Minerva didn't know what to make of Potter's revelations. The boy's disclosure of Snape's patronage was so out of character for the dour Potions Master that she might have dismissed the entire thing as a prank or daydream, if it weren't for Harry's childlike sincerity. She propped her feet up on the hearth stool, indulged in another shortbread biscuit, and pondered the problem from all available angles.

Severus had been shamelessly vocal in his apparent dislike of Harry Potter. And it wasn't like him to abandon his prejudices - that would require admitting he was wrong. She couldn't imagine what motive prompted the man to take an interest in a boy he purported to loathe, and to devote his personal time to tutor him. But Minerva wasn't sure she wished to question that motive.

Merlin knows, the child needs guidance and support. . .I suspect he gets little enough at home. I disliked those Dursleys on sight and I see no reason to change my opinion. And it is evident that Severus is having a positive influence on Harry.

She pulled off her spectacles and rubbed the bridge of her nose, grimacing pensively. Whatever his motives, Minerva knew that Severus would not want his attention to the boy noticed or acknowledged. The man took stubborn pride in his fearsome, ruthless image. If he became aware that Minerva knew about his unexpected regard for the son of his worst school adversary, he'd be mortified. He'd not only vehemently deny it, but would probably halt the tutoring sessions out of fear that others would accuse him of growing ‘soft'. And Minerva didn't want that to happen. . . .didn't want Harry denied something from which he so clearly benefited.

No, she decided. As much as she would enjoy teasing the grim Professor about his devotion to Potter's welfare, she would sacrifice that pleasure for Harry's sake. She would remain silent, and never let on that she had any reason to believe that Severus did not despise the boy as he so bitterly proclaimed.

She rose determinedly and returned the Discipline record to the proper stack on her desk.

I should probably mention this to Albus. He would be so pleased to learn his two favorite ‘boys' were getting along so well. . . . Then again -

She frowned thoughtfully.

The Headmaster will never be able to keep his delight to himself. He won't be able to resist remarking to Severus about it, however well-meaning. . .which would be exactly the wrong thing to do in this case.

She smiled slyly to herself. I think I'll keep this little piece of news to myself. Harry's my responsibility after all. The old man doesn't need to know everything - even if he does like others to believe he's omniscient!

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

Harry stared moodily at his boiled potatoes. He tuned out the chatter of his friends around him and poked indifferently at his food, too busy brooding to eat.

What is that Git's problem, anyway? Why does he have to pick on US all the time?

Okay. Maybe he shouldn't have snarled like that - shouldn't have said he hated Snape. He knew it was rude, and mostly untrue. Mostly. He doubted Snape heard him anyway. . .he hadn't said it very loud.

He did hate Malfoy - the beastly little sod was always pestering them. But Harry didn't think he hated Snape - not really. But honestly - the snarky git was driving him barmy!

Malfoy started it! He always starts everything! Why does Snape have to take HIS side all the time?

Of course Harry knew why. Because Malfoy was a Slytherin. Because Snape always sided with his own House, and the greasy git hated Gryffindors. Harry knew this - but that didn't mean he understood it. It didn't mean he had to like it. Snape was a Professor. He shouldn't let anyone, even Malfoy, get away with hassling other students like that. He should be more fair.

Ha! Snape? Fair? What a joke! He wouldn't know from fair if it bit him on the arse!

Harry didn't care if Malfoy heckled him. He was used to hostility. When it came to mocking and badgering, Malfoy couldn't hold a candle to the Dursleys. But hurting his friends was a whole other business! The Slytherin's nasty slurs about Ron's family being poor. . . Harry knew Ron would never admit it, but it hurt him just the same. It was just the kind of cheap shot Malfoy would stoop to. . . the snarky blonde was pathetically unoriginal.

It was Snape that Harry couldn't figure out.

Why does he act so different in detention? Er - tutoring, that is.

Harry still couldn't quite get his mind around that one. . . all his detentions weren't even detentions! Snape was just helping him study, because...well, he really didn't know why. Maybe Snape just liked making him work. Maybe he liked sneering at him and making out like Harry was dim or something. Except, Snape didn't make as much fun of him as he used to. . . he wasn't even very mean and spiteful, most of the time. . . .

Except in class. . . or in the corridors. . . or the Great Hall, or on the Quidditch pitch, or anywhere else I run into him!

Harry scowled in frustration and lifted his head to sneak a look at his Potions Professor. Snape was glowering at Flitwick seated next to him at the staff table, as if offended by the smiling Charms Professor's chatter. Harry noted that Snape appeared no more interested in eating than Harry did. . . he was pushing his food about on his plate with supreme apathy. As if he felt eyes upon him, Snape turned abruptly and stared straight at Harry, black eyes glittering. His malevolent expression was seething and deadly. Harry tore his gaze away, a shiver of fright rippling down his spine.

