Late that afternoon, Snape was correcting papers at his desk in his quarters when Harry burst in. Snape rose to his feet, but before he could scold the brat for his noisy entry, Harry tossed his bookbag onto the couch and grabbed him around the waist. “We did it, Da!” the little monster yelped in delight. “We got him! Your plan was brilliant! Did you see how the snakes chased him around the room? Did you see how s’prised everyone was? What was the spell you used to turn him back into a human? I didn’ even hear you say it! Did you see I did what you told me and stayed out of the way? What happened to Neville’s potion? He said you said he doesn’t have to take Potions any more, is that true? Did th’ Headmaster figure out what happened? Wasn’t Moony great? Madame Bones is scary, isn’t she? For a minute there, I thought she was gonna hex you! Why doesn’t she like you? Did I do a good job? Huh? It was good that Draco got kinda huffy, wasn’t it? Did you know he was gonna do that? What happens now? Will Padfoot be able to come here to Hogwarts to visit us now? Didn’t I do a good job? Did you see how I didn’ do anything – not even when he tried to grab me? I just stood there and acted s’prised like everyone else!”

“Of course I saw everything, you foolish child. I was right there, was I not?” Snape huffed, but he couldn’t bring himself to give the boy the sharp rebuke his unseemly behavior deserved. After all, he was the first person to actually compliment Snape on his cunning plan. “Sit down.”

Harry obediently seated himself on the couch, but he was too excited to sit still. He began to bounce in place. “Did you see how s’prised Ron an’ Hermione were? Ron’s still pretty upset about Scabbers an’ Percy’s really upset. Th’ Headmaster came an’ got Ron out of Charms this afternoon t’talk to the Aurors some more. Did you know that? And they’re gonna talk to the rest of the Weasleys too. They’re not going to get into any trouble, are they? What will the Aurors ask them? Do you think -”

“Potter!” Snape had seated himself next to the brat and the constant bouncing was making him seasick. One Sticking hex later and Harry jerked to a halt with a comical expression of surprise. “Oi!” he yelped, finding his posterior immovably adhered to the heavy couch. He squirmed around, but couldn’t work loose.

“Stop that infernal fidgeting,” Snape said sternly. “I need to speak with you and I cannot do it while you are acting as though you are sitting on a nest of fire hornets. You know perfectly well the hex does not cause you any pain.”

“I didn’t say it did,” Harry protested, his surprise at Snape’s words successfully distracting him from his efforts to pry his bum off the sofa. “I know you won’t hurt me.”

Snape cleared his throat, doing his best to ignore the lump that the boy’s trust-filled expression had caused. “Yes, well, then you need not wiggle around like that. I will release the hex when you demonstrate you can sit properly like a young gentleman and carry on a civilized conversation.”

“Y’sir.” Harry obediently settled down and even folded his hands in his lap.

“That’s bet-“ Snape began, only to have Harry interrupt, his eyes once again shining with excitement.

“But you did see what happened, right? I mean, with Pettigrew tryin’ to grab me an’ all? It was awf’ly brave of Neville to grab me out of the way, wasn’t it?”

Snape sighed. He was beginning to have a certain sympathy for Lucius Malfoy’s draconic methods for teaching his son pureblood etiquette. “Yes, I saw what Longbottom did. It was quite… helpful.”

“Are you gonna award him points?” Harry asked, a glint of mischief in his eye. He knew his father’s reputation for not awarding points to non-Slytherin Houses.

“No,” Snape said, cutting off that line of inquiry before it could progress any further. “I am however going to reward you.”

Harry’s excited chatter broke off with a gasp of surprise. “Me? What for?” he asked.

Snape scowled at him. Stupid books, insisting on positive reinforcement. “You followed my instructions, did you not? And resisted any absurd Gryffindorish feats of bravado? You did not attempt to capture Pettigrew yourself nor interfere in any way with the adults in the room.”

Harry nodded, eyes wide. “You told me not to.”

“Quite right.” Snape did not add how surprised he had been at the boy’s obedience. James Potter would never have been able to resist jumping in once the apparent chaos had erupted, nor would that idiot Black. That was why – despite the mutt’s loud protests – only Remus had participated in the plot. Snape had had no faith in Black’s ability to remain on the sidelines and step in only if the plan had failed and Harry was in immediate jeopardy.

“And because you did as you were told, you have earned a reward.” He ignored the incredulous joy breaking over the boy’s face and accio’d a small box. “Here.”

Harry eagerly ripped off the wrapping paper. “Wow!” he yelled. “A whole box of chocolate frogs! Thanks, Da!” He hurled himself at the man, somewhat hampered by the still-active Sticking hex.

