I was so happy to update this story, I just shot out ideas and threw it all together! Here's a nice long chapter for all you wonderful readers and reviewers!

"You missed a spot," Severus said as he paused near the sink where Harry and Ron were busy scrubbing away at cauldrons. "Try soaking it again and starting over."

Harry sighed irritably as he scrubbed harder at the cauldron, that one stain refusing to fade even the slightest. After a long day of potions, charms, and History of Magic lectures (which hadn't really been that bad), Harry was a bit tired from the running up and down that stairs to not be late for his classes. It didn't help that he had barely slept last night (due to reading his Ivanhoe book from Uncle Remus late into the night). And then running into the new idiot DADA professor after lunch – who complimented him on having Sam as a protector – saying he knew all about kitsune from his time in Japan. Of course, Sam had been sitting patiently at Harry's side while Lockhart talked away about how he had run into a pack of kitsune and had to defend himself against the many vicious beasts. He had said he meant no offense to Sam, who said "none taken." But Harry could tell from Sam's low growling, bristling fur, and slowly baring teeth that the fox had been getting angry with Lockhart's "true" story, but the professor seemed completely oblivious to signs of aggression. Harry had quickly excused himself because he "was late for class" (semi-true), before taking off, Sam following. Harry was sure Sam would have torn into the man if they'd stayed a minute longer.

And now, he found himself scrubbing cauldrons. His father had said he would be scrubbing, drying, and polishing the cauldrons, but so far, he had only gotten through scrubbing four of his ten cauldrons. He still needed to dry (though at this rate, the three sitting aside were most likely dry) and polish. And now he had to redo his cauldron over because of a stupid stain! But it wasn't the stain that annoyed Harry – but his father's constant interference with his punishment. This would be the fourth time his father suggested making him rescrub a cauldron – the fourth! Actually, it wasn't really a suggestion.

"Scrubbing harder at it won't help. It needs to soak in a dissolvent."

"I don't want to start over again," Harry grumbled, slamming the cauldron back into the half-filled sink of water and bubbles. "It's fine, a stain won't kill it or screw up any potions you need to brew in it."

Severus narrowed his eyes, but Harry wasn't fazed. He was too tired from his late night, long classes, and now this stupid detention. Glancing over at Ron's station, Harry noticed that Ron had gotten through almost all of his cauldrons and was finishing drying them. This was ridiculous! Why was his father singling him out? This wasn't fair at all.

"You know," Severus said in a low tone, "if you allowed the cauldrons to soak for the appropriate length of time, you'd have been done with all of these cauldrons by now."

Harry felt his blood boil at that. Severus was blaming his lack of scrubbed cauldrons on him? It was the own man's fault he wasn't done with all these cauldrons!

"I would have been done with all of them if you didn't keep making me redo them!" Harry snapped back, throwing down the scrubber in the sink as well, causing it to splash a bit.

"Watch your attitude, Harry," Severus warned. "Do them right and you won't need to do them over. Five minutes in the dissolvent – that's as long as it takes for each cauldron. You've been pulling them out and scrubbing at them too early. If I wasn't mistaken, I'd say you've forgotten how to tell time. Or perhaps you can't see the clock from where you are. Do you need your eyes checked?"

Harry glared at Severus, clenching his wrinkled fists. Ron was trying hard not to watch the interaction, focusing on finishing his drying so he could start on the polisher and get out of the dungeons.

"I don't need anything – especially not from you! I just want to finish this pointless detention and leave!"

"Pointless, eh? I'd like you to tell me how pointless it would have been if you had flown that car to school, injured yourselves, and gotten into trouble with the Ministry. Would you find this detention pointless then?"

"We didn't fly the car, though! I don't see why you need to bother with punishment when we didn't do anything wrong! It's just like when stupid Dobby blew up your stupid lab!"

Severus looked taken aback by Harry's statement before glaring back at his son.