NOW what have I done?

Snape was mad at him. Who knew why? The man was so prickly, trying to stay on his good side - if the evil git even had a good side - was bloody near impossible! Whatever he'd done this time, Harry had no clue how to put it right.

He's got no right to be mad at ME, anyway! I should be mad at HIM! He lets Malfoy get away with every bloody thing! And then he takes points from US! Greasy git!

Harry nursed his indignation and refused to look up at the staff table again, even though he had a creepy feeling that Snape was glaring at him.

At least I don't have dete - ! -TUTORING with him again until Thursday! Maybe the old Bat will be over his snit by then.

It was a reassuring thought. . . but somehow Harry doubted he would be so lucky.

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

"Sit." Severus pointed at the chair in front of his desk before seating himself. Sharp enough to sense something was amiss, the boy obeyed swiftly. The dangerous scowl on the Potion Master's face was genuine, not just habit, and the boy had brains enough to remain silent, though his stare was dark with confusion and worry.

"Your behavior is unacceptable. I will no longer stand for it," Snape barked harshly. "It is childish, irresponsible, and worst of all - foolish. It ends now, or you will face the consequences."

The boy gaped at him in astonishment, eyes filling with wounded betrayal.

"This infantile feud is pointless and annoying, and I am weary of being distracted by it," the Professor snapped. "Do you think I have nothing better to do than to constantly referee a puerile schoolboy rivalry? Do you believe my time and attention is so worthless - my talents so trivial - that I am reduced to nothing more vital than playing mediator to a pair of eleven-year-old CHILDREN?" Snape rose abruptly, leaning over the desk and pinning the boy with a furious, menacing glare. "I WILL NOT TOLERATE another scene like today! DO YOU HEAR ME?"

"But. . . . but!. . ."

"BUT NOTHING!" he silenced the boy's shocked stammer. "I don't know when this started or why - but it ends now. The infamous ‘Malfoy-Potter Feud' is over. Am I making myself clear?"

"But he's. . .!"

"I know what he is!" Severus sneered. "Do you think I do not? Have I not made my feelings exceedingly clear?"

"But S-sir!" the boy stuttered defensively. "He's. . . . . he's Potter! He's the - the Boy-Who-Lived! He killed. . ."

"Rubbish!" Severus cut Draco off, his tone dripping with scorn. "Do you really believe that poppycock? Don't tell me you honestly believe that fairy tale?" Severus eased back down into his chair, letting his anger morph into smooth cynicism.

Mustn't appear too threatening and completely alienate the boy.

"Think, child! Use your wits. You've seen him. . .taken classes with him. . .do you see anything even remotely remarkable about Harry-Bloody-Potter?"

Draco's wounded outrage faded into brooding doubt. Severus struck the point home with scathing contempt in his voice.

"Do you honestly believe the Dark Lord - the greatest wizard of his age - could be destroyed by a helpless infant?" He snorted scornfully. "Unfortunately, no one knows what really happened. But whatever you have heard - whatever truly happened that fateful night ten years ago - I can assure you one thing: Our Leader - the Dark Lord - a wizard so powerful and feared that no one dares speak his name even today - that Leader was not brought down by a one-year-old baby! And certainly not by a useless, second-rate, glaringly-ordinary Harry Potter!" he sneered.

He let the force of his argument sink in for a moment, watching the thoughts play out across his godson's unguarded face.

"Then. . .then why does everyone say he did? Why is he such a bloody great hero?" Draco whined.

"Because they're all idiots!" Severus dismissed this with cavalier contempt. "The point, Draco - is that it doesn't matter. . .it doesn't matter what other people think. This issue here, young man, is you. Your behavior - your petty pursuit of the little fool." Draco scowled sullenly.

"What is the purpose of all this, Draco?" Severus asked a bit less harshly. "What has Potter ever done to you? Why this constant hostility? I am not blind - and you are far from subtle. You bait him deliberately - harass him at every opportunity. Why do you bother? Why do you waste your time and energy on the worthless lump?"

Draco shrugged, a thunderous pout clouding his fair face. "He's - he's a prat! Everyone makes such a fuss over him! The teachers act like he's God's gift to the Wizarding World - and he's not! He's pathetic! It's. . . it's not fair!"

Severus sighed heavily. He rose from his chair, circling the desk slowly until he stood in front of Draco. He sat back on the edge of the desk and leveled a sad, sympathetic look on the petulant boy.