“Yes, yes, you’re welcome,” Snape muttered, embarrassed. The brat was acting as if he’d been given some priceless treasure, not just a few sweets. He hastily patted the boy’s shoulder before sitting him up again.

Harry stared at the box of frogs with a mixture of disbelief and delight. He had never before received any kind of present for behaving properly. In his experience, doing as he was told was the only way to avoid a smarting bottom or an angry diatribe. He had never heard of getting rewarded for it!

Harry gulped back happy tears. His da was amazingly nice to him. Not only did he provide him with gifts for no particular reason – like his broomstick – and assign only the lightest of punishments when Harry was bad, but his professor was now also giving him presents just for following orders? How many other kids were lucky enough to get treats for that?

Snape watched as the boy wonderingly stroked the box as if it were some fragile blossom and struggled not to let the pity he felt show on his face. It was all too apparent that the child had received precious few rewards in his life to date. “Your adherence to our plan permitted me to focus my attention on Pettigrew’s capture, rather than on having to protect you from the consequences of any foolish actions,” he told the boy. “I am… pleased… with you.”

Harry looked up at that, a huge smile on his face. “You are?” He felt like his heart would burst out of his chest, he was so happy. His da was pleased with him! He had even said so. There and then, Harry vowed to do whatever he could to get his da to be pleased with him again. This feeling was just too wonderful.

“Mmf.” Snape cleared his throat again. “And your instructions to the snakes were similarly appropriate. They did their work extremely well. Had it not been for their actions, Pettigrew would surely have escaped.”

Harry beamed.

Later Snape would decide that those green eyes had temporarily unhinged him, for he had had no intention of saying the words that next came out of his mouth, but of course once he had, there was no hope of taking them back. “And so you have earned a second treat for yourself. What would you like?”

Harry’s jaw dropped. TWO treats? He was getting TWO? All because he had done what his professor told him to do? This was brilliant. Sure, he’d known that Ron had gotten an extra galleon of pocket money from Uncle Arthur after doing so well on his Transfiguration essay, and Hermione had said that her folks usually rewarded her for good grades with a trip to the bookstore, but he’d never imagined that he might receive similar treatment – especially not when his guardian hadn’t even been entirely convinced that Harry’s identification of Scabbers was correct! It was just that Professor Snape hadn’t been willing to risk the consequences, so he’d argued Moony and Padfoot around and then set up his wicked plan to trap the rat… And then, when it worked out and Harry’s claim had been verified, his professor actually thought Harry deserved more rewards?

Harry was just relieved he’d been right. What if he’d been mistaken, the way Remus and Sirius had thought? All day long, he’d fretted about it. What if he’d just gotten confused over two similar rats? His professor would be furious at all the wasted effort. And if the Headmaster found out – Harry shivered. He’d likely send Harry back to the Dursleys for being such a stupid, troublesome idiot and causing so much uproar.

Even if Professor Dumbledore never learned of the issue, Harry still figured that if Scabbers turned out to be just a rat who bore a striking resemblance to Sirius and Remus’ old classmate, he was going to have a very uncomfortable time of it. His godfather and Remus would probably be too nice to say “We told you so” to Harry, but Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Padfoot, at least, would likely tease Snape about it. And he knew his professor didn’t like to be wrong – let alone have his errors pointed out to him.

Harry had thought his guardian wouldn’t give him an Uncle Vernon-style smacking even for such a well-deserved reason, but he’d been mentally preparing himself for a harsh tongue-lashing about how only dunderheaded little boys jumped to conclusions. He hadn’t really relaxed until the fat man had abruptly appeared on Professor Snape’s desktop.

But while Harry had felt intense relief that he had been correct in his identification, he’d just assumed that it meant he wouldn’t get scolded. He never imagined he’d be rewarded.

“A – a treat?” he echoed incredulously. “An’ I get to choose?”

Snape rolled his eyes, furious with himself. What are you, a Hufflepuff? You already hugged and praised the child! You are going to spoil the brat with such open-ended offers! Merlin only knew what kind of extravagant treat the little brat would now demand! “I said so, did I not?”

He shuddered mentally, imagining what kind of treats Weasley or Malfoy might dream up. Obviously he had to get an answer from Harry before he could consult with the other boys. “Well?”

“C- could we…” Harry trailed off uncertainly, dropping his eyes. Too much! It would be greedy to ask for something like that!

Snape’s temper rose at the boy’s obvious self-censorship. As if he didn’t have better things to do than sit here and wait for the little snot to think up ever more elaborate presents. He already regretted his largesse, and if the brat thought he’d spend the rest of the day trying to coax an answer out of him… “What do you want, Potter?” he demanded harshly. “Speak up!”

