If there was one thing that was guaranteed to send Severus Snape into a towering rage, it was disrupting his brewing. He had precious little time to brew in the first place, as Housemaster of Slytherin and Potions Master of Hogwarts. Now, here was Albus Dumbledore disrupting his precious, time-consuming work to clean up one of Albus' little messes.

It was yet another unpleasant reminder of what Snape had always known, Albus loves his Gryffindors. Loves them to pieces. It was not a mistake that Potter and Black had swanned around Hogwarts, little lordlings without a care in the world.

Now, Albus Dumbledore threatened to use the same sort of parenting strategy with Harry Potter.

Freedom, for children, was more of a curse than a blessing. Snape was about to disabuse the poor little lordling of any thoughts that Mister Potter was above the law.

Even if, in this case, it was a mere Schoolmaster doing his duty.

It would do the lad some good.

Snape shrugged on his Teaching Robes (proof against most spills that even Longbottom could dream up). He flooed swiftly from his home to Diagon Alley, tossing Tom the barman a farthing before Snape belatedly realized he wasn't tossing a knut.

Severus Snape, being quite a bit taller than your average elderly person or middle aged woman, had a grand view of the unfolding spectacle as he strode out of the Leaky.

It was appalling. Here, Harry Potter, in the best manner of a pureblooded ponce, had convinced - somehow - half of Diagon Alley's iterant* population to participate.

They were all hopping up and down.

Was that four August Personages spelling out YMCA?

Wishing, quite suddenly, to get back to his brewing, Snape strode through the crowds.

Fortune was not with him, now or ever. Potter caught sight of him before Snape could reach the boy. Perhaps gratifyingly, the boy gulped, and levied a big-eyed stare at Snape - the sort he'd long parsed as I'm in big trouble aren't I?

Before Snape could even reach the boy, Potter asked, in such a disarmingly honest tone that it had to be disingenous, "I'm in big trouble now, aren't I?"

Snape would give no quarter to James' get acting like a spoiled brat, "Cease this nonsense, immediately." he hissed.

"As fun as it's been for all of us," Harry began grandiosely, "my time here is coming to an end. I still have urgent business to attend to; so, if you happen to see me in the Alley, please just let me be."

Snape's eyes narrowed at that, as he grabbed Harry Potter's ear. Grandious and popular hero though he may be, somehow none dared to object to the stormy Potion Master's visage as he hauled Potter to the nearest disused alley.

Potter seemed emotional - and not simply from the pain of having his ear hauled on. He looked up at Snape, and then peered out of the alley, "Why won't they learn?" he asked, seemingly apropos of nothing.

"Learn what, Potter?" Snape snapped out, his patience like a rope slowly shredding itself.

"I'm twelve, sir." Harry said, looking at Snape over his shoulder. "They've no business treating any of my requests as more important than - than Ron Weasley's! Or Hermione's!"

"Such are the demands placed on such a fortunate soul as yourself," Snape said solemnly, if bitterly. "Woe indeed is you." Snape mocked.

"I... hadn't intended -" Harry said suddenly, more the picture of a unsure twelve-year-old, "You aren't terribly mad at me, are you?"

"Why would I be mad at a spoiled brat, who can't be bothered to be considerate to over a hundred passers-by?" Snape scoffed.

Potter's face turned towards his shoes. Lad could use a good dressing-down more often.

"Pulled from my own private brewing, no less, to rescue an arrogant boy from the papers." Snape said, starting to prowl the alley like a caged panther.

"'m sorry," Potter said, nearly incoherently.

Snape let out a long-suffering sigh. "It was Albus' poor planning that pulled me from my brewing. And his teaching that led to this arrogant outburst of yours. It may defy common belief, but I am capable of directing my anger at responsible parties."

Harry Potter nodded, his eyes still downcast.

Snape said, his voice ringing with dark humor, "I fear Albus is most displeased with the scene you've made today. Best have a better explanation for him than you did for me."

"Thank you sir," Harry Potter said, his face still facing his feet.

"Now, as my brewing's been thoroughly spoilt, you've acquired a facilitator to ensure your trip to Diagon is completed most expeditiously."

"You, sir?"

Snape's mouth quirked, "Do you see anyone else?"

In a trice, they were through with Harry's shopping. Snape knew, not only where to buy clothes the cheapest, but also how to ask at the apothecary for standard kits (which Harry hadn't realized were A Thing). In fact, they'd saved so much that Snape got Harry a few extra bits and bobs for Potions class, saying roughly, "These ingredients are rare, but not valuable. Best to be able to practice with them."

* he means customers.

[a/n: I'm so completely, and utterly, thrilled to actually get Snape to use 'lad' to describe Harry Potter. (In another story i'm writing, there are Reasons Beyond Reasons that he does not use that Northernism). Sometimes in life it's the simple things.

Please review!

Snape is capable of setting aside his hatred for James Potter out of pure enthusiasm for Potions.]