Chapter 48

Snake in the Grass

xxx

Harry's chest rose and fell in time with his quickly moving feet. His heart was pounding out of his chest, his thoughts racing out of control. None of this stopped him, however, as he dashed straight past the Headmaster towards the hospital wing.

He was unstoppable as he exited Dumbledore's office and ducked down a corridor headed in the opposite direction of his true destination. He knew that Dumbledore would try to stop him if he appeared to be headed anywhere near the hospital wing. His plan, however, was to head first towards the library. By the time anyone caught on to him, he would be too far gone to stop unless that person beat him to the infirmary.

Harry was furious that Severus was putting Malfoy in front of him yet again. If he wanted to coax the other boy through the problem he had gotten himself into, fine. Harry could accept that he wasn't the only boy who needed guidance. But for Severus to abandon him after giving him the cold shoulder all morning only to go to the aid of a boy who was clearly only focused on his own interests…it was intolerable.

His Father's nature was to believe himself infallible, this much Harry knew. But perhaps if he could show him that he wasn't some stupid boy to be ignored, he could earn his respect. He had tried for long enough to impress the man by yielding to his harsher nature; he had given him as much respect as he could muster. But if Severus wouldn't include him of his own free will, Harry would force him to see what he needed him to understand.

And that was that Harry needed guidance just as badly as the other protégés he had acquired. As his son, he certainly deserved it.

Harry arrived in front of the doors in what seemed like no time at all. He had no idea what he was going to say, or what he would accomplish. He only knew that he wanted to make himself heard.

After several moments of hesitation, Harry pushed the doors to the hospital wing open. Both Malfoy and Severus slowly raised their heads' to stare at Harry; Malfoy's gaze, accusatory—Snape's, painfully contemptuous.

"Potter?" Malfoy spat, giving him a dark glare before turning accusatory eyes on Snape.

But Snape was not looking at Malfoy. No, his eyes wouldn't move from Harry if his life depended on it.

"Professor Snape," said Harry coldly, refusing to back down from the man with the cold, dark eyes that bore into him. "I was wondering if I might steal just a moment of your time…but I can see you are far too busy for that."

Harry crossed his arms and stared at him challengingly, but the proud feeling he'd felt for the fleeting moment in which Severus looked as though he had been struck was instantly replaced by fear. In an instant, the Potions Master was on his feet, moving towards him more quickly than Harry could react.

The rage in the Professor's eyes was overpowering as he bore down on Harry, his long white fingers wrapping tightly around the boy's arm. Veins visibly protruded from his forehead as he ground his teeth against each other; with a forceful grip, Snape walked his son into the hallway and slammed the doors behind him before shoving the boy several meters across the corridor.

Harry stumbled to catch his balance, shocked at the rage Severus was displaying. The older man stood there, breathing deeply and saying nothing.

"All I said was that I wanted to talk to you!" Harry shouted, rubbing his hurt arm. He was no worse for the wear, but was a little frightened at his Father's reaction.

"You," his Father hissed in a low whisper, "could have ruined everything. You haven't a clue as to what I am here for, have you? You haven't considered that just perhaps, the things I must tend to are a bit more importantthan tending to your adolescent temper tantrums!"

"Yes, I'm becoming well aware of that!" Harry retorted, his vehemence now rising to new levels. "You care so bloody much about that prat—"

"Stop," commanded Severus, stepping forward and grabbing hold of Harry's arm once more—although this time much more gently. "To my office. Now."

Harry wrestled his arm from Severus' grip and flung the man's hand away, turning to glare at him before turning and heading down the corridor. Severus started to follow close behind him, until both halted in their tracks. Walking quickly down the corridor, looking quite vexed, was Professor Dumbledore.

Severus growled in annoyance, wishing that just for once, he could deal with his son's immaturity without bringing it to the attention of every other staff member within the castle.

"What can I do for you, Albus?" asked Severus acerbically, stepping in front of his son. "I believe you've already caused enough damage, allowing him to follow me down here—"

"I do believe," said Dumbledore smoothly, sliding his crystal blue eyes from Severus to Harry, "that Harry here specified he was taking a book from the library, when he arrived. Did you not, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry grumbled reluctantly.

"And of course, he has a perfect record for telling the truth," replied Severus sardonically. "Albus, I require a word with my delinquent son, if you don't mind."

Dumbledore looked reluctant to allow them to walk away; yet, the look on Severus' face brooked little refusal.

"As you wish," replied Dumbledore as a moment, casting a look at Harry that denoted both sympathy and reprimand, if the combination were at all possible.

Averting his eyes from Dumbledore's, Harry stepped around the older man and followed Severus. He was still fuming over the whole situation. The injustice of it all was too much to bear. Severus had ignored him only to go spend time with the boy who had repeatedly been the source of arguments between the two. There was a small voice in the back of Harry's mind that told him he was overreacting…however, there was an even louder voice in the front that told him his Father was the one in the wrong. Hadn't he been the one to deceive Harry? Hadn't he been the one to abandon him because he felt some other responsibility calling?

So why was Harry feeling so awful?

There was not much time to contemplate the answer to that question. When Harry and Severus reached the office, Severus turned to evaluate his son for a short moment before opening the door.

"Sit."

With little choice in the matter, Harry begrudgingly obeyed.

