Snape had other things to do aside from teach class and babysit Harry. He'd told Harry so, several times now when Harry had come to him for detention, especially during the weekend. Harry had begun to think that Snape had brewed some sort of permanent calming draught and used it on himself, but as it happened with all people in time, Snape once again grew irritated with him, although not to the extent he once did.

"On Saturday Potter? Why was it necessary to get yourself banned from the Library on a Saturday?"

Harry crossed his arms, irritated himself. He'd been spacing out, ripping pages out of one of his textbooks again, which is how Madam Pince had found him, before dragging him from the room by his ear. It still burned in fact as he stood before Snape in the Entrance Hall where he'd found him on his way to the Dungeons.

"I don't know sir, maybe it was just destiny that I ruin your Saturday."

Snape scoffed then, and said, "I will not allow you to ruin anything. You will serve detention out on the grounds while I work."

He strode off, and Harry strolled along behind him, out through the massive oak front doors. What work did Snape have to do out on the grounds?

Keeping a few steps behind Snape with his hands in his pockets, Harry noted with some dissatisfaction that there was noise coming from the pitch in the distance and saw that a team was practicing for the coming set of matches in a few weeks after Halloween. He missed flying, and with all the detentions he'd had since starting school, he hadn't even had a chance to go out on his own time to fly around.

"Potter!"

Apparently he'd lagged behind, and hurried to catch up, wishing he'd worn robes as a chill breeze picked up the further down the grounds and towards the forest they went.

"Pick these up Potter," Snape said pointing as he passed a group of school brooms in a pile on the ground. Brooms? Harry gathered the eight brooms up and hurried after Snape, who'd gone straight into the forest at a tree marked with four broomsticks in a line next to each other, carved deep into the bark.

Several times Harry dropped the brooms, and he'd quickly lost sight of Snape. Not that he cared to catch up to the man so he could do what was likely to be an all day detention, but he was curious now, and hoped the Professor had continued walking in a straight line so that he could see what sort of work the man had to do with brooms, in the Forbidden Forest, on a Saturday.

After walking a few minutes more, struggling with the brooms, Harry heard Snape's voice in the distance. "Decklan, I expect you to pick up the pace today. You can't catch it if you're lagging five minutes behind the other Seeker. And Rose, be sure to aim the Bludgers at the team today, not a hive of bees."

Harry approached the clearing curiously, arms wrapped tightly around the brooms, and was surprised to find that the clearing was rather large, almost as large as the Quidditch Pitch in fact, and on the far side of it there was an old shack with a door.

Nine pairs of eyes turned to stare warily at Harry just as he realized that there were nine students from all four houses, and Snape turned to see that Harry had finally made it.

"Put them there Potter, and then start shining the pile of equipment there." Snape motioned to a pile of old, beat up Quidditch gear piled haphazardly near a tree stump, and Harry set the brooms down before mutely moving to sit on the stump. He watched as Snape continued to talk to the rag tag group of Quidditch players, and wondered what they were all doing there. After ten minutes, the students mounted the brooms Harry had brought in, and the seventh year named Decklan got onto his own broom, and they rose into the air. Harry hadn't even noticed that Snape had come up next to him now.

"Shine Potter."

"Huh?" Harry's head snapped up. "Oh," and then he reached down and picked up a Keeper's helmet and a rag and began shining it mindlessly as he watched the players working on maneuvers.

Snape was quiet for a few moments as he watched the players as well, and then said, "This is the Hogwarts second string team. Students from any house may join with my approval. Occasionally when a position comes open on one of the house teams, second string team members are given the first opportunity to try out."

Harry frowned, trying to remember anything he might have heard about this team in the past, and something from his first year came back to him. George had said something about a Quidditch club that sometimes played against the house teams in the off season, but in all Harry's years as Seeker for Gryffindor, they'd never played them. He wondered why.

Snape blew a whistle that got the team's attention several times to correct something he'd seen them do wrong, and then sent them back to work before scolding Harry for not shining as quickly as he ought to be. Harry couldn't help it. He was mesmerized. Maybe it was just because he hadn't been on his own broom in so long, or because he had been kicked off the house team, or maybe it was because this second string team was pretty decent. Any way he looked at it, he couldn't take his eyes off of them.

When Snape called for a break, Harry set to work scrubbing the equipment hard, or at least pretending to as he listened to the team talking to each other. A few of them caught Harry staring though, and didn't take kindly to it.

"What are you looking at?" Decklan spat at him. Harry frowned and clamped his mouth shut, staring down at the beaten up old Quaffle he'd been given to scrub. Decklan was in Hufflepuff, and as far as Harry knew he'd never been mean to Decklan or his girlfriend, if he had one, so he wasn't sure what the issue was.

