Harry was having a hard time at the breakfast table. Everybody around him was excited about the upcoming Quidditch match, and it seemed so cruel to have to walk to the dungeons instead of towards the Quidditch pitch later on.

He glanced towards the teachers' table and met Snape's eyes. He thought he saw a quick smirk and hastily looked away, a lump forming in his throat. Why couldn't Snape have agreed to postpone his detention, he wondered for the umptienth time. He sighed as he answered himself: It was obvious. Snape hated him.

Ron looked at him sympathetically. ‘I'm sorry, mate,' he muttered. ‘I hope that at least your detention won't be too dreadful.'

Harry tried to put on a brave face. ‘Yeah, I hope so, too. But look on the bright side, at least Snape's going to heal me; he promised me that.'

However, when he wished his team good luck for the last time and watched them leave excitedly for the Quidditch pitch before reluctantly directing his steps towards the dungeons, he would have gladly exchanged the chance of being healed for the privilege to join his teammates...or at least to watch the game from the stands.

Upon arriving at Snape's office, he took a deep breath and knocked. When he heard Snape's voice he entered hesitantly and quietly locked the door behind him. But Snape wasn't behind his desk. Allowing his eyes to sway in searching, Harry spotted Snape standing in a corner of the room, taking down some vials from a shelf.

Harry's eyes stayed fixed of their own volition on a jar close to Snape's head. It was filled with a transparent liquid and swimming around inside were things that... looked like eyes. Harry gulped. He didn't even want to know what creature they had been taken from and wondered how anybody could stand looking at that jar for longer than five minutes.

Why can't Snape just close all these creepy things up in a cupboard in his office? he wondered. He really must be mental to like his room like this.

‘If you have finished gawking and making faces, Potter, don't you think a "Good morning, sir" would be appropriate?' Snape's irritated snarl brought him back abruptly to the present. He swallowed.

‘Er, yeah, good morning, sir,' he muttered. ‘Sorry, I was ... erm, distracted.'

‘So I noticed,' Snape drawled sarcastically. ‘I would recommend that you cease being distracted in my presence, otherwise this is going to be a very long detention. Do you understand me?'

‘Yes,' Harry hissed between his teeth Given Snape's attitude, it was going to be a long detention anyway.

‘Yes, what?' Snape asked, his tone dangerously hushed.

‘Yes, sir...' Harry spat, refraining at the last moment from rolling his eyes but unable to control his tone.

Snape frowned at him. ‘I would also recommend to watch your tone with me. Do you want me to heal you?'

Harry stared at him. So Snape wanted to make his healing dependant on how he behaved? No, he decided, he was not going to play along. Either Snape would heal him or he wouldn't, but Harry was not going to beg; neither would he let Snape blackmail him.

‘Yes, I do', he said simply, leaving out the "sir" or a "please" on purpose and waited for Snape's reaction. To his utter surprise, Snape merely said ‘Drop your trousers, then' and accioed the same jar he had used the day before.

Bewildered, Harry, slipped off his robe and did as he was told. He turned around to let Snape treat his backside. He still felt a little awkward about it, though he wasn't nearly as embarrassed as he'd been the day before.

‘So, Potter,' he heard Snape say while he felt cool fingers applying salve, ‘was it worth the risk?'

Harry ground his teeth and didn't answer. He hated Snape for teasing him and was glad the man couldn't see his face.

Snape's fingers stopped moving.

‘Mr Potter, I expect an answer. Was it worth the risk?'

‘Well, it could have worked out!' Harry retorted defiantly.

His professor snorted and Harry felt him continue spreading salve. ‘Yes, it could have, Potter,' he said ironically, ‘if I were a complete idiot.'

Harry knew better than to reply, realizing it would only lead to more embarassment. He heard Snape mutter a healing spell and after the familiar, weird sensation swept over his skin, the pain disappeared.

‘There you are, Potter,' Snape said matter-of-factly. ‘You may get dressed again.'

Harry quickly pulled up and fastened his trousers before turning around. ‘Thank you, sir,' he said quietly, meeting Snape's eyes. The man merely nodded and settled behind his desk.

‘Take a seat, then, Potter.'

Harry hastened to obey, appreciating that for the first time in days he could sit without discomfort and promised himself that it would stay that way. He swallowed when Snape only peered at him. Harry tried to calmly return the stare but found Snape's silence too hard to bear. So he asked the question that had haunted him for the last two days.

‘Sir, when you told Professor Slughorn about the book...how did he react?'

Snape raised his eyebrows. ‘What makes you so certain I told him, Mr Potter?'

Harry stared at him in disbelief. ‘You didn't?'

Snape's face was unreadable as he said ‘Indeed I did not.'

‘But...why?' Harry stammered before he could stop himself.