Harry jumped in surprise. “Erm… I don’t know,” he stammered, taking the easy way out.

To his surprise, he felt strong fingers under his chin, forcing his eyes up to meet his da’s.

“I will not tolerate falsehoods, young man,” Snape said angrily. “It is quite apparent that you have thought of something. Out with it!”

Harry gulped. He was going to sound so greedy and ungrateful! “Erm, well, I – I just wondered… if it wouldn’t be too much trouble… if you had the time, could we… I mean, it’s okay if we can’t!”

“WHAT?” Snape demanded, his patience at an end.

“Couldwegoforicecreamagain?” Harry blurted, his eyes downcast despite the fingers under his chin. He really didn’t want to see his da’s annoyed expression when he realized how demanding Harry was.

Snape blinked. That was the boy’s request? Another trip to the ice cream parlour? That’s all he wanted? And with him? Didn’t most children of this age want to avoid being seen in public with their parents?

Snape refused to show how touched he was by the boy’s request. “Very well, Potter. You and I will go on an outing to Diagon Alley and enjoy Mr Fortescue’s ice creams again.”

The boy’s shining eyes fastened on his own. “Thank you, Da!” Harry breathed. Merlin, but his da was good to him!

“You may attend tonight’s Farewell Feast, though I understand it will be somewhat muted, given today’s events. Tomorrow, you will take the Hogwarts Express with your friends as they go home for the winter holidays, then I will meet you at the station and take you on the outing before we return to Hogwarts.”

“Thank you!” Harry would have wriggled in delight, except he was still Stuck to the cushions. Now he also got to take the train ride with all his friends!

Snape consoled himself with the thought that he could always pick up some potion ingredients that the stores in Hogsmeade didn’t stock. The brat had demonstrated on their previous trip that he was unusually patient during such errands. “I will expect you to conduct yourself with decorum,” he warned sternly. “Any mischief or hijinks on the train, and I will bring you straight back to spend the rest of the day writing lines.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry acknowledged obediently, but internally he scoffed. As if Jones and the other prefects would allow any mischief on the Express! Besides, Christmas was coming up and their parents awaited them at the station. What student would be foolish enough to risk a report of bad behavior under those circumstances?

“Very well.” Snape gave the suspiciously compliant boy a sharp look, but he couldn’t find a reason to issue more dark threats. He paused. “Are you able to sit properly now?”

“Yes, sir.” Harry held still while his da waved his wand, then wiggled a bit – just enough to confirm that his bum was unStuck. “Erm, Da…”

“Yes?” Snape eyed him forbiddingly. What now? A complaint about being subjected to a Sticking hex?

Harry looked suddenly serious. “Did you know what was going to happen today in class? To Pettigrew, I mean? Did you know he’d end up – like that?”

“You mean dead?”

Harry nodded soberly.

Snape considered. How much to reveal? He wanted the boy to learn to think like a Slytherin – since it was widely acknowledged that Gryffindors didn’t think; they just screamed and leapt – but at the same time, Harry was only eleven. Wasn’t that too early to explain how one went about plotting someone’s death? “What do you think?”

“Well,” Harry said carefully, “I was thinkin’ about what you said before.”

“About…?”

“About how if someone’s comin’ to kill you, you need to wake up early an’ kill them first. And, well, Pettigrew was sort of coming to kill me, right? I mean, when Voldesnort comes back – “ Snape was pained to realize Harry accepted the Dark Lord’s return as a given. He was correct of course, but it still gave the Potion Master a pang to hear the boy speak of it with such resignation “ – then he would’ve done his best to help him kill me, right? ‘Cause they’re still mad that I didn’t die when I was a baby, yeah?”

“I have no doubt but that the Dark Lord continues to seek your death,” Snape said as gently as he could. “And that he will enlist the aid of his followers to achieve that goal.”

Harry nodded. “So you got up early an’ killed Pettigrew before he could kill me,” he said simply.

Snape nodded in confirmation, watching the boy closely.

“This way there’ll be one less person there to help Voldesnort hurt me.” He sighed, looking downcast. “I wish they’d just leave us alone. It’s not like I want to have to fight stupid old Volauvent. I’m just a kid!”

There was a sharp pain in Snape’s chest as he once again grasped Harry’s chin, forcing the boy’s gaze to meet his own. “I will not let anyone harm you!” he said fiercely. “I will take whatever steps are necessary to ensure your safety.”

