AN: Let me first say how overwhelmed I am by all of the amazing comments and encouragement. Thank you so much! I also want to let you know that this is going to be a shortish story - under ten chapters, probably around five or six. Thank you so much for all of your feedback!

Snape watched Potter intensely at breakfast, still trying to make sense of the interaction he had with the boy last night. He was certainly full of Gryffindor bravado, but there had also been a quiet calculation to protect Dumbledore that he found surprising. He would have thought the boy incapable of thinking of others, let alone trying to protect that man that Snape would say was arguably the most powerful wizard of the age. He found the encounter he had with the boy last night, at first just about a sense of justice and punishing the brat, quickly turned into something a lot more. Snape could hardly admit to feeling sympathy for the boy, but he sure felt something other than the disdain he normally felt.

"You know he's not going to wither away just because you're glaring at him," McGonagall told him crisply as she stirred milk into her tea. "I would think by the fifth year you would know that, Severus."

"Have you talked with Potter recently?" he asked the Gryffindor head of house. "He seems different this year."

"I know he's had a spot of trouble with that horrible Umbridge woman," McGonagall admitted, giving her pink-clad nemesis a sideways glare. "But he hasn't complained. Seems to be taking her verbal berating in stride."

"What if she's doing more than that?" Snape asked her.

"What do you suspect, Severus?" she asked suspiciously.

"I'm not sure yet," Snape told her. "But I think perhaps she is not just a harmless idiot. She bears watching."

"That toad," McGonagall grimaced. "So what has our Mr. Potter done to earn your ire?"

"He has detention with me this evening," Snape told her. "If he wishes to disclose the reason to you, I see that as his business."

"That bad?" she smiled softly at him. "Thank you for not killing him, then."

"It was a near thing," Snape grimaced at her.

. . .

Harry Potter watched Snape carefully during potions. He had been very tempted to miss potions for the day, but decided he did not want to have to explain his absence in detention that evening. He wasn't sure how he felt about the man this morning as he sat on the hard chair with his only slightly sensitive backside. Last night it had hurt so much that he would have sworn he'd be black and blue in the morning, but this morning he felt only the merest of twinges indicating what had happened the night before. He hadn't told anybody what had happened, he had felt too embarrassed. But there also had been something else - and Harry couldn't quite figure out what it was. Something about how Snape had healed his hand and had set it up so he would take care of any future problems as well. Wasn't he the greasy bat of the dungeons who lived to make his life miserable? Wasn't he the bane of Gryffindor set on personally taking points for the slightest provocation?

Snape didn't make eye contact with him the entire class, nor did he sneer or take house points. Was it possible that Snape was feeling the same awkwardness? Or had Snape punished so many children that he was immune to the shame he was feeling?

Just as Harry was packing up to go, he saw a scrap of paper pop into existence on top of his book. It read:

Dear Murtlap Thief,

Do not forget your detention tonight at 8 pm in my office. You will be writing lines properly.

SS.

Harry blinked at the note, grinning slightly at the moniker Snape gave him but frowning slightly at the idea of lines. Did he mean lines like the other professors gave him? Or did he mean that they would be really bad? Two days ago he would have believed that they would be really bad, perhaps with a black quill. But now he wondered - after all, the man had healed him. If he approved of using the black quill, wouldn't he have just left him to suffer from it? Harry unconsciously touched the back of his hand, though his skin was pale and pain-free.

"What's that?" Hermione asked, gesturing to the paper.

"I have detention tonight with Snape," Harry answered, picking up his books and watching as Snape swept out of the room.

"What did ya do this time?" Ron asked sympathetically. "The greasy git."

"Well, do you know how you told me that Murtlap would help my hand, Hermione?" he asked, and she nodded with her eyes narrowing.

"You didn't!" she exclaimed. "Tell me you didn't try and steal it from him!"

"Okay, I won't tell you that," he answered, cheeky.

"Blimey, Harry," Ron breathed. "And all you got was a detention?"

"We'll see how the detention goes," Harry answered. He just couldn't bring himself to say more.

"There's more to the story," Hermione surmised. "Out with it."

"Somewhere quieter," Harry relented, glancing around at the others filing out of the room.

Nodding her agreement, Hermione picked up her books and the trio made their way out into the hallway. Ron spotted a secluded alcove and motioned them over.

"Spill it," Hermione told Harry. "What happened?"

"Well, you know about my detention with Umbridge . . ." he began, and the other two nodded. "Well, I was lying awake last night with my hand hurting, and so I decided to see if I could get some of that Murlap stuff for it."

"You should have gone to Madame Pomfrey!" Hermione hissed at him, trying to keep her scolding down.

"I told you I didn't want that," Harry told her firmly.

"Then you should have sent Dobby," Ron insisted.

"Well, I bloody well didn't think of it!" Harry protested.

"What happened?" Hermione asked in a lower tone, glancing at Ron to tell him to calm down. They would never get information out of Harry if they wound him up.

"Well, Snape caught me."

"Obviously," Hermione nodded. "What did he do to you last night?"

Harry glanced around to make sure they were private, and he felt his neck and ears flushing. What was the least embarrassing way to admit what had happened? He had been so well trained by the Dursleys not to say what happened at home, that it felt wrong to say what Snape had done to him.

"He, he . . ." Harry blushed and gulped. "He took a paddle to me."

"He what?" Ron gasped.

"He must have been very angry," Hermione nodded.

"Professors can't do that!" Ron protested.

"Actually, it isn't against the rules," Hermione informed them. "It just isn't done often, and usually it would be done by your head of house."

"How many strokes did you get?" Ron asked, his expression one of morbid fascination.

