After the morning’s reactions, Snape merely smirked. “Good evening, Molly,” he replied.
“Kids! They’re here!” Arthur shouted over his shoulder, as he entered the living room. He came forward, hand extended to Severus. “Hello, Sev-“ A flood of redheads shoved through the doorway, knocking him aside.
“Harry! You’re here!” Ron yelled, leading the pack. “Why didn’t you tell us the news, mate?”
“Yeah, Harry – “ The twins had arrived.
“- what were you – “
“- thinking not to share the plans –“
“- with us? And Professor –“
“- now that you’ll be one of us –“
“ – does this mean we can ask you for help –“
“ – with our potions?”
“I hardly imagine a Hogwarts professor will help you with your unauthorized experiments,” Percy scoffed, pushing into the room.
“Ah, c’mon, Perce,” a huge redhead with a dragon’s tooth around his neck ruffled the Prefect’s hair, much to Percy’s annoyance. “Professor Snape might see supervising the twins as a necessary health and safety measure.”
Yet another tall redheaded man entered the living room, this one with a girl riding piggy back on him. Harry began to feel a little claustrophobic, and he backed up a pace, getting nearer to Snape.
An instant later he felt the professor’s hand upon his shoulder. “If you are trying to drive us back to Hogwarts,” Snape said silkily, “kindly permit us to take some floo powder before you push us into the fireplace.”
“Honestly, such manners! What will Harry and Professor Snape think of us!” Molly exclaimed, shooing everyone back. “They haven’t even had a chance to say hello to your father yet!”
Arthur finally managed to shake Snape’s hand and ruffle Harry’s hair. “How are you, Harry?”
“Fine, sir. Thank you,” Harry said politely, careful to avoid the appearance of an “illiterate baboon”.
“Severus, I know you need no introductions to our sons, but Harry, while you know our four youngest boys, these are our oldest two: Bill –“ the tall redhead grinned at him, and Harry noticed the man’s earring “- and Charlie.”
“Hullo, Harry!” The muscular young man engulfed Harry’s hand with his own large, calloused one, but his grip was gentle. Harry smiled up at him, liking him immediately.
“And I don’t believe either of you have met our daughter, Ginny.” Bill pivoted so that the girl on his back could be seen. She colored under their regard and squeaked out a “H’lo.”
Ron rolled his eyes and whispered to Harry, “I dunno if she’s being shy ‘cause she’s heard so many stories about Snape or ‘cause she’s got a crush on you – well, on The Boy Who Lived,” he amended, as he saw Harry’s eyebrows soar. “Either way, don’t be fooled. Normally Ginny’s like Mum, only louder!"
Harry grinned.
“Mum,” Ron called, “can we take Harry and go play?”
“Of course, dear,” Molly called back. Harry shot a glance at Severus and, receiving an austere nod, hurried off with the others. Ginny squirmed down from Bill’s broad back and joined them, leaving Snape with Bill, Charlie, Molly, and Arthur.
Arthur sighed at the sudden quiet. “I’d forgotten what silence sounds like,” he said nostalgically.
“Mating dragons are quieter than our lot,” Charlie said, with what Snape was disquieted to realize was undisguised pride. What on earth was he thinking, to let polite, quiet Harry carouse with these hellions?
“Have a seat,” Molly urged Severus towards – oh no, not again – the lumpy armchair, and he surrendered to his fate with resignation.
Meanwhile, Harry had been hastily bundled away to the farthest reaches of the wards by the younger Weasleys. “Right,” Ron said, determinedly. “What did he use on you? Crucio? Imperius?”
Harry blinked. “What? Who?”
“Snape!” Ron said impatiently. “What’s he using to get you to agree to this? Or is it that you haven’t been given any choice? Just say the word, mate. We’ll figure out some way to get you away from that greasy git.”
“He’s not greasy!” Ginny chimed in unexpectedly. “You always call him that, but he isn’t.”
“Well, no,” Ron admitted slowly. “He does kinda look different today.”
“Very un-Snapish in fact –“
“- probably part of the plot –“
“- trying to lull the parents into a false sense – “
“- of security.”
“They’re sold on him,” Ron said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe Mum fell for it. I mean, Dad hasn’t heard all the stories, but Mum has!”
“He nearly strangled us –“
“- that time we improved the coloration of his House –“
“- and never thanked us for it! Just made sure Mum –“
“- paid a visit to Hogwarts with her wooden spoon –“
“He practically insisted on watching too –“
“- the greasy git.”
