It was raining when they Apparated to Grimmauld Place.  Harry looked around in confusion for a moment.  They were still in London, but he could not recall how far Grimmauld Place was from the Ministry.  He had not had time to notice whether the sky over the battle had been overcast as well.  It was strange indeed, to Apparate within the same city and observe such a change in the weather between positions.

The rain did not seem to faze Snape however.  He fixed eyes on Harry just long enough to keep him standing steady and then rushed them to the door of what was now, if Snape was to be believed, Harry's house by inheritance.  But thoughts of inheritance or even Sirius did not crowd Harry's mind as they ran into the house and out of the rain.  He was far more concerned with the pain in his head and the firm grip Snape had on his arm as he was propelled into the library and deposited onto the couch. 

There were no lights in the house and the dim, gray light filtering through the window did nothing to prepare him for the bright white light of Snape's wand tip as it flared to life.  He clenched his eyes shut and sucked in a breath with the pain.  But Snape was immediately coaxing his eyes open and moving the wand light in front of his eyes, checking for signs of concussion.  Harry endured as best he could.  He could see nothing beyond the light but dark shadows that refused to come into focus.  Snape himself seemed but a black silhouette in the shape of a man.

Behind the light, Snape's voice came out soft but urgent as he waved his wand over Harry's body and began to chant lightly under his breath.  After a moment of this chanting, which very nearly put Harry to sleep, Snape flicked his wand at the cold fire grate, and a cheerful fire sprang instantly to life.  Harry was left to blink again as the objects in the room finally began to come into focus.  His hand roamed to his glasses and he noted with wonder that they were actually still there, on his face, and had not taken any damage.

His attention quickly centered on Snape as the man leaned back on his heels and blew out a frustrated breath.  "I cannot find any evidence of a curse.  You must tell me, if you can, what you were hit with.  Do you remember anything about the curse?"

Snape spoke quietly and steadily, but Harry could hear the underlying tension in the voice.  Harry squinted in confusion.  He hadn't been hit by a curse, but Snape seemed to think he had been. 

"I'm ok," he tried to say.  But the pain in his cheek kept him from opening his mouth too widely and what came out sounded more like, "m'okree."  At seeing Snape's lips thin in what he could only assume was frustration, he took a deep breath and tried again, this time being careful to speak slowly and annunciate.

"I'm ok.  I was hit by a brick, not a curse."  He raised a hand and pointed to his cheek as he spoke, only now noting that he could see his own cheek out of the corner of his eye.  It was more swollen than he had thought.  

Snape narrowed his eyes for a moment, staring at the swollen cheek, and then within the space of another breath, he was rummaging in a sack that was tied around his waist under his frock coat.  Harry had never even noticed the sack before; it fit so snugly to the man's stomach.  Even through the pain, Harry realized that it must be some sort of wizard space, because Snape was pulling bottles out of it that surely would have shown as large lumps otherwise. 

Snape extracted a thin bottle with a swallow of some green potion and raised it to the light, squinting at it as the light hit it.  Then he thrust it at Harry. "Drink this quickly."

Harry took it and swallowed while Snape explained, "It's a pain reliever, quite strong, but I gave most of it to Moody.  That should do well enough for now.  Drink quickly," he urged as Harry made a face after one small sip.  It tasted like...well it tasted horrible and Harry was glad that he couldn't describe the taste because putting a name to it would surely make it even less palatable, if that were possible. 

The moment he handed the bottle back to Snape, he felt a rush of warmth flow from his belly out to all his limbs and then up through his chest and into his face.  He breathed a sigh of relief as the pain ebbed away, before remembering that Snape was still kneeling before him.  His eyes flew open as he felt his nervousness return.  Snape was not going to be pleased with him. 

But Snape wasn't scowling.  He was gazing at him with a quizzical brow.  He brought his hand up to feel the cheekbone and Harry went still as Snape began to prod the cheek.

"Does this hurt?"

"No."

"This?"

"No."

"And this?"

"Ow!  Yes!" he snapped in a cracking voice.

Snape sat back on his heels again with a raised brow and a smirk.  "Your cheekbone is fractured, I'd wager.  We'll have to wait until that numbing agent works through your system before I can give you a bone-healing potion.  You're in for a rough night Potter."

He'd heard those words before, in the hospital wing after Lockhart had made all the bones in his arm disappear.  The thought made him groan with painful reminder.

Snape's smirk only grew.  "Come now Mr. Potter," he said in a firm, unyielding voice, "you've engaged yourself in a man's battle.  You shall deal with your injuries as a man.  I will not listen to you groaning all night." 

