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Harry didn't want to leave his bed, even though his stomach growled angrily for breakfast, the smell of eggs and bacon seeping through the cracks of his door, making his mouth water. But no – he wasn't going to leave this room. He wasn't going to even look at his father or even speak to him. That man had crossed a line last night, Harry was sure of it. Harry rolled over on his bed, facing away from the door, just in case Severus came in.

Last night had been awful.

Harry had been dreading a terrible spanking, but after he had been flipped over his father's knees and bared, he only felt the sting of the ruler six times before he was lifted back up. He had bawled over the six swats he had been given, he'll admit, but it wasn't what he had been expecting after his father had dragged him swiftly to their quarters.

After the swift spanking, he was told to go to his room and get ready for bed. Severus had still looked angry enough to spit fire so Harry quickly did as he was told. Harry had run to his bedroom with blinding tears trailing down his cheeks and it took several tries to get his pajama shirt on the right way. Inside out, backwards, backwards again, inside out once more, Harry nearly gave up on the mundane task.

Finally, after he was dressed and his crying had subsided a bit, Harry listened for noise outside his door. He could hear Severus pacing in his own bedroom, and Harry knew the man was taking the time to calm down. Harry decided he should do the same. He took in several deep breaths and laid on his bed, face down into his pillow. The image of his burning broom crossed his mind once more and Harry could feel tears escape his eyes once more.

After a while, Severus entered his room with a plate of food. Harry had been given a final tongue lashing of how stupid his actions were and what a dunderhead he had been following Severus into the forest and eavesdropping like he had. Then, Severus left Harry alone with a dinner that had no dessert.

After eating dinner alone, Harry tiptoed out of his room and looked around the apartment for his father. Severus wasn't there. He wondered where the man had disappeared to. Harry thought about leaving but he felt too tired to travel back to Gryffindor Tower and he was already dressed for bed so he returned to his room. He thought back to his swift spanking, giving his bottom a rub in remembrance, and he figured that Severus had just been too angry and didn't want to lose control while administering a spanking. Severus had definitely done so before.

Then there was his broom. Well, his broom that no longer existed, anyway. Harry still couldn't believe that his own father had taken it and burned it to nothing. It was the worst punishment Harry had ever suffered through – in Harry's opinion. Why did his broom have to go through capital punishment, paying the price for a crime Harry had committed? Harry thought about how much he hated his father and the man's cruel and unusual punishments.

Harry wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep, but he had woken to the smell of eggs and bacon.

Now, Harry just laid there. He didn't hate his father as he had thought he did last night. What had he been thinking? He could never hate Severus.

But he could wish a swarm of angry bees upon his father, stinging him until the man burned and then burst into flames burning into ashes like the Nimbus 2000.

All this without dying, of course. It was just a sweet image of revenge.

Harry rubbed at his eyes and yawned. Lying here in his bed with his warm blanket over him was making him sleepy. Maybe if he just closed his eyes for a minute . . .

"Rise and shine, Harry," said a deep voice that had opened Harry's door. "Come on, son, out of bed."

Harry curled up tighter under his blanket and refused to acknowledge his father's presence. He heard footsteps approach his bed and he kept his eyes closed.

"Harry," Severus said, laying a hand down on Harry's shoulder and shaking lightly. "Time to wake up."

Harry still said nothing nor did he open his eyes. He felt the bed dip slightly as Severus sat on the edge.

"I know you're awake, young man. You will not be having breakfast in bed so I suggest you get up and get ready for the day."

"I'm not hungry," Harry mumbled. His stomach growled in disagreement. Traitor.

"An outright lie. Get up, Harry."

Severus patted Harry's hip and gently shook Harry again.

Harry sighed and crawled out from under his blanket and moved around Severus in a wide circle, keeping as much distance between him and his father. Severus didn't seem to notice and simply left the room to give Harry some privacy. Harry quickly changed into some day robes since it was Sunday and then left his room.