“He’s not greasy!” Ginny argued, only to be ignored.
“You two deserved every smack you got for that prank,” Percy said repressively. “I’m surprised that Professor Snape didn’t have you expelled. How would you like it if some Slytherins had turned all of us red?”
“Wicked!” the twins exclaimed in unison, much to Percy’s disgust.
“Look, Harry,” Ron ignored his siblings. “I’ve heard all my brothers – even Percy – talk about how awful Snape is. He’s mean and nasty and I don’t care what any of the adults say, you shouldn’t have to live with him.”
Harry was touched. What a great best mate he had! Ron and his whole family just wanted to be sure Harry was being treated well. “Thanks, Ron, but honest, Snape isn’t mean at all.” He ignored the snorts of derision from the twins and even Percy’s more restrained mutter of disagreement. “Really, he’s been just brilliant. He gave me my own room, and filled it with stuff – wait ‘til you see it! And he’s been helping me with my handwriting and he didn’t let the Headmaster expel me and –“
Ron’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Didn’t he give you detention? And lines? And didn’t you say he whacked you after the flying lesson with Madame Hooch?”
“Well, yeah,” Harry admitted. “But it’s not like it really hurt or anything. And even in the detention he gave me a new quill to use for my lines and he let me have a snack…”
“So he didn’t actually starve you –“
“- and the beating wasn’t too awful –“
“Harry, this isn’t sounding good –
“- to us.”
“Yes, Harry,” Percy said, a bit pompously. “You need to be aware that there are rules that govern the treatment of minors in Wizarding Society. If Professor Snape has violated these rules, then –“
“Stow it, Percy!” Ron put in, ducking his older brother’s irritated clout. “Mate, I just dunno. I mean, I’m glad you like him an’ all, but there’s gotta be better guardians out there!”
Harry sighed. This was getting annoying. “Really, Ron, he’s brilliant. He doesn’t yell or hurt me or – “ He broke off as he realized what might convince the Quidditch-crazed Weasleys. “He’s not only letting me play as Gryffindor’s Seeker, but he also got me a new broom for it.”
The twins perked up. “A new broom –“
“- for the Gryffindor Seeker –“
“- compliments of the Slytherin Head of House?”
“Must be sabotaged –“
“- or some old splinter-filled antique!”
“It’s a brand new Nimbus 2000,” Harry informed them coolly. “But if you think it’s sabotaged, then you don’t have to borrow it.”
“A Nimbus?” Even Ginny was astounded.
Ron sat there, blinking. “Snape bought you a Nimbus? A Nimbus 2000?”
Harry nodded smugly. “I got to use it at practice today. It’s brilliant!” he said, enthusiasm replacing his pique. “You should see how it handles. Katie showed me this new move – a Wronski something – and it’s a snap with the new broom.” He paused. “Don’t you want to try it out when we get back to school?”
Ron nodded so fast Harry thought his neck might be wrenched. “You bet!”
“Come on, Harry – “
“- you wouldn’t really keep us –“
“- from trying it too, would you?”
“Wow! A Nimbus 2000! I’ve only –“
“- imagined what flying one –“
“- would be like!”
“Can I try? Can I try?” Ginny begged.
Harry took pity on her. “Next time I visit, I’ll ask Professor Snape if I can bring it with me, okay? You have someplace to fly around here, right?”
“Come see our pitch!” Ron invited.
“Remember, we’re not to go flying before dinner,” Percy cautioned, hurrying after the others.
“How about if we –“
“- try out that Muggle toy Dad –“
“- brought us. Maybe Harry will know –“
“- what to do with it?”
After what was not nearly as interminable a period as Snape had feared, Molly indicated that dinner was close to ready. Much to his surprise, Bill Weasley, whom Snape dimly remembered as an atrocious Potions pupil, had grown into a charming, witty raconteur. He told amusing stories of working with goblins, and Charlie chimed in with his own tales of life among the dragons. Between the two of them, Snape didn’t have to do much talking at all, and he found he rather enjoyed the interlude – though he had no intention of admitting that to anyone.
Molly called to the children, and all too quickly the youngest members of the tribe barreled through the house in a sea of red heads surrounding one dark mop. They had some kind of Muggle football that they were playing with and swept through the living room in a noisy blur. “Don’t play with that thing in the house!” Molly shouted at them. “You hear me? Not indoors!”