Harry clenched his mouth shut tightly as Snape began to rummage in his sack once again.  Snape pulled out a small tub of some paste and uncapped it.  Turning back to Harry, he dipped his finger in the tub and began to rub it into his cheek.  Harry watched him as he worked.  Snape's smirk fell away to be replaced with something very close to a real smile as he worked. 

"I dare say, it could have been much worse Potter.  Had you allowed that curse to hit you for example, you would now be in more danger than Moody presently is."

Harry stared at Snape's face.  There had been something warm in the man's tone as he had said that.

"You did very well tonight, Mr. Potter," Snape said softly.  He did not meet Harry's shocked gaze, but continued to rub the salve onto the cheek as though he had not just said anything approaching praise.

Harry could not help but be shocked.  His mouth hung open in astonishment.  "I...I, really sir?"

Very well.  Harry might have crowed with delight if anyone in the Order had said that to him.  Or felt a warm glow in his chest if the Headmaster had said that.  It was something he only ever heard after a Quidditch match or sometimes the Headmaster would tell him he had done well after a run in with Death Eaters. 

But he had never heard Snape say it without reserve.  Before this summer, he had not expected to hear Snape ever say anything like it to him.  He had, at one time, wanted to prove to Snape that he wasn't weak or stupid; something he had failed to do so many times over the years that he had decided that the man's opinion didn't matter.  And it hadn't before, because the man had always been unfair and mean to him and always disliked him for things he couldn't help, much less understand.  In fact, he still didn't know what to think about all that.  As far as he was concerned, Snape might have been protecting him, but he hadn't deserved the man's apparent hatred and he thought Snape owed him an apology.  He wasn't going to hold his breath for it though.

But it had been just the two of them for nearly two weeks now.  Funny how much can change in such a short time.  Snape was, for the most part, not unpleasant to live with.  In fact, he was exciting to live with.  There was always something to do or learn, if he had the inclination to do so.  And Snape seemed...not different, but he did seem more relaxed in his personal quarters.  Maybe Snape was just acting that way to keep the peace, but Harry didn't think Snape would bother with that.  He was a confrontational man no matter where he was or whom he was with.  So Harry had latched onto the idea that Snape didn't mind him so much after all - at least not now.  And that had certainly looked like pride in Snape's eyes; pride for something Harry had done, not the son of James Potter.  Harry had lamented not having parents before, but he felt the loss again keenly.  It seemed like such a significant achievement to have earned those few words from Snape that he wished he had someone to write home to that would care that he had earned his professor's praise.  But he was alone in the world, so he instead settled for storing the memory of that meager, but significant praise away, to be enjoyed privately later.

Meanwhile, Snape's lips thinned again. "Close your mouth Potter."  Harry snapped his jaw shut, ignoring the slight pain that radiated up his face as he did so. "Do not assume, Mr. Potter, that just because you survived this encounter, you are fully prepared to face any and all foes.  You were saved as much by luck as by your own meager skill.  I will not have you become complacent."

"No sir."

Snape looked him hard in the eye and Harry willed him to see that he took his words seriously.  What he saw must have satisfied him, for he nodded once and stood back up to pace toward the fire.  "You should not have been there tonight."

Harry swallowed convulsively.  While he was in pain and while Snape had praised him, he had allowed himself to forget that he had come to the battle uninvited and unwelcome.  Now he was very sure that Snape would punish him for his rashness.  He tried to summon indignation.  He had done what he thought he should do, and nothing bad had come of it; nothing but a broken cheekbone.  But he could not.  He was coming to know the way Snape thought well enough to know that it would not be only the consequences of his actions that he would have to answer for.  Snape would demand to know what he was thinking when he had come along; what he had planned to do.  And he knew that the truth - that he had hoped to help in the fight - would not satisfy Snape.  He would be ridiculed for thinking that just showing up was a worthy plan.  He was too miserable and frightened of what Snape might think to be surprised by the shame that pinked his cheeks.  After Snape had complimented him, he really didn't want to see Snape's disappointment.  For some reason, the idea of that seemed worse than a punch to the gut.  He had spent all night trying to be good.  Hell, all summer he had been trying, really.  But he knew he shouldn't have gone with Remus.  It was the same mistake he'd made with Sirius all over again; acting before thinking.

"I'm sorry sir," he said miserably. 

But the venom in Snape's reply took him aback.  "You will not apologize for the actions of that fool wolf!" he spat.  In a calmer tone of voice, he continued, "It is not you that should be sorry Potter.  I will be...speaking with Mr. Lupin when next I see him."