"You didn't do anything wrong? You got behind the wheel of a flying car and nearly drove it to school. From what Sam said, the car was off the ground. You did do something wrong, Harry Severus. You made a poor decision and followed through with it until someone else stopped you. Perhaps, if you had stopped yourselves, gotten out of the car, and waited for the Weasleys, then just maybe you wouldn't be here right now – but no! That is not the case. Sam had to stop you and keep you from leaving until Mr. and Mrs. Weasley appeared. Now tell me again about how you didn't do something wrong! Tell me how I am not justified in giving you boys this detention! Go on, tell me!"

Harry just glared at his father, refusing to admit anything.

"Then I suggest you get back to work, Mr. Snape."

"No." The word had left Harry's mouth faster than his mind worked. But there was no taking them back and Harry really didn't feel like rescrubbing the same cauldron once again.

"No?" Severus's glare deepened.

"No," Harry repeated.

"I'm giving you one last chance, Harry. Get back to work."

Harry didn't say anything or move. He was rooted to his spot, glaring at the sink just two steps in front of him, the stained cauldron drowned in the bubbly water.

"So be it," Severus growled. "Mr. Weasley, your detention is over. You may leave now."

Ron froze and stared bewildered at Severus. He looked down at the cauldron on the table and said, "But sir, I just started polishing my first –"

"You may leave now," Severus repeated.

"Yes, sir."

Ron quickly set everything down and rinsed his hands in the sink at his station before rushing out of the dungeons, sparing a nervous glance Harry's way. Then, it was just Harry and Severus.

"I would like an explanation of this behavior before you find yourself over my knees, young man," Severus demanded.

Harry's eyes flashed.

"See!? You're doing it again! You're going to punish me for no reason! I haven't done a thing wrong!"

"And that's where I disagree with you. Your defiance and attitude aren't exactly appreciated."

"Neither is your bloody detention!"

"I'm going to add language to that list. What has gotten into you? You've been acting moody since you got here."

"Nothing's wrong! If you had just let me do my work and left me alone –"

"You were not doing it correctly!"

"Who cares?"

"I care! Isn't that enough? I need those cauldrons in perfect condition for my N.E.W.T.S classes, and whether you believe it or not, a simple stain can cause dramatic reactions to certain substances."

"Like you?" Harry dared to say.

And that did it. The next second Harry found himself nearly bent into the sink, his hands bracing himself against the rim, the smell of soap and chemicals drowning his nose. He hissed as his father's hand smacked him hard.

"Ow, stop it!" Harry yelled, his face flaming as his father kept spanking him.

"I have had it with your attitude and your mouth! If you don't want to tell me what your problem is, then I'll spank you and be done with it, how does that sound?"

"Fine! Then I get to leave this detention!"

"Oh, no. You are staying and finishing these cauldrons – every step, scrubbing, drying, polishing – all of it will be done even if you have to spend the night here!"

"That's – ow! – not fair! You let Ron go!"

"Mr. Weasley wasn't giving me backtalk."

"Well, you didn't make him rescrub anything! This isn't fair! This isn't fair!" Harry's bottom was starting to burn, and he could feel his eyes tearing up. He sniffled, his nostrils burning slightly from breathing in the sink's chemicals.

"Well, guess what? Life isn't fair."

"Ow! Stop! I'm sorry! I'm just tired, okay?"

"That certainly doesn't excuse your attitude," Severus said, not letting up the slightest.

Harry clenched his teeth, tears trailing down his cheeks. He knew what his father wanted to hear. "I know it doesn't. And I'm sorry!"

"Sorry for what? Having to attend this pointless detention?"

"It's not pointless. I shouldn't have gotten into the car! I shouldn't have tried to fly it to school. I should have done the cauldrons – ow! – the right way. I shouldn't have yelled at you or told you no or anything. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Harry was crying by the time he said he was sorry again. His bottom hurt something fierce and now his head hurt, too – probably from the lack of sleep and now his tears. His stomach hurt where it was pressing into the sink's rim.