The furor passed into a more distant part of the house, and Arthur and Severus exchanged a look. “I don’t know how you manage to put up with a school full of children day in and day out,” Arthur said, shaking his head.
“Yeah,” Charlie echoed. “I mean, we’re awful enough and at least Mum and Dad chose to have us around.”
“Don’t you ever feel like taking up some other, quieter job, like chief curse tester or St Mungo’s doorman?” Bill grinned.
“Frequently,” Snape said drily.
“Come sit down,” Molly instructed from the doorway. “I’ll call the children again.”
The men took their seats around the table, as Molly shouted again for the others. The noise level began to rise, and Bill said, “I can hear them coming now.”
“The dead can hear that lot coming,” Charlie pointed out.
Before any of the children put in an appearance, however, the Muggle football did. It entered the room at speed, traversing a graceful arc that ended when it bounced jarringly off Arthur’s head, careened into the wall, ricocheted off a credenza (smashing a garishly colored vase in the process), and landed with a resounding SPLAT in the large tureen of mushy peas.
Dead silence, for once, ensued.
Severus and Bill had managed to cast Protego’s in time, but Charlie and a still-dazed Arthur were now liberally spattered with green mush, as were the tablecloth, surrounding place settings, and two walls.
The younger children clustered, wide eyed, in the doorway, wordlessly surveying the ruin. Molly appeared at the kitchen door and broke the silence with a shriek. Everyone flinched as she spun on the children with a glint in her eye. “Who did this?”
There was a moment more of utter stillness, then: “Me!” Ron exclaimed, just as the twins said, “Us!” and even Percy offered “Erm – me.” A beat later, Ginny insisted, “It was me!”
The five adults exchanged a long glance, even as the lone brunet slowly pushed himself forward. “It was me,” Harry confessed miserably, shoulders slumped.
“No, it wasn’t!” Ron insisted, trying to shove Harry behind the others again. “Mum, it wasn’t!”
Harry managed a weak grin for his friend. “It’s okay, Ron. Thanks.” He dragged his eyes up to meet Snape’s. “It was me.”
Snape touched his pristine napkin to his lips and dropped it on his plate. “If you would be so kind as to excuse us for a few moments,” he said to the others, taking Harry by the shoulder. “Arthur, may I use your study? Thank you.”
He hustled Harry into the small, book-lined room and latched the door behind them. For a moment he toyed with the idea of casting a silencing spell, but in the end decided against it. In addition to being a gross violation of Wizarding etiquette, such a spell was hardly necessary in the Burrow where the ambient noise level precluded successful eavesdropping.
“So.” He folded his arms and looked down upon his ward, wearing his most forbidding glower. “What do you have to say for yourself? Perhaps you didn’t hear Mrs Weasley’s instruction not to play with the ball inside?”
Harry wished he had fallen off his broom at Quidditch practice and broken his arm like Neville had. Then he wouldn’t have come to the Burrow and disgraced himself – and by extension, Professor Snape – in so awful a manner. He had never done something so horrible before. Even at the Dursleys, his most heinous crimes had been for things he now recognized as accidental magic that had been beyond his control. He had never knowingly, deliberately done something like this. He could only imagine what his aunt or uncle would have done to him if he had destroyed one of their dinner parties the way he had just done to Mrs Weasley’s.
She would never let him return to the Burrow now; in fact, she’d probably tell Ron and the others to stay far away from him. It was one thing to be a freak and unintentionally do weird stuff. It was another to disobey and create utter havoc as a consequence.
He couldn’t even bring himself to look at Snape. The man had given him the most brilliant broom just a few hours previous, making him the envy of the entire Quidditch team, and how did Harry repay him? By coming to the Burrow and behaving like some uncivilized lout – the very thing that Snape most loathed. He was pretty sure that Snape wouldn’t drop him like a hot rock, the way he assumed the Weasleys would, but he also figured that Snape was going to make his displeasure very, very clear.
He knew that Snape could, when pressed, hit as hard as Uncle Vernon, and he figured he’d be lucky if he got off with just a single clout to the head like at that first detention. Or was the professor just going to start things off and then let Mr and Mrs Weasley have a chance to give him some licks too? He wouldn’t blame them if they did. After what Harry had done to their dinner table? He was only surprised that Snape had marched him in here for some privacy – at least to start with.
