After his meeting with Snape, Harry went to dinner. He stopped in the doorway of the Great Hall as many in the room turned toward him with amused smiles. Those who weren't looking at him were looking at Marcus Flint – either that or a statue that looked remarkably like him. Nobody's ever going to mess with me again. Harry finally realized with a grin. Ever. Someone must have caught Flint and somehow stuck him the way he was: in a classic flirtatious pin-up pose, hands perpendicular to the body and one knee up. He was dressed in the muggle-style black slacks and shirt that he normally wore on weekends, but sported bright red lipstick and a matching baret. The only thing that belied the look was the murderous expression on the older boy's face. Harry smiled mockingly at Flint, for the first time truly happy that Snape had started this game. Seeing Flint like this after what he'd done to Harry was wonderfully gratifying. I wonder which side did this? It's too clever for most of the Lions...but too open for us. Maybe Ravenclaw?? Didn't they have some points on the board earlier?

Finally Harry went to sit with Blaise. Theo was there, too, and had apparently forgiven him for hitting Blaise, as he smiled when he saw Harry. I don't think that kid's capable of holding a grudge. I hope Ron and Hermione'll be as forgiving. Dinner was apparently roast beef with potatoes, and Harry ate happily.

“Not bad, huh?” Commented Theo, gesturing towards Flint.

“Not bad at all.” Harry had to agree. He caught himself looking up at the head table for Snape a moment later. Before he could look down, though, Snape caught his eyes and gave him a nod. I wasn't looking at you. Harry thought, pretending to look at the other teachers. In the process he noticed that Dumbledore was being particularly unobservant, as were the other professors. Seemingly taking their cue from Dumbledore, none of them moved to rescue Flint from his humiliating predicament until halfway through the meal.

On his way back to the dorm that evening, he realized that it was only 7:00 - he had the entire evening – indeed the entire weekend – to himself. His detentions were finally over, and it felt wonderful. I'm free. Harry thought. Now to stay that way. He checked the scoreboard on his way into the dorm and saw that the prank that evening had gone down with rare cooperation between the Snakes and Lions – both Slytherin and Gryffindor houses were up fifteen points. Ravenclaw was up five points from before, as well. I wonder what that was. Then again- Penelope Clearwater was known for her skill with makeup, according to Hermione. Well, her exact words had been 'the only things she's good at are hair and makeup,' but still... maybe that's where the points came from. After all, the Snakes and Lions who got points for the prank were all boys – and Flint's lipstick didn't look like it had been done by a guy. Woah. THREE houses cooperating. So much for catching trouble by making friends with Gryffindors..

Once in the dorm, Harry set up in the common room with his book-bag, getting ready to write the damned essay Snape had assigned for his bad History of Magic grade. Free evening and I'm going to do Snape's stupid essay? But he couldn't think of anything else to do, and he did have a lot of work...because of Snape.He reminded himself again. It was also, just his luck, rainy and cold out. He started throwing stuff around his book-bag bad-temperedly, looking for his History text, until he finally gave up on the main pocket and opened the smaller one. Where is that fucking- oh. He slowed down and gently pulled out the three books Snape had loaned him. Better idea. Much better idea. He packed up everything other than The Taming of the Shrew and left it in his dorm. Since none of his friends were in the Slytherin dormitory, he left and went to hang out in the Gryffindor common room. Soon enough stood in front of Fat Lady as the overly dignified woman looked down at him and demanded.

“Password.” Harry just looked at her imploringly.

“Err...can I come in?”

The Fat Lady was used to him, but still wasn't allowed to let him in without the password.

“No.”

“Is Hermione or Ron there?”

The lady softened just a little. “Yes.”

“Can I knock?” Harry asked tentatively.

“Yes...” She answered with exaggerated patience.

Harry knocked gently on the door next to the portrait.

“Come on now,” the portrait commented impatiently. “You've got to knock harder than that!”

Emboldened a bit by her words, Harry knocked firmly.

“There you go. Mr. Weasley is coming.”

“Thanks.” Harry said shyly, feeling stupid.

The portrait opened before Ron reached the door, and Harry went inside.

“Oh, it's you.” Ron sounded distinctly unfriendly, and Harry suddenly remembered the other boy's anger from the day before.

“Expecting someone else?”