Finally, Harry felt his father pull him up from the sink and into the man's arms. Harry didn't bother fighting to pull away. He didn't want to – he was just to tired to resist and put up much of a fight. He didn't wrap his own arms around Severus, but just allowed the man to hold him. He did feel a bit sorry for being so disrespectful to his father, but he was feeling a bit sorrier for himself. But he wouldn't deny the comfort of his father's strong arms, even if those same hands had smacked him. Maybe he really shouldn't stay up late reading. But the book was so intriguing.

"And I'm sorry I had to do that," Severus said softly. "But none of it was called for. I know you said that you were just tired, but that doesn't mean you can just start treating me with disrespect. I know lack of sleep makes us all a little moody, but you should have told me you didn't have a good night's sleep and that you weren't able to concentrate. I would have just rescheduled this detention."

"You probably wouldn't have believed me."

The words hurt Severus more than Harry would ever know. He heard his father sigh loudly before the man said, "I probably would have thought you were making an excuse at first, but a simple diagnostic spell would have told me exactly how much sleep you have had within these last twenty-four hours. It would have been proof enough."

Harry didn't doubt that. He looked up at his father before slowly bringing his own arms around Severus, resting his head on his father's chest. Now he really felt tired. He was sure he'd be sleeping on his stomach tonight though. Severus rubbed his back, and it felt so nice, Harry closed his eyes, wishing he could just fall asleep standing up.

"So, what kept you up?" Severus asked. Harry's eyes snapped open as he realized he'd have to tell his father. "Did you have a nightmare? Or could you just not fall asleep? Maybe you had to much sugar."

Or he could use one of those excuses . . . anything to keep his father from taking the book. It was far too interesting to lose.

"Yeah, maybe just too much sugar for dinner last night. I did eat two treacle tarts."

"I knew I should have grounded you from dessert last night!" Severus teased lightly.

Harry smiled, closing his eyes once more.

"How about this? You head on upstairs to bed and tomorrow morning, right before Herbology, you come back here and scrub six more cauldron, so you are even with Mr. Weasley. I won't make you rescrub the ones I give you tomorrow."

"But," Harry looked up at his dad, "I'd have to get up really early!"

"Be here by seven thirty, work diligently, and you could be done by eight – just in time for breakfast."

"I'll probably be starving all the way through," Harry grumbled, pulling away. He rubbed at his face, hoping it wasn't obvious that he had been crying.

"I'll bring you a banana," Severus said.

"How about a cinnamon roll?"

"Don't push your luck."

Harry sighed and shrugged. It had been worth a shot. "Okay. I'll be here."

"Good. Now, go back to your dorm and go straight to bed. Clearly, you need the sleep."

The next morning, after a good night's sleep (this time, Harry didn't continue reading his book into the wee hours of the morning due to being so tired), Harry met his father in the dungeons, enjoyed a banana with a glass of milk, then spent five minutes on each cauldron, finishing all six plain pewter cauldrons by exactly eight o'clock.

"It's a miracle what a little sleep can do, isn't it," Severus had smirked at him. Harry had just rolled his eyes, earning a light cuff on the back of his head. Harry whined at his father, telling him of how his bottom had still been hurting when he woke up – a complete fabrication.

After leaving the dungeons, he joined Hermione and Ron for breakfast and then went to his double Herbology class. Then he had transfiguration – which was just a long, boring (in his humble opinion) lecture. Then lunch flew by and . . .

"We have Defense Against the Dark Arts," Ron announced.

Harry groaned loudly, glaring at the teachers' table where Lockhart was sitting and talking amiably to an annoyed looking Sinistra.

"Oh, come on, Harry," Hermione rolled her eyes. "He's an accomplished wizard – he knows what he's doing when it comes to defense against the dark arts."

"So, does my dad," Harry said. "He would have applied for the job again when it opened, but Professor Dumbledore said he had already filled the position."

"Who would teach Potions then?"

"I could do it!" Harry smiled confidently. "You and I could probably teach it well. And Draco! We'd be the best three professors here!"

"Yeah, right," Hermione said, though she smiled nonetheless.

"What about me?" Ron asked, miffed at not being included.