He stopped in the hallway just before he entered the living room and could turn left for the dining room. He didn't really want to see his father again. He just wanted to leave and go see his friends back in Gryffindor Tower. They were probably wondering what had happened to him last night. He could just walk quickly to the front door – it was directly straight ahead of him – and Severus was probably reading the paper so he'd never see . . .

"Harry! Breakfast is on the table. Hurry up before it gets cold."

Harry jumped at his father's call. He sighed and left the hallway and approached the dining table. Severus was reading the paper, as he predicted. Sam was eating eggs and bacon in a bowl on the floor near his father's seat. Sam lifted his head and looked at Harry with vibrant yellow eyes, tilting his head and sniffing the air madly. His ears dropped slightly but he went back to eating his breakfast.

Harry sat in his usual spot at the table. He looked down at the scrambled eggs and bacon strips on his plate. There was a small bowl of fruit to his left and a cup of milk to his right He was really hungry but he ate slowly at the food, picking his way through it. He was sipping at his milk when Severus chose to speak.

"I want to talk to you about last night."

Harry set his milk back down.

"What about it?"

"While I hope I left a lasting impression on you," Severus said, folding up the paper and setting it aside so he could give Harry his full attention. "I understand that my actions last night were a little . . . immoderate. I should have handled you with more control and I shouldn't have burned your broom as a punishment . . ."

"You shouldn't have touched my broom, period," mumbled Harry under his breath.

"Excuse me, young man?"

"I didn't say anything."

"Do not –" Severus cut himself off and breathed out heavily through his nose, tight-lipped. He closed his eyes for a brief second before trying again. "I am trying to apologize to you, Harry, would you –"

"Then maybe you should have started with 'I'm sorry,'" Harry snapped.

"You watch your tone, young man . . ."

"I don't have to do anything!"

"Harry Severus . . ."

"I thought you were supposed to be apologizing but you're yelling at me now!"

"I'm not yelling at you – you're the one yelling at me . . ."

"Sure, blame it on me! It's always my fault! Always! Always! Always!"

Harry pounded his fists on the table as he said each "always."

"Harry, stop that! Do you need a time out?"

"No! I'm not a baby!" Harry screamed, blinking back tears. "Stop treating me like one! I'm not a stupid, bloody baby!"

"Stop yelling!" Severus finally yelled back. "Now you watch your language or I'll pull out some soap for you. Now, are you going to keep yelling at me or can we start this conversation over and . . ."

"I don't want to talk to you at all!"

"Go back to your room," Severus stood to his feet and pointed toward Harry's room. "Now."

Harry stared up at his father with wide eyes, wondering how this conversation spiraled downhill so quickly. He looked in the direction of his room then back at his father's unrelenting form. He slowly stood to his feet, pausing again to look toward his bedroom and at his father. He pushed away from the table and took a few steps around it before bolting for the front door, swinging it open and disappearing, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Harry, get back here!" Severus started for the door but stopped when Sam spoke.

: I'd let him go, the fox said. Severus looked at Sam, who was sitting next to his empty bowl. He's still clearly upset over his broom. Give him time. As long as he needs to get over it. Then try again.

Severus grabbed fistfuls of his hair and squeezed, a migraine pulsing through his head.

Harry ran through the halls of Hogwarts, his blinding tears making it hard to make out where exactly he was going. Harry beat the walls every few minutes, lashing out with fists and feet, pounding into the stone every bit of frustration and sadness he had.

He finally stopped running and collapsed in a corner of some secluded hall and huddled up into it. He wrapped his arms around his knees and shook with sobs.

He didn't know why he was so upset. He thought he had been upset last night, but how he felt today was ten times worse. Perhaps the fact that his broom was ashes flying through the Forbidden Forest had really sunk in this morning. Or it was the way his father had been trying to apologize and justify his actions at the same time. Or perhaps it was how their conversation had simply gone altogether. Or maybe he just wasn't ready for an apology yet.

Or maybe it was everything combined.

Harry hoped no students or professors walked down this hall. Then he would have to add embarrassment to his reasons of crying. Harry couldn't bring himself to stop. He just wanted to curl up on the floor and lay there for forever and never be found again.

Something red entered his line of vision.