Decklan turned around to keep talking to his friends, and Harry looked back up, wondering at how easily some of these people got along when not in sight of their other housemates. Ethan Holcomb, and Elissa Newby for instance, were both from Slytherin, and yet there they stood talking easily with Decklan and another Hufflepuff named Grace.

Harry's eyes roamed over to where Snape stood talking to the only Gryffindor, a third year boy named Devon, and a fifth year Ravenclaw Harry couldn't remember the name of. A few feet from that group were the last three team mates, a second year Slytherin, a third year Hufflepuff, and a fourth year Ravenclaw. Straining his ears, he could just hear a few words of their conversation. "I wish we could get some good brooms instead of these old things."

"Yeah, mine keeps pulling to the left."

Similarly to that morning when he'd spaced out in the Library, Harry's eyes glazed over as he remembered something from his past. Later he guessed it was the Quidditch talk that had brought it on, but he was in a daze remembering a time when he had friends, back when he still believed that there was good in the world. Back when he still believed he had a chance.

"Professor, he's going to ruin our gear!"

"Potter!"

Harry jumped and his eyes darted around to see angry the angry faces of the second string team, some with hands on their hips. He swallowed hard and looked down to the Quaffle he'd been polishing. He'd rubbed the ball so hard that he'd taken the red paint clear off in the spot he'd been polishing.

"Potter." Snape's voice was perhaps more calm than Harry had expected after ruining the ball. The others clearly believed he had done it on purpose.

"Yes sir," he said, still feeling dazed.

"You're done for the day. You may go."

Harry set the ball down and hurried out of the clearing, angry voices easily heard behind him as the team complained about him to Snape and he tried to calm them down. Harry guessed he could understand why they were upset. Their equipment wasn't the greatest to start with... just the leftovers from the other teams. They were just leftovers from the other teams.

He didn't go straight back to the castle, instead he found a tree just on the edge of the forest and leaned against it, sinking down to the damp dirt, head in his hands. What was wrong with him? To be destructive on purpose was one thing... he did that just because he could and it gave him control, even control over what others thought of him. But to be destructive in a daze... that scared him. What else would he do if he spaced out?

Three hours later, when practice had ended, Harry was still there against the tree, deep in thought and despair. The team passed by without noticing him twenty yards off the path, but Severus slowed his pace, keen searching eyes finding the boy. He stopped to watch him, but Harry didn't move. An uncomfortable feeling squirmed in the pit of his stomach as he noted the defeated posture of the boy, and his suspicions that the Gryffindor had not intentionally ruined the Quaffle were confirmed. Deciding to let the boy be with his thoughts, he continued on at a call from one of the students up ahead on the path, deep in thought himself.

* * *

Harry wasn't sure if he should be dismayed or excited that he'd been given detention again the next Saturday. Professor Sprout thought he needed a detention for getting a low grade on his exam on Friday. Although he'd tried to do well, he just couldn't concentrate, for reasons he'd rather not think about just now. But now he waited in the Entrance Hall for Snape to tell him he'd been assigned detention again, and watched as Decklan and a few of the other team members walked by talking happily, although Decklan and Elissa glared at him as they passed.

"Again Potter?"

Harry turned to see Snape walking out of the Dungeon Entrance with a heavy cloak draped over one arm.

"Yes sir," Harry said, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. He knew if Snape thought he were enjoying this then he'd assign him something more disgusting for detention.

"Very well, follow me."

Harry kept pace with him down across the crisp, frosty grass, shivering as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. He would have loved to have had a jacket this winter, but he hadn't gotten a chance to buy supplies on Diagon Alley before school started, and his Hogsmead privileges had long since been revoked, so there was no chance of going into town to buy one. He would have been happy even to have his old ratty one from last winter, but Dudley had fed it to Aunt Marge's dog Ripper on his first day back from school, and now he had nothing to keep him warm.

"Would it not have been easier to simply study and do the work Potter?" Snape's voice got his attention and Harry mumbled something, adding sir at the end, although Severus didn't understand anything that had been said. Harry had done the work.

Having been made to carry the brooms again, Harry conjured a rope and tied them together to make them easier to carry into the woods. He'd done some research last week after detention and had found it in Hogwarts a History. Before the Pitch had been built, they had used this clearing for Quidditch games for the better part of three hundred years. According to the book there used to be benches and landings built up in the trees so students and staff could watch. All that was left now was the old broken down changing rooms, and three poles at one end of the clearing to serve as goal posts.

"Aw, come on Professor! Why's he here again?" There was an angry outburst followed by muttering and glares from the group.