“Hoping.” Said Ron shortly. Harry felt a lump in his chest, but kept his face blank, walking proudly past Ron to sit by Hermione and Blaise.

“What are you doing here?” He asked Blaise conversationally, trying to sound normal.

“Hermione and I are Potions partners, remember? We're working on the project together.” Snape had given them each a potion ingredient to research and present in pairs.

“Now?” Harry asked, ignoring Ron as best he could. “It's Friday evening!” This time Hermione scowled at him.

“It wouldn't do you any harm to do some work on a Friday, either, Harry. Weren't you just complaining about how much work you have to do this weekend?”

“Yeah,” Harry admitted, “but I've got something better to do.” He waved the paperback in his hand.

“A muggle book?” Asked Hermione, sounding excited. “Which one?”

Harry showed off happily, and even Ron was curious enough to listen in to the conversation.

“You're reading Shakespeare?” Hermione asked incredulously.

“Sure.” Said Harry. “Why not? I mean, the language is kinda funny...” Hermione seemed inordinately pleased about something that Harry couldn't fathom, but seemingly decided to drop it.

“Where'd you get it?” Asked Blaise. “You didn't come with it, did you?” Of course he noticed I didn't come with anything that wasn't on the damned list. He notices everything.

“No.” Harry answered, feeling a bit embarrassed, for some reason. “Snape lent it to me.”

Blaise just gave him a knowing look, but Hermione spoke up. “See? We told you he couldn't be all bad, the way he's been looking out for you.”

“Hmm. He also washed my mouth out and assigned me a three-foot essay for my bad grade in History of Magic.”

“He washed out your mouth for getting a bad grade?” Ron finally asked.

“No, he washed out my mouth for saying- for my language.” He noticed Blaise's questioning gaze and met his eyes squarely, refusing to feel any shame. It's not quite a lie, anyway.

Apparently Blaise decided to let it slide, as he quit the staring contest to say, “My father did that once.”

Harry gritted his teeth. I just wanted to read with some company. “He's not my father.”

“He is your Head of House. He's got that right just for that.” Put in Hermione. “The normal Head-of-House relationship allows for all sorts of discipline. The only reason out Heads of House don't do more is because Dumbledore won't allow it.”

And he'll allow it in my case. Great. Charming guy, this Dumbledore. Aunt Petunia hasn't even talked to him, so why does he have it in for me? I've barely even met the man. Whatever. He's an adult, of course he has it in for me. Except that...maybe not everybody did. The meeting earlier had been almost...pleasant...at times. When the Git wasn't assigning work, washing out your mouth, or demanding that you repeat stupid phrases, you mean. Why was the man so damned insistent that Harry say he wasn't a freak, didn't have bad blood, didn't deserve to get hit? The man had the most weird, random rules!

“And if I won't allow Dumbledore to rule me?” Harry demanded.

Finally Hermione couldn't contain herself. “Harry, why do you hate adults so much?” Harry whipped around to glare fiercely at Blaise, who shook his head at him. Meanwhile Hermione watched in confusion at his violent reaction to her question. Finally Harry subsided and looked back at her without answering.

“Well?”

“Better to ask them why they hate me so damned much.”

“They don't-”

Harry's temper snapped. “Don't they? Oh, wait, you're right, Hermione, Sinestra just loves me. So do Sprout, Quirrell and Flitwick!” He said sarcastically before he heard his own voice turn nasty in his anger. “Would you STOP being a bloody know-it-all for one second and look at what's in front of your nose?”

“No need to take it out of her!” Exclaimed Ron.

Hermione looked on the verge of tears, but she kept at him. “But you hated adults before they came around; you were rude to them, first-”

“Drop it, Hermione.” Demanded Blaise sharply, watching Harry, who had turned pale.

“Don't you just tell her to shut up!” Ron shouted furiously.

Blaise fought to remain calm. “Fine. Sorry. But would the two of you get off Harry's back, please?”

“Why are you defending him? He bloody hit you, now he's made Hermione cry. And here I thought you Snakes might be worth something. A bunch of Death-Eaters in training, the lot of you!”

Blaise opened his mouth to reply, but Harry didn't hear what he said as he was already on top of Ron on the floor.