“Well, Potter?” the professor demanded, stepping closer to him, and Harry couldn’t help it, he flinched.
Snape stopped dead. The boy had seemed mesmerized by his own feet, ignoring Snape’s demand for an explanation, so it was only natural that Snape had moved towards him, intent upon shaking some sense into the arrogant brat. But no sooner had he moved then the boy cowered away, as if he were expecting some truly brutal punishment.
“Harry,” Snape said, forcing his voice into slightly less harsh tones. “Are you expecting me to punish you?”
The boy nodded, his eyes tightly shut, hands clenched by his sides.
“By hitting you?”
He nodded again, visibly bracing himself.
Snape glared at him. “Idiot. Didn’t I clearly explain my use of corporal punishment to you?”
The boy’s eyes flew open in surprise. “But th-those are rules for school, sir,” he gulped. “This isn’t Hogwarts. I mean, those rules are for, y’know, everyday stuff. What I did here was really bad. Didn’t you see Mrs Weasley’s table?”
“Foolish child, I was sitting right there!” Snape pointed out testily. Gryffindor dunce. “And just what do you mean by ‘school rules’? Do you honestly imagine I have nothing better to do than to come up with new rules for every eventuality? What do you expect? Rules for the Burrow, rules for Hogwarts, rules for the Leaky Cauldron, rules for Knockturn Alley –“
“What’s –“ Harry began timidly
Snape ignored him. “- Rules for you when you’re eleven, rules for when you’re twelve, rules for when you’re wearing trainers, rules for alternate Tuesdays, rules for months with an ‘r’ in them?” As the professor ranted on, Harry began to relax a little. As snarky as Snape was sounding, Harry hadn’t missed the fact that the professor was explaining that his rules about punishment weren’t just for Hogwarts.
“Y-you mean you’re not going to belt me?” Harry managed to gulp. “Or let the Weasleys? I mean, they’ve got to be really mad.”
Snape just scowled more fiercely. “You are my ward, Potter. I don’t care if you set their bloody house on fire, no one but me is ever to lay a finger on you. Do you understand?”
Harry nodded, eyes wide.
“And as for ‘belting’ you, you already know the answer to that, do you not?”
Harry swallowed and nodded, a shy smile breaking out over his face.
“Then kindly do not attempt to distract me from your appalling behavior by asking foolish questions. You are well aware that you have behaved atrociously, and you will be punished, but you will not be physically harmed, by me or anyone else.” Snape loomed over the brat menacingly. “In fact, what are you to do if someone, such as Mrs Weasley, were to attempt to strike you?”
“D-defend myself?” Harry answered uncertainly, only half-believing that the answer wouldn’t earn him a slap.
“Exactly,” Snape frowned at him for another moment. “Now. As to your uncouth behavior, what do you have to say for yourself, you impossible brat?”
Harry sighed as he felt the last of the terror leave him. He knew Snape was still angry with him, and that was the only thing that prevented him from hugging the man in sheer relief and gratitude. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was. Had this sort of thing happened even two weeks ago, he’d have been thrashed so mercilessly that the resulting welts and bruises would have lasted for weeks. Snape was really, really nice. On the other hand, that made Harry feel even worse about disappointing the man. He forced back a sniffle.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, hanging his head.
“Did you not hear Mrs Weasley?”
“I heard her,” Harry admitted.
“And yet you disobeyed her?”
Harry’s shoulders hunched even more. “It’s just that everyone else was ignoring her, so…” He sniffled again.
“Are you not a guest in this house?” Harry nodded. “Yet you feel no obligation to respect your hostess?” Harry squirmed in shame. “After all the kindness Mrs Weasley has shown you, you cannot do her the courtesy of obeying her in such a simple thing?”
Harry felt the first tear slip down his cheek. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again.
“Oh, you will be, Potter,” Snape promised grimly. “Why do you think Mrs Weasley made the rule about no football in the house?”
“S-so nothing would get broken.”
“And so no one would get hurt. What if the ball had struck Mr Weasley in the face?” Snape forced down an errant snigger at the memory of Arthur’s expression when the ball had smacked into his skull. He frowned more fearsomely at the sniveling brat. “What then?”
“I’m sorry.” Harry wiped away more tears.
“And what if Mrs Weasley had already put out the cake she made for you? The cake, and all of Molly’s hard work, could have been destroyed!”