Harry felt himself go cold at the tone of Snape's voice.  He did not immediately understand why Snape was speaking like that about Remus.  Of course, Snape didn't like the man.  But this was far more ill will than Harry had ever heard in his voice before.  He fancied that he could tell by the tone of voice that Snape was not intending to speak with Remus at all, but probably duel him instead. 

"Sir?" he questioned.  But Snape ignored him to pace the room. 

-----------

This day is over, Severus thought to himself as he rubbed a hand over his tired eyes.  To Hell with the Order, to hell with dealing with Lupin, this day is over.  I'm taking Potter back to Hogwarts, locking him into his room, and going to bed.  And if anyone so much as attempts to wake me, I'll just curse the bloody fool into oblivion. 

Nothing had gone well this day - starting with the Azkaban breakout this morning.  The only highlight of his day had been Potter's training.  That had at least been amusing and promising.  The boy had decent reflexes and was eager to learn.  But the Order meeting had been frustrating, his attempts to learn anything of the Dark Lord's plans had been almost completely fruitless, and the battle - his arm was so sore.  For a split second, a new surge of adrenaline ran through his body as he remembered that he had used an Unforgivable on Mulciber.

Mulciber.  He had never liked that man.  When he had first joined the Dark Lord, Mulciber had already been a Death Eater longer than Severus had been at school.  He was a sick, corrupt man.  Severus felt no guilt over his death, but he did wonder if he would have to deal with the consequences of having used the Killing curse on the man.  The Ministry had already given the Aurors free rein to use the Unforgivables, but that didn't extend to the general populace.  And there was the possibility that given his reputation, all it would take for him to have a warrant for his arrest would be for someone in the ministry to find out about it.  He wasn't worried about what the Order thought.  At most, they would ostracize him; something he was not unfamiliar with.  It hardly mattered. 

He turned his mind from those thoughts and began to plan what he would do about the Unforgivable.  He could always say that Mulciber had been caught in the crossfire of one of the Death Eater's curses.  Yes, that would do.  No one else had been there at that point and he didn't expect the Death Eaters to come forward and admit that it was he that had done it.  He reached a hand into his other pocket and ran a hand over his second wand, just in case the Aurors wanted to run a Priori Incantatem. 

But right now, he just wanted to sleep and deal with the consequences tomorrow.

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

After a moment, Snape looked back up and Harry could see the lines of exhaustion in his face.  Snape didn't look very healthy right now at all.  The man turned on his heel stiffly, smoothed his torn robes down as much as possible and started to walk toward the door. 

"On second thought Potter, we are leaving for Hogwarts," he said over his shoulder as he led the way to the door.

Harry had been watching with trepidation until his mind began to grasp Snape's process of thought from earlier.  He realized with a start that Snape believed Remus had brought him along to the fight.  For a moment - just a moment - he considered keeping his mouth shut.  He certainly didn't want Snape's anger to turn on him if he could help it.  And Snape would be even more angry now that he had thought to blame Remus, of that Harry was certain.  But his own sense of honor asserted itself painfully and demanded that he steel himself to the task of admitting his part.  Tense with nerves, he cleared his throat.

"Sir, I should tell you..."

Snape had spun to watch him when he cleared his throat, but the door opening and Dumbledore walking in had caught both of their attentions.  Behind him came Remus, looking nervously at Snape and gripping his wand tightly in his hand.  Harry could hear other voices in the hallway; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. 

His chance to tell Snape without witnesses had been lost.  If Remus hadn't been here, perhaps he could have waited again, but it could escape no one's attention that an argument was brewing.  Snape bowed his head respectfully as the Headmaster came through the door, but the very moment his eyes came to rest on Remus, his whole body stiffened, his face took on a mask of purest loathing, and his wand slid out from his sleeve into his hand. 

"Severus?" the Headmaster inquired sharply, noting the way Snape's hand clenched and unclenched around his wand.  To Harry's great astonishment, Snape ignored the Headmaster completely to stalk menacingly toward Remus, only stopping a few feet from him.  "You!" he spat. 

Remus had unconsciously shrunk into a corner, but he straightened himself immediately.  "Severus, I've no idea what..."

"Allow me to jog your memory."  Snape bared his teeth menacingly.  "You brought my charge into a battle unprepared, and against my wishes that he should remain safely at Hogwarts.  I demand satisfaction."

Harry watched as the Headmaster and Remus both stiffened at Snape's words.  Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had slipped into the room by then and they too turned surprised eyes on Snape and Remus.  Mrs. Weasley was so shocked she didn't even comment on the state of Harry's cheek.  Harry had never heard anyone say it so formally, but even he knew that Snape had just challenged Remus to a duel.  And it was his fault. 