"What were you thinking?" asked Severus harshly as he took his seat behind his desk. "I thought I made it perfectly clear how important Malfoy's allegiance is. I thought you understood by now how to act with discretion. Why is it so difficult for you to follow the guidelines I've laid out for you? It should not be a challenge! I have told you exactly what I expect from you. It is very simple."

"Right," said Harry bitterly, as though he were spitting out something foul. "Duly noted. I guess you've already done your part as my Father, since you were such a great one while I was growing up and all."

A stunned silence descended over the pair as Severus failed to react to Harry's malignant jab. Instead, he merely watched his son.

"Is that all you have to say to me?" he asked finally, the anger in his voice ebbing as disappointment took its place.

Harry could not quite bring himself to respond. He sat with his eyes fixed to the floor, unwilling to admit defeat.

"You have nothing to say, Harry?" Severus prompted again. Harry remained tight lipped. Sighing and shaking his head, Severus gave up waiting for a response. "That is disheartening, to say the least. Well, if you have nothing to say, then I do."

Severus rose from his seat and walked around to the front of his desk; he leaned back against it and folded his hands in front of him. Harry resisted the urge to move his chair back; the feel of the Potions Master looming over him was far too reminiscent of years past for his comfort.

"You should understand, Harry," said Severus sternly, his demeanor returning to the cool stoicism with which Harry was familiar, "if you had responded to this news of Malfoy's contribution as a normal, mature adult would have, we would not be in this position. I would have felt comfortable disclosing more information to you than I have thus far, and you would not be confused about why I left to talk to him this morning. You still cannot seem to grasp the principles I've been trying to teach you, however. I ask only one thing; you must trust me. I know better than you. I have more experience than you, in every sense."

He stated the last factually; no emotion colored his tone. His gaze had shifted from the boy in front of him to somewhere off in the distance; his voice was low, his tone dry, almost as if he were speaking to someone other than the boy in front of him.

"I have clearly been too lenient thus far; this is a mistake I will now correct. I have been waiting for you to mature on your own. I have shared with you all that I know about Malfoy and Kinnaird. Yet, this is still not good enough for you. You require more. You require more, only because of your immaturity. So, from now on, we will lay down a few ground rules.

"When I leave you somewhere, you will stay put until I return. When I deem information important to give to you, it will not be open to interpretation; I will tell you the exact implications it carries for us, and you will accept my word as fact. You will no longer take matters into your own hands; you are to consult me before acting on anything. Is that understood?"

"No!" Harry replied indignantly.

"No?" Severus repeated in a threatening tone, arching an eyebrow.

"No," Harry reiterated, drawing the single syllable out and aiming a challenging glare at his Father. "I don't care what you say; this whole issue of trusting Malfoy, or Kinnaird, comes down to my survival. I deserve to know what's going on. I'm not going to stand by while you keep me in the dark any longer. If I can't trust you to look out for my best interests, then I'll take it into my own hands. I survived without you telling me what to do long enough, I can do it again. I don't need you."

By the time Harry had finished speaking, Severus' expression had gone from firm and unyielding to shocked and scornful. Harry squirmed in his seat, but he did not relent. He was determined to show his Father that he meant everything he said; he was no longer going to be treated like a child who needed every decision made for him.

"Very well," said Severus stiffly after a long, uncomfortable pause. "If you have nothing left to say, then neither do I. You are dismissed."

"Dismissed?" questioned Harry heatedly.

"Yes, for the moment," replied Severus smoothly. "Tomorrow, and every day for the following week, you will report to my office for detention after dinner."

"You can't set me detention for this!" Harry furiously replied.

"In addition to that," added Severus, raising his voice ominously over Harry's, "you are effectively on house arrest. Since I cannot trust you to abide by the rules, it follows that I must protect you from your own reckless behavior. You are to hand over your marauder's map and invisibility cloak, and you will accompany me whenever I go to the house."

"This is ridiculous," argued Harry.

"If you would prefer, I could come up with a far more creative punishment," said Severus, a sarcastic smile spreading across his face and bringing Harry's blood to a boil. Then, he slowly extended his arm and opened his palm, beckoning.

"What?" snapped Harry, regarding the Professor's hand with derision.

"Your prohibited items, of course," said Snape smoothly, glancing at the bag behind Harry's chair. "I would assume you did not come on this venture today completely unprepared, little common sense though you have."

Harry wanted to scream. He wanted to spit every curse word in his arsenal straight into the face of this dictator. He wanted to refuse and storm out of the office. He was sure, however, that he would not get far. In rapid, jerky movements, Harry bent and removed his invisibility cloak and marauders map from his sack and tossed them onto the desk behind his Father.

Blinding anger threatening to overwhelm him, Harry kept his mouth firmly closed and avoided Severus' eyes as he gathered his things. With anger transparent in each of his movements, he moved to the door, slamming it behind him with as much force as he could muster.

As soon as the door was shut, Severus' icy demeanor melted. Enraged, he brought his fist down hard against the top of his desk; his belongings trembled with the impact. His breath escaped him in a slow hiss. His son was absolutely infuriating. No matter how hard Severus tried, he didn't' seem to be able to teach Harry the lessons he wanted to learn.

The boy was stubbornly and perpetually a Gryffindor.