“Mrs Weasley made a cake? For me?” Harry was so astonished he stopped crying. He stared at Snape incredulously. Someone had actually gone to the trouble of baking a cake in his honor? Dudley always got a fancy cake on his birthday, but today wasn’t even Harry’s birthday, and yet Mrs Weasley had made him a cake?
“Yes, and she went to great effort to do so,” Snape scolded, mentally rolling his eyes at the memory of Molly’s blow-by-blow description. There had been an unfortunate lull between Bill’s stories of breaking an ancient Transylvanian curse and Charlie’s experiences trying to establish a breeding colony of Norwegian dragons, and Molly had filled it by describing, in excruciating detail, the cake she had made “for little Harry”. “How do you think she would have felt if your carelessness had destroyed all her hard work?”
“She made a cake for me?” Harry repeated, happily amazed.
“Potter!” Growling, Snape shook him by the shoulder, making Harry jump. “Pay attention!”
Harry forced down his warm fuzzy feelings and composed his features into a penitent expression. Professor Snape was telling him off, and he didn’t want the poor man to realize he was pants at it. Especially not here at the Burrow, with Mr Weasley so close by. Harry needed to help Professor Snape look good, and grinning like a maniac during a stern dressing-down was not the way to do that. “Sorry,” he repeated remorsefully, hugging to himself the delicious knowledge that not only had Mrs Weasley made a cake for him, but also – even in the midst of a tongue lashing – Professor Snape had made sure he was aware of it.
Snape wondered if he’d done the right thing by shaking the boy. He had only wanted to refocus the little monster when it was clear his attention was wandering, but now the boy looked devastated. Still, Snape told himself, the boy had earned the reprimand with his heedless actions. “Just because the Weasleys behave badly is no excuse for you to do the same,” he continued firmly. “You are not some idiot to follow others blindly. I expect you to teach the Weasley children to behave with more wit and maturity, not to become corrupted yourself by their hooligan-like tendencies. Do you understand?”
“Y’sir,” Harry said meekly. Wow. Professor Snape had high expectations of him. That was nice. Different but nice. Uncle Vernon had always said Harry was bound to end up as a worthless drunk in the gutter. Now Professor Snape was expecting him to teach other kids (older kids) how to behave.
“And even if they did throw or kick the ball to you, why didn’t you have the good sense to catch it and end the game or insist that you would only throw it to someone who goes outside? Or at least kick it in the other direction? Didn’t you realize what would happen if no one caught the ball? You are certainly bright enough to be able to calculate a spheroid’s trajectory, you thoughtless brat. Failure to do so simply demonstrates your complete disregard for the rules of the house. You must use that brain of yours, Potter,” Snape said angrily, giving Harry a little rap on the head with his knuckles. “You should be thinking ahead, not blundering about like some mindless beast. You are the ward of a Slytherin, young man. Gryffindor or no, you will learn to think before you act.”
“Y’sir.” Wow! Professor Snape actually thought he was smart! The professor was mad because he felt Harry was too clever to behave so stupidly – and that was the same as a compliment, wasn’t it?
He did his best not to beam at Professor Snape, recognizing that a sober, contrite mien was expected of him.
Snape considered his next move. The boy was obviously repentant. He’d had him in or near tears on several occasions during the harangue, and Snape was well aware that the brat, for all his mischief, really hadn’t meant any harm. In fact, the professor mused dourly, it was all the fault of those Weasleys! They were the ones who had enticed Harry to disobey though it was of course the brat’s luck that he was the one who actually caused the damage. Still, at least the other children had tried to shield Harry – that boded well for the boy’s long term future, when he would need such loyal allies against Voldemort’s forces.
Snape eyed the boy. What next? He knew the boy had technically earned a swat for disobedience, but considering how fragile Harry had seemed earlier, perhaps it would be better to pretend he hadn’t realized it. It wasn’t as if the boy himself would remind him.
Harry eyed the professor. What next? He knew that he deserved a swat, but he also suspected the professor would be too nice to administer it, and that might make Mr Weasley think the professor was a rotten guardian. “I disobeyed,” Harry pointed out quickly. "You're s'posed to smack me."