Harry looked up and saw Sam standing next to him, the size of a Golden dog. Sam sat down next to him and tilted his head, his ears falling back against his head. Harry crawled closer to him and wrapped his arms around Sam's neck, feeling Sam rest his head on top of his own. Harry softly cried into the fur, his tears ending slowly.

For Sam, he was not some "loyal mutt in need of comforting his distressed master." No – but sometimes looking the part meant playing the part. And Harry needed someone to help him calm down, someone other than his father and human friends.

"I can't believe Uncle Severus did that," said Draco, sitting next to Harry on the floor in the Owlery. Aero, his eagle owl, rested on Draco's knee, enjoying the head scratches his owner gave him. "I'm really sorry about your broom, Harry."

"So were Ron and Hermione," Harry said, petting Hedwig who was resting on Harry's knee. "Well, mostly Ron. Hermione just told me how stupid I was to follow Dad into the forest."

It had been a couple days since his argument with his father. He had not really seen Severus since he had run out of their quarters. Harry refused to look up at the teachers' table during mealtimes and engaged himself in conversations with his friends to make it easier to avoid looking up. He hadn't had potions yet, so he had no reason to face his father. Not yet anyways.

Besides, Severus had yet to try to talk to him. Harry wasn't going to make the first move – it was his father's fault they were in this mess. If the man hadn't yelled at him at breakfast – wait, no, that was him that did all the yelling. Harry had to be honest with himself. He had not made that conversation flow easy at all.

"What are you going to do?" Draco looked at Harry. "You can't ignore your father forever, Harry. He's your dad."

"I know," Harry said. "But I don't know what to do. I'm mad at him but . . . I don't know."

"I understand. Sometimes my dad does stuff that makes me mad at him. Like always disappearing to go to work instead of spending time with me. Then I try to be mad at him when he does want to spend time with me, but it's so hard to stay mad when he's trying to make me happy. I know he doesn't mean to be such a workaholic. He's trying to be a good father."

To Harry, it was probably the wisest thing Draco had ever said to him.

"Thanks, Draco. I should probably head to Transfiguration. I'll see you later."

Draco smiled and waved as Harry stood and gave Hedwig one last pat on the head before she flew off to a ledge. Harry ran out of the owlery.

He quickly made his way to his transfiguration class, nearly out of breath from all his running. He found his seat between Ron and Hermione.

"You were almost late, Harry," Hermione whispered harshly to him.

"Sorry," Harry whispered back. "What are we doing today?"

"Turning small creatures in to matchboxes."

"What kind of creatures?"

Hermione gave a shrug as she quickly shut her mouth to give her full attention to McGonagall as the professor entered the room. McGonagall gave the class a look over to see if everyone was there. She seemed to pause her eyes over Harry for a second before scanning the room again.

"Today, class, you will be turning small creatures to matchboxes. It is a similar process to the match to needle, almost a complete reversal . . ."

After a quick lesson on how to change a small creature – which ranged from tiny flies to little mice – to a matchbox, everyone was given a tiny creature to begin practicing with. Harry stared down at the tiny frog placed before him. He could hear everyone already beginning the incantation and heard McGonagall remark on the other students attempts. It sounded like a few students were succeeding.

"Flintifors!" shouted Hermione confidently, flicking her wand just so.

Her little white mouse gave a squeak as it changed into a perfect matchbox. She smiled broadly as McGonagall made her way over to her.

"Well done, Miss Granger. Now, see class, it should be a smooth process with little harm to your creature. Remember, they are still living creatures, merely disguised as an inanimate object. Handle your matchbox with care."

McGonagall flicked her wand and changed the little mouse back.

"Flintifors!" shouted Ron. He was using Scabbers since McGonagall allowed anyone to bring their own familiar to practice with, as long as it was small enough. Neville was using Trevor, his toad.

Scabbers squeaked loudly before changing into a matchbox with rat legs, ears, and a tail. He continued to squeak in that form, and he tried scurrying off the desk and away from Ron. Everyone laughed and Ron turned as red as his hair as he grabbed matchbox Scabbers before he could jump to the floor. McGonagall stood next to his seat.