"You wouldn't teach potions, Ron," Hermione said, "maybe Flying or Quidditch or Wizard's Chess or –"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Ron interrupted. "I wouldn't want to be a teacher anyway. Sounds boring."

"I wouldn't mind it," Hermione said. "But I have bigger goals to accomplish first."

"I don't know if I could be a teacher," Harry frowned in thought, before saying, "Draco definitely couldn't, now that I think about it. He doesn't have the patience for stupid questions."

"What qualifies as a stupid question?" Ron asked, frowning.

"That one," Harry answered.

All three laughed.

An hour later, Harry found himself taking the worst quiz in the history of quizzes! What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color? How many times has Gilderoy Lockhart won the Witch Weekly's Most-Charming Smile Award? When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be? Harry hadn't read any of the books Lockhart required – he even tried to convince his father not to waste his money on those books. Severus had told him that they were required, and that Lockhart might have tests on them. It would be better to just roll with it – even if the man is . . . well, Lockhart. Even so, Harry still didn't read the books, but these questions . . .

Which house was Gilderoy Lockhart in? What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite holiday? What is Gilderoy Lockhart's preferred quill feather? These were so stupid! How was he supposed to answer these?

: Wait, keep reading them. I was enjoying the entertainment.

Harry looked down at fox-sized Sam, who was lying down under his table at his feet, his head rested on his paws and his eyes still closed. Harry glanced up at Lockhart, who was busy signing who knows what at his desk. Sam must have only spoken to him since no one else seemed aware the fox had spoken.

You wouldn't happen to know the answers to any of these, would you? Harry thought.

: How would I know any of these answers? I don't know this man at all and I can't even read. Even if I could read, I'd never read his books. If you were hoping to use me to cheat, don't bother.

I would never do such a thing – except for maybe this class. Obviously, we will be learning a lot about himself rather than something cool.

: And what would you define as cool?

I don't know – how about a cool spell to defend ourselves with?

: Your father says he hardly trusts that man with a wand. Something is fishy about him. He writes of all these great accomplishments and then screws up most spells he performs. Your father has a right to be suspicious. I should be wary as well. I'll make sure he does nothing foolish to harm you.

Gee, thanks.

"Time's up!" Lockhart said, standing up with a big smile on his face. Harry had hardly answered any of the questions, but he gladly gave away his paper to the man collecting them. When the man had all the papers, he rifled through them in front of the class. He shook his head disappointedly, remarking how no one knew what his favorite color was or this and that. He set the papers aside to grade later and smiled at the class – surely his award-winning smile.

"I have so many wonderful things to teach you today!" the man said. "First, I'd like a volunteer . . ."

Uh oh, Harry thought, a brief memory of acting out Lockhart's stupid books coming to mind and vanishing just as quickly. He sunk slowly in his seat, wishing he could turn invisible.

"Sam, if you don't mind," Lockhart said.

Harry blinked and looked down at Sam, who had sat up. The fox lifted one paw hesitantly, holding it up as his ears dropped and his head turned slightly.

: Why? Sam spoke to everyone in the room this time. Everyone was looking between him and Lockhart.

"I'd like to demonstrate defense against kitsune. You never know when you might come across such a dangerous animal like your kind."

: I can tell you your chances: one in a million. Make that a billion.

"Come on, this will be such a useful lesson. Surely you know that one kitsune attracts another – maybe one more dangerous."

Harry didn't think that Sam would ever agree, but seeing the fox sigh after a moment, Harry figured what Lockhart had said must have had some truth to it. For once. Sam slowly stood to all fours and walked over to Lockhart, turning to face the class as he sat next to the wizard, making sure to keep some distance between them.

Lockhart picked up a strange bottle, everyone in the class straining to see it. Sam suddenly leaped away from the man before snarling angrily at him, fur bristling, his tails flicking in opposite directions.

: You touch me with that and I'll –

"Have no fear, Sam," Lockhart smiled calmly. "I won't let it touch you. Not a drop."

