"You know what the worst thing is about doing laundry by hand?" groaned Draco as he turned the crank on the ringer washer. "This stupid handle leaves blisters on your hand." He shook his hand vigorously, glaring at the washer, which had one of Draco's shirts half-rinsed and wrung out in its mechanism.

"Do what I do," Harry advised, hauling the finished clothes and sheets into the laundry basket to take outside to hang on the clothesline. "Wrap a cloth around the handle, or use a Cushioning Charm on it."

"Uncle Sev says we're not allowed to use magic at all for our chores," groused the Slytherin.

"Then use a cloth," Harry repeated, grunting a bit as he picked up the loaded basket. If this doesn't put more muscle on my frame, nothing will. It's like toting around boulders.

Draco pulled a rag from a pile of them in the laundry room and wrapped one about the worn wooden handle several times. "There. At least now I'll be able to use a fork at dinner without it hurting like blazes. I swear, this is torture, who does laundry by hand like this anymore?"

"Us." Harry replied.

Draco began to turn the crank again, muttering angry sentiments against the inventor of the washer and Severus for making them wash clothes this way. " . . .bloody damn machine . . .if it gets stuck on me one more time . . .appropriate punishment, my arse . . .ought to be reported to the WCSF Services for conduct unbecoming a guardian . . ."

Harry paid his complaining foster brother half an ear, he'd learned after the first week of their punishment that Draco liked to bitch and moan to let off steam. Severus said Draco had Complainer-itis, and to just ignore him. "Harry, that boy would complain to the Almighty on Judgement Day that it wasn't fair and He needed to give him another chance. Just tune him out, it's less aggravating that way."

"Let me know when you're done with that batch, Draco, I'll be outside hanging these on the line," called Harry over his shoulder, lugging the soaking wet clothes outside through the small entrance that led into the backyard, where Harry had strung a length of clothesline inbetween two convenient oak trees. He'd used magic to adhere the line to the trees, so it would never fall down, but he used ordinary old-fashioned clothespins to hang up the wash.

Strange, but doing this domestic chore, even though it was a punishment, didn't faze him at all. He'd done laundry every week when he lived with the Dursleys, though they'd had an electric washer and dryer, but he had hated it, because Petunia was so particular about her shirts and skirts and dresses, they all had to be pressed and hung a certain way, and Vernon had been the same with his shirts and trousers. Harry had gotten beaten more than once as an eight-year-old for forgetting to press Vernon's collars and not putting enough starch on his work shirts. The only one who had not cared about the state of his clothes had been Dudley, but that was because he was forever outgrowing them.

And me, though I tried my best to keep the rags they gave me to wear clean, even if I had to wash my stuff late at night, when they were all sleeping. Harry remembered sneaking down into the dingy basement to wash his pitiful castoff T-shirts, jeans, and underclothes, though the latter were at least new, because Petunia flatly refused to recycle underwear and socks. I remember when a good day was when Aunt Petunia went to the store and came back with a new package of shorts for me. Or socks. It was great to not have to wear socks that were mostly holes and actually fit me.

Now, of course, clothes were not even a question, Severus bought him whatever he needed, they had gone shopping in the village called Moorshead, which was the nearest human habitation to the manor, and Severus had purchased an entire wardrobe for him, Muggle style, of course. And the master wizard had promised him new school outfits and robes and everything when it was time to return to Hogwarts as well.

Harry estimated they still had another six weeks or so of summer, by the manor time, which Severus had told him ran slower than real time. How that was possible Harry couldn't figure out, but supposed it wasn't really important, he was not all that eager to return to school, the way he usually was. This year would be different, he was different, both physically and mentally, and he was now Snape's son and not just his student. He suspected his new status would be a great shock to everyone, and he wondered how the rest of the staff and Gryffindor House would take it.

They can take it how they like, so long as they don't start crap with me, he thought as he began hanging trousers upon the line. He'd gotten quite good at using clothespins since he'd been punished like this before, it wasn't as easy as it looked to hang clothes on a line. You couldn't just hang the clothes up willy-nilly, otherwise the first good wind that came along would blow them right off and you'd end up with dirty laundry again. Though the weather about the manor was usually fair, they did get the occasional thunderstorm or spate of rain or a windy day, so Harry made sure the wash was clipped properly.