"Nice try, Mr. Weasley. Be sure to flick your wand appropriately. I'm sure Miss Granger could give you pointers on how to properly flick your wand for this spell."

Hermione smiled as she moved over to Ron to show him how it was supposed to be done. Ron grumbled under his breath as McGonagall changed Scabbers back.

Harry stared down at his little frog that was just sitting on his desk staring up at him, a tiny green, black spotted body and abnormally large bronze eyes. Harry took a deep breath and practiced flicking his wand at the frog. Once he believed he had it right, he looked at the frog which gave a small croak.

"Flintifors!" Harry shouted, flicking his wand just so.

The frog croaked and turned into a matchbox. Harry paused a second staring at it before he allowed a small smile.

Then, the matchbox croaked.

Harry frowned and peered closely at it. He nearly fell backwards out of his seat when the matchbox hopped away and off the table, landing on the floor.

"Hey!" Harry yelled, looking at the floor. The matchbox continued to hop away from Harry's seat. "Come back here!"

Harry tried to catch the matchbox, but even without eyes, it expertly evaded his hands. He could hear the room laughing at his predicament, and Harry would normally laugh along. But his week had been terrible enough, with the loss of his broom and the stress of avoiding his father. He was not in the mood to laugh along with his classmates. The matchbox was still sneaking its way out of his reach and Harry was growing more frustrated with it. He could hear McGonagall trying to settle the class back down. She wasn't helping any, just allowing Harry to catch that stupid matchbox. Harry growled angrily.

In a fit of fury, Harry rushed forward, falling over, and tightly grabbed the matchbox, squeezing it securely in his hands. He finally stood with the matchbox, glad to have caught it.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted, running to him. "Loosen up! Loosen up! You're squeezing him too tightly!"

Harry suddenly realized how tightly he was handling the matchbox – which was really a little frog. He loosened his hands and allowed Hermione to take the matchbox. McGonagall rushed over to Hermione and flicked her wand. The matchbox changed back to a limp frog in Hermione's hands. McGonagall shook her head at the little thing.

Harry's eyes widened and he took a step back. Had he really . . .?

"Harry," Hermione admonished. "You killed it."

The entire class began oohing.

"I didn't mean to, I swear!" Harry exclaimed.

"Now, Mr. Snape," McGonagall began. "I know you didn't mean to, but this is why I emphasized the importance of handling the creatures with gentleness and care. Now, it'll be fine, it was . . ."

Harry felt tears in his eyes. He had killed an innocent little animal over frustration and embarrassment. How could he? He didn't really hear what McGonagall was saying, though her lips continued to move. Harry could only stare at the lifeless body of the tiny frog he had roughly handled. He slowly backed out of the room, keeping his eyes on the frog and avoiding the stares of his classmates and professor.

"Mr. Snape?" McGonagall noticed Harry's pale face. "Are you alright? Come here, sit down."

Harry looked at the seat McGonagall pulled out from under a table.

Then, he ran out of the classroom.

Severus roamed the empty halls of Hogwarts. His week had been terrible so far. Since Sunday morning when he had tried to apologize for burning his son's broom, a conversation which had not gone how he would have liked, Harry had avoided him in all ways. It was only Tuesday, yet Severus did not like where his relationship with his son was at. He couldn't allow it to continue.

He would have to talk to Harry whether the child wanted to or not.

Earlier that day, Severus had spoken to Minerva about the situation he was in. She hadn't been too helpful.

"Well, you shouldn't have burned his broom," she had said. "Then you wouldn't be in this mess."

"That's all you have to offer?" Severus had snapped back at her. "If I wanted to be scolded like a child, I would have visited my mother's portrait."

"You both need to learn how to deal with your anger. You especially. That fox of yours has been a great influence on Harry and even you. Look, Harry needs time – he's just a kid. And at his age, he's going to be more emotional and dramatic. You're hitting those years where everything you do is going to be unfair and challenged by him. You just have to be there when he needs you. And trust me, he'll need you a lot in his teen years believe it or not."