Harry looked at him, startled. “Oh, I know that, Da. I just hope that next time poor Neville isn’t caught in the middle like that. He was really upset afterwards.”

Snape blinked. He hadn’t actually thought about what the Longbottom boy’s reaction might be to having been labeled the unwitting agent of Pettigrew’s demise. Considering how high-strung he was already, the child might actually require some sort of mind healing. “He was upset?” he echoed, wondering a bit guiltily if he needed to speak with the boy’s grandmother and suggest a visit to St Mungo’s.

“Yeah, he said that if he’d put his potion on Trevor an’ it melted him, he’d’ve felt just awful.”

“Longbottom was concerned about his toad?” Snape repeated stupidly. “Not about Pettigrew?”

Harry looked at him oddly. “Why would he worry about Pettigrew? Don’t you know what happened to Neville’s parents? He hates Death Eaters.”

“Longbottom told you about his parents?” Snape knew he sounded like an idiot, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from restating what Harry had already told him. At the start of the year, Dumbledore had told all the faculty that the Longbottom boy apparently refused to talk about his parents with anyone. His grandmother said he was practically phobic about the subject and broke into tears when it was even indirectly broached. That was why, for all of his many snarky comments to the moron, Snape had been exceedingly careful never to so much as allude to his parents, tempting though it had been to inquire whether Longbottom’s idiocy was genetic.

“Well, yeah. I mean, everyone saw me doin’ my 500 lines about my relatives so they knew they weren’t really nice or anything, and that now I was living with you. An’ Neville told me that he lived with his gran and his great-uncle an’ sometimes he wished he could live somewhere else too. Not that they’re awful like Uncle Vernon, but just that sometimes they don’t really understand what a kid needs, yeah?” Harry added, correctly interpreting the look of concern on his guardian’s face. “So I asked what had happened to his parents, an’ he told me. He really hates Death Eaters, Da. I mean, that’s why he’s got to live with his gran an’ why he doesn’t remember his parents any more than I r’member mine. So when we were talking after class an’ everyone was sayin’ how Pettigrew had been a Death Eater an’ Sirius was innocent and all, Neville said he was really glad that Pettigrew had melted. He was just worried what the potion might’ve done to Trevor if he’d put it on him first.”

Snape blinked again. Oh. Well. That was… good news. “I see. Hm. Well, it is getting close to dinner time. You should be on your way. I want you to drop something off at the Hufflepuff Tower for me on your way to the Great Hall.”

“Okay,” Harry chirped agreeably. He liked doing things for his da.

“Here.” Snape handed the boy a sealed scroll. “Give this to Miss Bones.”

“Susan? Okay.” Harry suddenly gave his guardian a sharp look. “It’s not something bad, right? ‘Cause those ‘Puffs cry really easily.”

Snape smirked. The boy was sounding more and more like him every day. “No. It is something on the order of a Christmas amnesty. I assure you Miss Bones will be very grateful to receive it.”

Earlier that day, the girl had tearfully admitted she had only been able to copy one and a half chapters of her Potions text in the allotted time. Given the length of each chapter, that had been more than Snape had expected. While he had sneered that she would obviously be busy over the holiday, he knew perfectly well that he would have to release her from the punishment – if only to avoid having her aunt emerge from the fireplace like a deranged Father Christmas and hex his arms off.

The scroll that Harry would deliver contained a brief note informing Susan that she had earned an Outstanding on her final exam of the term. That being the case, it was apparent that she had in fact made an acceptable effort to study the material and he was therefore, this one time, going to waive the rest of her punishment assignment. He had also added a postscript to review pages 445-447 on the differences between pickled newts’ eyes and pickled frogs’ eyes.

He had been honest with Harry that Susan would welcome the message, but he had been somewhat disingenuous about the likelihood of tears. Having been introduced to the concept of “happy tears” by Harry, Snape was gloomily certain that Hufflepuffs were likely to engage in such outbursts as well, and he had no intention of being anywhere in the vicinity in case if Susan Bones greeted her reprieve with an outburst of snot and other body fluids.

“Bye, Da. See you after the Feast!” Harry called, making his exit.

Snape watched after him, wondering if the boy was ever going to inquire as to their Christmas plans. He suspected Harry was avoiding the topic lest he be disappointed, as he undoubtedly had been in previous years.

However, Snape was – thanks to the Weasleys’ input – reasonably certain the brat would be pleased. Harry would be staying with him at Hogwarts through Christmas Day – the Weasleys had offered to take him for the entire holiday, but Snape hadn’t been about to allow that. Several weeks with those redheaded menaces would corrupt the boy beyond all hope, requiring Snape to engage in stern remedial measures to restore appropriate behavior patterns. And of course the mutt expected to see the brat as well. Taken together, it meant that Harry would split his time among Hogwarts, the Burrow, and Switzerland.