As much of a pain in the arse as it was doing laundry this way, Harry had to admit it was good exercise and the clothes smelled fresh and clean after drying in the sun all day. Magic would get the clothes clean, but somehow there was no substitute for sun-warmed linens and such. And Merlin help me if Draco ever heard what I was just thinking, he'd tell me I needed to be committed. Either that or become a maid. Little does he know, that's exactly what I was for the first twelve years of my life, since I can't count the time I spent with Mum and James and Dad rescued me just after my fourteenth birthday.

And being out in the fresh air was doing wonders for his temper, he really hated being stuck inside all day for days on end. It made him stir crazy, and when he got like that he needed to do something, otherwise he became irritable and snarly. He was betting that his father knew that, which was why he assigned Harry some major chores outside every few days, since Harry had experience with gardening and enjoyed planting and harvesting flowers and herbs. The first time Draco had been told to weed the herb garden, he'd ending up pulling out all of Severus's rosemary and basil and mint. How on earth one mistook mint, of all plants, for a weed, was beyond Harry's comprehension. Then again, this was Draco, who had never done anything in a garden except admire flowers or maybe kiss Pansy Parkinson.

Harry hid a smirk at that last thought. Good thing Draco can't read my mind, I'd be dead meat for that last comment. And Merlin, was he steamed when Dad made him go back and replant all those herbs he'd picked and then re-weed the garden. Still, Dad was right in making him do that, because that's the only way you learn to do it right. Draco had been too angry to see that, however, and had shot his mouth off at his foster father once too often, earning him an additional punishment with a bar of soap for swearing. Harry continued hanging the laundry, using four clothespins for the sheets and two for most other things, thanking Merlin that no women lived here, so he didn't have to be embarrassed into the next century by a girl seeing his underwear flapping in the breeze. The basket was almost empty now, and Harry wondered if Draco had finished the last batch of shirts and robes yet.

He glanced back just in time to see Draco emerge from the small entrance, carrying a basket on his shoulder. The blond wizard strode over to the clothesline and set the basket down with a thump. "Uncle Sev ought to be nominated for the Slavedriver of the Year Award. This bloody sucks! My back is killing me and so are my hands."

Harry examined Draco's hands, which were kind of red and blistered, he wasn't accustomed to doing a lot of manual labor. "You should ask Dad for some murtlap salve and then wear gloves next time you're operating the washer."

"I wouldn't need to do that if Uncle Sev weren't such a bloody strict pain in the arse!" Draco glared down at his hands, his gray eyes flashing.

Harry just shook his head. "You know, he's really not as bad as you're making him out to be."

His foster brother stared at him, astonished. "What? How can you say that? He's turned us into a pair of house elves! How can you think that's not so bad!"

Harry dropped the clothespin he'd been holding into his now empty basket and said, with a touch of irritation, "Because I've been treated like a real house elf, Draco, and this is nothing-absolutely nothing-compared to what I used to do at the Dursleys."

"What do you mean? You were enslaved by your Muggle relatives?"

Harry grimaced. "Well, yes, in a manner of speaking." He settled himself cross-legged on the grass. "See, my uncle never wanted to raise me, he hated all things to do with magic, and my aunt had to persuade him to take me in, even though he was paid off by Dumbledore for my keep. But he made it clear from day one that I was the poor relation, here on sufferance and if I wanted to keep living there I had to . . .earn my keep," related the dark-haired wizard angrily. "Here's what that meant, according to dear old Uncle Vernon. It meant that I wasn't allowed to have a real room, for years, till I was twelve, I lived in a cupboard under the stairs. It was about the size of the utility closet that we keep the buckets and mops and cleaning stuff in. In it was everything I owned, which wasn't much, just a baby blanket and a few books and some of Dudley's old toys, the ones he didn't like or had broken. I wasn't allowed to have anything new, I wore Dudley's old clothes and shoes, even my glasses were used. Sound familiar?" Harry asked, referring to the fact that house elves were not allowed to wear clothes when they were in service to a family.

"Then, soon as I could see over the top of the counter and wouldn't get burned or blow up the house, Aunt Petunia taught me to cook breakfast for the family. I think I was five. And when I say breakfast, Draco, I'm not talking about a couple of eggs, toast, and some bacon. I mean two pounds of bacon, a dozen eggs, a half a loaf of bread and a carton of orange juice."