"Sir," he started. 

But without even looking at him, Snape said, "You will keep silent Mr. Potter, or I will have you sent out."

Harry turned pleading eyes on the Headmaster instead.

"Severus," the Headmaster began in a grave tone.  "Perhaps we should discuss this first.  There may be an explanation."

"I assure you Headmaster, there is no explanation that will satisfy me."

Neither he nor Remus looked away from each other.  For his part, Remus was beginning to resign himself to the possibility that he would have to answer the duel.  He did not want to cause trouble for Harry with Severus, especially with the man wound up as much as he was.  Why Harry had not told Severus what had happened yet, he did not know, but if Harry was too frightened to say it, then he would not demand an explanation from his friend's son.  Not now anyway. 

"Severus, we are not so many that we can afford to lose one man to satisfy your anger," the Headmaster said with a hint of displeasure and disappointment in his voice.

"Nevertheless, I must insist.  Any injury inflicted on a person under my protection is a greater offense than if that injury had been done to myself, and it is my right to demand satisfaction.  Lupin may beg my pardon publicly, if he wishes to avoid a duel."  His tone of voice conveyed how very little he thought of that outcome. 

Lupin drew in a breath.  Severus had left him many outs in this duel, though none of them would allow him to keep his honor intact without fighting.  To apologize for something he did not do was unacceptable.  To surrender before even one curse was fired would be cowardly, especially as he had been given the opportunity to beg pardon.  But to duel Snape... if he could not gain the upper hand, he would at least have the advantage of being able to yield after taking damage.  To beat Snape in a one on one duel - it was something he had never been able to do in school.  And of the two of them, Snape had far more experience in combat and duels alike.  Had it been any other Order member, he would have entered into the duel with less nervousness.  He was one of the Order's best, excepting only the Aurors.  But there was always the part of him that reminded himself over and over that Snape was a former Death Eater who surely had an arsenal of brutal - even lethal - means of incapacitating his victims.

But the Headmaster would not be silenced so easily.  "That does not please me.  Not at all Severus.  I will hear an explanation before I allow you to continue."  He turned to Remus, who finally looked away from Severus to the Headmaster.  "Remus, have you any explanation?"

Remus glanced at Harry, swallowed past a dry throat, and said, "No sir."

Severus smiled viciously, even as his anger mounted.  He had been curious himself, and had realized belatedly that he should dearly like to hear the explanation, even though he could not imagine any thing that would satisfy him.  But Lupin did not have an explanation.  He was justified in his challenge after all.  His orders regarding Potter had been ignored and his charge placed in danger.  As he could not expect the Order to discipline their fighters when it was a volunteer service, he was forced, though not without satisfaction, to enforce discipline of a more brutal nature.

Exhaustion tugged at him viciously and his arm and side ached anew.  Lupin would have the advantage of him in that at least.  Werewolves were known for their endurance and heartiness when they were not suffering the ill effects of their transformations.  Still, he could rely on his experience and ruthlessness to see him through.  He would have to be quick about making Lupin yield if he wanted to keep that advantage.  Even in anger, he did not want to have to kill Lupin or even incapacitate him permanently.  The Headmaster was right; they could not afford the loss of even one man.  And he was not a murderer, capable though he was of killing his enemies when the opportunity presented itself.  His thoughts were interrupted by a shout from Potter though, and he turned on his heel to glare at the boy.

"Sir, that's not true!" Harry yelled in desperation.  What could Remus be thinking by lying for him?  Even if Snape were angry, he would not challenge Harry to a duel.  He'd rather deal with any punishment than see Remus hurt for his own stupidity.  And he didn't think that Snape would hurt him - he hoped, at least. 

"You have something to add Harry?" the Headmaster asked softly.  Harry didn't miss the look of approval in the Headmaster's eyes.  It helped him to square his shoulders and say what he had to say. 

His outburst had caught Snape's attention and while Snape did not let Remus fully out of his sight, he did turn his dark gaze to rest firmly on Harry, who took a deep breath and a step forward before confessing.  Severus would have gladly ignored Potter, if he hadn't perceived the guilty expression on the boy's face.  He closed his eyes for a brief moment in weary resignation.  So help me god, if that damned boy...

"Sir, Remus didn't bring me to the duel.  I grabbed his shoulder when he was Apparating."  He clenched his hands around the hem of his shirt as he watched Snape.  "I was ordered to go back to the castle and wait but I disobeyed."  The man's eyes were closed but his face looked pinched and weary.  When Snape finally opened his eyes, Harry dropped his own to the floor.

