kbinnz - Harry's New Home

Dead silence, for once, ensued.

Severus and Bill had managed to cast Protego's in time, but Charlie and a still-dazed Arthur were now liberally spattered with green mush, as were the tablecloth, surrounding place settings, and two walls.

The younger children clustered, wide eyed, in the doorway, wordlessly surveying the ruin. Molly appeared at the kitchen door and broke the silence with a shriek. Everyone flinched as she spun on the children with a glint in her eye. "Who did this?"

There was a moment more of utter stillness, then: "Me!" Ron exclaimed, just as the twins said, "Us!" and even Percy offered "Erm тАУ me." A beat later, Ginny insisted, "It was me!"

The five adults exchanged a long glance, even as the lone brunet slowly pushed himself forward. "It was me," Harry confessed miserably, shoulders slumped.

"No, it wasn't!" Ron insisted, trying to shove Harry behind the others again. "Mum, it wasn't!"

Harry managed a weak grin for his friend. "It's okay, Ron. Thanks." He dragged his eyes up to meet Snape's. "It was me."

Snape touched his pristine napkin to his lips and dropped it on his plate. "If you would be so kind as to excuse us for a few moments," he said to the others, taking Harry by the shoulder. "Arthur, may I use your study? Thank you."

He hustled Harry into the small, book-lined room and latched the door behind them. For a moment he toyed with the idea of casting a silencing spell, but in the end decided against it. In addition to being a gross violation of Wizarding etiquette, such a spell was hardly necessary in the Burrow where the ambient noise level precluded successful eavesdropping.

"So." He folded his arms and looked down upon his ward, wearing his most forbidding glower. "What do you have to say for yourself? Perhaps you didn't hear Mrs Weasley's instruction not to play with the ball inside?"

Harry wished he had fallen off his broom at Quidditch practice and broken his arm like Neville had. Then he wouldn't have come to the Burrow and disgraced himself тАУ and by extension, Professor Snape тАУ in so awful a manner. He had never done something so horrible before. Even at the Dursleys, his most heinous crimes had been for things he now recognized as accidental magic that had been beyond his control. He had never knowingly, deliberately done something like this. He could only imagine what his aunt or uncle would have done to him if he had destroyed one of their dinner parties the way he had just done to Mrs Weasley's.

She would never let him return to the Burrow now; in fact, she'd probably tell Ron and the others to stay far away from him. It was one thing to be a freak and unintentionally do weird stuff. It was another to disobey and create utter havoc as a consequence.

He couldn't even bring himself to look at Snape. The man had given him the most brilliant broom just a few hours previous, making him the envy of the entire Quidditch team, and how did Harry repay him? By coming to the Burrow and behaving like some uncivilized lout тАУ the very thing that Snape most loathed. He was pretty sure that Snape wouldn't drop him like a hot rock, the way he assumed the Weasleys would, but he also figured that Snape was going to make his displeasure very, very clear.

He knew that Snape could, when pressed, hit as hard as Uncle Vernon, and he figured he'd be lucky if he got off with just a single clout to the head like at that first detention. Or was the professor just going to start things off and then let Mr and Mrs Weasley have a chance to give him some licks too? He wouldn't blame them if they did. After what Harry had done to their dinner table? He was only surprised that Snape had marched him in here for some privacy тАУ at least to start with.

"Well, Potter?" the professor demanded, stepping closer to him, and Harry couldn't help it, he flinched.

Snape stopped dead. The boy had seemed mesmerized by his own feet, ignoring Snape's demand for an explanation, so it was only natural that Snape had moved towards him, intent upon shaking some sense into the arrogant brat. But no sooner had he moved then the boy cowered away, as if he were expecting some truly brutal punishment.

"Harry," Snape said, forcing his voice into slightly less harsh tones. "Are you expecting me to punish you?"

The boy nodded, his eyes tightly shut, hands clenched by his sides.

"By hitting you?"

He nodded again, visibly bracing himself.

Snape glared at him. "Idiot. Didn't I clearly explain my use of corporal punishment to you?"

The boy's eyes flew open in surprise. "But th-those are rules for school, sir," he gulped. "This isn't Hogwarts. I mean, those rules are for, y'know, everyday stuff. What I did here was really bad. Didn't you see Mrs Weasley's table?"

"Foolish child, I was sitting right there!" Snape pointed out testily. Gryffindor dunce. "And just what do you mean by 'school rules'? Do you honestly imagine I have nothing better to do than to come up with new rules for every eventuality? What do you expect? Rules for the Burrow, rules for Hogwarts, rules for the Leaky Cauldron, rules for Knockturn Alley тАУ"

"What's тАУ" Harry began timidly

Snape ignored him. "- Rules for you when you're eleven, rules for when you're twelve, rules for when you're wearing trainers, rules for alternate Tuesdays, rules for months with an 'r' in them?" As the professor ranted on, Harry began to relax a little. As snarky as Snape was sounding, Harry hadn't missed the fact that the professor was explaining that his rules about punishment weren't just for Hogwarts.

"Y-you mean you're not going to belt me?" Harry managed to gulp. "Or let the Weasleys? I mean, they've got to be really mad."

Snape just scowled more fiercely. "You are my ward, Potter. I don't care if you set their bloody house on fire, no one but me is ever to lay a finger on you. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, eyes wide.

"And as for 'belting' you, you already know the answer to that, do you not?"

Harry swallowed and nodded, a shy smile breaking out over his face.

"Then kindly do not attempt to distract me from your appalling behavior by asking foolish questions. You are well aware that you have behaved atrociously, and you will be punished, but you will not be physically harmed, by me or anyone else." Snape loomed over the brat menacingly. "In fact, what are you to do if someone, such as Mrs Weasley, were to attempt to strike you?"

"D-defend myself?" Harry answered uncertainly, only half-believing that the answer wouldn't earn him a slap.

"Exactly," Snape frowned at him for another moment. "Now. As to your uncouth behavior, what do you have to say for yourself, you impossible brat?"

Harry sighed as he felt the last of the terror leave him. He knew Snape was still angry with him, and that was the only thing that prevented him from hugging the man in sheer relief and gratitude. He couldn't believe how lucky he was. Had this sort of thing happened even two weeks ago, he'd have been thrashed so mercilessly that the resulting welts and bruises would have lasted for weeks. Snape was really, really nice. On the other hand, that made Harry feel even worse about disappointing the man. He forced back a sniffle.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, hanging his head.

"Did you not hear Mrs Weasley?"

"I heard her," Harry admitted.

"And yet you disobeyed her?"

Harry's shoulders hunched even more. "It's just that everyone else was ignoring her, soтАж" He sniffled again.

"Are you not a guest in this house?" Harry nodded. "Yet you feel no obligation to respect your hostess?" Harry squirmed in shame. "After all the kindness Mrs Weasley has shown you, you cannot do her the courtesy of obeying her in such a simple thing?"

Harry felt the first tear slip down his cheek. "I'm sorry," he whispered again.