I do not own any of this!

Chapter 8

After a quick stop in Gringotts, the reunited trio wandered down the high street, money bags clinking with coins, though Harry's was lighter than the others, on account of the fact that he didn't actually need anything. However, he was looking forward to acting like the person he used to be, and chatting about the latest brooms with Ron, and asking what Hermione had read over the summer.

First stop was the bookshop, where Ron and Hermione both bought their books for the next year, claiming that they wanted to avoid the rush. Though Harry didn't say anything, he suspected that Hermione was planning on bullying Ron into actually doing some work over the summer.

Several shops and galleons later, the trio settled outside the window of the ice cream parlour, and began slurping on the huge Sundays Harry had bought. After a few moments of silence, Ron could hold himself back no longer. So, as per usual he just spoke what was on his mind.

'So, Harry, what exactly are you wearing?' Hermione glared at him, but to Ron's relief, Harry grinned.

'I know, slightly old fashioned don't you think. But, its tradition, and you have to wear the colours of your mentor. I don't know, it was really weird at first but I've got used to it.'

Ron shrugged, then went slack jawed by Hermione's next comment.

'It kind of suits you in a way, makes you look more masculine.'

Harry laughed out loud, and struggles to say in his chair when he saw Ron's face. Finally he recovered enough to reply.

'Thanks, but remind me not to take you with me next time I go clothes shopping.'

Hermione just smiled, before asking another question.

'So, what exactly have you been doing all summer? You still haven't told us.'

Harry leaned back, knowing this was going to take sometime.

'Basically, Snape's a master. and I'm his apprentice. He trains me for three years, then I get tested and become a master. In the mean time, I have to do exactly what he says and follow the rules of the mastery. Which is why I have to call him 'my lord'.'

Ron was looking slightly confused.

'So why are you doing it, why don't you say no? I mean I can't imagine you want to spend the next three years as Snape's apprentice.'

'If you get chosen, you don't have a choice. And I when Snape turned up at my Uncle's I wasn't really in any position to argue. And it might keep me alive if Pettigrew ever shows up.'

Ron was still thinking.

'So, you have to do whatever he says, like about that 'punishment training'. He gets to punish you too?'

Ron made a face, eternally grateful that it wasn't him this time.

'I'm not sure what he's got planned, but you'll find out later. But I very much doubt I'll enjoy it whatever it is.'

Harry's voice was grim. Hermione frowned.

'You know, if you don't want us to come, we won't.'

Her voice was concerned. Ron nodded his agreement, but Harry shook his head.

'No, he'll ask me why you didn't come and then probably give me an extra hour. Besides it's my fault. If I've learnt one thing it's that ignoring the customs annoys him. It was stupid of me to avoid it.'

'So why did you?' Ron asked.

'It's just weird. Going from hating Snape to calling him 'lord'. I though you'd think I'd changed. And look where that got me.'

Harry sighed.

'It'll give you some entertainment anyway.'

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks. Something they would find entertaining but that Harry wouldn't enjoy? What the hell?

'But that means it was kind of our fault! We should tell him!'

Her voice was panicked, matching the look on Ron's face. That was practically asking for points to be deducted even before term had started!

'Don't even think it. I got myself into this; anyhow, it's painful at the time but this way, once the hour over Snape's not angry. To him, paid is paid. Don't worry, it won't kill me.'

At least I don't think it will, Harry though, but did not say. Somehow he didn't think it would help. Hermione relaxed slightly, releasing the iron grip she had taken on Harry's arm. A few more minutes passed in silence, as they all gurgled the last drops from the shakers, and stretch, basking in the warm sun.

Time passed, and after another round in the shops it was ten to six and time for Harry to report to the practice rooms at the Leaky Cauldron. When they arrived, Snape was not yet there, so Harry motioned Ron and Hermione into the chairs set by the side of the room, and began to stretch.

He was just finishing when Snape walked in and came over, first stopping to greet the rest of the trio. Harry stood to attention. He was surprised when Snape handed him one of his pairs of practice trousers.

'Go and put these on, quickly.'

Harry bowed properly, thinking it would be very, very stupid to make the same mistake twice in the same day. He walked quickly out into the changing room, and pulled off his cloths, then re-dressing in his training it. Unfortunately, there was no shirt, and no shoes, which puzzled Harry slightly, as he had always trained in shoes before. However, knowing that he had to be quick, he went out as he was, trying not to think about what his friends would be thinking.