It had nothing to do with Snape being determined to have the brat to himself on Christmas morning. Alone – ha! As if Albus and the other teachers weren’t likely plotting to crash on his door shortly after dawn just so they too could see Harry’s expression when he saw all his presents under the tree.

Not that he intended to give the boy all of the presents the other faculty members had provided. The ones from Albus alone were numerous enough to allow Harry to set up his own toy store. The brat’s room was already full of unnecessary trinkets. He would allow Harry only a few additional toys – the ones that had clear educational value.

His gifts for the brat, for example, were purely scholastic in nature. It would be scandalous if a Potion Master’s ward did not excel at Potions, and the deluxe brewing kit that he had purchased would ensure that Harry’s technique was flawless. And the Quidditch supplies were merely to safeguard the whelp while he was zipping around the pitch so that Snape didn’t have to waste his time brewing healing potions and Skele-Grow. And the photo album that he had unearthed in the Durselys’ attic after paying a quiet visit to Petunia late one night was only to prevent the boy from whinging about not being able to compete with Draco when the little pureblood boasted about his family. It wasn’t as if he had enjoyed using Legilimens on that horse-faced Muggle… Well, actually, he had. Knowing that she would suffer from blinding headaches for at least the next week had been quite an enticement, once the idea of getting Harry pictures of his grandparents had occurred to him.

But it was plain that all of his gifts to the brat were motivated by necessity, not sentiment. Even the chocolate frogs and Fortescue gift certificates merely gave him treats to withhold from the boy, thereby reinforcing his stern reputation. It wasn’t as if he was going to drop everything and deliver the brat to Diagon Alley whenever he wanted one of those ridiculous sundaes, and the sooner Harry realized that, the better.

No, his presents were clearly designed to teach the boy obedience and respect and to assist with his schoolwork. It was Albus and the mutt and the werewolf, not to mention the other little dunderheads, who would naturally bestow all manner of useless and contraband goodies on him. Snape reminded himself to check all of Harry’s presents before they went under the tree. Given Albus’ (now-thwarted) wish to give the boy an Invisibility Cloak, he had no faith in the others’ ability to discriminate between appropriate and inappropriate gifts, and he’d rather intercept the unacceptable presents before Harry saw them, rather than having to wrest them from the little monster’s greedy grasp after the fact.

Snape sighed. It was bad enough that he had agreed to bring Harry to the Burrow on Boxing Day and to join the family for a festive lunch. Apparently Mr and Mrs Weasley had originally thought to leave their younger boys at the school, then visit Charlie in Romania or seek out some other member of their enormous family, but after the events of the last several months with Ron nearly being Crucio’d by that Ravenclaw, then facing down Voldemort in the Infirmary, they had decided it was better to bring the entire family home for the holidays. Snape snorted. He rather suspected that today’s events – learning that they had unwittingly harbored a dangerous fugitive for a decade – would only make Molly more determined to gather all her chicks beneath her wings.

Besides, it would be helpful for the older two to help their parents reinforce the Burrow’s wards. The present wards had been cast when Pettigrew was already resident in the home, a welcome member of the household. They now needed to be recast, presumably after the Aurors had confirmed that there were no other Death Eaters hiding in their henhouse or masquerading as garden gnomes. Snape suspected that Albus would also be visiting the Burrow to augment the wards – a helpful precaution and one that he was confident would occur before Harry’s visit.

He had reluctantly agreed to leave Harry there until New Year’s Eve. Molly had pooh-poohed all of his concerns about homesickness, misbehavior, and troublemaking potential, finally asking point-blank, “Severus – are you worried more about Harry missing you or you missing Harry?”

Snape had of course dismissed such an absurd comment with the scorn it deserved, but he also decided that perhaps his concerns were a trifle excessive. He had even agreed that the visit with the Weasleys was a good time for Harry to make use of his final gift from Snape. It was a trip for five to “Featherbee’s Flights of Fancy and Broomstick Arena” – an “adventure playground” that Hooch had promised Harry would adore. It had all sorts of flying courses, magical dueling games, and everything else that would overstimulate impressionable pre-teens. Harry would doubtless invite Weasley, Malfoy, Granger, and Longbottom to accompany him, oblivious to the fact that the latter two were hardly the flying fanatics the others were. Despite this, Snape suspected Granger and Longbottom would accept rather than be left out of the (alleged) fun and excitement.