"Six of the best," Harry answered, squirming uncomfortably. This was not a conversation he ever envisioned having.

"At least it wasn't a cane," Hermione told him briskly. "Paddles are far more humane. Does it still hurt?"

"Not really," Harry admitted. "I feel maybe a bit sensitive still, but it doesn't really hurt."

"Blimey, Harry," Ron shook his head. "Leave it to you to get spanked by ol' Snape."

"It's better than the black quill," Harry admitted. "And he was, you know, decent about it. I mean, afterwards when he made me tell him what I was stealing and why, he treated my hand."

"What did he use?" Hermione asked.

"Murtlap essence and then dittany," Harry answered.

"Dittany is very expensive," Hermione told them. "And very difficult to get. That was kind of him to use it on you."

"My hand is as good as new now," Harry told them, showing them the unmarked hand. "And he said I could go back should I need treatment again."

"But you are going to stop the stuff in Umbridge's class, right?" Hermione asked, her eyes sharp. "Harry, she's dangerous."

"She thinks she can break me," Harry said stubbornly. "She is mistaken."

"Harry, mate, you need to pick your battles," Ron said soberly. "Let's pick ones that don't get your hand sliced open in detention."

"People need to know he's back," Harry protested. "I am not going to agree with that toad. I don't care what she does to me."

"Perhaps you should be worrying about what Snape's going to do to you tonight," Ron smirked, trying to bring levity to the situation. "Do you think he's going to use the paddle again?"

"He said lines," Harry showed them the note. "But after Umbridge, I think I'm more afraid of lines."

. . .

Snape sighed when Potter arrived one minute late and out of breath to his detention. Really, did the boy have no decorum? Was it even worth pointing out?

"You're late," he snapped at the boy.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, watching Snape with caution. "Peeves held me up."

"You should always give yourself enough time that you will be on time even if accosted by a poltergeist," Snape told him in a lecturing tone. "Now sit down."

Still watching his potions master warily, Harry sat himself down and waited.

"I said you were doing lines, Potter," Snape spat. "Don't dawdle! Get out your quill and parchment."

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed, a certain level of relief in his eyes.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "You were afraid I would use the black quill on you," he stated, his voice deathly calm.

"Yes, sir," Harry admitted, hurrying to retrieve his quill and parchment.

"Let me be very clear, Potter," he said in that same silky, deadly voice. "The black quill is an illegal dark artifact, and not approved for use except for signing a few very specific types of contracts. It should never be used on children, let alone writing lines at a school! I would be suicidal to use something like that on Dumbledore's precious golden boy."

"She did," Harry protested, then blushed.

"Which brings me to what we need to discuss," Snape told him. "I have given it a great deal of thought, and I am of the opinion that the best course of action would be to inform Dumbledore of Professor Umbridge's abuse of you."

"No sir!" Harry protested, his voice desperate. "Please, no sir!"

Snape nodded. "I wanted to tell you what I think was the best course of action, not the one I'm forcing you to take. I will keep your secret for now, but there are conditions to my confidentiality. Hence the lines. You will be writing our contract."

"Contract?" he echoed, confused.

"Yes, agreement," Snape answered smoothly. "Condition one: You will come to me as soon as practical after any use of the black quill upon your person, or if you have information about it being used on someone else. You don't need to fear, I will heal any wounds she gives you. Write that down."

Harry nodded, and quickly wrote condition one.

"Two: If at such time I find it necessary, you will tell Dumbledore. If you refuse, I will."

Harry cut his eyes at Snape rebelliously, but he wrote down the condition.

"Three: You will endeavor to reduce the instances that Professor Umbridge can find an excuse to give you a detention."

Harry nodded as he wrote, that seemed reasonable.

"Four: You will meet with me once a week. I believe Tuesdays at 8 pm would work for me most weeks; we can reschedule if needed."

"Why?" Harry asked, holding his quill steady.

"Because obviously we need to get rid of an interfering busybody that thinks it's appropriate school discipline to cause harm upon a student's body."

"You caused harm upon my body!" Harry protested.

"That was entirely different and you know it," Snape told him. "You probably barely felt anything by morning. A few whacks with the paddle doesn't do a naughty student any real harm and often does them a great deal of good."

"It did hurt," Harry grimaced. "But I suppose it was better than the black quill."

Snape nodded, smirking as Harry wrote that condition. "Since I have promised secrecy, I am forced to use you as a confederate instead of my normal allies. In order to do that, we need to meet together. I suggest telling your friends that you have a once a week detention for the next several months."

"I don't lie to my friends," Harry protested. "At least not Ron and Hermione."

"Tell them if you must but nobody else," Snape conceded. "They seem able to keep a secret. That is the fifth condition: strict confidentiality."

Harry nodded, that made sense.

"Condition six: you will not act against Umbridge without my permission."

"Like you're going to give me permission to do something!" Harry protested.

"Let's just say that after yesterday, I believe there are things we both do not know about each other."

Harry eyed him suspiciously. But he couldn't fault Snape at all - since the man paddled him it seemed that they had developed some level of a rapport. There had been very little biting comments or sarcasm, and now Snape was offering to help him with Umbridge. And he was insisting that he know if Harry were hurt so he could heal him - as if Harry wouldn't want to do so!

"What's in it for you?" Harry asked, his tone calculating.

Snape was taken aback by such a Slytherin question. Again, he marvelled at how much he did not know about this boy. "Perhaps peace of mind," Snape drawled. "Perhaps I wish to keep you out of my potion ingredients."

Harry snorted, and nodded. "I agree to your terms," he told him.

Then we shall both sign the contract you have written out," Snape nodded. "And then I want you to tell me everything you know about Professor Umbridge."