Silence met that declaration.  Remus was watching Snape, Albus was watching Snape, Harry was staring at his shoes again.  Snape, on the other hand closed his eyes for a brief second more while a vein in his head throbbed.  When he opened his eyes back up, his anger seemed diminished and in its place was a look of such exhaustion that Harry, when he chanced a look up, felt immensely guilty.

Snape ran a hand through his hair as he eyed the Headmaster and Remus in turn.  In a soft voice he inquired, "And would anyone like to tell me why Potter was standing outside the gates of Hogwarts?  Or have you found a way to Apparate from inside Hogwarts grounds?" he asked of Remus.

"He was ordered back inside before we left," Remus glanced at Harry almost apologetically.

Harry felt a wave of defensiveness rise within him.  "Actually, I was told to wait for you, sir," he spoke directly to Snape.  "But when I heard you were already there, I..." Harry lost his steam as Snape stared at him.  The man was listening and no doubt he would be expecting a very good reason for Harry to have left.

"You what?" Snape said dangerously.  "You decided you'd bring the news of the battle directly to me?"

"Well...no.  I just thought I could help," Harry finished lamely.

The only thing that stopped Severus from going off the deep-end and assigning Potter a million lines and hundreds of cauldrons to scrub, was the memory of Potter's Bombarda in defense of him and the certain knowledge that that was what everyone here expected him to do.  It never pleased him to do as the Order expected.  In fact, looking around at all the faces watching him with trepidation, he decided immediately that he would not satisfy them by snapping at Potter as they clearly expected him to.  Even through his own anger at the situation, he took immense pleasure in the knowledge that he was being contrary. 

The Headmaster looked back and forth, and decided to interject before his Potions Master could work up enough steam to get angry again. 

"I do believe that this was all a misunderstanding then.  Perhaps we should all shake hands and put this behind us."  Even he had to suppress a wince when he saw the expressions on everyone's faces. 

"Very well.  I withdraw my challenge," Snape said curtly.

"Have you nothing else to say to Remus, Severus?" the Headmaster inquired with a meaningful glance.  Severus restrained himself from glaring too harshly.  He knew what the Headmaster expected; an apology.  He scoffed at the very idea.  He would never offer an apology to Lupin this side of hell.

"Yes, I do, as a matter of fact," he answered harshly.

The Headmaster closed his own eyes in resignation.  He knew that tone of voice.

"You, sir," he said sarcastically to Remus, "should have ensured that Potter made it back into the gates safely before leaving."  He finished curtly and swept his gaze to include both Remus and the Headmaster at the end.  "Are we done here sir?" he asked of the Headmaster.

"We are, for now.  I assume your report can wait until the 'morrow," Albus answered in a tired voice.  If anyone was expecting Severus to be more apologetic toward Remus, they were thoroughly disappointed.  Clearly, in Severus' mind, the fact remained that Harry's safety had not been secured before Apparating away. 

Albus considered the very real possibility that Severus had reached his limit of patience.  He had not thought that Severus was doing badly, but perhaps he had miscalculated.  It was hard to tell what Severus was thinking on the best of days.  Since the war had begun again in earnest, it had become downright impossible to read the man.  Perhaps the issues between the Order, Severus and Harry had bothered the man more than he had let on.  He himself had felt it best to ignore the antipathy between them all but it was becoming more difficult, especially after tonight.  With Severus no longer completely focused on spying directly on the Dark Lord, it was entirely possible that the man was beginning to rethink his position in the Order.  It wouldn't be the first time.  He didn't fear betrayal.  He feared the loss of Severus for himself and Severus' skills for the Order.

"We are leaving then," Snape said.  For a brief second, he considered leaving Potter.  If the boy was so set on dying, let him.  But it was only a brief second and it passed with a wave of unease.  He was now quite incapable of allowing that to pass.

Molly Weasley had other ideas however.  She had finally fixed her motherly eye on Potter and was busy scolding him for going to the fight. 

"I can't imagine what you were thinking by leaving the castle, Harry."

"He did act rashly Molly.  But I believe he feels the weight of his error," the Headmaster said.

"I hope you'll be more careful in the future Harry," Remus said quietly from the corner.  "Grabbing me while Apparating could have splinched us both.  I'm disappointed in you."

Harry felt both ashamed by the knowledge that he had disappointed Snape and could have hurt Remus - and indignant at the scolding he was receiving from all quarters.  He was surprised though, that it should be Snape that came to his defense.

