Snape's lips curled slightly upwards. "Using my own words against me. Now that, Harry, is quite Slytherin."
"I think I'm actually more Gryffindor--"
"I know for certain that you are," Snape calmly interrupted. "I have accepted that I have a Gryffindor son, that I in fact chose a Gryffindor son. It doesn't change who I am and it certainly doesn't make me like Gryffindors on principle. That really should be enough for you."
It was and it wasn't, but Harry couldn't think about it any longer, not just then.
Levering himself to his feet, the Potions Master studied the books and school folders stacked on a side table. "Draco will need more parchment," he decided, abruptly drawing his wand and summoning some from upstairs.
"For ten thousand lines, I guess so," Harry sighed. "Well, since we are alone maybe it's a good time for me to ask why you have to be so..."
"Cruel?" Snape guessed, dark eyes glimmering. "Authoritarian? Dictatorial?"
Harry said nothing, his own gaze merely challenging Snape to think about it.
The Potions Master stacked the parchment that had flown into his hands and extended it towards Harry. "Draco's going to have great deal of time to fill," he pointed out. "The lines will give him something on which to focus. And too, the finite nature of the assignment will help him, I think. He needs to be able to see an end in sight. Not to mention, what he has to write will tend to make him angry. Better that than he broods."
Accepting his father's judgment --strange and Slytherin as it was-- Harry took the parchments from Snape's hand. "So what does he have to write?"
"You'll see," Snape answered. Harry took that to mean that he didn't want to debate it.
Harry gathered up the rest of Draco's schoolbooks and notes, then looked expectantly toward his father.
Instead of pulling him close so they might Apparate, however, Snape held up a hand as though to warn him. "I am quite serious about your keeping Lupin's secret from Draco," he insisted in a tone that would brook no disobedience. "If I find out that you have contravened my wishes I will be most displeased, especially as it means I would not trust you again to keep Draco company. So see to it that you keep hold of your tongue."
"Yes, sir."
Snape gave him a slightly impatient glance. "Save that for class, Mr. Potter."
Harry thought about that for a minute. "You like to divide things up, I think. One thing for class, another thing for home. But if we're having a serious conversation and I say yes, sir, it doesn't mean I'm thinking you as my teacher. It just means... I want you to know I'm taking you seriously."
"Hmm." Snape beckoned him so they might Apparate. "That will do, I suppose. But please," his mouth quirked a bit, "restrict Professor to class alone."
"Sure, Sev," Harry quipped, smiling back. "No? Oh, all right. Dad it is."
-------------------------------------------------
"You were gone forever," was Draco's petulant greeting when they entered the cottage for the second time that night.
"Twenty-eight minutes is not forever, Draco," the Potions Master dryly informed him, his gaze sweeping the table. Apparently unsatisfied with what he saw there, he pressed, "Have you eaten?"
"Yes, lobster bisque followed by duck ‡ l'orange with wild rice, if you must know," Draco haughtily replied. "And I asked the box for a nice bottle of Ch‚teau Manos, and it gave me milk. Milk, I tell you! To go with duck! It's practically sacrilege."
"Actually, it's under orders not to provide you with liquor."
Draco's mouth dropped open. "I didn't ask for liquor, for heaven's sake, just a civilised dinner. What is this, Severus? You never objected before to me having wine with the evening meal!"
"I object to it when you're depressed and dining alone."
"Well, there is that," Draco murmured.
"Here," Harry put in, stepping between them. "I brought your school things."
"Oh, those will do me a lot of good. I'm shortly to be expelled, remember?"
"You need an education whether you are expelled from Hogwarts or not," Snape announced in a tone that would brook no dispute. "And you will get one, make no mistake."
Draco grimaced a bit and didn't reply. He did take the books and parchments though, briefly glancing through them before setting them aside.
"Keep up with your assignments," Snape advised. "Harry and I will keep you apprised of what those might be. Furthermore, I expect you to make good progress on your lines. All ten thousand of them, is that clear? I believe it took Mr. Weasley something over thirty days to complete his--
"Will you kindly stop throwing Weasley in my face?" Draco gritted. "So I laughed that he had lines to write! What are you trying to do, teach me that I shouldn't have?"
"I'm trying," Snape calmly returned, "to help you understand the gravity of your offences. That trick with your wand, alone, is enough to get you expelled. When Mr. Weasley committed an expellable offence I gave him ten thousand lines. The same will do for you."
Draco threw his arms up into the air. "Severus, you know perfectly well that half of Slytherin dabbles in dark magic every chance they get! And you never say a word about it. In fact your silence implies approval!"
Leaning forward, Snape spoke into the young man's face. "And you know perfectly well that the roles I have played both before and after Voldemort's return in the flesh have severely limited my latitude. What you do not know is how I have dealt with Slytherin since Samhain, so kindly keep your assumptions to yourself!"
Draco pressed his lips together for a moment, then ventured, "But--"
A look from Snape had him falling silent.
"Better," the Potions Master approved. "I will not debate your consequence. You will write your lines without further complaint. Write the first one now so that you do not forget the wording." He accioed some parchment from the stack, then performed a rather intricate spell over them before handing them to Draco. "Charmed to resist creativity, as I mentioned. Fetch an ink pot and quill, now." He waved toward the kitchen table where he had spent so many hours at Christmas penning letters.
Draco took his time, walking to get them instead of using magic, the resentful tilt of his head reminding Harry strangely of Ron.
Snape raised his eyebrows, but merely waited until the boy had sat down on the couch and assembled his writing materials on the low table in front of it. "Ready?"
Draco muttered something inaudible; Snape ignored it.
"You are to write, I am at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to learn to defend myself from the Dark Arts, not to practice them. Furthermore, as the Sorting Hat never once so much as contemplated placing me anywhere but Slytherin, I will cease at once my recent lamentable tendency to believe I am a Gryffindor."
"Oh, that's nice." Draco looked up, glaring. "I'm not going to write that."
"Yes, you are. And what's more, you're going to abide by it. Rushing pell-mell from my quarters with no thought to danger was the sort of idiotic behaviour I would expect from someone with more bravery than cunning. I expect sensible conduct from you."
Draco set his teeth, but evidently thought better of arguing. Bending over the parchment, he began to scratch out the sentences Snape had dictated.
"Gryffindor doesn't just mean stupid and reckless, you know," Harry quietly pointed out to his father. "I mean, it doesn't mean stupid and reckless. That's like saying Potions are foul, or Slytherins are criminals--"