The man smirked. ‘I suppose I didn't want to miss the fun of watching you struggling in Potions, trying to keep up your fame of natural talent... And besides, it didn't occur to me to ruin your chance of - how did you put it - "displaying your competence with a teacher who is trying to teach you".'

Harry blushed. He had no idea what to say, and he felt an odd mixture of emotions - mostly anger at Snape for being so openly malicious about his future struggle in Potions lessons. But Harry was also relieved that Snape had kept his secret. Snape didn't even seem to expect an answer from him. Instead he placed several vials on the table in front of him and continued speaking.

‘I read your essay, Potter. As I had assumed, it was an interesting read indeed, and I truly believe that you will find these detentions quite necessary. Shall we get started then?'

‘Yes, sir,' Harry muttered.

Snape shoved the taller of the vials towards him. ‘Drink that, Potter.'

Hary stared at him. Years ago, Snape had threatened him with slipping Veritaserum into his Pumpkin Juice, and although he knew that the man had provided Umbridge with fake Veritaserum the year before, drinking an unknown substance given to him by Snape just seemed wrong.

‘Potter,' Snape said in his quiet, dangerous voice, ‘I seem to remember that you concluded your essay with the promise that you would cooperate as well as you could. Am I to believe that following the simple order to drink a potion is above your abilities?'

Harry swallowed and grabbed the bottle, carefully uncorking it.

‘What is it?' he asked.

‘An invention of mine,' Snape answered dryly. Harry wasn't reassured in the least, but he didn't dare refuse any longer. Valiantly, he emptied the vial, trying to ignore the horrible taste. He looked up at Snape, waiting. Harry didn't feel a thing.

Snape opened the desk drawer and took out a bracelet. ‘Give me your arm, Potter.' He put the bracelet around Harry's wrist, and after he gave a flick of his wand the bracelet started to gleam a light green.

‘I borrowed the bracelet from Madam Pomfrey. It measures your pulse. It should be dark green now, but it appears that you already have a slightly quickened pulse. Nervous, Potter?' he smirked.

Harry scowled.

Ignoring this, Snape continued, ‘It will take a few minutes until the potion will begin working,' Snape explained. ‘What it does is simply amplify any emotion you feel. So your task during this detention will be to sustain the bracelet's colour.'

Harry nodded nervously. ‘What's in the other vial...sir?' he asked hesitantly.

‘The antidote,' Snape answered. The effects of the other potion will wear off after a while on its own, but given your temper I thought it wise to have something here just in case. ' He looked at Harry and sneered. ‘You should know, Potter, I would not be as kind as the headmaster should you start vandalizing my office.'

Harry blushed. He was still ashamed about last year's behaviour; he should have known that Snape would use each and every piece of information he had given him in the essay just to torment him. Bastard! he thought, and his heart started hammering.

‘Oh, I see we're getting started...' Snape remarked as he looked at Harry's bracelet, which had turned completely yellow. ‘Control yourself, Potter. Let it turn green again.'

Harry became even more furious. Snape was acting exactly as he had during their Occlumency lessons; he wasn't teaching him at all!

‘Would you mind telling me how am I supposed to do that?' Harry nearly shouted. The bracelet turned orange.

‘Concentrate, Potter. First on your breathing, breathe regularly.'

Harry tried to do it. Breathe regularly, in - out - in - out.... he told himself and couldn't help remembering that the last time he had concentrated on his breathing had been while he was bent over a desk trying to take Snape's vicious strokes as stoically as he could. This association didn't exactly help to calm him down.

‘You're not doing it, Potter. I'd rather not know what you are thinking about, but it's something apart from breathing and you will ban the thought from your mind now.'

It's easy for you to say...you haven't been walloped like that. I'd like to see you ban the thought of getting the cane, Harry thought, glancing at his bracelet. The shade of orange had intensified.

‘Close your eyes Potter. Take a deep breath and try to feel the air going through your body. Then exhale slowly.'

Startled into obedience by Snape's unusual calm tone, Harry did as he was told. When Snape finally told him to open his eyes ageain, he saw that the bracelet had at least faded back to yellow.

‘Well, that's a start. Now concentrate on your heartbeat. Place your hand on your heart, feel your pulse and try to slow it down a little,' Snape ordered.

‘But how..?'

Snpae rolled his eyes. ‘ You do call yourself a wizard, Potter, do you not?. If you concentrate you will have more control over your body than the average muggle.'

Harry clenched his teeth to supress an angry retort. He knew he should be used to Snape's attitude by now, but he figured that it must have been the potion that turned a slight indignant sensation into outright anger. His heart started hammering again and he watched as the bracelet turned orange once more.