As far as Severus saw it, it was his duty as a Father to change that unfortunate character trait.

xxx

Tick.

Severus drew an angry red line through John Abhram's entire answer to exam question number four.

Tick.

Severs replaced the jar of red ink on his desk, having used up his first on a stack of third year essays.

Tick.

Severus moved on to the stack of sixth year homework. Harry's paper was on the top of the pile.

Tick.

Severus lifted his wand.

Tick.

With little warning, the clock across the room shattered into an explosion of wood and glass shards.

No tick.

Severus smiled.

It was the first happiness Severus had experienced in days, destroying the clock which marked every minute drawing closer to Harry's fourth detention.

It had literally been days since he and Harry had last spoken. Every day, Harry had reported to detention; every day, Severus had sat in his chair, putting on an air of dispassion as he moved through stacks of ungraded homework. Every day, Harry sat with a new assignment in front of him, resolutely ignoring his Father.

To his frustration, Severus had to admit that forcing Harry to sit in a room with him for hours every day was perhaps not the best solution to their problems. However, having already set the punishment for the boy's wrongdoings, he refused to relent.

So, Severus sat, waiting for Harry to arrive for his scheduled detention. When the door finally creaked open, Severus barely lifted his eyes from the parchment in front of him.

"You're here rather early," he remarked flatly as the door clicked shut.

"I wasn't under the impression that you were expecting me, Professor," drawled the voice of Draco Malfoy.

Severus frowned and raised his eyes from his desk. "Mr. Malfoy," he greeted mildly. "Glad to see you are out of the hospital wing."

"As am I, though I certainly had to fight Madame Pomfrey to allow it," Malfoy responded coolly.

"I'm quite sure you did," Severus replied good-naturedly, before asking, "What brings you to my office?"

Malfoy cleared his throat. "Firstly," he said, looking somewhat awkward, "I wanted to thank you for your help while I was in the hospital wing."

Severus inclined his head forward, but said nothing. He had only done the bare minimum to keep Malfoy comfortable, bringing him his assignments and checking in on him once a day, but this was apparently more than the boy had expected.

"Secondly, now that I am recovered, I was wondering when you would expect me to begin training with you."

Severus reclined in his chair and examined Malfoy momentarily. "Mr. Malfoy, I will certainly help you in any matters with which you need assistance, but I do not have any sort of training schedule outlined for you. You should understand that as you will only speak to me, the Headmaster has not allowed me any extra time to take you on. I will only be able to help you when I am not obligated to take on other duties."

"I understand that," said Malfoy, immediately looking down at the floor. Severus squinted at him for a moment, head cocked. This was a far more humble Malfoy than he had seen of late, and he wondered what the sudden change was. "My Father has trained me quite well in Occlumency, Professor. The Dark Lord has tried and tested me as far as my dueling skills are concerned. I don't need any of that. I don't require much of your time."

"Well, then," replied Severus, "clearly you are here for a reason. What do you require of me?"

"I have been called away again," explained Malfoy. There was fear in his voice, but he showed no other signs of distress. "If there is anything you can tell me that might help in my return…"

At once, Severus stood and moved to the locked Potions supply closet. When he emerged again, he was holding several bottles in his hands.

"There is little I can tell you, Draco, in such a short amount of time that might make this a peaceful weekend for you. I can, however, offer you these. This," he said, handing the first, rather small bottle to him, "is the Essence of Dittany. It will help you to heal if you should sustain any injuries. This," he said, handing him the second, empty vial, "is for you to store the memories of this past week. You say you are trained in Occlumency, but it is always safe to assume that whatever skills you possess, they are no stronger than those of the Dark Lord."

Malfoy looked down at the bottles in his hand as though it were a rather paltry offering, but said nothing.

"There is little I can do for you, you understand," said Severus firmly. "The things I learned from my experience with the Dark Lord were not things someone else could have taught me. I can help you to the best of my ability, but you will have to pull from the strength inside you. You'll be surprised the things you come up with when your life depends on it."

Malfoy nodded solemnly, and deposited the vials into his robe. Severus watched the disappointment in his face with curiosity, and as he replayed Malfoy's reactions in his head, began to wonder at the boy's motives.

"Is there another way in which I can assist you?"

Malfoy turned his eyes to Severus' dark ones for a mere moment, and Severus subtly pressed against his thoughts, probing for a motive. Within seconds, however, Malfoy had shifted his gaze and refocused his mind, breaking the unstable connection Severus had forged.

"Kinnaird will likely be stopping by this afternoon," Malfoy said mildly, turning to the door. "I would prefer if he remained unaware of this meeting."

"Naturally," Severus responded coolly. "Be careful this weekend, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy didn't reply with more than a simple nod. Once the door had closed behind him, Severus resumed his seat at his desk, his attention focused on Malfoy's parting statement. Severus had, unbeknownst to them, witnessed Malfoy and Kinnaird interacting a mere week beforehand, and now Malfoy was attempting to keep up the pretense that the two acted separately of each other.

Draco Malfoy had also arrived at Severus' office expecting far more than he had come for; that much was certain. What had he wanted, and why hadn't he asked for it directly?

Severus was no novice in the art of deception; privately, he thought that the children he dealt with as of late did not seem to grasp on this simple fact.