"I know, Draco," he said quietly. "I know it's not fair. It's not fair that Potter is so unjustly favored. It's unfair that Slytherin - our great House - is blatantly discriminated against, and our members treated with undeserved contempt by many of the staff. Even the Headmaster is guilty of favoritism - not only to Potter, but to all those idiot Gryffindors. And it is unjust." He paused, searching the child's face. "It is unjust - but it is a fact of life, Draco. History is written by the victors. Our side suffered a temporary set-back, and we momentarily find ourselves on the losing end of things. But just because we may have briefly lost visible power, does not mean we must lower ourselves to the negative image others would force upon us. It does not mean we must behave like losers."

Draco gazed up at him, brow furrowed in thought.

Now. Now I've got him. If I can just push him in the right direction. . .if I can appeal to his pride. . .

"Don't you see, Draco? Your attacks on Potter - your taunts and blustering - they do you no credit. They merely make you appear jealous. Jealous, petty, and - frankly - a tad pathetic."

A pink blush flamed in the boy's cheeks.

"You are too good for this, Draco," Severus said gently. "You have nothing to prove - not to me - not to anyone - and certainly not to Potter. This juvenile wrangling is beneath you. By pursuing it, you play right into the brat's hands. Your attention grants him importance he does not deserve. You shouldn't let him get to you," he murmured, coloring his tone with proud fondness. "My little Dragon should be above such childish squabbles."

Draco ducked his head to hide the sudden tears in his eyes.

Yes! Yes, little one! Now you're mine!

"I want you to do something for me, Draco. I want you to promise me you'll abandon this senseless feud. I want you to stop pestering Potter."

The boy sighed resignedly, his face turning sullen again. "What am I supposed to do? Make friends with the arrogant prat? Join his fan club?"

"Certainly not!" Severus smirked. "Though the time may come when cultivating the favor of the Boy-Who-Lived - when appearing to be his ally may prove useful. . .for now, all I ask is that you cease open hostilities. Ignore the dolt! Ignore Potter, and focus your energy on your own talents - your own achievements." Severus's voice dipped: soothing, silky, and beguiling. "You are a clever, gifted boy, Draco, with an exceptional mind. You have so much Potter will never possess - breeding, refinement, nobility - and a potential for greatness beyond even your father's abilities." He watched the child's face glow with pleasure at his lavish praise. " If you apply yourself, you could become a wise and powerful wizard one day, little Dragon. . . if - and I repeat, if - you can overcome petty jealousy and that infamous Malfoy temper."

Draco blushed even deeper and Severus smirked at him with open affection.

Now for the strokes - a velvet glove over an iron hand.

"Please understand me, Draco. I have only your best interests at heart. I don't want you to suffer unnecessarily from the negative attention your attacks on Potter bring you. I have, up until now, done my best to protect you. I have turned a blind eye to your antics and favored you at every turn." He eyed the boy sternly. "But I will not permit this behavior to continue. I will still publically support you - I will always defend my Snakes - but rest assured, my private response will not be favorable. If you continue to go out of your way to harass Potter, you will be punished. I may not take house points, or embarrass you in class, but you will face my wrath behind closed doors and you will regret defying me. And don't expect your father to intervene - Lucius trusts my judgment, and he will be very displeased if he learns you have been making an fool of yourself and disgracing the family name. Am I making myself perfectly clear, young man?"

Draco paled under Snape's cold, hard stare. "Yes, Uncle Severus," he replied timidly.

"Good," Severus gave him a stern nod. "Now, return to your rooms. If I'm not mistaken, you have an exam in Transfiguration to prepare for, do you not?"

"Yes, sir," Draco replied, his usual impudence noticeably subdued.

With a twinge of guilt, Severus relented, placing a hand on the boy's slim shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Cheer up, little Dragon," he said, granting the boy a small, rare smile. "Only four more days until the holidays, after all. . . surely you can stay out of mischief for that long, at least?"

Draco nodded ruefully. "I'll try, Uncle Severus," he conceded. On impulse, the boy grabbed Snape in a quick, awkward hug. "I don't want to displease you," he murmured - then pulled away and sauntered to the office door with his cheeky impertinence carefully restored. "Not at Christmas, anyway. I wouldn't want you to take back all those lovely gifts I know you've bought me!" He flashed Severus a dazzling grin and swaggered out.

Severus snorted at the boy's cheek. He was pleased with their conference. He knew how Draco longed for his approval. He would do anything for his godfather, with the proper blend of flattery and encouragement (and appropriate threats). He closed his office and returned to his quarters, making a mental note to drop into Hogsmeade that very afternoon. He still had to pick up the gifts he had ordered - the gifts his godson correctly anticipated, the cocky little brat.