"And for right now?" Severus questioned.

"Just wait," Minerva said. "Be patient. I think you need to spend more time with other adults your age rather than your son and a fox centuries older than you. It may help you remember what your younger years were like."

Severus had huffed at that, but Minerva was leaving the staff common area.

"I have a class to teach, your son's actually. Maybe I can talk to him after class as his head of house and offer some advice."

Severus had hoped that she would. Perhaps Harry needed a different adult to talk to. He had noticed that Sam had been absent from his presence and he was sure the fox was with Harry. However, as loyal as Sam was to Severus and Harry, that loyalty worked both ways against each other. There were things Severus asked Sam not to share with Harry, and Severus was sure there were things Harry asked Sam not to share with him.

Severus knew he wasn't an easy man to get along with. Having Harry had changed him in many ways and he was very open with his son, but he was still a – what did the students call it – a greasy git? Not that constantly working around potion fumes didn't have an effect on one's hair, but he was still a git at times.

Sam was an interesting character. The fox didn't seem to mind Severus's distemper and even enjoyed his sarcasm. Severus enjoyed having Sam around as a part of the family. Yet, Sam and Harry were the two main exceptions.

Minerva was like a mother-model to him; the mother he never had. She offered great advice and helped him understand his own son better, especially the more emotional and troubling times. Then there was Albus Dumbledore, and that man was a mentor and close friend to him with wisdom that helped him when he needed it. Although Albus wasn't always great at offering advice on handling children, besides offering sweets, of course.

Remus and Sirius were the last exceptions. Sirius annoyed the hell out of him the majority of the time, but the man's heart was usually in the right place. Sirius could almost always make Harry laugh in any situation when Severus found that he couldn't. And Remus was a great model for Harry to have and follow. Given the hard times Remus had gone through, the man could always find some way to relate to a troubling situation either Harry or Severus was going through.

Perhaps Minerva was right. Maybe he could take a night and just hang at a bar with Harry's uncles, even if the mangy dogfather got on his nerves.

As Severus turned a corner, he heard crying that sounded a lot like Harry.

He followed the noise to an isolated corner in the hall, almost box-shaped. He saw Harry huddled as far back as possible with his arms around his knees, his shoulders shaking with heavy sobs. Sam sat at his side, wolf-sized with his head rested atop Harry's.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Severus asked taking a step further into the corner.

Quick as a flash, Sam stood to his feet and snarled at Severus, backing the man right out of the corner once more.

"Sam!" said Severus indignantly. Sam didn't back down, just stood blocking Severus's way to Harry, snarling with his fur bristled and his three tails flicking in warning.

"I don't want to see you!" Harry managed to sob out.

"Harry, what happened? I thought you were in class?"

"I was!" Harry gasped out between sobs. "It was an accident, I swear! I didn't mean to."

Severus tried to take a step around Sam, but Sam dodged in his way, his ears flattening now as his snarls amplified in volume. Severus growled under his breath, frustrated with the fox's loyalty to following Harry's every wish.

"What are you talking about? What was an accident?"

"I killed a frog! I didn't mean to, honest. It was a matchbox and I forgot."

Severus remembered Minerva mentioning that the first years were turning small creatures into matchboxes. Harry must have handled the matchbox too roughly when he handled it. Severus felt bad for his son, but the damn fox was not letting him move closer to his son.

Severus pulled out his wand and fired a harmless spell at Sam, making the fox jump back in surprise to avoid being hit. Severus used the quick distraction to brush past the fox and to Harry, crouching down in front of his son. He tried to pull Harry up so he could see his face but Harry resisted his attempts.

"No! Leave me alone!" Harry shouted.

"Harry, it's okay. It was your first attempt, I'm sure, and you didn't mean to harm it, right? This is nothing to get all depressed about." Severus could feel Sam join them in the corner, sitting down next to Severus. It was a little crowded and warm with the three of them and Severus would rather talk to Harry in the hall or anywhere besides this corner. He tried to pull Harry up again, but Harry pulled his arms back, keeping his head rested on his knees.