Snape hid his surprise behind a thunderous scowl. “Do you think I hadn’t realized that?” Good grief. The boy had no sense of self-preservation. Obviously those bastard Muggles had beaten it out of him. He would have to hope exposure to the Weasleys, especially the twins, improved Harry’s survival instincts. At this rate, upon learning of Voldemort’s plans for him, the boy would march up and challenge the Dark Lord to an arm wrestling match or some other equally idiotic and Gryffindorish duel. He'd probably even take it upon himself to explain to Voldemort what spells and counters he had yet to learn, in the naive assumption the Dark Lord would thereupon avoid using them. Snape could just hear the brat now: "Yoo hoo, Lord Voldemort! I'm over here! Is all the fog from the battle making it hard for you to see me? Aim a little more to your left!" Obviously he had a great deal of re-education to do.
For now, though, the little idiot had brought this upon himself. Snape reached out and turned the boy away from him. He noted that the child had removed his robes to play with that absurd Muggle toy and reminded himself to lighten the smack accordingly.
Harry helpfully bent over and braced himself, wondering if, given the magnitude of the crime, Snape might decide that two (or more) swats were appropriate.
Snape’s hand slapped square across his bum, sounding a lot worse than it felt as the noisy whack reverberated around the small room, but only a mild sting resulted. Harry waited for another smack, face screwed up in anticipation, but the seconds ticked by and nothing happened. “Oh.” He straightened and looked over to where Snape waited, frowning at him. “Erm – ouch!” he said belatedly, trying to sound appropriately chastened. He brought his hands back to give his rear a good rub. “I won’t do that again,” he promised, grimacing as if the residual tingle was acutely painful.
“See that you don’t,” the professor snapped automatically, but he appeared concerned about something.
“You need not hold still or remain silent when you are being punished,” Snape finally reminded him, his brow still creased. Was the boy still so terrified by corporal punishment that he couldn’t bring himself to resist in even such small ways? He had to be careful not to be too rough with Harry; after all, the slap was merely intended to communicate his displeasure, not to inflict significant pain.
“I know,” Harry replied, trying to think of a reason why he hadn’t squirmed or howled. The truth – that the single spank didn’t hurt enough to bother – was obviously unacceptable. “Erm, but since I’m sure you’ll still whack my bum, there doesn’t seem to be much point in trying.”
That appeared to be a good answer. The frown lines faded and Snape smirked at him. “Let it be a challenge to you.”
Harry continued holding his backside for the sake of appearances, but the sting was already gone. Although he could still tell where the slap had landed, no unpleasant warmth lingered - the swat had imparted no lasting discomfort. “Sir,” he asked, reassured that Snape had done his paternal duty and wouldn’t get into any trouble with Mr Weasley or the Headmaster for not addressing Harry’s bad behavior, “what should I do while the rest of you are eating?”
Snape’s awful frown returned. The brat appeared to have the memory of a flobberworm. Hadn’t they been over this the last time they visited the Burrow? “Potter, you will be at the table eating with us. Surely you cannot have forgotten your last meal here so quickly!”
Harry blinked in genuine amazement. “You mean, I’m still allowed to have dinner? Even after what I did?”
“Although you may have started on your 500 lines, it appears that you have not yet come to believe the words you are copying,” Snape reproved him. “Your relatives’ habit of barring you from the table and starving you was inhuman. You are of course going to sit down with the rest of the family. You have been scolded and smacked; your punishment is now over. Do you understand?”
Harry beamed at him. “Y’sir!”
“Having said that, you are not to wait and fill up on cake, even if it was made in your honor. You are also – upon pain of disobeying me!” Snape said warningly. Harry nodded vigorously to show his understanding. “- to eat the rest of the food as well, particularly the vegetables.”
Harry wrinkled his nose but sighed resignedly. “Y’sir.”
Snape paused. “You may, however, skip the mushy peas.”
Harry snorted in amusement, and – just for a moment – Snape’s normal severe expression lightened a bit. “Ready? I still expect you to apologize to our hosts for your appalling conduct,” Snape said sternly, turning towards the door.
Harry nodded, and Snape pulled the door open, causing a tidal wave of redheads to fall into the room from where they’d been leaning against the door, listening.
Harry gaped at the Weasleys, while Snape narrowed his eyes and merely watched, arms folded, as the family tried to disentangle themselves.
“Gerroff! I can’t breathe! Gerroff!” Ginny squeaked breathlessly from the bottom of the pile, while Molly and Arthur blushingly picked themselves off the top of the heap.
“Er – excuse us – we – erm – just checking – not really worried – dinner – go check – excuse me!” Molly babbled incoherently and escaped to the kitchen.
“Yes – uh, what she said,” Arthur echoed, face flaming to match his hair. He fled after his wife.