Severus had little more than a moment to contemplate the strange nature of Malfoy's visit, however, as Harry arrived for detention. As had become custom over the last several days, he meandered into the room cloaked in misery and sat in his desk without a word. Shuffling obnoxiously through his bag, he finally located the book he was looking for and dropped it onto his desk loudly.

Up at the front of the room, Severus watched his son in annoyance. At this point, the boy's melodrama was strictly for show, Severus decided. And he had had enough.

"Harry."

Though it was only one word—one sound, really—the sound of Severus' voice echoing through the painfully silent room was enough to startle anyone to attention. Harry, however, desisted writing for only a moment before continuing to scratch quill against parchment.

Sighing, Severus walked slowly over to Harry's desk. He placed his hands atop the surface and leaned into his son's personal space, forcing him to lift his head and lean back.

"Enough," said Severus firmly, eyebrows arching elegantly as he watched Harry. "Put your things away," he commanded. "We're going for a walk."

The walk, Harry came to find, was a rather long one. Every time they rounded another corner, Harry held his breath, expecting his Father to speak. He was, however, repeatedly disappointed.

It was not until they had emerged from the castle and were walking across the spring-soaked grounds that Severus finally spoke to him.

"I am disappointed, Harry," said Severus, sounding rather subdued, as though there was much more he would have liked to say on that topic. "I often feel that when I think you have gained some maturity, you make it your personal goal to prove me wrong. Do you understand why I feel that way, Harry?"

Harry did understand, to an extent, why his Father might feel that way. But he would not admit it. Not when this was the first thing the man had to say to him in days. "I think it's because you often misunderstand me."

"No, Harry, that is not why," responded Severus bitingly, lifting his eyes to the sky as though asking the gods for help. "It is because you act without thinking. If you had asked me the other day why I had left you like I did, the answer would not have been that I preferred to spend my time with Malfoy, as you foolishly seemed to believe.

"It would have been that during our entire trip from Hogwarts to our home, you refused to speak to me. You essentially pouted during the entire forty-three minutes we spent leaving and arriving. So, Harry, my conclusion was that you were not yet ready to talk. I left to speak to Mr. Malfoy because I had several suspicions I wanted to see confirmed or denied; yet, none of this seemed to occur to you when you were barging into the hospital wing as though you had caught me in the act of conspiring to murder you with the Dark Lord. Is that indeed what you had assumed?"

"Of course not," Harry muttered resentfully.

"Strange, then, how you thought that such behavior was appropriate. Also strange to me is that five days have passed since then, and you have yet to apologize for your childish misdeeds."

"Well, you haven't exactly apologized to me either," retorted Harry.

"And what on earth do I have to apologize for?" asked Severus with a snort.

"You lied to me!"

"When?" replied Severus quickly, coming to a halt and whirling to face Harry. "When exactly did I lie to you, Harry? In fact, as I remember it, I provided you with access to my memories specifically so that you could not accuse me of such an act."

"Yes," Harry agreed begrudgingly, "but you told me you were going to work upstairs and then you snuck back to Hogwarts. As if you couldn't treat me with enough respect to tell me you were going to talk to Malfoy."

Severus' lips were pressed into a thin line as Harry spoke; he looked as though he were biting back on a stinging response. "I did not 'sneak' anywhere, Harry." He spoke slowly, forcibly keeping his voice calm. "I am an adult; I do not require your permission to carry out necessary duties. Please, try to wrap your mind around that fact."

Harry exhaled sharply and shook his head, staring off into the distance as he avoided eye contact with his Father. Severus, for his part, was at a loss. He was failing, in every sense of the word, to connect with his son. He wished the boy could simply understand how irrational he was being. It seemed that nothing he did could impress that upon him. Despite the futile nature of his efforts, however, he found himself unable to back down. He refused to send a message to Harry that would encourage behavior such as this in the future.

"Harry," Severus finally said, placing his hands on Harry's shoulders, forcing him to acknowledge his presence. "Why are you so determined to fight with me? All I ask is that you think about your actions and ask yourself what you might have done differently. You cannot go on refusing to see how your actions have earned these consequences."

"I do, Severus," said Harry, shrugging off his Father's grip. "And yet you won't recognize your role in all of this."

"We've been over this—"

"Yeah, I know," Harry interrupted, frustrated. "And I'm serving my sentence, aren't I?"

Shaking his head at Harry's antics, Severus folded one arm over the other and contemplated the boy in front of him. The look on Harry's face was stubborn, defiant, and made something inside Severus want to snap. That the boy had the audacity to try and punish him was unbearable. The blatant lack of respect was so very uncharacteristic of the boy he'd grown to know over the past year, yet so reminiscent of the Potter he'd seen sitting in his Potions classroom for years before that. Now, just as then, Severus felt the need to break him of this arrogance.

Now, however, that was not quite an option.

No, Severus would have to come up with a more creative way to teach his son a lesson. He would not be a parent who begged with his child to behave, nor would he react to behavior clearly meant to infuriate him.

"It's half past eight," Harry commented, looking at the watch on his wrist. "I believe that marks the end of my detention?"

"It most certainly does," Severus agreed mildly. "You are excused; I will see you tomorrow for your next detention."

"But tomorrow is Saturday."

"I am well aware," Severus sneered as he turned around and began to walk toward the castle.