"I killed the frog! It's dead!"

"Honestly, Harry, it was just a frog."

Finally, Harry looked up at Severus. It was a pitiful look mixed with disbelief, his emerald eyes glassy and his lower lip quivering. His hair was a bit tussled possibly from rubbing against his knees. Harry's eyebrows furrowed at Severus.

"Never mind," Severus made a waving motion with his hand, disregarding what he had just said. "Forget I said that."

"Like my broom was just a broom," Harry mumbled, still looking up at Severus with a pout-like look.

Severus sighed and leaned back on his heels, his legs starting to cramp from the position he was in.

"It wasn't just a broom, son," Severus said. "It was yours; a gift from your Head of House. It was something special to you. And I never should have destroyed it. I was frustrated with you and scared that something could have happened to you in the forest. I was angry and overreacted. And for that, I am sorry."

There. He had apologized. He had gotten that off his chest. Now Harry just needed to forgive him. He waited for his son to respond and hopefully accept it. Silence reigned for several long moments between the three of them.

"I was frustrated, too," Harry whispered. "And everyone was laughing at me and I was embarrassed. I was angry and overreacted, too. And I'm sorry I killed it; I didn't mean it."

"I know," Severus said. "You wouldn't do something like that. And I'm sure you can help Professor McGonagall collect some new frogs. Don't you think?"

Severus smiled at Harry who sniffed and rubbed at his face with the back of his hand. He automatically reached into a robe pocket for a handkerchief and handed it to Harry. Harry cleaned his eyes then clenched the handkerchief in his fist.

"Do you think she'll forgive me?" Harry asked.

"Can you forgive me?" Severus answered, raising an eyebrow.

Again, there was an intense silence between them. Severus nearly held his breath as he waited for an answer from his son. Only Harry could make him feel so vulnerable at times. After a couple moments, Harry slowly nodded and a small smile graced his lips. Severus could breathe with ease once more.

"I can forgive you," Harry said, sitting up and wrapping his arms around Severus's neck, nearly knocking them both over.

Severus wrapped his arms around his son and stood to his feet with Harry, glad to give his cramped-up legs a rest. He held Harry in his arms, glad that the hellish three days were over. He hated being at odds with his own son. He rubbed Harry's back comfortingly and noticed that Sam was smiling up at the two of them.

"Then, I'm sure Professor McGonagall will forgive you," Severus said.

And Professor McGonagall had forgiven Harry and she had also asked him to collect a few frogs from around Hogwarts grounds for her. With Hagrid supervising, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and several other first years enjoyed a sunny day outside looking for and collecting over a hundred little frogs. Even Draco had joined in on the fun. It had amused the teachers, though ninety percent of the frogs were released (without the students knowing). The other ten percent were split up between the professors who could use them, such as McGonagall for her class and Severus for potion ingredients.

When Friday had rolled by, Harry had stopped moping about the loss of his broom, though he was still upset that it was gone. Quidditch practice had not been the same without it.

At breakfast that day, Harry and Ron were busy trying to remember last minute information for their Charms quiz while Hermione tried to get their attention to share some knowledge. Hermione was frustrated with her friends' lack of care for studying and made sure her thoughts were known.

"I told you to keep studying last night instead of playing Exploding Snap but does anyone listen to me?"

"We heard you, Hermione," groaned Ron.

"I guess we should listen to you more," Harry added.

At that moment, mail arrived and an owl dropped a large parcel in front of Harry. The shape of it told Harry all he needed to know about what it was. There was a note saying not to open it at the table. Harry gaped at it.

"Is that what I think it is?" Ron gasped.

"If you're thinking what I'm thinking," Harry said, "then yes."

"This note fell off, Harry," Hermione said, handing him a small note.

Harry accepted it and looked at it. It read: I hope you take better care of this broom than you did your last. Do try to mind your father because this is the last time I buy a broom for you.

Harry knew exactly who it came from and smiled up at Professor McGonagall, who was stroking a light-colored owl at the teacher's table. She smiled back at him and raised her eyebrows pointedly. Harry nodded back at her.

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