“Take it back, you asshole. Take it back!” He put a fist in Ron's eye, but Ron was just as enthusiastically pounding on Harry, and had rough-housed and fought plenty with his older brothers. Soon enough, Harry's nose and lip were both bleeding. Then Ron's lip was bleeding, too, and Harry had a black eye of his own. He never quite regained the upper hand and found himself relieved when Ron inexplicably stopped hitting him.

Confused when Ron's weight left his chest entirely, Harry looked up into the eyes of a livid Professor McGonagall. She had the redhead by the ear, but released him when she met Harry's eyes. He tried hard to ignore his mounting terror as she charged towards him and reached down. Just before her hand reached his ear he gave up on being brave and scooted away from her as rapidly as he could. Harry watched as she breathed out and her face softened, and allowed her to approach, more slowly this time. Her grip on his ear was nevertheless painfully tight when she dragged the two of them through several corridors and down the stairs into her office. Harry just prayed the whole way that they wouldn't run into Professor Snape. Either God was merciful or Harry was just lucky that day, because they didn't encounter anyone on the way.

Once in her office, Ron and Harry sat side-by-side in front of the professors desk, feeling very sorry for themselves under her harsh stare.

“An explanation, if you please.”

Harry looked over at Ron and their eyes met, each imploring the other to speak.

“Mr. Weasley, speak.”

“Well, uh...Harry and I, we-” He seemed to lose courage under McGonagall's gaze, so Harry tried.

“We had a row, that's all.”

“Well I gathered that much.” She answered. “Can you give me good reason why you came to blows?”

Neither boy knew what to answer.

“I didn't think so.” She let the silence drag out for a bit as Harry avoided her gaze and Ron rubbed the side of his sneaker on his chair. Finally Ron spoke up.

“What are you going to do?”

“I am not going to do anything, Mr. Weasley. You, on the other hand, are going to fire-call your parents and tell them what happened.”

Harry watched as Ron swallowed his saliva, feeling a bit smug. Please do call the Dursleys. Their reaction to a head showing up in their fireplace should be fantastic to watch. Then McGonagall looked at Harry and her expression got even tighter.

“Don't look so pleased, Harry. As you are not a member of my house, I don't have to make the decision to call your relatives. As such, you get to tell Professor Snape.” Suddenly Harry didn't feel so well off.

Without another word, McGonagall turned to the fireplace in her office and threw down some floo powder, exclaiming, “The Burrow!”

She then knelt down to speak to somebody on the other side, and both boys could hear clearly as a feminine voice asked what was going on. Ron turned almost green as he recognized his mothers voice.

“Yes, I apologize for interrupting your evening, Molly, but I have your youngest son here.”

“Do you? And why is that?” Mrs. Weasley seemed to understand that it was not a mere social call right away.

“Why don't I have him tell you?” She turned back to the two boys. “Mr. Weasley?”

Ron knelt down beside her, looking sick. “Mum?”

“Ronald? McGonagall says you have something to say to me.”

“Errrm...yeah.”

Mrs. Weasley sounded impatient. “Well?”

“Well I...I got in a fight with Harry, Mum.”

A brief silence, then - “What sort of fight?”

Ron gulped. “Like- like with fists.” He finally whispered.

After a long, awful, silence, Mrs. Weasley turned towards McGonagall and asked courteously. “May I borrow my son for the evening, Minerva?”

“Of course. Do you wish to take him for the weekend, or should I expect him back tomorrow morning?”

“I think a weekend at home might do him a lot of good, thank you, Minerva.” She turned towards Ron. “Come, Ronald.” Her head disappeared from the flames and Ron approached closer.

Harry suddenly felt really, really, bad for Ron. Then the other boy went through the floo, and suddenly Harry was alone with McGonagall and had no more energy to worry about him. With Ron gone, McGonagall gave Harry her full attention, and suddenly her gaze shifted from angry to just very disappointed.

“Not a good few days, Mr. Potter.” She said severely.

That's got to be the understatement of the century. Thought Harry, remembering the number of teachers and friends angry with him. In fact, the person who seemed the most pleased with him at the moment had to be Snape, despite all. He'd been happy with Harry's potion, and with the little game Harry had devised with the car. It had been nice, that the man liked something Harry did; that he was pleased with him. Suddenly it seemed enormously important that he stay that way. Bad enough that McGonagall's mad.

“I'm sorry.” Harry said sadly. Why do I have to keep doing stupid shit? “Please don't tell Snape.” But McGonagall was unyielding.