"You will all kindly refrain from disciplining my charge."  The last two words were practically roared.  Harry flinched as Snape came forward.  "Kindly unhand him, Mrs. Weasley.  It is not your place, nor within your rights to impugn Mr. Potter for his actions.  Perhaps if any of you had turned an eye to discipline and order on his behalf while he was under your watch, we might have avoided habits such as these."

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips but stepped back.  Snape moved easily into her place and put a hand to Harry's shoulder to steer him from the room.  But though she stepped back, Mrs. Weasley was not silenced.

"You look ill after your fight Professor.  Why not let Harry stay with us tonight so you can get some rest?"  She was transparent in her attempts to gain custody of Harry.  Snape would not hear a word of it.

"Your concern is kind Madam, but unnecessary, I assure you," he said coldly.  "I would not have you think I am incapacitated so far as to neglect my duty to see my charge safely back to Hogwarts.  Good evening, all."  He spun on his heel and stalked toward the door.  "Come Potter," he called over his shoulder as he went.

Harry followed Snape out of the room in silence.  Snape didn't even look at him as he grasped his arm to Apparate.  Harry had rarely felt so dejected.  Had his actions been that foolish?  Did the Professor feel that strongly about his safety?  He had not forgotten just how much the professor had done over the years to secure it.  But it had seemed that Snape had been putting effort into teaching him defense.  Why would he do that if he were not planning for Harry to fight?

They made the trip back to their rooms in silence.  Harry was too afraid to break it and Severus was too tired to rein in his anger if he did start in on Potter.  When they reached the rooms, Snape ordered him to his bedroom and stood stiffly as he watched him obey.  But Harry couldn't just leave it like that.  He turned with his hand still on the door.

"For what it's worth Professor, I'm real sorry I upset you."

Snape's eyes flashed, but he made no move.  "Your apologies are worth nothing to me Potter."

Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat.  "I was only worried.  I didn't mean to make you mad at Remus.  It's not his fault, it's mine."

"I'm well aware of whose fault it is.  Don't presume to tell me how I should feel."

"I'm not.  But I don't understand what I did that was so wrong.  I mean, all right, I shouldn't have been there..."

"You don't understand?"  Snape took a step forward.  It looked like he was trying very hard not to yell.  "Then I'll explain it to you, shall I?  Do you have any idea what the Order goes through to ensure your safety?"

Harry's cheeks flamed at that.  "No," he whispered.  "But I reckon I have an idea what you've done for me."

"Do you?  Then you are as ungrateful and selfish as I always thought you to be."

"It wasn't like that," Harry protested.  "I was worried."

"You cannot save everyone, Potter.  Lupin is a grown man.  He is capable of taking care of himself.  Simply showing up with him without any idea of what you're getting yourself into, is not an intelligent strategy."

"You don't understand..."

"It is you that does not understand Potter."

But at this point, Harry was willing to interrupt the man.  "No!  You don't!  I didn't do it for Remus!  I was worried about you!"

Snape stepped back as if stung.  Harry had the strong desire - once again - to just crawl under his bed and hide his face.  But Snape's eyes narrowed and Harry knew he'd better just stay and hear him out. 

"Even if that is the case Potter, you should know better than to repeat your mistakes.  I am wasting my time with you if you persist in placing your life in unnecessary danger.  Danger which you are ill-equipped to handle."

"But you're teaching me how to fight.  You said I did well.  I don't understand."

Snape took a step forward and loomed over him.  "No Potter, I am teaching you how to defend yourself, how to think and plan, how to survive.  Are you really so foolish as to not understand your position?"

"My position?"  Harry swallowed convulsively as he was reminded of the prophecy.  He had thought that Snape didn't give it any credit.  The very thought that Snape really did, brought the panic he felt whenever he thought of it back full force.  "You mean the prophecy sir?" he asked in a too high voice.

The sound of the panic in his voice brought Snape to a halt.  The man's eyes narrowed further and he took a deep breath.  "No, I do not mean the prophecy, idiot boy," Snape spat.

Harry dared to look back up in confusion then.  Snape rolled his eyes and gestured to the chairs at the table.  "Well -  sit, Potter!  I've not got all night," he snapped when Harry just stared at him dumbly.

"Oh," Harry said, and he made his way to the seat.  He resisted the urge to put his head in his hands and instead sat stiffly.  He was tired beyond belief but it had been his fool idea to approach Snape before he went to bed.  He would just have to bear it out.

