't you use to let him cheat, like he said?"

"Not on something as serious as learning that I mean what I say." Snape made a scoffing noise. "He's referring to Messieurs Crabbe and Goyle in any case. Draco let them copy his homework."

"But you didn't stop it--"

"No, because those two are so thick that copying might well be the only way they'll learn something. There's always one or two such students each year. At any rate, Harry, you must let me handle Draco as I see fit. You aren't down here all week long seeing the sort of rubbish I have to deal with."

"I'll come down more--"

"Yes, do. But it's still my responsibility to rear him, not yours. Don't forget that. And don't do any magic for him. He can do without until he's decided to behave."

Harry felt distinctly uncomfortable about that. "Draco did magic for me all the time when I couldn't do any. He was really helpful, and I hardly appreciated it at all at the time."

"And if Draco fell ill and lost his magic I'd fully support your stepping in. But not when he's being punished."

"Well . . .all right. But what about the lights?"

"I'll arrange some sort of Tempus spell," Snape conceded. "And as you pointed out, he'll have the Floo. He'll be fine, Harry."

"He'll be miserable."

Snape's answering expression was grim. "That's the general idea, yes. But enough of that. Are you all right? You don't look very well to my eye."

"I feel a little rough," Harry admitted. "I thought I was through with accidental magic. Well, I almost loosed some when I saw Lucius Malfoy at the expulsion hearing, but that hardly surprised me."

Snape's dark eyes went thoughtful. "Not surprising, no. Significant, perhaps. Another thing I should have considered more closely. It would seem to me that if your dark powers are again surging forth when you grow angry, it may mean they have been repressed for too long. You should make it a priority to do some wanded magic every week, I would think."

"We could go out to Devon in the evening occasionally."

"Yes. We'll be there a week from today in any case. For the spring holiday."

"Oh, that'll be nice." Harry couldn't help but glance at his bedroom door, though, and wonder if Draco would ruin the holiday with sulks and tantrums and insults.

Snape wryly nodded to show he understood. "Now, to other matters. I have forgiven your father," he said earnestly, dark eyes steady on Harry. "Truly. I couldn't find a way to love James Potter's son and still hate him. He's part of you."

Harry drew in a shaky breath. "That's sort of scary. Oh, I don't mean me, I mean Draco."

"Ah. Well, Lucius is no doubt part of him as well. We'd be foolish to disregard that. It's something he must strive to overcome."

Harry frowned. "Yeah, I see that. And I understand he isn't his father. Took a while to sink in, but . . . anyway though, you did find a way to love Lucius Malfoy's son and still hate him, you know."

"Because Lucius hurt you, Harry. Or rather, you and Draco both. James . . . he only hurt me, and really, only my pride." Snape leaned down a little and spoke even more softly. "And what is more, James was devoted to you, Harry. I can appreciate that now. Lucius doesn't deserve to have anyone call him father."

"I understand." Harry sighed, feeling pretty awful that he'd blown up like that. Why scream and yell about his cloak? Snape meant more to him than any of the things he'd taken away. "And about my stuff . . . you know, the map and all, I'm not that upset about it."

His father cast a glance at the water pooling on the floor as Harry's conjured ice melted. "Events here today would appear to contradict that."

"Well, I didn't think I was that upset, anyway. It's just . . . hard for me."

"Come into my office for some wine," Snape suggested. "We still ought to go visit Slytherin, but I think something to bolster you might be apropos."

"But we can drink our wine out here, can't we?"

Snape gave him a look. A work-with-me look.

"Oh, all right," Harry murmured, figuring his father needed to talk to him out of Draco's hearing. Though that didn't make a whole lot of sense considering the bedroom door was already warded . . . Shrugging, Harry gave up trying to figure it out. Once in the office, he sank down into his favourite chair and rubbed a bit at his eyes. "Do we really still have to visit Slytherin? I feel sort of done in by . . . everything."

"It's the optimal time," murmured Snape, sitting in the chair opposite. His hands reached out for Harry's. "This may not sound credible, but it is in fact the truth. I never realised I was steadily taking from you every last thing you ever had that was James'."

Harry heaved a sigh. "It's all right--"

"No, I don't think it is, now that I've seen it through your eyes. Now, as for the map, Albus has it, you realise, and we are still endeavouring to discover how it could have misled us."

"I know."

"The mirror is also problematic. The way you used it last has altered it. It's leaking magic now, so much so that I found it necessary to cast a stasis spell on it when I boxed it up for you."

"You're keeping it safe," Harry said, nodding. "I understand. I know I sounded like I didn't, but I do--"

"I fear you are missing my point." Snape squeezed his hands before letting go. "The mirror in its current state could truly pose a hazard; the stasis spell needs to be monitored. This, however . . ." Reaching behind him, Snape pulled a book off a shelf and tapped it lightly, whispering a spell. When he opened it, there were no pages inside.

It was a hollow book containing Harry's invisibility cloak.

Snape pulled it out and unfurled it, then settled it across Harry's lap. When Harry looked down, he was sitting there without legs. He couldn't help but smile a little.

"You didn't have to show me," he said, picking the fine fabric up and letting it slide between his fingers. "I trust you. I knew you were taking good care of it.

Snape shook his head. "I am not skilled at making gestures, obviously. Harry . . . I am attempting to give it back."

Stunned, Harry dropped the cloak, then hurriedly bent down to gather it up. "Really?"

"Yes."

Laughing then, Harry hugged the cloak to himself. "I . . . I thought you couldn't trust me not to . . . you know, go sneaking around at all hours?"

"I cannot claim to be unconcerned," Snape admitted. "And as you know, I never did approve of Albus allowing you to have this. But when I took it, I was in fact far more concerned that Draco would help himself to it again and get into even worse difficulties."

"The funeral." Harry nodded.

"Yes. And now I fear he may borrow it again in order to play some prank on Slytherin. So I would ask that you keep it in the Tower rather than here."

"He can't even leave the rooms now," Harry reminded his father. "It takes a spell to open the door."

"Ah. You, of course, would be aware of the limitations. However, I would prefer not to underestimate Draco's ingenuity."

Probably for the best, Harry thought. "All right, I'll be sure to keep it in the Tower. And Dad? Thank you."

Snape inclined his head. "Do not abuse my trust."

"I won't."

"I believe that," Snape said, surprising Harry.

"Why?"

"You wrote quite a coherent essay on magical risks, just recently." Snape summoned a bottle of wine and began to pour it into the glasses that blinked into existence. "There were perhaps a few too many Quidditch analogies, but on the whole . . . yes. It was well done."

He passed Harry a half-filled glass of something dark and fruity, and raised his own glass in a toast. "To Slytherin."

The common room, Harry thought, dread beginning to knot his stomach. "I think I'd rather have a courage draught . . ."

"No, none of that," Snape chided, clinking his glass against Harry's when Harry sat there frozen. "Draco was correct, earlier. You are courageous enough on your own. The lion on your crest is there for good reason."

Harry thought of his snake-and-lion crest, and nodded.

Then he tilted his wine into his mouth and drank down every drop.