“I had no intention. You will tell him.” She reminded him.

Somehow that was infinitely worse. “Please.”

“I did not go to Professor Snape when you were rude in class to me this morning, but this is the second time today that your behavior has disappointed me. This is more than a 'bad mood.' Fighting, Harry? And now you want me to do you a favor?”

Harry turned away from her as a tear trickled down his face. His subsequent thought didn't make him feel any better. Weakling. She hasn't touched you and you're crying. Crying doesn't help. He suddenly remembered Malfoy saying that he 'just didn't want Snape to be mad at him', and wondering why. Is this why? McGonagall's anger felt horrible.

He shook his head, hoping to dispel the tears before he had to look up again. This is weakness. Stupid Freak, pull yourself together. He kept more tears back by force of will and looked up at McGonagall again, clenching his teeth and lifting his chin proudly. “Fine.”

Oddly enough, McGonagall didn't get any more angry at his abrupt response. She just sighed. “Come on, then.”

Snape called “Enter,” at McGonagall's knock, and she opened the door.

“Sorry to disturb you, Severus. Are you interruptable at the moment?”

“Yes, I am. How can I help you?” Severus asked, looking down at Harry's bruised face. Somebody had hit the boy. Who dared- Then he looked at Harry, and realized that the boy was covering anxiety. HE at least thought he was in trouble. Why does he think he's in trouble? Then he almost snorted. Because he is, of course. Minerva wouldn't have brought him here if he weren't. He raised his eyebrows and, sure enough, the boy flushed a little.

Harry was bizarrely tempted to hide behind McGonagall, but instead lifted his chin and met the man's dark gaze unflinchingly.

“Harry has something to tell you.” This time, she did not stay by to be sure the proper information got passed on. She just gave Harry a sober look and left as Harry gazed after her, feeling abandoned.

“Come in.” Severus said neutrally without moving from his desk. Harry came in and stood in front of him as if he'd arrived for detention.

Severus frowned at the boy's silence. “So? Speak.”

Harry tried not to remember the man's fury after his fight with Malfoy as he fought to get enough moisture in his mouth to speak. Being asked to fess up to something that Snape didn't already know about made his insides squirm around horribly. He quelled his anxiety as best he could and spoke. “I f-fought with Ron.”

Severus stilled, and closed his eyes, trying and failing to throttle down his temper. Not AGAIN. Without opening his eyes, he pointed into the corner.

“Go!” He demanded forcefully. Give me a chance to cool down.

“But-” Usually the man talked more, first, gave him some chance to explain. Not that I really could. He realized.

“Do as I say!” Snape said harshly, raising his voice. I need. A chance. To cool. Down. Harry finally did as he was told, but found he couldn't turn his back on Snape. He raised his chin defiantly. No way am I turning my back on you now, asshole.

Severus opened his eyes again and saw Harry watching him. He spoke slowly as he felt his anger surge.

“Turn. Around.”

Harry shook his head.

“NOW!”

Harry shook his head harder, starting to tremble. Oh God, he's going to kill me. Not scared, not scared, not scared... He wanted to turn but couldn't even picture it without feeling sick. “No.”

He defies me NOW? Severus got up from his desk without warning and advanced on the boy. Not a chance. If he won't turn I'll turn him. Fed up, he failed to notice as the Harry's eyes got wide; as the boy pressed himself into the corner away from him. He didn't notice anything until he reached out rapidly to grab the boy's shoulder and the boy ducked, curled up, and covered his head with his arms. Finally, then, Severus stopped, and saw, and heard. “Please, I'm sorry. I know I'm a freak. I'll be good. I'll try. Just don't. Please, I'm sorry...” The boy paused for a minute, as if listening, then went on. “Okay, okay.”

Severus just watched for a moment in horror as Harry turned away from him and lifted his shirt to bear his back before putting his palms flat on the floor in front of him, trembling like a leaf. “No freaky stuff, see? No blocking. Hands on the floor.”

Severus stumbled back from the boy in horror, before finally remembering to douse him with water and try to wake him up. This time, though, he was too close. When the boy came to himself he turned around, saw Severus, and pressed back into the corner. Meanwhile Severus was shoved back and to the floor as the desk moved between the two of them. In a flash Harry was underneath it.