"You said detention was for the rest of the week!" Harry called from behind him. "The week is already over!"

"The school week, yes," replied Severus over his shoulder. "But not my week. That one is very much still in effect."

Harry's sputtering and cursing faded out in the background as Severus swept back to the castle, his mind already devising a new plan to teach his wayward son a lesson.

xxx

When Harry arrived back at the common room, the last thing he wanted to see as he stormed through the portrait hole was a room filled with his friends. Naturally, however, the last thing Harry wanted to see was the first thing that greeted him.

"Harry!" shouted Seamus Finnigan, thrusting a quaffle in his direction without warning.

Straight-faced, Harry caught the ball. He looked down at it and blinked several times.

"Well, toss it back then!"

Harry briefly debated dropping the ball somewhere out of reach, but decided it wasn't Seamus he was angry at. Forcing himself to look at least slightly pleasant as he did it, he tossed the ball back to Seamus.

"Sorry, mate, rather tired tonight," said Harry, and it didn't take much to act the part. He truly was worn out. "Goodnight, everyone," he said as genially as he could muster, nodding to the group of Gryffindors who undoubtedly had expected him to join their fun. His eyes lingered momentarily on Ron and Hermione before he turned and headed up the stairs. A hush fell over the group sitting around the couches as his closest friends instantly bolted up and followed him.

Though Harry was glad to have someone to vent to, he realized as he arrived at the top of the stairs that there was only so much he was allowed to tell his friends. Severus had specifically asked that he not yet tell anyone what had transpired while he dealt with Malfoy.

With this warning in mind, Harry remained quiet as he sank down onto his bed. Ron and Hermione instantly climbed atop the bed adjacent to him, and waited eagerly for him to speak. Harry merely looked back, wishing he could tell them what had happened without saying the words.

"What?" said Ron quietly, eyes wide as though he was expecting very big news. "What is it, Harry?"

"Don't rush him, Ron," chided Hermione, although she had the same rapt expression of interest on her face.

Unable to take his friends staring at him like lions hungering for meat any longer, he broke his silence.

"You know how I've been going to Severus' office every night?" he asked, and they both nodded, as though they had expected him to lead with that. "I've been going to detentions."

"Detentions?" Ron said the word as though it tasted like poison in his mouth.

"For…for Professor Snape?" Hermione questioned dubiously, as though she must have misunderstood.

"The very same," Harry said, pressing his lips into a thin line and nodding solemnly.

"But…" said Ron, gulping down his shock, "Why?"

"It's a bit of a long story," Harry said in a breath. That was putting it mildly. "I suppose it started because I was feeling his attentions were rather divided…"

"With Kinnaird?" asked Hermione quickly, eyes narrowed.

Harry shrugged. "Among other things."

"So if that's how it started," said Ron, "How did it end?"

Again, Harry shrugged. Now that he thought about it, it was difficult to define exactly when things had gone sour. Yet, while he couldn't define how his anger had originated, he did know that it had built up to this point for a reason.

"It was a series of things…" said Harry vaguely, trying to come up with a way to explain it without giving too much away.

"You don't have to talk about it if you aren't comfortable, Harry," said Hermione gently.

"Yes he does," said Ron without missing a beat. He didn't acknowledge Hermione's grumble of annoyance.

"Let's just say, I sort of caught him in a lie, and he was rather unhappy with my reaction."

It was a simple explanation. Was it perhaps a bit one-sided? Well, if it was, rationalized Harry, it was only because he had been forbidden to say anything more.

"There's got to be more," Ron announced promptly, shaking his head.

"Harry, we'll leave you alone," said Hermione, standing and tugging at Ron's arm. Ron, however, refused to budge.

"You're telling me that git set you a detention over a disagreement?" queried Ron, seemingly appalled. "That's just not right."

"Ron, let's just go," pleaded Hermione, looking from the redhead to Harry, whose discomfort was apparent. It wasn't that Harry didn't want to talk to his friends; he just wasn't sure what to say to them.

"We've got to go talk to him," said Ron resolutely, surprising both Harry and Hermione. It wasn't often that Ron volunteered to interact with the Potions Master. "The last Quidditch match of the year is in less than two weeks, we can't have you in detention for something so bloody stupid."

Harry instantly regretted getting his friends involved. He hadn't forgotten about the match, but it certainly hadn't been at the forefront of his mind. Now, he knew that Ron wouldn't let the issue drop until he had dealt with these detentions effectively.

This might mean deferring to his Father, he realized with disdain. There had to be another way.

"Don't do that," said Harry tiredly. "Let me just sleep on it, and I'll talk to him tomorrow."

"Harry's got to deal with his own problems, Ron," Hermione said gently, though the way she looked at Harry suggested she was holding back an opinion of her own. What it was, Harry was unsure.

Though he looked unhappy about it, Ron finally agreed. As the two exited the dormitory, leaving Harry in peace, Harry banished the lights and tucked himself into bed. With most of the Gryffindor boys downstairs, Harry was glad he could at least have the room to himself.

As he lay in bed, trying to quiet his mind enough to drift off to sleep, he could not help but struggle with himself; over the exchange with his Father today, over the half-truths he'd been forced to deliver to his friends, and over where to go from here.