He’d been a little apprehensive when Molly told him that she and Arthur would, with some of the money Dumbledore now regularly deposited into their account, buy tickets for the rest of their brood, so that the entire family could enjoy the outing along with Harry and his friends. Snape had rather dubiously inquired as to how Molly intended to keep order without his own threatening presence, but she had blithely assured him that Bill and Charlie would be there, pointing out that a dragon tamer and curse breaker should be able to handle a few children. He remained unconvinced until she added that Percy would surely invite that lovely new girlfriend of his along as well. Hearing that Davidella Jones would be in attendance, Snape no longer worried that Malfoy, Weasley, and the twins would lead Harry astray with their mischievous tendencies.

Charlie and Bill would have no qualms about walloping Ron or the twins if necessary – or even young Miss Weasley, should she take after her older siblings as Snape rather feared she did. Similarly, Jones would not hesitate to use her Prefect status to rein in Draco, if the pureblood forgot himself to the point of misbehaving in public. That only left Granger and Longbottom, and even Snape’s pessimistic imagination couldn’t imagine either of them causing any trouble. He had Molly’s promise that if Harry acted up, she would contact him immediately, but he tended to lump Potter in with Granger and Longbottom. He might be a “trouble magnet”, but unlike the twins, Potter didn’t actually set out to create mayhem. Snape was reasonably certain that Harry would be too awestruck by both the gift and his surroundings to get into trouble, and so he grudgingly agreed to Molly’s plan.

On New Year’s Eve, he would return to the Burrow and collect the brat, then they would immediately portkey to Switzerland, where they would then spend the next several days celebrating the new year with Black and Lupin. Snape could only shudder at the thought of what outrageous revelries those two had planned, and he had flatly refused allow them to have Harry unsupervised. Of course, much to his irritation that meant that he would be stuck there with them as well. Still, it was better than entrusting Harry to the care of his godfather and then having to deal with the fallout, which could be anything from Black “misplacing” Harry while he chatted up some witch to Harry returning to Hogwarts in a daze induced by fire whiskey and Cornish pixie dust.

Snape growled to himself. The things he did for that brat!

He grumpily drew his robe about himself and prepared to make an appearance at the Farewell Feast. Before he could reach the door, however, there was a soft, tentative knock on it.

“What is it?” he barked, somewhat nonplused to find Percy on his doorstep. What was more, the Gryffindor prefect seemed distraught about something. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his hands shook.

“M-may I speak with you, Professor?” he asked timidly.

“Oh, all right.” Snape ungraciously showed the boy to the couch, wondering what he could be doing here. Surely he hadn’t just broken up with Jones and had come to beg Snape for either his intercession or advice.

“What is it, Mr Weasley?” he snapped as soon as the boy had seated himself.

Percy took a deep breath. “I’m here so you can – can – “ He ground to a halt, his eyes filling with tears.

Oh Merlin, not another one. Snape groaned mentally. “If it is advice that you seek, perhaps you would be more comfortable speaking with your head of House or your father?” he suggested hopefully, trying to forestall an unwanted confidence.

“No,” Percy looked surprised. “I’m here so you can thrash me.”

Snape’s brows drew together. It was one thing to have a reputation as a terrifying instructor. It was quite another to be considered a child abuser. “And why, pray tell, do you imagine I would do such a thing?” he demanded, trying not to show how deeply offended he was.

“Because I nearly got Harry killed. And if you spanked him until he couldn’t sit for riding his broom in the Great Hall, I guess you’ll probably c-cane me for what I did.” Percy looked positively green at the prospect, even as Snape cursed Harry’s overdramatic breakfast scene.

“And how exactly did you place Mr Potter in jeopardy?” Snape pressed, though he had a good idea where this was going. Bloody Gryffindors with their bloody over-developed sense of responsibility!

“I was the one who found Scabbers,” Percy whispered, staring at his tightly clasped hands. “I begged Mum and Dad until they said I could keep him. It was all my fault that he was at the Burrow. And I made a big fuss when I got my Prefect badge, saying I needed a new familiar. That’s why Ronnie got Scabbers. It was all because I thought I was too important to have an old rat anymore. I made my parents hand him down to Ronnie, and that could have gotten my little brother killed. Pettigrew was living in the dorm with them. He could have killed Ronnie or Harry anytime in the last few months.”

Snape felt a headache coming on. “Mr Weasley, you were a mere child when you first encountered Pettigrew. You can hardly blame yourself for not recognizing a disguised animagus.” But looking at the boy’s face, he knew that was untrue. The boy obviously could and did blame himself.