Sam didn't move, his tails still flicking and his fur still on edge. Harry wondered if Sam was thinking back to Severus's cautioning words about Lockhart. Why had Sam reacted like that? What was in the bottle? Finally, Sam moved a few steps closer, before deciding to sit where he was, still several steps away from Lockhart.

"This class," Lockhart said, holding up the bottle after opening it, "is Tequila, forty percent alcohol. Although, a beer as high as fifteen percent – no less! – would do just as well."

Harry frowned. What was the point of this? Harry was sure Sam had drunken a beer with his father a couple times. Unless that fifteen percent number was a big factor in how much alcohol a kitsune could tolerate.

"Now, Sam," Lockhart began.

: Where did you learn this? Sam growled.

"Oh, well . . . from my travels to Japan, of course."

Sam growled again, his ears flattening on his head. Harry was more afraid Sam was about to tear Lockhart to shreds than whatever Lockhart might do.

"Anyway, Sam," Lockhart took some rather brave, maybe overconfident steps towards the fox. "If you'd just sniff it, that's all I ask, so the class can see what happens."

Sam snarled when Lockhart was a few steps away, teeth bared and all as he stood to all fours, growing to his largest size. For the first time, Lockhart seemed to have common sense and paused, suddenly looking just a bit unsure. He still, however, squatted slightly and held the bottle out towards the snarling fox. Everyone in the room held their breath as they watched Sam and their professor stare each other down.

Then, Sam sighed and took a step forward, stretching out his neck to sniff at the alcohol, the black nose twitching. Harry's eyes widened as Sam's legs began to violently shake under him. Sam sneezed, and his eyes looked glassier.

"And," Lockhart said, "if you could try to breathe a flame?"

Sam pulled back with obvious annoyance, but did open his mouth, sending a couple sparks flying before hacking as if he was choked. Sam coughed, a few sparks flying slightly. Harry didn't like this at all. Sam finally seemed to clear his throat as he sat down, his tails curled around him.

"You see, class, if Sam were to drink this, it would kill him. Of course, no kitsune is stupid enough to drink this, so you'd have to force it down their throats. But this is a very useful defense trick against these creatures; it really weakens their magical abilities. They're weaker, lose their fiery breath, and can even pass out from the stench alone! I recommend always carrying alcohol with you if you ever visit Japan. There is nothing a kitsune can do once he is under this influence."

Unbeknownst to Lockhart, Sam's eyes narrowed at that, and he lit one tail and flicked it towards the man without having to stand or move. A little spark of fire flew off his tail and caught the hem of the man's robe.

"Professor!" a student called out as the small flame ate away at the fabric.

Lockhart looked down and shouted in alarm before beating down on the ends of his robe. Sam walked back to Harry's seat with a sly smile, sitting down next to Harry's chair since he was too big to curl up under the table at Harry's feet now. Once the flame was out, Lockhart looked back up at the class.

"Of course," he assured everyone, brushing off his robes as he stood, "they can still light their tails. The alcohol really just messes up their insides more than the outsides. Good demonstration, Sam."

: Of course, Sam bowed his head. I love having permission to set fires.

Everyone laughed while Hermione raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"What would happen if you dumped alcohol on a kitsune? Would that affect them or can alcohol only affect them internally?"

"Well, err . . ."

: The skin would absorb it, Sam answered, and just as if I were to drink it, the alcohol would kill me. Perhaps not as quickly though. But it would also take out any tail fire. Good thinking, Hermione.

"Yes, precisely!" Lockhart agreed. "I couldn't have said it better myself."

Hermione raised her hand again.

"Is there any way to reverse the alcohol? Say, if you didn't want the kitsune to die?"

Lockhart frowned, "Well, you see, the alcohol is rather deadly if drank and I do not believe there's a cure . . .right Sam?"

: Drinking alcohol at that percentage results in death so quickly, there'd be no time to administer a reversal for it. However, say I was doused in alcohol, dumping milk thistle tea on me within an hour can neutralize the alcohol. I learned that from your father, Sam looked at Harry with a smile. And we tested his theory on one of my tails. Risky, but it worked.