And I thought he was scared of me BEFORE. Severus thought from the floor.

Sure, Severus. Attack an abused kid. Brilliant idea. Way to be gentle and patient. Way to stay calm and use your intellect. Damnit, you know better than that. He'd let his emotions control him, and now – I've acted like a drunken fool. How am I going to fix this? Snape sat down heavily in his chair. Time. The boy needs time, so do I. A little less adrenaline will help. You're a spy. Be patient; watch.

And so Severus waited for fifteen grueling minutes before trying anything, trying to gather his thoughts and find a way to repair the damage. He had to fight down the self-recrimination in order to simply think. He's hiding under my bloody desk. From me. How in Merlin's name is he supposed to believe that I wasn't going to hit him? How am I supposed to develop a relationship with the boy when all he ever sees is me losing my temper and frightening him?

Finally the fifteen minutes were up, and Severus couldn't wait any longer.

“Harry? Harry I'm sorry. I wasn't going to hit you.” No response. Be realistic, Severus. There's no way he's getting out from under there for your sake. Abruptly Severus realized that he had no idea what to do, other than to maybe find somebody else who would. I can't fix this on my own. The boy never trusted me much in the first place, and now I've broken even that. Who does the boy trust? Minerva, maybe. Oh, Merlin she'll kill me. Severus' gut clenched. As well she should. Decision made, Severus flooed the deputy headmistress' office.

“Severus?” She seemed startled.

“Yes I – I need you over here, please.”

Apparently hearing something in Severus' tone, Minerva came through the floo quickly, and looked around the room.

“What happened to your office? Where is Harry?”

Severus closed his eyes. “He is under the desk.”

Minerva's eyes flashed before she turned her back on Severus to go to Harry.

“Harry?”

“Leave me alone.”

“Are you sure? It cannot be comfortable down there.”

“Back off.”

“All right. I'll be back in fifteen minutes.”

Minerva turned and motioned Severus out into the hallway. Once there, she turned towards him in horror and fury. “What did you do to him? I left half an hour ago and he was fine!”

“I lost my temper.”

“Clearly. Well done.”

“You think I'm proud of this? I made a mistake.”

Minerva ignored him. “He asked me not to tell you and I refused him because I trusted you to deal with him. Now what is he supposed to think?”

“That you delivered him to a monster. And he'd be right. I know, Minerva. I'll get Albus to find a different mentor for Harry, but not now.”

Minerva slapped him hard, and he gaped at her in shock as she only got angrier. “Don't you dare make those excuses to me. You are not a monster. You are a damn good man, and you will not shirk your responsibility. 'Find a different mentor': I've never heard such folly. I know you care for that boy and you will not abandon him out of some ridiculous idea that you are somehow unfit. You screwed up and you will fix this. ”

“I'll make the attempt but what would you have me do, woman, haul him out? What would that accomplish?”

“You lay a hand on that boy now and I'll hex you into next week.”

Severus shouted at her. “I had no intention! Honestly, woman, do you think me that stupid?”

“I didn't. That was before I gave a child into your care and you scared him into hiding underneath your desk!”

“I am not who is important, here! Would you stop screaming at me and do something to actually help HARRY?”

“The boy is fine where he is, for the moment. You on the other hand had better get off your damned high horse and fix this.”

Finally he gave up on all pride. “I don't know what to do! Do you think I called you over so that you could tear strips out of me? You can get to that later, but would you please help me?”

Minerva met his eyes and calmed. “I will help you. But you're not going anywhere, do you hear me? He is in your care. He needs you, and you will not abandon him now.”

Severus swallowed. Albus had said the same thing. He needs me? How can I do anything for him when I keep screwing up like this? But he understood Minerva. He could not give the boy up now. “Yes. Very well. Just help, please.”

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

“Harry? Harry I'm sorry. I wasn't going to hit you.”

Harry heard the Potions Master call, but decided not to answer. The fifteen minutes were plenty of time for him to go from frightened to angry. Sure you weren't. You bastard. You want me to come out now? I told you I wouldn't come to you just to get hit. The man didn't sound angry anymore, but Harry wasn't going to just walk out with open arms, either. You want me out, you'll have to haul me out. We'll see how 'sorry' you really are, then. Bloody hypocrite, angry at me for hitting Ron and you go and try to hit me. Somehow it hurt. Snape had said he wouldn't hit Harry...not that way, anyway. Harry hadn't quite believed it, but he'd wanted to. Which was stupid. You've learned that lesson before. Stop bloody trying. You can't trust what adults say, idiot.

