Harry rolled up another bit of parchment. He placed the quill on the table and massaged his slightly cramped right hand. He thought it had been pretty decent of Snape to let him write his essay standing, but right now, at this late hour, he felt as if his whole body was aching-his legs from the unusual task of standing still for hours, his hand from writing, his head from thinking, and most of all, his backside.

 ‘Erm...sir?' he asked carefully.

Snape looked up from his book and frowned. ‘What is it, Potter?'

‘I've finished my essay, sir.'

His professor looked disapprovingly at two blank pieces of parchment on Harry's table that were obviously still unused.

‘It seems to me that you have written less than I assumed you could have, given your history.'

He looked into Harry's face. ‘I do hope, for your sake, Potter, that you did a good job and I won't have to punish you again, this time for laziness.'

Harry gulped. ‘I've written everything relevant I could think of at the moment, sir.'

Snape smirked. ‘An interesting night's read, no doubt,' he drawled sarcastically.  ‘Dismissed.'

Relieved, Harry headed for the door, awkwardly wished his professor a good night and left.

As they had promised him, Hermione and Ron were waiting for Harry in a corner of the Common Room, as well as, Harry noticed, his heart beating faster...Ginny.

‘Harry! How did it go? What did Snape say? What did he make you do?' Hermione asked him as soon as she saw him.

Harry, as usual, felt a little irritated by Hermione's habit of bombarding him with so many questions at once. Tired as he was, he sat down in his favorite armchair near the fire, emitting an involuntary hiss as his backside made contact.

At least this chair is stuffed, he thought.

‘It went okay, I guess. He made me write an essay about losing my temper.'

Ron glanced at Harry's hands. ‘But it was a normal quill, wasn't it? Nothing like Umbridge's?'

Harry shook his head and went on to tell his friends about the details of his detention. Just as he had expected, Hermione was extremely interested in the charm placed on the school cane.

‘Oh Harry, I'm so glad that you followed my advice!' she said, looking a little pleased with herself.

‘And I'm happy you didn't follow mine,' Ron admittted, looking a little embarassed.

Harry grinned. He felt a strange sort of complacency sitting here together with his best friends, seeing how much they cared about him. The pressure that had been on his chest ever since the moment he cast the curse on Malfoy had now disappeared, and although his punishment was far from over, he knew that at least today he had nothing more to worry about.

‘Snape offered to heal me tomorrow after breakfast,' Harry told his friends.

They stared at him.

‘Well, that's going to be rather an intimate session with Snape, isn't it, with him massaging salve onto your naked arse?' Ron finally said with an expression of utter contempt on his face.

‘Oh, Ron, shut up!  You're tactless as ever,' Ginny spat, and Harry couldn't agree with her more. His naked arse, as Ron put it, was nothing he wanted to be discussed in Ginny's presence.

‘Ginny's right, Ron,' Hermione agreed with a frown before turning her attention to Harry.  ‘So what did you tell him then?' she inquired.

‘I didn't really,' Harry muttered in reply, regretting he had brought up the topic.  Changing the subject he added, ‘I won't be able to play Quidditch on Saturday. Ginny, you'll have to play Seeker again and Dean'll have to be Chaser in your place.'

His insides squirmed at the thought of Ginny and Dean making up and getting back together on that occasion.

Ginny smiled at him. ‘Don't worry, Harry. I feel really sorry for you, you know that, but we'll still flatten the other team!'

He nodded and supressed a yawn. ‘Well, I guess I'm off to bed. Today was sort of exhausting.'

......

‘How do you feel, Harry?' Hermione asked at breakfast.

Harry just shrugged.  ‘Okay I guess.' He couln't help the feeling that Snape's eyes were on him more than usual this morning, but he had avoided eye-contact so far.

‘Listen mate, I'm sorry for what I said yesterday, you know, about going to Snape. You definitely should go to see him,' Ron tried to persuade him.