“Well, sorry about that,” Bill grinned, irrepressible as always. “Just had to make sure you weren’t murdering The Boy Who Lived.” He grabbed a blushing, speechless Percy and headed back to the dining room.
Charlie picked up Ginny and, red faced, mumbled an apology as he made a hasty exit.
“Erm, sorry about that –“
“Professor, we just didn’t –“
“- quite believe that you weren’t –“
“- going to string Harry up by his thumbs –“
“- and as you can see –“
“- we have terrible role models!” On that characteristically cheeky note, the twins departed, leaving Ron as the last representative of the family to face Snape’s wrath.
Before the professor could deliver a blistering reproof – which, to be fair, should probably be directed at the boy’s parents – Ron had demanded of Harry. “Is that it?”
Harry blinked. “What?”
“Is that all the punishment you’re going to get? I mean, nothing else when you get back home?”
Harry glanced at Snape for confirmation, then nodded.
“But he didn’t yell at you or ground you or even hit you that hard!” Ron paused. “Did he?”
Harry was unsure how to answer. He didn’t want to admit the truth and make Snape feel like he hadn’t done a good job, but he didn’t want to lie to his best mate either. “Erm, it wasn’t that bad,” he finally said.
“Right. That’s what I thought.” Ron nodded once, decisively. “Okay, when we get in trouble at school, I want your dad to punish us both.”
Harry darted a worried look at the thunderstruck Snape. “He’s not really my dad,” he started, uncertain as to whether or not Snape would take offense at Ron’s words.
Ron waved a dismissive hand. “Guardian, whatever.”
“But, Ron,” Harry protested, “you’ve got your own family that –“
“Yeah!” Ron said disgustedly. “I’ve got a whole bunch of older brothers who think they can all yell at me and whack me just ‘cause they’re bigger than me, and Percy’s the worst of the lot especially now that he’s a prefect. And my mum… Well, you haven’t heard a Howler yet, Harry, but I’ve watched my mum getting them ready to send to Charlie and the twins, and I don’t want to be on the receiving end of one in the Great Hall. I mean, it’s bad enough when Mum screams at you in person, but to have it happen in front of everyone in the school? No thanks! I’d rather your dad – erm, professor – just took care of it …Is that okay?” he asked, suddenly uncertain. “You don’t mind, do you? I just figured that since we were like brothers now and Professor Snape is a Weasley, it would be okay – like having an uncle yell at you if your dad’s not around. But if you want to keep him to yourself…”
“No, that’s okay!” Harry reassured his friend. He felt rather proud that Ron preferred Harry’s guardian to his whole, real family. Didn’t that just prove how great Professor Snape was? “I don’t mind sharing. You can use him too.”
Snape opened and closed his mouth, but he couldn’t seem to get any words to emerge. How dare these two presumptuous whelps speak of him as if he weren’t present, let alone make plans as if he were some pet they were going to share! While he understood why the youngest Weasley boy would seek to avoid both fraternally-administered wallops and Molly’s ear-splitting harangues, he had no intention of being lumbered with the supervision of two brats instead of one. And then the Weasley spawn had referred to him as a Weasley and an uncle, for Merlin’s sake! He was in no way, shape, or form going to serve as an UNCLE to this redheaded band of maniacs!
Worse, the youngest Weasley male had even said “when” not “if” he and Harry got into trouble, so it was clear that he wasn’t just speaking theoretically. Snape needed to make it indelibly clear to these two hellions, not to mention the rest of the Weasley clan, that he was not going to –
“BOYS! DINNER!” Molly bellowed.
To Snape’s shock and horror, Harry and Ron each grabbed one of his hands and started dragging him towards the table. “C’mon, Pr’fessor!” Harry panted. “It’s rude to keep them waiting!”
This had to be some horrendous nightmare, perhaps brought on by an extended bout of Cruciatus, Snape thought desperately. He must be hallucinating – surely he was nice and safe and being tortured by the Dark Lord, and not sitting down to a meal as the newest member of the Weasley family? But his feeble hopes were dashed when Molly smiled and handed him the bread basket. No matter how long he was Crucio’d, even his most fevered imaginings couldn’t have come up with the hand-embroidered doily, festooned with happy house elves, that covered the rolls.
Albus, Snape vowed to himself, as Ron and Harry happily settled themselves in chairs on either side of him, I will get you back for this if it’s the last thing I do.