Chapter 10 : In Control

At last, the sound of sobbing died away, as the emotions that had swept over Harry were slowly brought back under some semblance of control. As he gradually regained some degree of self-control, Harry became aware that he was being held against someone's chest, being gently rocked back and forth, as a soft voice murmured comfortingly in his ear. It felt so good, so warm and safe, that he never wanted it to end. Of course he knew he couldn't stay in this position for ever, but he wished for it anyway, just as every year on his birthday he had wished for someone, anyone, who would love him and want him the way his relatives loved and wanted their precious Dudley.

Finally, with a little sigh, he pushed gently away from the chest he had been nestled against, and struggled to sit up. In response, he felt the arms that had enfolded him so tightly begin to fall away. Then he felt large hands placed gently but firmly around his waist, as he was lifted off his comforter's lap, and placed beside him on the leather sofa. Instantly, he regretted his decision to leave the safety of those arms, as a hand reached out to seize his chin, forcing him to look up into his Professor's stern face.

"Well then, Mr Potter," came the silky smooth voice, "now that we have got that nonsense out of the way, perhaps you would care to explain to me just exactly what you were doing anywhere near that troll?"

Snape was very much in control again, once more the stern-faced professor feared by one and all, he assured himself with great satisfaction, as he noticed the apprehensive look that instantly flashed across the child's face. However, he also noticed how dirty and wet that thin little face was, following the recent meltdown, and reacted instinctively by reaching for the box of tissues which lay on the table behind the sofa, and placing it on the child's knees, accompanying his actions with the terse command to "Blow your nose, for pity's sake, child!"

Harry did as he was told, then proceeded to scrub at his eyes as well, trying in vain to remove all traces of his foolish tears. When his Professor reached out and firmly removed the remnants of crumpled tissue from his hand, he found himself forced to look up again into that stern face, aware that the time had come to face his fate.

"The troll, Mr Potter?" came a gentle reminder, as the box of tissues was also whisked away, and his Professor's hand came to rest in it's place on Harry's knee. Somehow, the return of that physical contact gave Harry the courage he needed to speak.

As he stammered his way through his tale of woe, Harry knew that even to his own ears it sounded pathetic. He had absolutely no excuse for going after Hermione. He should have just told Percy, or one of the other prefects, where she was, then followed Professor Dumbledore's command to go to his common room and stay there. He should never have talked Ron into going with him, putting his friend in danger just because he was afraid to go alone. Then, when he had realised that Hermione was already being stalked by the troll, he should have gone for adult help, or convinced Ron to do so, not dashed in there with no thought about what two untrained boys could realistically do to save her. And worst of all, as far as Harry was concerned, he had allowed Hermione to lie for him, letting her take the blame for his actions just because he was so terrified of being sent away.

As Snape listened to these faltering words, he found himself reliving how he had felt when, attracted by the children's screams, he had hurtled down several flights of stairs and corridors before bursting into that bathroom, just behind the headmaster, to find this child standing over the prostrate form of one of the largest mountain trolls he had ever seen. For some reason he could not fathom, his instincts had told him to pull the child to him, to hold him close and reassure him that he was safe now, but together with this had come the desire to take him by the scruff of the neck and smack his backside soundly for putting himself in such danger in the first place! It had taken all his self-control to stay where he was as Minerva dealt with the three children, and he felt sure that, had she punished them properly for their foolish behaviour, he could have stayed well out of things. Then the foolish woman had rewarded Harry! Rewarded him! For almost getting himself killed! And not for the first time, either.......

FLASHBACK.......

It was the second week of term, and Snape had been visiting with Hagrid that afternoon. On his way back to the castle he had suddenly remembered that the first years were to have their first flying lessons today. He knew that Draco Malfoy would have been receiving flying lessons from an early age, but was interested to see if his classmates showed any promise in this area. Although too young to play Quidditch for their houses until at least the third year (a safety rule which had been imposed by the Ministry following a serious incident involving a second year Hufflepuff), he knew that the more able flyers in the lower school were usually invited to join Madam Hooch's "Flying Squad". It was a matter of pride for Professor Snape that so many of his little snakes were usually invited to join this elite band, and he was keen to see how many would make it through this term.

As he turned into the courtyard in which they were to practice, however, Snape realised that not only was Rolanda Hooch conspicuous by her absence, but that Draco Malfoy was flying down towards the ground at speed and there, up in the air, travelling at full tilt towards one of the castle towers, was none other than Harry Potter! As he watched in horror, the child screeched to a halt only centimetres from the brickwork of the tower, and carried out a 360 degree spin in mid-air, reaching out a hand in the split second when he was hanging upside down on his broom, and snatching something out of the air, before righting himself, then heading down to join his classmates, who were now cheering and waving their brooms in the air.