Snape crossed his arms. "Tell me Mr. Ingram. Am I accountable to you? Need I explain myself to you, or shall you join Mr. Potter in detention today?"

Decklan glared at Harry and then said, "No sir," and snatched the bundle of brooms from Harry's arms. "Don't ruin anymore of our gear!" He hissed at Harry, before moving off to join his friends.

Harry was soon set the task of repairing some of the uniforms and gloves, the Muggle way, with needle and thread, but he was just as quickly distracted again watching the team practice and play. Despite being brought back to his task several times because he'd stabbed himself accidentally with the needle, Harry thought he'd gotten a handle on each player's strengths and weaknesses.

Decklan was too slow to be playing Seeker. He was big and a better build for Beater or Chaser. Elissa on the other hand was small like him and quick, and while it seemed she enjoyed playing Beater very much, Harry was sure she'd make an excellent Seeker.

He kept tabs in his head of the different tactics and maneuvers they were learning, and was surprised to find there were several he hadn't learned himself yet. He wondered if Snape had been on a team at some point, because he made a decent coach, and the players respected him for it.

Harry finished his task just as practice ended, and had made it through without destroying any of the gear, although he still received glares.

On the way back out of the Forest, Snape turned to him and said, "Potter. Don't get detention next Saturday," and then left him standing there alone on the trail. Snape must have been tired of having to drag Harry out there for detention.

* * *

He spent the next week careful not to do anything too terrible, at least not something that would warrant detention on the weekend. He did end up scrubbing toilets Monday and Tuesday night, and writing lines in front of the third year Potions class Thursday, but he made a point to stay in is dorm on Friday and not to piss anybody off. He had a plan, and he wanted to see it through.

The way Harry figured it, there was no way in hell he was getting back on the Gryffindor team... not with his grades as they were and the number of detentions he was getting each week. And Snape didn't want to have to babysit him every Saturday, so Harry wasn't going to be able to see the second string team practice. But what if Harry just... showed up with his broom? They couldn't turn him away if he'd behaved most of the week, could they?

Harry waited patiently at the top of the steps in the Entrance Hall until Snape had gone out into the chilly weather, heavy cloak on and gloves on his hands. It wasn't snowing yet, and probably wouldn't until after Halloween, but Winter was definitely approaching early this year, and Harry wished Dudley hadn't destroyed his gloves along with his coat.

As he stepped out onto the breezy grounds, Harry half wished he'd nicked one of Ron's coats from his wardrobe, just for the day. They all had patches on one part or another, but they were still ten times better than anything Harry had ever had from Dudley's hand-me-downs.

Knowing he was a good five minutes behind Snape and the team, Harry picked up his pace, hoping it would be a little warmer in the forest, and enjoyed the momentary warmth he received from jogging across the grounds.

As with both weeks before, he could hear voices ahead of him as he approached the clearing, and it sounded as if Snape was giving them instructions for the day. Harry approached slowly, Firebolt in hand and stood where they could see him behind Snape's back.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." Decklan crossed his arms, and it was becoming clear that the seventh year despised Harry as if he were a Slytherin.

Snape turned around and did a double take. "You do not have detention today Potter."

"No sir," Harry said.

"He thinks he's gonna play Professor!" Decklan exclaimed, lifting a hand towards Harry's broom.

Snape turned back to his team and told them to get into the air. When he hadn't acknowledged Harry again after a few minutes, Harry went and stood next to him.

"I already have a Seeker Potter," he said flatly, arms crossed to ward off the cold. He noted Harry didn't have a jacket again, and rolled his eyes at the gall of the boy and his disregard for his own health.

"I'll play Chaser," Harry said hopefully.

"I have five."

"Oliver said I'd make a decent Beater," he tried.

"No Potter. I have two."

Harry frowned. "I can play Keeper."

Severus turned and sized Harry up, as if to ascertain if he was serious, and said, "No." He saw how the boy was grinding his teeth together, and it was a moment before he spoke again.

"I'll wait then sir." He went and sat on the tree stump he'd occupied in detention for the last two Saturday's, broom across his lap, and arms wrapped around himself as his eyes remained skyward, watching the team. He didn't move for the duration of the three hour practice, and the team seemed distracted as they kept looking down to Harry on the ground. Severus too was distracted, wondering that the boy had done what he'd told him, and had avoided getting detention on Saturday. His motivation was clear.

"Since you seem intent on being here Potter, carry some of the gear back." Snape motioned to the pile of dirty second hand gear on the ground as the team landed, and Harry scooped it up along with his broom and followed the team from the clearing. His hands, face, and arms were numb from the cold, and he was glad for the physical activity to get his blood flowing again.