Several options lay in front of him. He could stand his ground, refusing to attend any more of his Father's ridiculous detentions. This seemed the most dangerous option. He could go to his Father and admit that everything had been blown out of proportion, and apologize for his part in it. The path of least resistance, however, was not the path that Harry normally chose. A part of him felt that by conceding so easily, he would have made no progress in earning his Father's respect.

He could also choose to complete his detentions and passively resist any attempts to goad him. He could attend his detentions every day, grit his teeth and bear it. He could hope that his Father would end his detentions after a full week had passed, as it seemed his original intent had been. Perhaps, Severus would grow tired of the silence between him and talk to Harry like an adult.

That was all he wanted, really. One, adult conversation that showed Severus respected him enough to stop deciding what his path in everything should be. Just one promise that Harry could become involved in his own fate.

After all, it was his life hanging in the balance. If he didn't trust Malfoy enough to have him involved, it should be his choice; he was the one who would have to pay the price.

xxx

The crisp morning air of April assaulted Severus' senses as he emerged from the castle. It was late in the morning; the sun had already risen high above the castle, but it was not nearly as warm as would be expected for such a sunny day.

The day would normally be described as quite beautiful; however, Severus' reason for traversing the ground was not to enjoy the sunlight and fresh air.

As he walked, Severus scanned the grounds with narrowed eyes. It was not long before he found his mark. Far in the distance, tiny figures swirled above the Quidditch pitch; flashes of maroon and gold caught Severus' eye, and he moved in their direction.

Having taken the Marauder's Map from Harry had proven to serve a greater purpose than mere punishment. It made finding the boy nearly effortless; while he always had the ability, he did not always have the inclination. With the map sitting on his desk while he corrected homework, he could not help but notice his son traipsing through the castle and grounds with one Ron Weasley.

This was certainly not Severus' idea of being on house arrest. Though he could hardly keep his son confined to his dormitory or his room at the house while school was in session, he would uphold his punishment. There were things he could do to keep the boy occupied and unable to carouse with his friends.

The detention Severus had devised for Harry today was a special one, with someone who Severus was sure could find a variety of terrible chores for Harry to attend to. He was certain that after one day of this sort of detention, Harry would be begging to be let off.

As Severus strolled up to the Quidditch pitch, he was glad to see that he had beat Harry there. Down the hill hurried his son and his redheaded friend, rushing toward the rest of the Gryffindor team flying around in the distance. It seemed that their focus was on the other Gryffindors; they paid no attention to Severus until he had intercepted their path. There, he stood with his arms folded, black robes swirling about him as he waited for them to approach.

The boys' gait slowed as they saw Professor Snape standing in front of them, effectively blocking their path. Harry's expression was one of dread and annoyance; Weasley's, full of resent.

Severus nodded once in greeting as the boys came to a halt in front of him.

"Mr. Weasley," said Severus first, turning his dark eyes on the boy; his gaze held a warning that Ron seemed to heed for the moment, though he did not look pleased to do so. "Harry," Severus then said, turning to his son. "You should come with me."

"Why?" asked Ron defensively, and Severus eyes darted back to him.

"Weasley, allow me to remind you that there are some issues between me and my son that do not require your input. Harry," Severus said dangerously, the single word a command in itself.

But Ron would not quite let it go.

"Look, Professor," he said rather brashly. "Harry already told Hermione and me, anyway…" Harry quickly shot him a warning look, a voice from inside screaming for him to shut up.

"No, I didn't," Harry snapped, looking meaningfully at his Father. Ron turned to Harry, confusion prominently displayed on his face. "Ron, it's okay, just tell everyone to do practice without me, for now."

As he sent his friend away, Harry's expression was one of utter defeat. Severus experienced a moment of regret, but immediately suppressed it. His son should know by now that should he apologize, Severus could lessen his misery. He simply couldn't be allowed to think that he could bully Severus into acting a certain way.

"Your detention today will be hosted by Mr. Filch," said Severus as he moved past Harry, leading him back towards the castle. After Harry did not respond, Severus glanced over his shoulder to see if the boy was even following him. Sure enough, Harry was trudging along, concentrating on the ground as he went.

Well, if Harry was going to spare him the argument, Severus certainly wasn't going to remark on it. The two continued in silence up to the castle, until Severus had led him all the way down to the dungeons, where Filch was waiting anxiously for him in front of a closet. His smile was vindictive as he laid eyes on Harry; Severus almost felt sorry as Harry moved dejectedly past him.

Filch shoved a net with a long handle into Harry's hands. Harry eyed it with apprehension.

"Some a' Hagrid's creatures found their way into the castle over the winter," said Filch as he turned to rummage through the closet behind him. Emerging with several steel traps, his face broke into a sadistic grin as he added, "and spawned."

Harry's eyes flew to Severus, but upon observing his expression of satisfaction at his reaction, remained silent.

As Harry dragged himself along the hall after Filch, Severus remained behind to watch their departure. He had to admit, he was surprised the boy had given no argument. He expected that by the end of this detention, however, Harry would be far more amenable to a discussion. Severus wanted to end this bout of silence just as badly as Harry certainly wanted to end the detentions.

Once Harry and Filch had rounded a corner ahead of him, Snape turned and headed in the direction of his office. Though he normally looked upon his meetings with Kinnaird as unpleasant calls to duty, he found today that he welcomed the distraction.

