By rights he shouldn't have been anywhere near the Quidditch Pitch. He had double Fourth Year Badgers and Ravens in 40 minutes and he hadn't sorted out the ingredients or finished marking the last two or three incoherent scrawls masquerading as essays. Nevertheless, next day found him sitting at a distance, part curious and part seeking further ammunition for a little avuncular commiseration during his next meeting with Po…. Harry.

He settled down on a handy bench and took out his omnioculars. Well, that was interesting. The broom practically leapt into his hand and he clearly had it under pretty good control for a beginner but…

Bloody Hell what did the little idiot think he was doing? Snape watched in horror as, after a brief argument with Malfoy (who else?), an airborne Harry dashed off after a thrown object and simply plucked it out of the air, mere feet from a possibly fatal crash.

Snape was off the garden bench and racing across the green before he knew where he was. It was lucky he hadn't taken up a seat nearer the action, for Potter had time to get back to his cheering classmates before Snape arrived, and that gentleman had time to regain his temper. Never had the boy looked more like his father: never had Snape had to work so hard to stay calm.

Fortunately Minerva McGonagall and Hooch turned up and were totally wrapped up in Harry's unexpected skill, and he could pass his own arrival off as mere concern for a possible accident. The full facts he heard from Malfoy, the boy didn't even have the wit to keep his mouth shut, as all the snakes walked back to the castle together. Snape struggled to contain his rage, to try something so dangerous in full view of half his year-cohort! How the seven hells did Malfoy think he was going to get away with it? His father was a pompous racist, but at least he had the brains for a little subterfuge. Right, 500 lines should for a start and…

He was halfway through deciding on the precise punishment when a stray thought squelched the idea. The last thing he wanted was to force Draco underground, so long as he thought he was invulnerable, he was unlikely to hide his intentions or actions. And what could be seen could be prevented, or at least….. Now there was a thought….. He could warn Potter, keep him on his guard. Keep him safe and bind him tighter with cords of obligation, cementing his position as trust-worthy adult and mentor. Oh this might work out very well. Of course, that was another reason why he had to remember to telephone the Pearson woman but that was a small price to pay.

By next Saturday, when Potter came round, he had his strategy carefully worked out. Before the lemonade and cakes, Snape sat him down and drew his own chair up carefully, so that they were knee to knee. Huge green eyes looked up at him and the boy smiled trustingly.

"Harry," he said. "I need to have a serious talk with you about what I saw on the Quidditch pitch last week."

"Oh wasn't it great? Did you see me? I was flying and I'm good at it and I'm going to be in the Griffindor Team – they don't usually let…."

"Harry!" He rapped the boy sharply but not painfully on the knee. "I want you to listen to me. This is important."

"But…"

"Harry!" He waited until he had the boy's complete attention. "Yes, I saw you flying and it was most impressive. However…" He raised a hand to forestall any interruption. "It was also unbelievably foolish and dangerous." Harry began to look mulish. "You had never been on a broomstick before, am I right?" Nothing. "Am I right?" A sullen nod. "You had no way of knowing that you could control the broom that well before you tried it. You could have been seriously hurt or even killed."

"But I wasn't!"

"But you might have been, because you didn't think!" He rapped his knuckles, very gently, on the boy's forehead.

"Everybody else thinks it was great!"

"And it was, you are obviously an excellent flyer. But you didn't know that when you flew off after Longbottom's toy. Look what happened to him! For all you know, the same could have happened to you – which would have hurt you and upset your friends."

Harry was watching him now, his head on one side, his eyes suddenly intense. "Including you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Would you have been upset?"

"Of course, I would," he replied, without thinking and then had to drag his attention back to the conversation. "Now – I warned you about Draco, didn't I? You know he was just trying to make trouble for you."

"I thought he was just being mean to Neville, like he always is."

"I have no doubt that that was part of it. But a large part would have been trying to make trouble for you – whether that was by getting you injured or by getting you into trouble with your teacher. You have to be careful of him – try not to rise to his bait." He saw the look of puzzlement and backtracked. "Try not to let him make you angry, angry people don't think and people who don't think make mistakes. Next time he makes you angry ask yourself, 'what is he trying to get me to do?' then don't do it. If you do what he wants – he wins."

"But people will think I'm just a cowardy-custard."

Snape blinked and sat back in his chair, winded by the sudden reminder of the taunts of his childhood. Did children still use that old insult? He pulled himself together. "Not if you point out you know what he's doing. Tell him you know he's just trying to get you worked up so you'll do what he wants. There's no reason why you shouldn't accept challenges from him – but make sure you take them calmly. You choose the battles, you choose the ground, you chose the fight." He punctuated each point with a tap on the knee. "Great generals, great fighters, great wizards, don't win by being provoked into behaving like children."

Harry was looking thoughtful, so Snape ordered up the refreshments and they both ate and drank in silence.

"So," said Harry, eventually. "What you're saying is," he spoke slowly and was obviously picking his words carefully. "When Malfoy acts like that, he's trying to wind me up and get me into trouble."

"Yes, and…" Snape prompted.

"And…. I shouldn't let him because …. because that way he can trick me into doing stupid things. "

"Exactly, well thought out, Harry." At last! Better keep it general though. "Of course, the same thing applies to real life. Dashing off and doing the first thing that occurs to you is hardly ever the right thing to do, but if you start by watching out for Draco, we can work on other things another day."

Harry added another éclair to the two he had already eaten, where the hell did adolescent boys put all that food?

"So, do you have any questions for me about your school work?" Now he'd got his own agenda out of the way he might as well see if the boy had anything he needed to discuss.

"No, but did you ring the lady about Uncle Vernon?"

"Yes, I did." And what a palaver that had been. It had taken 15 minutes and three galleons wasted in the public telephone in Hogsmeade to persuade Miss Pearson of his good faith, an effort that left him longing for a way to cast convictio down the telephone. In the end, as he told Harry, the only thing he could do was suggest that the woman consult her own father for the history of the ill-feeling between himself and Vernon Dudley, and for his assessment of whether he thought Mr Dursley capable of such actions.

"I bet he says Uncle Vernon was always horrible," said Harry, thickly through his fourth éclair.

"Well, if course he will say that if he bullied your uncle at school, even if it isn't true."

"Doesn't matter if it's true or not," said Harry, swallowing an enormous mouthful. "We just want her to get away before Uncle Vernon hurts her. Doesn't matter what happened all those years ago."

Which, reflected Snape as he showed a happily cake-stuffed Harry out of his quarters half an hour later, was a surprisingly Slytherin conclusion.