But then Snape did something odd – he called Professor McGonagall. Didn't he say that she'd kill him if he hurt me? Why would he want her here, then? Unless he was lying when he said that, too? He hadn't sounded like he was lying-

“Harry?”

“Leave me alone.” No way I'm coming out now.

“Are you sure? It cannot be comfortable down there.”

“Back off.”

“All right. I'll be back in fifteen minutes.”

She and Severus left, and sure enough, within ten seconds of coming through the floo McGonagall was angry enough to spit, and Harry listened in fascination as she shouted at the man, and even slapped him. And Snape's responses-
It was unreal. He sounds like what I felt like after hurting Kallie. But he didn't even hurt me...

If he felt this bad about just scaring Harry then maybe – maybe he was telling the truth? He really won't hit me? Harry hadn't hit Kallie, either; just hurt her. If Snape was the same, then maybe Snape would also feel as bad if he hit Harry as Harry would feel if he hit Kallie. That doesn't mean he wouldn't do it, though. You hit Blaise, and Ron, even though you didn't want to. A voice reminded him. You've lost your temper and hit people; he could, too.

But Harry hadn't meant to hit Blaise or Ron. Maybe...maybe the man didn't mean it. Didn't mean to scare him, and wouldn't mean to hurt him, either. It would be...a mistake. Like the man had said earlier. Like when Harry had hit Ron and Blaise. That was different, somehow. Maybe he'll still hurt me, but...maybe he is trying not to?

Harry started to creep forward, out from under the desk towards the corner, then to the edge of the desk to peer around and watch the two adults through the partially opened door. Professor McGonagall had slapped Snape; almost as furious as Snape had been at Argus Filch that time, and Snape hadn't done anything about it, just took it. He'd called himself a monster. It was just like Harry had felt when he'd hurt Kallie. He'd almost wanted someone to hit him, then, and...he'd desperately wanted forgiveness. Unwilling to come all the way out just yet, Harry crept forward a bit more until Snape saw him.

“Harry.” The man breathed. Harry stood up, trembling, and met Snape's eyes cautiously. What he saw there gave him a measure of confidence, and he spoke bluntly. “You were going to hit me.”

Snape flushed. “No. I lost my temper but I swear I would never hit you like that. I was just going to turn you around. That excuses nothing - I should never have touched you in anger - but please believe me when I say that even then I would not have hit you...”

Snape and McGonagall reentered the office slowly as Snape was speaking, and Harry backed back into his corner, not quite ready to let them approach. He just watched silently as the man talked, trying to figure him out. Snape was easily the weirdest adult he'd ever met. The only thing consistent about him, so far, had been his dignity – even when apologizing- and now to see him so – embarrassed – was disconcerting in the extreme. What happens now? Then Snape met Harry's eyes again, and Harry could see his remorse. Oh. Now he apologizes again. Strange.

Severus watched the boy's body language and relaxed a little. The boy was trembling a bit, and clearly didn't want the adults too close to him, but he was neither acting overtly angry nor preparing to run. He's okay. How is he okay? He hid from me...why did he come out?

“Harry, it was not my intention to hurt or scare you-”

Harry raised his chin, and Snape smiled the tiniest bit. “That's right. You were not frightened. My mistake.” Then the man's face sobered again, and he spoke somewhat stiffly. “I apologize. Will you forgive me?” Yeah right, Severus. He thinks you were going to hit him. Why should he forgive you? Besides, he doesn't care enough about you to feel betrayed. You only did what he expected.

Harry nodded slowly, and Snape's eyes widened in surprise as he said disbelievingly, “Thank you.”

Harry smiled a little, mischievously. Ah, sweet revenge. For once I've stumped him. Now to really confuse him.

“No problem.” Not that I'm all of a sudden going to be gracious and polite all the time. He looked over at McGonagall and realized that she knew exactly what he was doing as the side of her mouth gave a tiny twitch. Snape apparently noticed, too, as his eyes narrowed at both of them and he suddenly returned to a more normal demeanor.

“Good. I suspect that Professor McGonagall has some things she wishes to say to me. You are dismissed for now.”