But Snape ignored him for several minutes.  In that time, he pulled all of the bottles out of his sack and lined them one by one on the table.  When that was done, he stripped his coat and shirt off and Harry finally got to see the damage that Snape had taken in the battle.  There was no blood, but his shoulder and his side were both mottled with dark bruises just beginning to change color.  Harry cringed in sympathy as Snape took a bottle out of the cupboard and drank deeply from it.  He made a face when he finished and Harry realized when he set the bottle down that he was drinking whiskey. 

When Snape finally sat down himself, he was quiet and seemed lost in thought for a few moments.  Harry had no desire to interrupt him.  At length, Snape spoke.

"Your position is not an enviable one.  You did not choose it, and I begin to suspect that you don't approve of it.  But you will," - and here Snape surveyed him with cold, uncompassionate eyes - "accept the reality of your situation, whether you like it or not.  You are a symbol, Mr. Potter.  While the Dark Lord and his followers need no more symbol than their own ambition and hunger to continue their fight, your side - our side, Mr. Potter," he amended hastily - "does seem to require something more to keep going.  It may not make sense; indeed, it does not.  One would think avoidance of servitude and death would be motivation enough, but clearly it is not so.  You have no strategic value.  You are not trained enough to be useful in battle nor are you, at present, capable of leading others.  Still, your presence in a fight flips the objective onto its head."

"Flips the objective...what do you mean?"

"I mean Potter, that regardless of what is hoped to be gained in any fight - when you show up, all is forgotten in the mad rush to keep you safe.  The Order will risk life, limb, and any other goal, no matter how important, merely to bring you out of harm's way."

"But I don't want any of that!" Harry said, horrified at the thought, even though he saw the truth in the words.

Snape's hand slammed down hard on the table.  "It does not matter what you want Potter!"  He took another smaller sip from his bottle, settled back and went on in an even tone.  "I suppose you could ensure that isn't the case by giving everyone reason to dislike or distrust you.  But really Potter, that has it's own inherent dangers for everyone involved as well.  And besides, despite what you may think, you are still little more than a boy to the Order.  Even if you were not a symbol, attention would be paid to your safety as it is for all children.  That is as it should be.  Still, - you are no General, yet people will rally behind you as though you were.  You are not yet a soldier, though people will fight on your behalf.  So you must decide Potter; do you place your honor and desire to become involved above the objectives of those who fight the Dark Lord, or do you stop and think before storming into a battle?  Do you look to your principles alone, or do you use your head?  It is becoming abundantly clear to me that this matter will present itself time and again.  You have shown me repeatedly that you consult only your own feelings before acting, whether through some misplaced notion of nobility or through some panicked, half-formed decision to be everyone's hero.  I assure you that in my case, Mr. Potter, your concern and assistance is neither required nor wanted.  When I want a half-trained fool of a Gryffindor to come to my rescue, it will only be after I've been taken to the mental ward at St. Mungos - a consequence I foresee for myself, if I am forced to deal with your harebrained schemes and the combined meddling and henpecking of the Order of the Pigeon."

Harry's eyes widened as Snape's speech continued, but even though he was being insulted at every turn, he could not help but snort in amusement at Snape's name for the Order.  Snape went silent and stared at him balefully.  Harry realized with a start that a reply was required.

"Fine.  I understand.  But I will fight one day.  Maybe I am a symbol, and maybe it is selfish to...to consult my own feelings," he used Snape's own words, "but this is my fight as well."  On this, he would not budge.  Voldemort had taken everything from him and he was still trying to take more.  It was personal. 

He didn't expect Snape to like what he had to say, but to his never-ending astonishment, Snape smiled a slow, sly smile.  "But of course you will fight.  The Dark Lord's made it his business to take everything from you, hasn't he?  You must be very angry."

He had gone for the jugular there.  Harry didn't know where he would take this point, so all he could do was agree with a nod of his head. 

"I would think you very weak indeed, if you let him attack you and all that you care for again and again without wanting justice.  Or perhaps just revenge."  Snape leaned forward.  "But how do you propose to exact this punishment from him when you are dead.  Oh, make no mistake Potter - on your current course, that is where you will end up.  It's a mathematical certainty.  Do you suppose that your death will harm him; that he will perhaps fall to his knees in anguish when he realizes that he has caused the death of a mere slip of a boy?  That he will change his ways and die of shame?"

Harry's cheeks flamed.  "Of course not!"