The next Saturday went much the same. Harry showed up with his broom to scoffs from the team, and waited patiently on the tree stump, shivering as the weather grew colder. At least he's not in detention, Severus thought with some satisfaction. If he had put this much effort into staying out of trouble in the first place, he wouldn't have gotten kicked off of the Gryffindor team.

On the third Saturday that Harry appeared with a broom, the day before Halloween, the boy spent the day wiping his nose and stifling ragged coughs. Why on earth didn't the boy bring a coat? Severus supposed it was just to be defiant, just as he continued to spend Sunday through Thursday doing each week, earning himself detentions while being careful to avoid trouble on Friday.

"Potter, go back to the castle," Severus said as he walked over to him. The boy's broom sat across his lap as always.

"No sir," Harry said, eyes still glued to the players in the sky.

"It is not an option. You will go back to the castle. You will not come here without a coat again."

Harry looked up at the Potions Master and allowed his face to fall for only a moment before it turned to anger. He stood up, and before he could say anything, Severus said, "If you disobey me by appearing again without a coat, then I will ensure that you are assigned detention to another staff member each Saturday, inside the castle."

With a heavy glare, Harry stomped off, and Severus heard him cough heavily partway down the trail. He hated defiance, and he had tolerated the smallest amount from the boy in order to ensure that he was at least given respect as a starting place to obedience, but it still grated on him that the child had become so stubborn and thought it was his right to do as he pleased. Trying to draw his mind away from Potter and his insolence, Severus shook himself mentally and blew his whistle to bring his team down for their break and a strategy session.

* * *

November

Harry was pissed. Forget trying not to piss the staff off that week, he was so angry that he could care less, and spent every night in detention for it, and was even given detention during breakfast for mouthing off to Professor Sinistra in the hallway. Snape was not pleased, but if Harry was upset, than he was going to be sure Snape was unhappy too. Where did he get off ordering him around like that? He'd suffered through three weeks of cold weather determined to make the team, and now it was all wasted because he couldn't get his hands on a coat? The three warm coats in Ron's wardrobe crossed his mind again and Harry began working on a plan of how to get one of them unnoticed.

Saturday morning around five am, Harry put a silencing charm around Ron's bed so he wouldn't hear anything, and then took the oldest and thinnest of the three coats and stuffed it into his backpack. Broom in hand and bag slung over one shoulder, he hurried out of the dorm and waited in a small side corridor on the first floor. He hadn't wanted to take anything from anybody's wardrobe, but he was still sick and he had to get out there. Today was the day he was sure they'd let him fly. He had to fly... had to get into the air and get his mind off of things. Just flying by himself wasn't good enough. He needed a task... needed to twist and dive and avoid flying black Bludgers.

Soft snowflakes fell over the castle and grounds as Harry followed Snape out of the castle once again and towards the old Quidditch clearing. Snape hadn't seen him, and Harry waited until the man was well into the woods before he entered himself, not wanting to be heard coughing in the snow and breeze lest he be sent back into the castle again.

He was halfway to the clearing when something from the darkened woods tackled him suddenly, taking him and his broom to the ground. Harry's first thought was that a beast of some sort had finally gotten him, as he knew all manner of them lived in the Forbidden Forest, but that thought was shattered when Decklan appeared over him, pinning him to the ground.

The force of being knocked down had sent Harry into a coughing fit, but Decklan talked over the noise.

"Forget it jerk. You're not joining our team. I don't care if you sit out there all year trying to get pity just because you didn't want to bring a jacket. It's not happening. Got it?"

Harry glared up at the older, stronger boy. He'd taken on bigger guys before, and the only thing that was keeping him from beating the snot out of Decklan was the fact that he had to stay out of trouble to join the team. There was no way Snape would let him on if he beat up the man's Seeker. That wouldn't look good at all. It would look as if Harry was trying to take the Seeker out of the picture to open up the position for himself. That's why Harry hadn't said anything yet to Snape about Decklan not being right for the position.

"Whatever you tell yourself to get to sleep at night," Harry said. He pushed the boy off of him and got up, coughing again. Decklan glared and moved off into the woods ahead of him, no doubt to tell Snape Harry had done something he hadn't.

When Harry got to the clearing, the team was up in the air, including Decklan. He went and sat on his stump, which had a thin coating of snow, and lay his broom across his lap, concentrating hard on suppressing his coughs. He didn't look at Snape, but knew the man was watching him.

During the break in the middle of practice, Snape came over to him. Harry had withdrawn his hands up into the sleeves and had given up on keeping the snow out of his hair.