Harry nodded and turned to leave, skirting the wall to leave room between himself and the two adults as he did. Snape stopped him as he reached to door.

“Harry?”

“Yes?”

“You will go to Madame Pomfrey for those injuries. Your nose looks broken. We'll talk about that fight of yours tomorrow.”

Harry nodded. Tomorrow. Tomorrow is good.Never would be better, but he knew Snape well enough to know that that wasn't going to happen.

He left.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

As soon as the door closed behind the boy, Minerva turned back towards Severus.

“What. Happened?”

And now to face the music. “I was angry, and needed some time to calm, so I ordered him into the corner. He went, but he insisted on facing me. I should have remembered not to expect him to turn his back on me when I was angry.” He took a deep breath and calmed. “Instead I just got angrier. I told him to turn, he refused, and I tried to force him. I didn't even have to touch him and he hit the floor. He gets – when he gets really frightened, he starts pleading with someone who is not me. It's generally effective to use an aguamenti spell to break him out of that, and it worked, but then he knew it was me and he was still scared enough to move my desk and hide underneath it.” He paused, “And now he responds 'no problem' like nothing happened, even though he won't come within six feet of me.” He looked away. Monster.

“You cannot expect everything to be perfect, Severus! You should be grateful the boy is willing to forgive you.”

“He shouldn't forgive me. He's more frightened of me than of any other teacher here, because I was unpleasant to him in the first class, and now he says he can forgive me for this?”

“Of course he's more frightened of you. You could be the most gentle, soft spoken person in the world and he'd fear you most.”

“Thank you, Minerva, you've been very helpful. I was well aware that I am not God's gift to womankind, but clearly had misunderstood the true extent of my hideousness.” His voice was harsh and sarcastic, but Minerva was used to his sense of humor and ignored it.

“Severus, are you blind? You want to know who Harry fears after you?”

Severus looked at her quizzically.

“He is afraid of Albus. Then Quirinus, then Filius. Adult man, adult man, adult man. Noticed the pattern?”

“He is more obnoxious to Sinestra than to Quirrell.”

“She's been unfair to him from the beginning. He does not fear her, he just doesn't put up with her.”

“He does not fear Hagrid, or Binns.”

“Oh, please, Severus, Hagrid is a child and Binns quite literally cannot touch him. He fears you most because your closest competition consists of Albus, who the boy never even sees, and Quirrell.”

“Argus Filch.”

“And Harry fears him more than you.”

He does? “He's not rude to him.”

“Because he avoids him like the plague. I have never been able to understand why.”

“Harry tangled with him several weeks ago. Probably believed every word the old man said.”

“Oh. That would do it. Horrid old man. Why Albus keeps him around I will never know. The house-elves do just fine without him.” She shook her head briefly in disgust and got back on track. “At any rate, you understand my point.”

Severus felt a little better, then. “I do. I will endeavor to not take it personally.”

“Good. And don't leave him. It is far too late for that, Severus.”

“I am not a good mentor for him. My temper-”

“Has held out amazingly these last couple of weeks. Harry understands that you are trying, I think. Otherwise he would not have been so forgiving.”

“If I hadn't lost my temper-”

“Then he would still be waiting for you to do so. You know better than I do that this is not going to happen overnight, Severus.” Her voice hardened somewhat. “You should never have undertaken it if you would give up this easily.”

Severus shook his head. “I am not giving up. I merely maintain that Albus was insane to ask this of me in the first place. The term “Death Eater” seems to mean little to him.”

“Either that or he knows you better than you do.”

Severus scowled at her. “And here I thought you were going to continue to tear strips out of me.”

“I would, but I trust you to do that for me.” Severus realized she was right as the memory of his anger and the image of Harry so clearly hiding from him flashed through his mind, making him wince.

“I suppose I should thank you, then.”

“Make no mistake, Severus, if you ever hurt that child-”

“I am aware.”

“Good. I'll go, then.”

“Thank you for your help.”

Minerva smiled slightly. “You didn't need it.”

“I disagree. Hearing you that angry with me probably gave him a lot of that sudden confidence.”

“Or perhaps he just needed to hear your regret.”

“Perhaps both,” Conceded Severus, “but I thank you nonetheless.”

Minerva nodded. “You are very welcome. Good evening, Severus.”

“Goodnight.”