"Then listen.  Learn.  And above all do not wade in over your head.  When you are prepared to fight, I will bring you to the battle myself."  Secretly, Severus could not imagine that day ever approaching.  Still, if anything he said would keep Potter from acting like such a bloody idiot every time someone he knew was in danger, that would have to suffice for success in his eyes.  The Order had already spoiled the boy and allowed him to think his foolishness should be rewarded as courage and greatness.  Though Severus recalled with a twinge how very like Potter he had been once.  But where Potter fought for those he loved, Severus had fought for a principle.  And he had been far more bloody-minded.  No, perhaps he had never been like Potter at all, he thought to himself with a snort, except in that he had never passed by an opportunity to join in battle. 

"When will that be?" Harry asked.  This was his fight too, no matter what anyone said, and he would join in with or without permission someday.  But he allowed that Snape was right about a great many things.  If he couldn't even get a curse in at Snape in their mock duels, how would he ever survive a full battle where the Death Eaters were trying to kill rather than capture him?  And he knew that what Snape said about his position was true too.  If he were not careful, he would lead the entire Order to their deaths, whether he wanted their help or not.  But if he could prove himself at least to Snape's satisfaction, he may be able to survive long enough to fight.

"So eager to kill your enemies Potter?"

"What?"

"Ah - perhaps you will join the Order in its mistaken notion that the enemy will allow itself to be taken alive."

"But loads of Death Eaters have been captured," Harry protested.

"Yes.  And where are they now?"

"Oh," Harry said in horror. 

"Oh indeed.  They are now free to commit more murder.  Perhaps they will kill one of your friends next.  Or a friend's family member.  They will certainly try to kill every Order member.  And why not?  It is a hassle for them, wouldn't you agree, to constantly be going back and forth between Azkaban and freedom?"

Harry clenched his teeth and turned his head.  He knew what Snape was doing, and he was too tired to argue, and too ashamed of his stupidity to disagree. 

Snape watched him for a few moments in contemplative silence.  Then, abruptly, he stood from the table, took a cup from the cupboard and poured two finger widths of whiskey into it.  "How is your cheek?" he inquired, setting the glass down just out of Harry's reach. 

"It hurts," Harry admitted sullenly.

"Hmm," Snape muttered as he picked out a sludgy brown potion from the line of potions he had set aside earlier.  Handing it to Harry and indicating that he should drink from it, he said in an offhand tone, "You will find that pain killers and sleeping potions react badly with bone healing potions.  Symptoms range from diarrhea to death.  I suppose either end of the spectrum is unpalatable to you?" he said with a raised brow. 

"Yes, sir," Harry said with a slight smile.  The potion hadn't tasted nearly as bad as the last. 

"But," Snape continued, "I've found that a glass of whiskey never reacts painfully with this particular potion," he held the brown one up as Harry passed it back to him.  "And whiskey has the added benefit of speeding sleep along."  He pushed the glass the few inches needed to put it into Harry's reach.  "Drink up Potter.  You'll thank me tomorrow."

"Yes sir!"  Harry took the glass and drank it like he'd seen others do, quickly and all at once.  He was coughing and sputtering before the glass even hit the table again. 

"Arggh!  That's awful!" 

Snape's eyes were bright with suppressed mirth.  "To bed Potter.  Now."

"Yes sir," Harry said with a sigh, still eyeing the bottle with distaste.  When he got to the door, he remembered his manners and turned back to thank Snape.

"Thanks sir.  For helping and everything..." his hand flew up to indicate that he meant thanks for helping with the cheek.  Instead of the curt nod he was expecting though, Snape's eyes went cold again and the man straightened himself up to his full height. 

"There is still the matter of your punishment, Mr. Potter.  On top of the lines you still owe me, which you will resume tomorrow evening, you will add an extra 250, to be divided equally over the next four nights."

"What should I write, sir?" Harry asked in resignation.  It was better than he had hoped for at least.

Snape walked to his desk and took up a piece of parchment and a quill.  After a moment of thought, he leant down and scribbled something on the piece of paper, then handed it to Harry.   Harry stared open jawed at the line on the piece of parchment before he couldn't contain it anymore and he snorted in amusement.

It read: Only fools Apparate without their wands in their hands and I will endeavor to make less of a fool of myself in the future.

"You find that amusing Potter?"

"No sir," Harry answered quickly.  He was tired, in pain, and found it hilarious actually, but he recognized from Snape's tone of voice that he'd better retreat before he was given 500 more lines, and he did so promptly.  "Goodnight sir."

Snape did not answer.

Harry's last thought before he fell asleep was not about the battle or about the things that Snape had said, but about how nice and warm the whiskey felt in his stomach.  It was a nice counter for the dull ache in his cheek and before he knew it, he was fast asleep and snoring.  But his dreams were full of shadows and when he awoke in the morning, he felt as though he had gotten no rest at all.