At the very least, Kinnaird would have something of interest to tell him. How much Severus could trust of what he said, that was a whole different issue.

This past week, Kinnaird had finally spent enough time in Voldemort's presence to have employed the skills Severus had taught him. Though he had been in and out of the castle a time or two, Severus had not dealt with him in days now.

It would be interesting, thought Severus, to see exactly what he would reveal during their meeting.

Once inside his office, he meticulously swept the area for anything he might not want Kinnaird to see. This was, after all, his home away from home. He ensured that his pensieve was stored safely away, and that organized any vials away into his locked potions cabinet. He tucked Harry's Marauder's map away in one of his desk drawers, along with a few stacks of homework. He had just finished tidying his desk when he heard Kinnaird's rapt, hard knock on the door.

In one fluid motion, Severus was seated behind his desk, glowering at the door in perfect form. One hand folded over the other and he set them neatly atop his desk.

"Come in," he commanded, and the door opened abruptly.

Kinnaird stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He turned to face Severus, observing him from where he stood in front of the door.

Though Severus' expression had not changed a mite, he was already investigating Kinnaird for clues about how his time away from the castle had treated him. There were few; the man had no bruises or scratches, but his personal maintenance was also questionable. His previously neat, amber colored hair had darkened throughout the winter and grown a bit; he looked as though he hadn't paid attention to it in days. His eyes were hollowed out, and while he still had the young face of an adolescent, his weariness was apparent in the faint lines there.

Kinnaird didn't speak as he moved to the chair in front of Severus' desk; he was quieter than normal, already. He was normally somewhat aggressive, trying to take command of a situation before he had even entered it. It was not like him to remain subdued for so long.

"Kinnaird," said the doleful Potions Master as he observed the man before him. "We have not spoken in some time."

"Well, I have been quite busy," said Kinnaird blankly, to which Severus scowled.

"I am well aware; it is for this I have been preparing you, no?"

"Yes," said Kinnaird, shifting his weight in his chair and apparently thoughtful. "I think perhaps I should have heeded your warnings, before."

Severus' eyes narrowed even further, little more than a glint of his black iris's peaking out between slanted lids. He leaned forward in his chair, and lowered his voice. "What do you mean by that?"

"I did not realize the voracity with which the Dark Lord would explore my mind," said Kinnaird, an odd grin forming at the corner of his lips.

"What did he find?" questioned Snape immediately; his whole body was tense, as though he were about to lunge from his seat and across the desk.

"Don't worry, Snape, the very few things you've told me are safe. Dumbledore helped me to extract any thoughts of concern before I went to the Dark Lord."

"Ah," was all that Severus said. Though he was considerably relaxed now, he continued to glower. Admittedly, he was quite pleased by the Headmaster's cleverness, but he dared not let it show.

"However," said Kinnaird, his eyes gleaming with some new emotion, "I did manage to direct him to the thoughts we desired."

"Very good," came Severus' seldom-given praise. "And how did he react?"

"He was happy to see Harry appearing weak in our dueling sessions," recalled Kinnaird, frowning as he tried to remember. Severus was sure it had been harrowing enough an experience that his memory of it might be foggy. "He believes you unprepared. He thinks you will wait quite some time before allowing Harry to pursue him. He knows your cautious nature."

"Will he pursue him, now?"

"It is difficult to say," said Kinnaird. "He did not speak of any plans."

He wouldn't, Severus thought to himself. The Dark Lord knew of Severus' cautious nature because it paralleled his own. The Dark Lord was careful to the point of paranoia; even if he intended to hunt Harry, he would steer Kinnaird into thinking the opposite.

This was what made Severus believe they had some time. Voldemort had many other plans to pursue before he would let Harry fight him again, and if he thought Harry was still weak, he would believe he had a little more time.

"And how is young Malfoy doing?" Severus then inquired; nothing in his expression hinted towards suspicion.

"He did not arrive until late yesterday evening," said Kinnaird. "I'm sure you aware his last weekend was rather rough." He looked to Severus for confirmation, and Severus nodded curtly, indicating that he should go on. "The Dark Lord values him, however; he cannot kill him if this spell is to work. Malfoy will be fine. Although, Professor…"

Kinnaird paused, looking ponderous. Severus waited with baited breath for him to continue; he did not want to prompt him to speak if it would affect the truth of what came out.

"He asked me a rather curious favor, last night," Kinnaird seemed to settle on saying finally, looking up at Severus with true confusion in his face. "He begged me to give him information that he could give to the Dark Lord."

"What?"

The word escaped Severus harshly; he bit it out, and then reigned back. Again, more calmly, deliberately, he repeated, "What?"

Kinnaird shook his head, and Severus felt for once that he had no agenda in telling him this; he looked honestly bewildered by the memory. "He asked if there was anything I had not yet given away that he could report to free himself from punishment. I gave him a piece of useless information you had given me, and he seemed contented. I've yet to return to see if it worked."

Severus was quiet as he digested this information. This could mean a number of things. The first, Severus thought, was that Malfoy was a coward.

This seemed a likely option.

The boy had shown up at his office just the prior day; Severus was unsure why he hadn't realized it before. The boy had not come needing vials of healing potions; he came asking how to get out of the Dark Lord's disfavor. He simply hadn't known how to ask.