Ron and Seamus had been shocked when they had seen Harry's backside in the showers. Harry couldn't blame them for it. The wheals had still been very visible, and his whole backside was badly bruised. Harry was sort of satisfied about it as he felt it excused his sobbing from the day before.  He would have felt like a wimp if there hadn't been anything left to see. He was tempted to let Snape see the bruising too; after all, Harry still felt embarrased about losing his composure during his caning.

But he shook his head.

‘No, Ron, it's not that bad. It'll be uncomfortable, but I can manage, and I don't feel like listening to any of Snape's comments. Besides, it's not worse than what every Muggle in my situation would have to deal with, is it? '

After breakfast they headed for their first lesson: Defence Against the Dark Arts with the Slytherins. Harry couldn't help but notice that they all shed him dark looks, except Malfoy who smirked when their eyes met.

‘Care for a soft cushion for your chair, Potter?'

The Slytherins roared with laughter. Before Harry could think of a smart retort Snape entered the room and the class fell silent.

‘Quills out and wands away.'

Was it mere coincidence that Snape was lecturing them about the theory of healing spells? Harry tried to force his face into a neutral expression.

‘What you always have to keep in mind," Snape began, "before you even think about healing, is to assess a situation correctly. If you don't, you can easily do more harm than good.'

His gaze lingered for a moment on Harry who felt himself blush - again! - as he knew Snape was thinking about the charm on the cane. The Professor continued his lecture.

‘Is healing urgent or can you wait for a more qualified healer? Are you dealing with an ordinary wound or a wound caused by Dark magic? How can you tell?'

Harry's thoughts drifted off to a certain bathroom and streams of blood on the floor. He closed his eyes. If Snape hadn't come, what could he have done? He'd never have been able to fetch Madam Pomfrey in time and would probably be sitting in a cell in Askaban right now. Maybe he should thank Snape for his immediate action...

‘Potter!'

His head jumped up and he looked into the furious face of his teacher.

‘Do you find what I have to say on healing spells so boring that you fall asleep in my class?'

‘I didn't ...'

‘Your arrogance is overwhelming, Potter. Ten points from Gryffindor.'

Harry closed his mouth. Any desire he might have felt a moment ago about thanking Profesor Snape had vaporised abruptly. Trying to hide his glare, he looked down at his parchment and busied himself with taking notes, determined not to look up again unless he was forced to do so.

Finally the lesson ended and Harry left in haste.

‘Well,' Hermione said satisfied, as she and Ron caught up with Harry, ‘that really was a very interesting lesson!'

Harry muttered something unintelligible.

‘Come on, Harry,' Ron said bracingly, ‘it's Potions with old Slughorn next. He's always thrilled with your brewing talent. That'll cheer you up.'

Hermione stopped abruptly. ‘But you're not going to use that book any longer, are you, Harry?'

‘Yes, I am!' Harry said defiantly.

‘Harry, I can't believe you still want to take tips from that so-called Half Blood Prince! Besides, you said Snape has seen in your mind where this curse came from. What if he's told Slughorn?'

‘Well,' Harry tried to defend his plan, ‘I only think he's seen it, and as for telling Slughorn, I'll just have to risk it. It would just look stupid now if all of a sudden I couldn't brew a single potion correctly.'

‘But Harry,' Hermione started again, but was interrupted by Ron this time.

‘Leave it, Hermione. Let Harry decide for himself.'

She fell silent, but her lips were so thin that Harry silently thought she could enter into competition with McGonagall.

When they arrived at the potions classroom in the dungeons, Harry tried to dismiss all thoughts of his last stay in this room and prepared his desk, installing his cauldron on a tripod and arranging his scales, cutting board and knife. A repressed groan from Ron caused him to look at his friend who was staring open-mouthed at the door. He turned around and gulped. In the doorframe stood none other than Severus Snape.

All conversations ceased at once.

‘Professor Slughorn is not feeling well at the moment,' Snape said casually as he made his way to the front-desk. ‘He has asked me to teach this class for him today.'

Harry blanched.