Horror at what he had just witnessed kept the potions master glued to the spot for a fraction too long, because by the time he had spurred himself into action, stalked across the courtyard, and forced his way through the raucous crowd of children, he found himself forestalled by Minerva's untimely arrival, and was forced to leave disciplining the Potter brat to his Head of House. He had been horrified to learn, later that day, that the "punishment" Harry had received had consisted of a coveted place in the Flying Squad, along with the promise of a broom of his very own if he worked hard at squad practice all term! An attempt on his part to remonstrate with Minerva ...."But the blasted child could have killed himself! How will he learn to think before he acts if you insist on rewarding such foolhardiness?" had met with little more than a shrug of the shoulders. Turning to Dumbledore had been worse than useless...."My dear boy, if you don't think Minerva is handling the situtation properly, you are, of course, welcome to step in! After all, it was you who brought Harry here, and you know how he looks up to you!"

END FLASHBACK

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Severus had come to a decision. A decision which would have serious implications for many people, but most of all for himself and for the tear-stained child now seated beside him, gazing trustfully up at him. He knew beyond all doubt that he was the one who had to keep this child safe, at any cost, even if that cost were his very soul.

The logical part of his mind, the part that he had long ago trained himself to listen to in total isolation from any and all emotional reactions, was still telling him that this was a mistake. This was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. This was Lord Voldemort's nemesis, who had stood against the Dark Lord, where so many powerful witches and wizards had failed, at the tender age of just 14 months. Should, heaven forbid, the Dark One ever rise again, this child would be his first target. And if, as many fervently hoped, Voldemort was truly dead, the child might still be in danger at the hands one of his erstwhile followers. For surely, as Dumbledore himself once reasoned, the destruction of this child would be seen by many as an important step in any attempt to seize the power their former Master had once craved?

It was eight years now since the night he had crawled into Dumbledore's office, exhausted and disorientated by pain, confusion and guilt at the dreadful things Voldemort had forced him to see and to do. He had wept in his mentor's arms, as he confessed to all he had done since that dark night in his late teens when first he had offered his allegiance to the Dark Lord. To his eternal relief, Dumbledore had not only forgiven him, but had offered him a chance to redeem himself. Since then he had been Dumbledore's "man on the inside", first with Voldemort himself and then, latterly, with his loyal followers such as Lucius Malfoy.

He was not a fool, and he knew that everything he had done for the past eight years to protect his position as a spy for the Order would be jeopardised were it to become known to the likes of Lucius Malfoy that he was protecting the Potter brat. But someone had to protect him, from himself as much as anything else, and nobody else was taking the task seriously enough. So, it was up to Snape to step up to the mark, and to hell with the consequences. Lily's child needed him!

Realising that the child had stopped talking, and was gazing fearfully at him, whilst biting nervously on his lower lip, Snape took a deep breath and began to speak.

"I assume, young man, that you are aware of how foolish you have been tonight?"

"Y...Yes sir!" came the whispered response.

"And I also assume that you realise you could have got yourself, or one of your friends, killed as a result of your foolishness?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Then all that remains," came the stern response "is for me to inform you of your punishment."

Harry drew in a sharp breath as his Professor continued. "As of this moment, you are hereby grounded for a period of one week! This means that, when you are not in class, study hall, or at a meal, you will remain in your common room. You will not visit the owlery, or Hagrid's hut, or go down to the lake, unless accompanied either by one of the prefects, or by a member of staff. In addition, you will lose all your priveleges, including attendance at Flying Squad training sessions. In short, you will study, you will eat, and you will sleep. Nothing more. Is that fully understood?"

Stunned by the all-encompassing nature of his punishment, Harry was able to do nothing more than nod his head, as he tried to take it all in. No flying! No Hagrid! And no Hedwig?? How would he go a whole week without visiting his beloved owl?

"In addition, you will compose for me a three foot essay on mountain trolls, with specific reference to how best they can be controlled," his Professor went on.

"And finally," Snape continued, once more capturing Harry's chin and forcing him to make eye contact as he made this last stern pronouncement, "if I ever see or hear of you deliberately placing yourself in danger again, I will turn you over my knee and spank you!"

At this, Harry's eyes went wide with shock. Spank him! Oh no, he couldn't mean it! Could he? But the look his Professor was giving him left Harry in no doubt that he was as serious about this as he was about the grounding. Harry had never been spanked - his relatives tended to hand out casual slaps and punches, but had on the whole preferred to avoid physical contact with Harry, but he had spent enough time with the Weasleys over the past few weeks, and heard enough tales of Fred and George's many misdeeds, to know that not only were spankings still a very common form of discipline in the wizarding world, but that they were definitely something to be avoided!

Snape smiled to himself as he observed Harry's reaction to his warning - the child would be best to avoid playing poker, his feelings were so easy to read in his face!

"Well now," he said finally, standing up and pulling Harry to his feet in one swift movement, "it is very late, and high time you were in bed. You will therefore go straight to Gryffindor tower, and thence directly to bed - no stopping to boast to your fellow lions about defeating the troll, or about surviving a private discussion with the "bat of the dungeons"! Is that clear?"

The look on Harry's face when he said this was a source of great satisfaction to his Professor, but nothing more was said by either of them as Snape opened the door, and sent Harry on his way to bed with a firm smack across his unsuspecting bottom. A surprised little yelp resounded in the stairwell as he closed the door, smirking to himself as he pictured the brat rubbing his now stinging backside whilst making his way down the stairs. Severus Snape was, most definitely, in control!

END OF CHAPTER 10