The second option was that he hoped Kinnaird would tell him something useful, and hadn't realized that he in fact had done the opposite.

Though Severus had not placed any real faith in Malfoy to begin with, he found himself questioning now what the boy's real motives were. Yet, he had given them something so useful, and had asked for nothing immediate in return. His behavior was erratic, unpredictable.

"I did well, this week," said Kinnaird, breaking Severus' train of thought and refocusing his attention. "I will be called back soon, it is certain."

There was a forbidding tone to Kinnaird's voice; Severus could see that he was just now realizing exactly what service to the Dark Lord entailed. When first indoctrinated into the Death Eaters, Severus remembered, the younger members experienced nothing of the terror the Dark Lord could wrought on them. They began by frequenting seedy pubs and planning the glory the would earn in his service; they graduated to attending raids and putting their plans into action. Then, in the end, they found themselves enslaved, unable to attend to any will other than their master's.

This was what was happening to the man sitting in front of him. He had not realized how deep he was until he could not come up for air.

Though Severus still did not entirely trust Kinnaird, his belief that Malfoy was more dependable was deeply flawed. Both were unable to devote their entire selves to one side, it seemed; they had not the motivation that Severus had found in the memory of Lily.

"I think you should rest," said Severus; Kinnaird looked surprised. Surely, he had been expecting to be questioned for hours to come. "Have you relayed all of your information to the Headmaster?"

"Yes," replied Kinnaird dutifully. "He was my first visit."

"Very well," said Severus. "I will obtain the rest of your account from him; you should prepare yourself for when you are next called away."

Trustworthy or not, Severus reasoned, Kinnaird would be of no use at all if he were mentally shattered by the pressure of returning to Voldemort in an already harrowed state.

Though he did not express it, Severus could see the gratefulness in Kinnaird's eyes as he pushed himself up from his seat. With a little less strength in his gait than usual, he moved to the door, giving Severus only a nod before slipping out into the corridor.

As promised, Severus instantly rose from his seat, intent on seeing Dumbledore. Other than a few short conversations imposed on him by the Headmaster throughout the week he had fought with Harry, he and Dumbledore had not had a serious discussion in quite some time.

When Severus arrived at the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore put on his usual display of not having expected him.

"Severus," he greeted the Professor at the door, welcoming him into his office with a sweeping gesture. "How good of you to come."

It always annoyed Severus how Dumbledore treated these visits like social calls, as though Severus had nothing better to do than sip tea and banter about the social climate of the staff. Steering away from the small talk that was certain to ensue as Dumbledore prepared him a plate of biscuits, Severus launched right into the topic of query.

"I just spoke with Kinnaird," he announced as Dumbledore sat behind his desk and took a long sip of the deep violet tea in his cup. The aroma of berries wafted in Severus' direction, and he curled his lip in distaste at the offending sweetness.

Dumbledore merely nodded and took a bite of his vanilla biscuit.

"He seemed distressed," Severus commented, watching Dumbledore for a reaction.

The look in Dumbledore's eyes was sympathetic as he nodded in agreement. "That is the unfortunate thing about signing one's life away to an unmerciful master," replied Dumbledore gravely.

"I, of all people, do not need to be told that," Severus reminded him. He sometimes thought that Dumbledore forgot he had once been one of his pawns, as well. "What did you take away from the encounter? What do you believe our next move shall be?"

"I believe we have some time before Voldemort acts," said Dumbledore confidently. "However, that does not necessarily afford us any lenience. If he becomes latent, it will be the best time for us to strike. We must prepare ourselves..."

"And Harry," Severus agreed, seeing where Dumbledore was leading.

"Which brings me to another topic," Dumbledore said airily, as if they had not been speaking about grave matters a mere second before. Severus was not fooled, however; there was purpose lurking behind those deceivingly daft looking blue eyes.

"Perhaps your time is wasted struggling for power over the boy," said Dumbledore, and Severus nearly choked at his directness. The audacity of the old man was intolerable. However, he allowed him to continue without comment, curious what he had next to say. "I understand you have him attending detention with Filch this afternoon?"

"Headmaster, I have already discussed this with you," said Severus forbiddingly, unwilling to yield to Dumbledore's attempts to interfere. "It is my business how I choose to discipline my son."

"Too right you are," agreed Dumbledore mildly. "I just wonder if you are instilling a sense of defiance in the boy where you should be inspiring feelings of trust. He will need you, in these hard times, Severus."

Severus wanted to object, but he was unsure how to proceed. Dumbledore misjudged his intentions.

"I do not punish to torment him," Severus replied defensively, aggravated that he felt the need to explain himself. "I hope that he will realize how much easier his life will be if he would simply listen to me. It is an important lesson to learn."

"Yes," agreed Dumbledore. "But it is against his nature."

Severus growled and shook his head. It was true, yet he did not think that he should allow his son's nature to become one of defiance.

"His detentions are over at the end of this week," said Severus. "I will give him a few more days to consider his apology, and then I will speak to him."

"Very well," said Dumbledore affably. "Then I will leave the matter to you."

Though he was still scowling as he left the office, he had earned at least a small amount of satisfaction. The old man had finally agreed not to interfere. While it had not been a promise, for Albus Dumbledore, it was certainly the closest thing to it.

xxx End Chapter xxx