"Cool!" Harry said.

"See, class? There is much to be learned in defense against the dark arts. I believe we will have a splendid class."

"Yeah, if Sam's the teacher," Ron muttered quietly.

Harry snorted and nodded in agreement.

"Because in my class," Lockhart said, moving toward something that was covered in a corner of the room. Harry frowned, feeling as though he'd seen this before. "It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind. You may find yourself facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm will befall you whilst I am here. I must ask you not to scream. It might provoke them!"

"And then he released a bunch of Cornish Pixies on us and they caused havoc all over the room!" Harry told his Uncle Remus as he watched the man spar with Sam (in human form) with the wooden swords Sam had a strange word for (which Harry kept forgetting – boksomething?). They were in his father's quarters now, Remus being there for more Wolfsbane before accepting a challenge from Sam and sparring in the living room. "And he didn't even stop them! He ran and hid in his office. Hermione stopped used a spell to freeze them all."

"She is a very bright pupil from what I hear," Remus said, grunting Sam's sword jabbed at his shoulder. Remus rubbed his shoulder that had been assaulted several times. "Shouldn't we be wearing protective gear, Sam?"

"Oh yes, because should a real fight to the death ever happen on the streets, your enemy will gladly wait for you to throw on some protective gear before he kills you."

"Because that is definitely something people do in the UK. Anyway, your professor sounds like he'll be entertaining, Harry. At least you have that to look forward to."

"But we won't learn anything, Uncle! I have an idea – you should teach the class! You're an Auror. You have so much experience and you'd be really fun and –"

"I'd love to, Harry," Remus said, setting himself up across from Sam, "but I don't exactly have the time for two high demanding jobs. And besides, you know my condition. Parents would protest."

Harry sighed and settled himself of the couch to watch Remus and Sam spar again. It was more amusing watching his uncle and even his father try and take on Sam's many, many, many years of experience. Remus thrusted forward, but Sam moved to the side, but the sword around and down – aiming for Remus's arm, but seeing this, Remus stepped aside and tried to aim for Sam's exposed shoulder, but Sam was quick to block. Usually, Sam would have ended this by now, but Remus seemed to be getting a lot of moves in. As Sam blocked another move, he held up a finger while still holding the handle of his sword, making Remus stop with a confused look, and he picked up a glass of water on the coffee table. He took a long drink from it, Remus still a bit confused as he watched the fox set the glass back down.

Then, Sam tapped Remus's shoulder once more and Harry snorted as Remus gave the fox a look of disbelief.

"You've been playing me this whole time!"

"Like the Fox and the Crow."

"And here, I really thought I had found the upper hand," Remus huffed.

"And the moral of this story is," Sam said dramatically, his ears flicking in his hair "never trust a fox."

"I thought it was never listen to flattery?"

"It all ties together. It was good practicing with you," Sam bowed respectfully, Remus copying him before setting the sword on the coffee table.

"I'm sure it was for you. My shoulders are killing me. Well, I need to head back home. I have a lot of paperwork to do tomorrow. Tell Severus I said good night, for me, will you, Harry?"

"Yes, Uncle Remus."

After Remus left through the floo, Harry looked at Sam, who was gulping down another glass of water. When he finished, he looked back at Harry, pointing the sword at him. "Your turn," he said.

"No way – I don't need to be sore tomorrow."

"Chicken."

"Maybe Dad will fight with you. Let's go ask."

Harry ran to the ajar lab door and pushed it open more. He knew to knock when it was completely shut, but when it was ajar, he could enter cautiously and not get yelled at. Severus was writing something down on parchment while a cauldron boiled in front of him.

"Hey, Dad, want to challenge Sam?"

"Not now, Harry. I'm pretty busy."

Sam ran into the lab and jumped up on the table Severus was working at, perfectly landing in a squat position. Severus glared at the fox for daring to intrude further than the lab door.

"Are you sure you're busy?" Sam asked.

"Yes. Now get off this table before you knock over this cauldron!"

