kbinnz - Harry's New Home

"Oh, you will be, Potter," Snape promised grimly. "Why do you think Mrs Weasley made the rule about no football in the house?"

"S-so nothing would get broken."

"And so no one would get hurt. What if the ball had struck Mr Weasley in the face?" Snape forced down an errant snigger at the memory of Arthur's expression when the ball had smacked into his skull. He frowned more fearsomely at the sniveling brat. "What then?"

"I'm sorry." Harry wiped away more tears.

"And what if Mrs Weasley had already put out the cake she made for you? The cake, and all of Molly's hard work, could have been destroyed!"

"Mrs Weasley made a cake? For me?" Harry was so astonished he stopped crying. He stared at Snape incredulously. Someone had actually gone to the trouble of baking a cake in his honor? Dudley always got a fancy cake on his birthday, but today wasn't even Harry's birthday, and yet Mrs Weasley had made him a cake?

"Yes, and she went to great effort to do so," Snape scolded, mentally rolling his eyes at the memory of Molly's blow-by-blow description. There had been an unfortunate lull between Bill's stories of breaking an ancient Transylvanian curse and Charlie's experiences trying to establish a breeding colony of Norwegian dragons, and Molly had filled it by describing, in excruciating detail, the cake she had made "for little Harry". "How do you think she would have felt if your carelessness had destroyed all her hard work?"

"She made a cake for me?" Harry repeated, happily amazed.

"Potter!" Growling, Snape shook him by the shoulder, making Harry jump. "Pay attention!"

Harry forced down his warm fuzzy feelings and composed his features into a penitent expression. Professor Snape was telling him off, and he didn't want the poor man to realize he was pants at it. Especially not here at the Burrow, with Mr Weasley so close by. Harry needed to help Professor Snape look good, and grinning like a maniac during a stern dressing-down was not the way to do that. "Sorry," he repeated remorsefully, hugging to himself the delicious knowledge that not only had Mrs Weasley made a cake for him, but also тАУ even in the midst of a tongue lashing тАУ Professor Snape had made sure he was aware of it.

Snape wondered if he'd done the right thing by shaking the boy. He had only wanted to refocus the little monster when it was clear his attention was wandering, but now the boy looked devastated. Still, Snape told himself, the boy had earned the reprimand with his heedless actions. "Just because the Weasleys behave badly is no excuse for you to do the same," he continued firmly. "You are not some idiot to follow others blindly. I expect you to teach the Weasley children to behave with more wit and maturity, not to become corrupted yourself by their hooligan-like tendencies. Do you understand?"

"Y'sir," Harry said meekly. Wow. Professor Snape had high expectations of him. That was nice. Different but nice. Uncle Vernon had always said Harry was bound to end up as a worthless drunk in the gutter. Now Professor Snape was expecting him to teach other kids (older kids) how to behave.

"And even if they did throw or kick the ball to you, why didn't you have the good sense to catch it and end the game or insist that you would only throw it to someone who goes outside? Or at least kick it in the other direction? Didn't you realize what would happen if no one caught the ball? You are certainly bright enough to be able to calculate a spheroid's trajectory, you thoughtless brat. Failure to do so simply demonstrates your complete disregard for the rules of the house. You must use that brain of yours, Potter," Snape said angrily, giving Harry a little rap on the head with his knuckles. "You should be thinking ahead, not blundering about like some mindless beast. You are the ward of a Slytherin, young man. Gryffindor or no, you will learn to think before you act."

"Y'sir." Wow! Professor Snape actually thought he was smart! The professor was mad because he felt Harry was too clever to behave so stupidly тАУ and that was the same as a compliment, wasn't it?

He did his best not to beam at Professor Snape, recognizing that a sober, contrite mien was expected of him.

Snape considered his next move. The boy was obviously repentant. He'd had him in or near tears on several occasions during the harangue, and Snape was well aware that the brat, for all his mischief, really hadn't meant any harm. In fact, the professor mused dourly, it was all the fault of those Weasleys! They were the ones who had enticed Harry to disobey though it was of course the brat's luck that he was the one who actually caused the damage. Still, at least the other children had tried to shield Harry тАУ that boded well for the boy's long term future, when he would need such loyal allies against Voldemort's forces.

Snape eyed the boy. What next? He knew the boy had technically earned a swat for disobedience, but considering how fragile Harry had seemed earlier, perhaps it would be better to pretend he hadn't realized it. It wasn't as if the boy himself would remind him.

Harry eyed the professor. What next? He knew that he deserved a swat, but he also suspected the professor would be too nice to administer it, and that might make Mr Weasley think the professor was a rotten guardian. "I disobeyed," Harry pointed out quickly. "You're s'posed to smack me."

Snape hid his surprise behind a thunderous scowl. "Do you think I hadn't realized that?" Good grief. The boy had no sense of self-preservation. Obviously those bastard Muggles had beaten it out of him. He would have to hope exposure to the Weasleys, especially the twins, improved Harry's survival instincts. At this rate, upon learning of Voldemort's plans for him, the boy would march up and challenge the Dark Lord to an arm wrestling match or some other equally idiotic and Gryffindorish duel. He'd probably even take it upon himself to explain to Voldemort what spells and counters he had yet to learn, in the naive assumption the Dark Lord would thereupon avoid using them. Snape could just hear the brat now: "Yoo hoo, Lord Voldemort! I'm over here! Is all the fog from the battle making it hard for you to see me? Aim a little more to your left!" Obviously he had a great deal of re-education to do.

For now, though, the little idiot had brought this upon himself. Snape reached out and turned the boy away from him. He noted that the child had removed his robes to play with that absurd Muggle toy and reminded himself to lighten the smack accordingly.

Harry helpfully bent over and braced himself, wondering if, given the magnitude of the crime, Snape might decide that two (or more) swats were appropriate.

Snape's hand slapped square across his bum, sounding a lot worse than it felt as the noisy whack reverberated around the small room, but only a mild sting resulted. Harry waited for another smack, face screwed up in anticipation, but the seconds ticked by and nothing happened. "Oh." He straightened and looked over to where Snape waited, frowning at him. "Erm тАУ ouch!" he said belatedly, trying to sound appropriately chastened. He brought his hands back to give his rear a good rub. "I won't do that again," he promised, grimacing as if the residual tingle was acutely painful.

"See that you don't," the professor snapped automatically, but he appeared concerned about something.

"You need not hold still or remain silent when you are being punished," Snape finally reminded him, his brow still creased. Was the boy still so terrified by corporal punishment that he couldn't bring himself to resist in even such small ways? He had to be careful not to be too rough with Harry; after all, the slap was merely intended to communicate his displeasure, not to inflict significant pain.

"I know," Harry replied, trying to think of a reason why he hadn't squirmed or howled. The truth тАУ that the single spank didn't hurt enough to bother тАУ was obviously unacceptable. "Erm, but since I'm sure you'll still whack my bum, there doesn't seem to be much point in trying."