“While you are correct that I am normally highly intolerant of anyone who places Mr Potter in harm’s way, even I cannot find you culpable in this case, Mr Weasley.”

“But who else is there?” Percy burst out, his eyes bright with tears. “There’s no one to blame but me!”

“What about your parents?” Snape cut in. Percy’s jaw dropped.

“My parents?” he echoed blankly.

“Yes, Mr Weasley. Why do you find it peculiar that I would look to the adults in the household, rather than fixing the blame on a young child? Do you imagine your parents are in some way intellectually impaired? That they were unfamiliar with the concept of animagi? That there is nothing negligent in allowing a child to adopt a wild creature without so much as having the animal examined to ensure it is not carrying some disease, let alone be a fugitive Death Eater in disguise?”

Percy goggled at him. “But – but –“

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake.” Snape rose to his feet and stalked over to the fireplace. Snatching a handful of floo powder, he shouted, “The Burrow!” and stuck his head into the flames. “Molly, Arthur. I need you here. Now.”

“No, no – I don’t want to see them!” Percy gabbled, panicked. “They must be furious with me.” He turned to flee, and Snape grabbed him by the back of the robe.

“Oh, no. You stay right there and don’t move,” he ordered the boy, but the Gryffindor ignored him, struggling to reach the door.

That was it. Playing therapist to Gryffindors was not in Snape’s job description, and a hefty smack to the teen’s backside signaled the end of Snape’s patience.

“Ow!” Percy yelped in shock. He spun to face Snape, both hands clutching his bum. Merlin, that HURT. It’s been so long, I’d forgotten what it’s like to get walloped. He noticed the professor’s glare and abruptly realized that his outright defiance had been a very bad idea.

“Sit. Down.” Snape pointed to the sofa.

Percy swallowed hard. “Yes, Uncle Sev. Erm – m-may I please stand? I’d rather not sit just now.”

Snape’s reaction to Percy’s use of the term “Uncle Sev” was happily aborted by Molly and Arthur emerging from the floo. “What is it, Severus? What’s happened now?” Both were understandably wild-eyed, trying to imagine what new catastrophe might have occurred in the few hours since they were informed of the last one.

“Your son,” Snape indicated Percy, who now stood redfaced in front of his couch, “is convinced that Pettigrew’s ability to masquerade as a family pet is entirely his fault. He has convinced himself that you hold him responsible for the danger in which your family has been living.”

Molly gasped. “Percy! No!”

“Is this really true, son?” Arthur asked gently. “Surely you know better.”

Percy stared at the ground. “It was all my fault. I was the one who had a tantrum when you tried to say that a strange rat might not make a good familiar. I was so worried about being the only kid at Hogwarts who wouldn’t have a familiar, I didn’t give you a choice. I made you let me keep him.”

“Oh, Percy!” Molly enfolded the distraught teen into her capacious embrace as if he were a much younger child. “You mustn’t blame yourself! You didn’t make us do anything. We decided to allow you to keep it.”

“But I yelled and screamed and –“

“Well, yes, love, that’s what children do. Don’t you remember when you wanted us to sell Ronnie to the circus so you wouldn’t have to share a room with him anymore? You yelled and screamed and had a big tanty then too, but you didn’t get your way.” Molly patted his cheek gently. “Or the time that –“

“Yes, okay!” Percy said quickly, cutting off further embarrassing recollections. “I remember.”

Arthur grinned. “It’s true you pitched a fit to try to keep the rat, son, but that isn’t what convinced us. We just thought it would be a good idea for you to have a pet. You deserved a treat for helping with the younger children, and it seemed like a harmless reward. If we hadn’t wanted to let you keep Scabbers, no amount of howling would have changed our minds. Surely you haven’t forgotten how most tantrums ended?” he asked, smiling.

Percy rubbed his backside reminiscently. “Yes,” he admitted.

“So you see, love, it wasn’t up to you. It wasn’t your decision or your fault,” Molly pressed.

“Exactly,” Snape drawled. “The fault lies squarely with Pettigrew. Although if you insist upon assigning blame, logic dictates you start with your parents. After all, well before either Ronald or Harry was at risk, you were.”

Now all three were staring at him with varying degrees of surprise. “Me! But why would Pettigrew kill me?” Percy asked.

Snape rolled his eyes. To the Chronicle of Higher Wizarding Education, When faced with naivete that is obviously genetic in origin, and compounded by sorting into a House that apparently equates appearance with reality, is it ever acceptable to throw up one’s hands and declare the student hopeless? Does professionalism require that one continue one’s efforts to encourage the willfully blind to see, or is it permissible to cease efforts before developing an ulcer?