"You are wearing Mr. Weasley's coat Potter."

"I borrowed it," Harry said, not looking at his Professor. He was a terrible liar, and knew his eyes would give him away.

"You are on speaking terms with him again then?"

Harry coughed hard and felt the air escape his lungs, trying not to clench his eyes shut with the pain of it. He hated being sick. "Not exactly, no."

"Hm." Luckily for Harry, one of the team members slipped in the snow and mud then and Snape hurried over to be sure that she was ok. She was, but it was time for the break to be over and Snape was no longer thinking about questioning Harry about the jacket, for the moment, as he had gone back to blowing his whistle and motioning for his team to practice different maneuvers.

At the end of practice Decklan shoved past Harry roughly, making him drop the gear he'd picked up to carry out of the clearing without having been asked. He scooped it up again and trudged through the snow, feeling light headed as the headache he'd been nursing for a few days started in on him again.

Everyone was inside by the time he'd made it back to the Entrance Hall, although Snape had lingered to talk to one of the younger Ravenclaw team members. Harry had just closed the massive front doors when he heard Ron's traitorous voice and froze.

"There he is Professor! See, I told you he stole it!"

Harry turned, mind foggy, and saw Professor McGonagall sternly striding over to him.

"Mr. Potter. You have taken Mr. Weasley's coat, and I insist you return it to him now and then go straight to detention with Professor Snape. Thievery is not acceptable, as I'm sure you are well aware."

Harry's eyes searched the hall and found ten or more pairs of eyes trained on him. He hated being called a thief in front of them, and knowing it was true, but he hated even more for people to know he didn't have a coat to begin with. That would require explaining, and he didn't need any of that.

He hurriedly undid the buttons, working furiously to get the wretched thing off and stifle a cough at the same time, but instead of handing it over to Professor McGonagall, he threw it on the ground and kicked it at Ron, who was standing there looking dumb. Some friend he had turned out to be, ratting him out like that. But wait... they weren't friends anymore, were they? He had made sure of it.

"He's wrecking it!" Ron shouted just as Harry had a severe coughing fit, brought on by suppressing it for too long. He doubled over and clutched at his burning chest, and the act of doing so along with being dizzy allowed gravity to pull him over head first and straight into the cold stone pavers on the floor.

Dazed, he pushed himself up to slowly to sit on his knees and heard someone saying that he was faking, but he was sure it wasn't Ron or one of the two Professors present. He swallowed hard, wanting to cry in his embarrassment, but felt too weak to do even that. It was long moments before he registered that Snape and McGonagall were by his side on the floor and that it had been Decklan who'd called him out as a faker.

"He's been sick since last week," he heard Snape saying through a haze to McGonagall. "I'd assumed he'd been up to the Hospital Wing."

"Come on Mr. Potter." He was pulled to his feet on both sides, and he tried to shrug them off, but they were too strong. He hadn't eaten that morning in favor of hiding out with Ron's coat and that hadn't helped him keep any of his strength.

As he was supported past Ron, who was still looking dumbstruck, Harry turned and said angrily, "It's not like he needs three coats."

"That's enough Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, although her voice was less stern as she gave a look to Severus that Harry didn't see. His head hurt from going straight into the stone floor and he was just trying to focus on walking as he was being lead along.

Harry had given himself a concussion from falling over head first, and was given a hospital bed for the next three days as he was treated for the head injury and pneumonia. When he was lectured three times by Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall for not telling somebody that he needed a coat, Harry insisted each time, "I had one. I threw it away because I was pissed that it wasn't nice." Of course it was a lie, but he couldn't stand the embarrassment of them just thinking that he was that poor. His parents vault had gotten him this far, but there wasn't much left there, even if he would have purchased a new coat had he been given the chance.

Snape never came to see him in the Hospital Wing, but the day Harry got out he spent an unusually lazy detention in the Dungeons writing an essay about theft and why it was wrong. He suspected it was because he was still feeling weak and wouldn't have been much good at scrubbing floors that he was made to sit and write.

When he got back to his room for the first time in days, Harry found Ron's coat in a heap on the end of his bed, dirty shoe print still on it from where Harry had kicked it. He didn't know if this meant that it was his now, or if Ron was going to say he'd stolen it again, because they still weren't talking. Maybe Mrs. Weasley had written to him and told him to give it to Harry.

A few minutes later, Ron came into the dorm to get something, and Harry snapped, "What's this?"

Ron stopped and stared at his once best friend. "All you had to do was ask. You don't have to be a jerk about everything all the time." And then he was gone. Harry's stomach caught in his throat at Ron's words. Yes he did. He did have to be a jerk all the time. And now he didn't know how to stop.