Determined to show Snape he could do it, Harry closed his eyes in order to ward off all distractions and placed his right hand over his heart, feeling the quick beats against his palm. He concentrated on his breathing once more, exhaling every fourth beat. Concentrating on the synchronous action of his lungs and his heart, he tried to slightly delay his breathing. Harry was so absorbed in what he was doing that he was startled when Snape spoke after a while.

‘There you go. You can open your eyes.'

When Harry did, he noticed that his bracelet had turned green, but he didn't really need to look; his whole body felt relaxed and calm.Triumphantly, Harry looked up at Snape.

‘That certainly was a start,' the man said coolly. ‘However, in real life you will not always have a peaceful amount of time to force yourself to concentrate; instead, you'll have to control your emotions among whatever you are doing. So come along.' He pointed to a table in the corner of the room, which, Harry noticed in horror, had a cauldron, a cutting board and a dagger lying on top. ‘You will help me brew while you continue practising.'

Harry stared at him open-mouthed. Brewing a potion in Potions class with Snape hovering over him was horrible enough, and now he had to do it alone with that man. Even worse, he was still feeling the effects of that awful potion...and the bracelet made him nervous! This was a nightmare.

Snape smirked as he glanced at Harry's bracelet. It was throbbing with a red glow. ‘I see you are truly excited about the possibility of working alongside me, Potter,' he remarked.

The bracelet's shade of red intensified. Harry closed his eyes and tried to calm down again. When he had finally managed it, he stiffly walked over to the other table.

The brewing turned out to be just as horrible as Harry had imagined. Snape kept criticising what he was doing, all the time making cutting remarks about what was expected of a NEWT student. Harry found it increasingly difficult just to get the bracelet to turn yellow for even short intervals of time. Mostly it alternated between orange and red.

He also found that he hardly had a chance to concentrate on his heartbeat, not with his anger toward Snape growing by the minute. Harry was having a hard enough time biting his tongue. He wondered if Snape would punish him for disrespect. There was no way he could be made responsible for anything he said while drugged, could he? Either way, Harry was determined not to risk it.

At one o'clock Snape finally sighed.

‘I think that will do.' He picked up the smaller vial. ‘Drink this, Potter.'

Harry emptied the vial in haste, smiling crookedly in relief as the tension and coiled emotion slowly left his body. He yanked off the bracelet and then peered into the cauldron.

‘It's the potion I drank, isn't it?' he asked.

Snape inclined his head. ‘It is, and I am rather certain we will need quite a lot of it.'

Harry inwardly groaned, wondering how many detentions like this he would be able to bear. Then he had an idea.

‘Professor?' he asked hesitantly. ‘I was wondering...could I take some of the potion with me? So I can practise until next week?'

Snape raised his eyebrows. ‘You want to practise, Potter? I find that hard to believe.'

Harry shuffled his feet. ‘Well, you said it was my responsibility how many detentions I get. So if I have the chance, I'd rather practise a bit on my own, or maybe with Hermione...' he muttered.

There was an awkward silence as his teacher ogled him suspiciously.

‘I suppose you know what I would do with you if you use the potion for anything else but your own practise, like slipping it into someone's drink, perhaps?'

Harry swallowed hard, clenching his teeth against the defensiveness that had instantly risen in his chest. But figuring his bum was more important than his pride, he finally nodded. After all, another reason for wanting to get his detentions out of the way as quickly as possible was to avoid the extra disciplinary authority Snape had over him at the moment.

‘All right,' Snape said slowly. ‘Ask Miss Granger if she will agree to help you. If she does, she is to come to me in the afternoon. I will give her the potions and teach her the bracelet's activation spell as well as whatever else she will need to know. You must never practise alone, Potter-"

‘I won't...'

‘And as I don't yet trust your obedience,' Snape continued, ‘Miss Granger will keep the potions. I have the faint hope that she at least will have enough sense to understand that it will be her task to prevent you from having a heart-attack.'

Harry couldn't help feeling offended by Snape's continuous distrust and had to struggle hard to refrain from giving an angry retort.

‘Yes, sir', he merely answered, feeling impatient now. The Quidditch match was probably already over, but maybe...just maybe if he made a quick run to the stands... ‘May I leave, then?'

Snape smirked. ‘Why the hurry, Potter? Are you that eager to console your defeated team that you let down?'

Harry heard the blood pounding in his ears. ‘They won't be defeated; they're a great team, even without me!' he spat at Snape. ‘We had a great practise session yesterday, and anyway, it wasn't my decision not to play today ... it was yours.'

‘Watch your tone, Potter,' Snape said sharply, but then he continued more calmly, ‘No, it wasn't your decision not to play, but it was still your fault, was it not?'

It wasn't a question.

Harry stared at his feet. ‘You know it was,' he admitted reluctantly and forced himself to meet Snape's eyes again.

The professor nodded. ‘And so do you. Dismissed, Potter'.