"Come now, Severus, I'm insulted! with all my years of practiced precision and graceful fluidity," – Sam walked across the table, moving stealthily around the cauldron – "I'm insulted that you'd think I'd actually knock a cauldron over . . . accidentally."

Severus's eyes widened as he watched Sam touch the rim of the cauldron with the wooden sword. He growled, "Don't you dare."

Harry ran into the room with the other sword in his hand, climbing up on the table and standing up, holding the sword in the way Sam had taught him. Sam angled his own Sword in Harry's direction.

"Harry, get down this instant! Sam, you're a bad influence!"

"I dareth thee to a challenge!" Harry said.

"What are we," Sam shook his head amused, "Shakespearean now? Thou asketh for trouble, young squire!"

"Oh, come on, you two," Severus snapped. Agitated, he levitated his cauldron to a different table, glad that all remained was a simmer. Then, he swished his wand and the table disappeared under the two swordsmen, who both fell on a cushioned floor, courtesy of Severus.

"Dar'st thou resolve to kill friends overth a silly cauldron?" Sam said, lying on his back, acting as though he was in great agony. "Betrayal!"

"Et tu, father? Then fall, Harry!" Harry draped an arm over his head dramatically.

"Get up, you idiots," Severus chuckled, unable not to.

Sam smirked and jumped to his feet, landing neatly on his feet. He reached down to pull Harry up, but the boy kicked his own legs up and landed on his feet, but nearly fell backwards if Sam hadn't grabbed his hand and straightened him.

"There you guys are!" Draco's voice entered the lab. "What is everyone doing in here?"

"Dangerously fooling around," Severus glared at Sam and Harry pointedly.

"Alright, we'll leave," Sam said, accepting the sword from Harry to put them both away.

"Yes," Severus agreed, following everyone out of his lab. "We will all leave. Have you boys eaten dinner?"

"Not yet, Uncle Sev," Draco answered, "dinner starts in a couple minutes, so we could all head up together."

"Or, we could just all enjoy the peace and quiet and eat down here," Severus suggested.

"Sounds good to me!" Harry said.

"Me, too!" Draco agreed. "I came down to ask how many chapters of the textbook I should read to prepare for tomorrow's lecture, though."

"I would recommend getting a full night's sleep," Severus said, sitting at the head of the table. Sam had disappeared in one of the rooms to shift back to his normal fox self. The two boys sat on either side of him. "If you start trying to review too hard to impress me, you'll end up coming to my class tired and you both know I feel about paying attention."

"Yes, sir."

When food arrived, Sam had quickly reappeared and dug into his salmon and steamed vegetables out of his bowl on the floor. Harry began eating a cheese-filled scone, though quickly shoveled up some rice at his father's glare. Draco just smirked at Harry.

"Draco," Harry asked, "did you have Defense against the Dark Arts yet?"

"Yeah, I had that class yesterday. We are being a taught by a buffoon!"

"Buffoon or not, I expect you to show Professor Lockhart respect as a staff member of this school."

Draco raised his eyebrows at Harry and Harry just took a long drink of his pumpkin juice before saying, "Sam burned Professor Lockhart's robe."

"Sam!" Severus glared down at the fox while Draco just gave Sam a thumbs up.

: He had me demonstrate the effects of alcohol, Sam said, his lips curling in remembrance. And you should hear his so-called true stories of fighting kitsune. I needed a little stress relief.

"You don't think they're true?" Draco asked.

He said he faced off ten kitsune at once, Sam shook out his fur, and lived to tell the tale. Obviously, that's not true. The numbers do not work, kitsune are too rare to travel in such numbers, and one person against ten kitsune? That would be like . . . one Gilderoy Lockhart against ten Severus Snapes.

Harry choked on his pumpkin juice, Draco choked on his rice, and Severus just smirked.

"That," the man said, "I can agree with."

I hope you liked this chapter! I have so much to work with from here - I hope I'll find time to update soon! Of course, even now, when I should be studying, I'm typing away into the wee hours of the morning. Severus would disapprove. Sleep is important everyone. Haha! Thanks for reading!