Once in the middle of the room, he stood ready for the first order, tense, not knowing what to expect. Knowing he had to stay facing forward, Harry strained to listen for orders as Snape came up behind him.

'Let's keep it simple to start with, shall we? 80 sit ups, to time. Down.'

Harry got straight into position, ready to go. Snape didn't give him a breather.

'Up. Down. Up. Down...'

On and on, a mindless agonising effort to keep up, muscles screaming in protest, eyes stinging with sweat. Finally he was done. Feeling he had earned a few seconds respite, Harry lay back, panting, his eyes shut. He was surprised not to be given a few seconds when he heard the next order.

'50 press-ups, timed.' Snapes voice was icy, his face set. Harry would regret his disobedience.

This time Harry was not so luck, and after just a dozen he lost the time, falling behind Snapes count. He gave a muffled cry when he felt a lash across the bare soles of his feet. His arms gave way, and he looked round to see Snape standing behind him, foil in hand. Snape ignored the glare.

'Up! Start again!'

Growling to himself, Harry did as he was told. He lost the count several times before he finally reached 50, but now expected the sting from the blow and made sure his arms did not collapse. His torso glistening with sweat, he stood, his feet stinging slightly.

As Snape turned away for a moment, Harry chanced a look aver at Ron and Hermione. Though he only caught a quick glance, he could see they were not happy. Both looked as if they were about to rush out and stop Snape right then. In fact, Hermione would have done just that, if Harry had not shaken his head, hard, in her direction. He could take it. He didn't want Snape to think he couldn't handle pain.

Snape came back over, and passed Harry a foil. Still he didn't look anywhere near satisfied.

'Blocks only. En guarde.'

Even as he spoke, Snape's foil swung up in attack, aimed for Harry's ribs. However, the days of training had had an effect, and Harry was ready for it. He lunged quickly backwards, brining up his own weapon.

Normally, Harry could just about hold of his mentor, but today, he didn't even stand a chance. Snape attacked in earnest, driving Harry back across the canvas floor. Full force was put behind the blows that found their marks, leaving painful bruises and welts. Harry was shocked, and had a hard time trying to concentrate while fighting down memories of his uncle.

As Harry began to tire, Snape began to harass him, yelling orders, pushing him. Finally Harry gave in to desire, and lunged into an attack, just before he should have made contact, he realised that it was exactly what Snape wanted him to do. He immediately found himself floored, a bleeding gash across his shoulder. Snape was string down at him, his eyes clouded.

'Have you learned your lesson now? If not I will continue.'

Harry held up an arm to ward off the blow he though was coming. He never felt it. Snape stepped back, and Harry fought to get enough air into his parched lungs to wheeze out an answer.

'I have learned, my lord.'

'Good.' His voice lost its edge, and his yes cleared of what Harry had though to have been worry. Snape nodded, and turned, walking out of the arena, having first placed his blade in the rack. He ignored the outraged looks on the faces of Ron and Hermione. Harry let his arms fall to the floor as his friends rushed over to him. Their voices were panicked.

'Harry are you alright? That was inhuman!' Hermione knelt down beside him, he eyes filled with tears. Behind her, Ron was shaking his head.

'That shouldn't be allowed.' His voice was quiet and serious, for one of the first times in his life, he really cared.

Harry sat up slowly, trying to comfort Hermione, who immediately hugged him tight. Unfortunately, this meant she was also hugging his wounds. Harry tried to keep the pain from showing on his face, but settled for slowly prying Hermione off him. He took Ron's offered hand.

'A lot more than that's allowed.'

Hermione did not hear him. Supported by Ron, he made his way slowly into the changing room. As Hermione waited outside, Ron made Harry sit down while he sponged off the worst of Harry wounds, paying particular attention to the cut of Harry shoulder. Despite his obvious anger, Ron was careful not to hurt Harry.

When this was done, Ron left, and Harry showered lightly, ignoring the sting of the hot water. When he got out, he was pleased to see one of his loose white shirts in the place of the usual tunic-shirt. He knew this would make dressing a lot less painful. When he was done, Harry gather up the clothed he didn't need, and walked out to Ron and Hermione, who was showing not sign of her earlier outburst.

They walked in silence through to the bar, and went over to the booth Snape was sitting in. Though Ron and Hermione sat straight down, Harry stood behind his chair as he normally would. Snape nodded, respect in his eyes.

'You may sit.'