Harry couldn't help but shudder. "Why didn't you tell me your plan in advance, even if it meant explaining paradox? I mean, I thought you said I did better with more information. Dad?"
"I didn't formulate my plan, as you put it, until after our own conversation had long since ended," Snape gruffly admitted.
"You still could have told me--"
"No, I could not, because you were already too fixated on the dream and just a heartbeat away from telling Draco about it. I did not want that, Harry. You know why. And despite my plan with regard to Miss Granger, I truly do not think your dream foretells Draco's death. My own little scheme was, indeed as you said, just in case."
Harry shivered, tremors coursing through him from head to toe.
Stepping away, Snape opened a cabinet and withdrew something, then handed Harry a small vial. "Warming draught," he explained. "It seems you need it."
The potion sent a rush of dizzying heat spinning through Harry. It was all he could do to stumble towards his seat and collapse into it. "That's... potent," he admitted, panting slightly to ease the warm feeling rushing up inside him.
"Perhaps you need weaker formulations now," Snape mused, studying him carefully.
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Of that at least. The healing potions though, the few we used, seemed to be about right."
"Interesting."
Harry didn't think so, not particularly. He was even less interested in the next topic Snape brought up.
"Your punishment," the Potions Master intoned, his voice going grim again, though not as horribly as before. "You ignored my instructions, defied my clear advice, and even went so far as to countermand my attempt at discipline."
Harry glanced nervously at his father. "I thought... making me think Draco would die was my punishment."
Snape scoffed at that. "Well it was, but I couldn't actually do it for longer than twenty seconds, could I? I do hope having a Gryffindor son isn't turning me soft. I'll have to make sure it's not, in fact, in the matter of your punishment. So..." He appeared to be thinking the matter over.
Ten thousand lines, Harry thought with dismay. No, a hundred thousand...
"Potions practicals, I do believe," Snape announced. "Yes. I know you; you won't enjoy that at all. And it serves a double purpose, as your laboratory work has been woefully neglected for far too long."
"Well sixth year has a lot of charmed potions," Harry complained. "And you knew I couldn't perform any charms for the longest time. And even regular potions didn't like me brewing them, not when my magic was locked down tight."
"Difficulties that have been resolved," Snape coolly observed. "Every Saturday, all day Saturday, for... well, for the balance of the school year, we'll say. That should make you think twice about disobeying me again."
"What about Hogsmeade Saturdays?"
"Missing out on Hogsmeade will reinforce the lesson you obviously need to learn."
"No it won't," Harry disagreed. "Listen, how about we negotiate? You'll let me off for Hogsmeade Saturdays, but those weeks I'll come brew on Sundays. All right?"
Snape regarded him for a long moment. "Well, if we're negotiating," he finally stressed, "let's be a bit clearer about our terms. You may substitute Sunday for Saturday with my permission, which I will not grant unless I am pleased with your demeanor in general and your mastery of Potions in particular."
"What does it matter for my mastery if I brew on a Saturday or a Sunday?"
"Motivation matters a great deal, especially with Gryffindors more interested in their social lives than in making the most of an expensive Hogwarts education."
"Hey, I pay my own way here!" Harry exclaimed, and then realized. "Oh, that's right..."
"Yes, your school fees are my responsibility now," Snape nodded. "Which is as it should be, but I will not have my money going to waste, is that clear? You will come down here to brew on Saturdays unless I give you permission otherwise."
"You're just trying to make sure I still see plenty of Draco," Harry accused, still a bit irritated that he hadn't completely won the negotiation. "As if you don't believe me when I say I plan to visit!"
"If you think that, I can have you do your practicals in a classroom laboratory--"
"No, it's okay. I'll do them down here," Harry groused. "Serve you right if I misbrew something and blow up your rooms."
Snape had the gall to laugh. "If you have that severe a mishap then Hogsmeade Saturdays will definitely be a thing of the past for you. In fact, I may well decide you need to do practicals all through the summer. Three full days a week, perhaps. It won't do for any son of mine to be less than competent in potions."
"I got an Outstanding on my O.W.L., as you know perfectly well, Dad!"
"Ordinary Wizarding Level," Snape scathed. "Emphasis on ordinary. I'm talking about real brewing, N.E.W.T. level at the very least. And one more thing. I want a promise from you, and I'll want you to keep it, do you understand? You're to swear to me that if you have any more brilliant ideas about your dreams, you'll come to me at once, not act on them, is that clear?"
"Um... well, yeah, it's clear, but what if there isn't time? I mean, what if it's an emergency and somebody's going to die right in front of me if I don't do what my instincts are screaming at me to do?"
"Ah yes, negotiations," Snape snarked. "You may have a caveat, then. You will promise to come to me unless unassailably dire life-or-death circumstances preclude it. But you are to come to me at once, not mull things over until you have no choice but to act. Are we agreed?"
"Yeah, it's a deal," Harry answered, then realizing that a promise should sound more formal, "I mean, yes, Severus. We're agreed."
His father looked him up and down. "Swear it. Swear it on your honor as a Gryffindor."
"You think Gryffindor honor's a joke!" Harry exclaimed. ''Peter Pettigrew, all that!"
"Yours is no joke. In fact one of your major failings is having too much of it, but in this case, I suppose I don't mind using that to my own advantage. Now swear, Harry."
"Fine," Harry bit out, more than a little irritated. "I swear on my honor as a Gryffindor, by all that Godric himself held holy, all right, that I'll come to you the instant I have any more brilliant ideas about any of my dreams."
"Adequate, if a trifle sarcastic," Snape commented.
Harry was saved from answering that by a knock on the door. When Snape waved it open, Draco poked his head inside a little hesitantly. "Everything all right in here?"
"Were you expecting mayhem?" Snape mocked. "Harry is fine, though it astonishes me that you should feel a need to check up on him when he is with me." He made a show of glancing from Draco to Harry and back. "However, if you want to be protective of your brother, I suppose I can't object. After all, you did go to rather Hufflepuffish lengths to assure him that you might occasionally be able to tolerate his presence these days."
Draco colored slightly, muttering, "Oh yeah, the one-way wards. Should have remembered." Then he rallied, "I wasn't worried about him, Severus, though after that accio and counteraccio out there, I did wonder if the two of you were dueling again."
Thinking about their argument, Harry had to nod. "Yeah, I guess we were, sort of. And before you ask who won, I think it was a draw."
"That's all right then," Draco pronounced. "Well, the real reason I knocked was because I thought you might like to know about the letter that just came whooshing out the Floo."