Draco blinked. "Sweet Merlin, Snape, who were you feeding, Hagrid and his relatives?"

"Might as well have, for that's what my uncle and cousin ate, my aunt rarely ate much except toast and yogurt for breakfast. And me, I got nothing, unless my aunt slipped me a piece of leftover toast or I scrounged scraps later while I was cleaning. Only I did that once too often and Dudley told and my uncle whipped my bum good, so I had to be careful. I wasn't allowed to sit with them either, they made me stand in the corner, so I could serve them. Just like you wizards do with your house elves."

"And you had to do chores, right?"

Harry laughed, low and bitter. "Yeah, I had chores, all right. I did everything for them. I was dishwasher, laundrymaid, housekeeper, and gardener. Every day, seven days a week, without pay, I cooked and cleaned and weeded. From the time I was five until my father came to Privet Drive. If I was lucky, I got fed once a day. Sometimes, if Dudley lied and got me in trouble or my uncle was in a bad mood, I got nothing and was locked in my cupboard for days. That happened quite a bit. And if I didn't finish all my chores, I had a list as long as your arm, or I didn't do them right, Uncle Vernon was waiting with his belt to wallop my arse good. Like your father with his cane, he was."

Draco winced. "Hell, that must've really hurt."

"It did. He used to give it to me bare too, so it hurt even more," said Harry softly, and he flinched.

"Merlin, Snape! And that's why you're so small, isn't it? Why Uncle Sev made you drink a Nutrient Potion, because they starved you?"

Harry nodded tightly. "But that wasn't the worst. All of that was bad, but the worst thing was . . .they treated Dudley like a prince. He got everything and all he had to do was ask. He was a spoiled rotten brat, but they loved him and they gave him everything. But never me. Dudley whined, he got a new TV. I asked for a six pence toy, I got smacked and told I was naughty. When I was little . . .I didn't understand, I thought they were like that because I was bad . . .that I deserved to not get presents on my birthday or anything but a switch for Christmas."

"You've got to be kidding, Harry! My father, nasty as he was, used to threaten me with that, but he never actually got one and gave it to me. Nobody's cruel enough to do that to a kid on Christmas!"

"Uncle Vernon was." Harry whispered, looking at his clenched fists. "I still remember it. I was six, and Christmas came and Dudley got fifty-five presents and what did Harry get? A switch, and when I went to see a toy train of Dudley's, Dudley had a fit and said I was going to wreck it, threw it and broke it, and blamed me for it. Then Uncle Vernon used my "present" on me. Nice Christmas, huh? The kind that every kid dreams of, right?"

Draco looked angry and then he said, "And you wonder why I think Muggles are trash, when they treated you like that?"

"My uncle was trash, there's no denying that. I hope he's roasting in hell now that he's dead. But not all Muggles are like him, Draco. You shouldn't judge them all by his example, that's not right. There are good as well as bad ones, though Vernon was one of the worst. D'you see now why I don't think these chores my dad gives us are bad? At least I'm fed and not beaten afterwards. At least here I'm treated like a family member, not a house elf or a stupid servant. Compared to Privet Drive, this is paradise."

They fell silent for a few moments, until Draco asked, "Does Uncle Sev know what they did to you?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. And he paid them back for it, believe me." He went on to describe Severus's retribution on the Dursleys.

Draco was grinning like a jack-o-lantern when Harry told him that Severus had smacked Vernon with a wooden spoon for lazing about and later with a belt for trying to snitch his wand and break it. "Good for him! I'd of loved to see that!"

"He got the worst of it, but Dudley was made to do chores too and Dad made him toe the line with his mum. She was afraid of my uncle, he used to hit her too, and Dad made her a charm so he couldn't hurt her anymore. Once he did that, Aunt Petunia was able to stand up for herself and she started disciplining my spoiled brat cousin like she'd wanted to all those years. Big D was like, shocked speechless, cause he'd never been told no in his life and Petunia not only told him no, she punished him when he acted up with her."

"How?"

"She used Dad's methods mostly, including the wooden spoon." Harry answered. Then he rose to his feet. "C'mon, Malfoy. Let's finish this, then we can go eat. I'm starving."

"Can't have that, Harry," said Draco softly. "Not here. And . . .it's paradise for me too," he added after a moment's hesitation.