“You are the child of blood traitors who fought against the Dark Lord,” Snape said, speaking slowly and distinctly. “Your maternal uncles were martyred in the war. Neither the Prewitt nor the Weasley family is beloved among Death Eaters. Had Pettigrew murdered you in your bed and then appealed to a known Death Eater, your death would likely have purchased the sanctuary he sought.”

“Aaaaaack, Mum!” Percy squeaked in protest as Molly’s arms reflexively tightened around him.

“Percy,” Arthur spoke urgently to his son (once he had prevented further maternal smothering), “you must see that this is not your fault. You did what any child would do – you adopted a friendly animal as a pet. The Death Eater tricked you, just as he tricked all of us, but you were the most innocent of all.”

Percy sniffled. “Yes, but I was – well – cross with you for bringing Harry into our home. I thought we have enough kids and Harry was just going to put us in danger if You Know Who ever came back.” Snape scowled. “But all that time, I was the one who brought the most danger to Burrow. I blamed Harry, but I was more at fault than he was!”

Arthur sighed. “Son, it’s not fair to blame Harry for being a target any more than it’s fair to hold you accountable for not recognizing Pettigrew for what he was. Both of you are children, caught up in events that are entirely beyond your control. There are things in this world that we can’t control, Percy. Things that don’t follow the rules.”

Percy dragged out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes. “But that’s not fair,” he whined, sounding even younger than Ginny.

Snape ground his teeth together and thanked Merlin that Harry appeared to grasp the essential unfairness of life much better than the average Gryffindor.

“No, it’s not fair,” Arthur agreed. “But it is the way the world is. And that’s why there are times when people of good conscience have to take a stand, even if it does put them at greater risk.” His voice became more firm. “That is why your mother and I chose to welcome Harry into our family. You are not old enough to fully understand our reasoning, but I expect you to trust us to do what is right for the entire family. I don’t want to hear any more of this talk about Harry not belonging with us. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Percy said, a bit shamefaced. “I’m sorry.”

Arthur relented and ruffled his son’s hair. “I know you are. Now – have we made it clear that you’re not to feel at all responsible for Pettigrew?”

Percy managed to extricate himself from Molly’s embrace and stood, squaring his shoulders. “Yes, Dad. Thanks. Thanks, Mum.”

“You’re very welcome,” Molly replied, brushing his hair back from his face and visibly restraining herself from hugging him again. “Do you want to floo back to the Burrow with us now, dear? It sounds like you’ve had a very stressful day. No one will mind if you leave Hogwarts a bit early.” She looked to Snape for confirmation and he shrugged. He certainly wouldn’t care.

Percy blushed. “Erm, well, I – ah – sort of promised to sit with Davidella at the Feast,” he explained awkwardly.

Molly and Arthur exchanged an amused look. “Well, then, you surely don’t want to keep her waiting,” Arthur said, patting his son on the shoulder. “We’ll see you at the station tomorrow.”

The two adult Weasleys turned to the floo. “Thank you, Severus,” Arthur smiled.

“You’re welcome,” Snape said, managing – barely – to keep his tone courteous. Unfortunately, his polite reply to Arthur allowed Molly to grab him, and he was caught in a crushing hug and noisy kiss before he could dodge behind a suitably bulky piece of furniture.

“You are such a good man, Severus Snape!” Molly announced, before following her husband into the floo.

Snape snarled as he fought his robes back into position, then turned a deadly glare on the young Gryffindor who was the cause of all this aggravation.

“Erm, ah, uh…” Percy trailed off in complete confusion.

“Have you disturbed my evening sufficiently, Mr Weasley, or is there another absurd confession you wish to make? Perhaps you are the one responsible for the Great Gringotts’ Robbery of 1673?”

Astonishingly, despite his most snide tone, the redheaded fiend had the temerity to smile. “No, sir. Thank you, sir. I’ll try not to be so foolish in the future.”

“Do not make promises you are unable to keep,” Snape spat, striding to the door and throwing it open with a gesture even a Gryffindor could not mistake.

“Erm, right. Um, well, thanks for everything. Well, everything except the whack,” Percy added cheekily, sounding almost like one of the twins.

Snape gripped the door harder, fighting down the urge to give the newly annoying brat a real smack. “Out.”

Even Percy couldn’t miss the glint in Snape’s eye. “Right.” He hurried out the door, pausing only long enough to call back, “Good night, Uncle Sev!”

“Don’t call me that!” Snape shouted after him, knowing even as he did so that it was futile. The Weasleys were like an infestation of garden gnomes, nearly impossible to dislodge once they had established a foothold.