They hung the rest of the clothes in silence, broken only by the sounds of bees humming and birds singing. When all the laundry was put up, the two boys stood back and stretched and sighed in relief.

"Oh, am I glad that's over!" groaned Draco. "I swear, Harry, if I ever manage to get Malfoy Manor back, I'll never bond a house elf to it again. I'll . . .I'll have one but free it and pay it, I guess."

"I'm glad to hear that, Draco," said a voice from behind them. "It shows that you're finally realizing the value of hard work and appreciating all of the things your house elf used to do for you."

Both boys turned to see Severus standing behind them, a pleased gleam in his coal black eyes. "Which was what I had hoped you would learn from this punishment."

"Huh? I thought you wanted us to learn how to get along, Uncle Sev."

"That too, Dragon. But I also wanted to teach you some practical skills and instill in you responsibility as well. It would seem you two have learned your lessons well, boys."

"We sure have, sir." Harry said. Then he gave his father a hopeful look. "Does that mean we're off our punishment chores?"

"Turning Slytherin on me, Harry?" queried Severus, looking slightly amused. "No, young man, you still have chores, though after three days, I'll allow you to use those notes you won at Dragons Wild to reduce your sentence a bit. Don't look at me like that, Draco. A few chores never killed anyone."

"A few chores! A few chores!" sputtered his ward, outraged. "We've been up since nine doing the dusting and the blasted laundry. Uncle Sev, I damn near ruined my hands doing the laundry." He held out his hands to Snape.

Severus took first one and then the other and examined them closely. "You'll live, Mr, Malfoy. I'll put some salve on them and wrap them in gauze, they'll be healed by tomorrow. A bit of hard work builds character, child." He chuckled at Draco's indignant expression.

"What if I don't want to build my character?" grumbled his son sulkily.

"You don't have a choice." Severus said bluntly. "Not in this. You learned all the wrong things with Lucius, Draco, and now I have to break you of them and start all over. One of the biggest mistakes was teaching you that you're above normal work and respect for those who work beneath you. I trust after this summer, you will have developed respect for those who do this sort of thing on a daily basis."

"What does it matter, if I respect Muggles and house elves?"

"It matters, young man. You don't want to end up like Lucius, do you?"

"No, sir."

"Then you'll learn this lesson, Draco. You ought to know by now that I do nothing without a purpose. You may not understand why and I may not explain it, but there is always a reason for my orders." Then he reached out and tousled both of his sons' heads. "You've done well, boys. Now come inside and wash up, I have lunch on the table. Oh, and you might want to take a look at your chore list for today, I've amended it."

"Not more work, Dad!" cried Harry.

"Aw, please, Uncle Sev!"

"Stop your whining," the Potions Master ordered gruffly. "Inside with you now." He shooed them into the manor.

They went, wondering what in Merlin's name their slavedriving father had added to their already large workload. Severus pointed to the sink and they both scrubbed their hands, and then he summoned his salve and fixed up Draco's sore palms.

Then they sat down to eat the large ham, cheese, and salami subs Severus had made, along with a side of pasta salad and pickles. They had large glasses of lemonade to drink and peach melba cake for a sweet. Severus had learned how to make that from Eileen.

All of them ate hungrily, and thanked Severus when they were finished. Harry volunteered to do the dishes, since Draco's hands were bandaged.

Afterwards, they made their way over to the wall where Snape had posted the daily chore schedule for them with an erasable ink quill. Harry's chores were in red and Draco's in green ink. Harry quickly scanned the list and next to his name and Draco's after the word lunch was written in bold black letters TAKE A 2 HOUR NAP.

Both of them gaped like witless idiots at the chart and each other.

"Are we dreaming?" asked Draco softly.

"If we are, it's the best dream I've had in ages." Harry grinned.

Severus cleared his throat and they turned to look at him.

"So? Still think I'm a slavedriver?"

"No, sir!" they chorused, flushing. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. This is your reward for doing your chores without complaining, mostly." Then he waved them away. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go and take a nap. Unless you want me to change it back?"

Draco and Harry shook their heads and practically bolted for their bedroom. Behind them, the Potions Master laughed softly, a wicked smirk on his face. He loved being unpredictable, like a true Head of Slytherin House.