Had Draco Malfoy spent just a few moments longer in the corridor, rather than making his Grand exit in the expeditious, Slytherin style, he might have noticed that Curt Finn wasn't headed towards the Hufflepuff Sett at all.

Instead, Curt Finn was making his way hastily (his strides longer than Snape's normal glide) towards the Slytherin dungeons. He was taking the back way (which Snape had drilled into his head repeatedly), and was in something of a state.

Hurriedly, he dodged between groups of Slytherins (waiting until the entire hallway was clear before emerging from sheltering darkness), and rapped twice on the Potion Master's door. He paused a moment, and then struck the door hard enough to ring it like a bell.

Snape opened the door, standing almost on top of the boy in Hufflepuff robes. "What?" He snarled, grabbing the boy by the scruff of his neck, and hauling him in the door. Snape's cruel words died on his tongue, looking at how upset the boy seemed.

"It's Malfoy." Harry said, with wide eyes.

"What, is he dead? Bleeding? Did you punch him until he cried?" Snape said mockingly.

"He knows." Harry said, in a small voice.

Snape snarled, hissing privacy spells that Harry only knew weren't Parseltongue because they did occasionally use a letter other than S. "Potter, What did you do?" Snape blared, his body tense with frustration.

And, for once in his life, Harry Potter didn't bleat out the first thing to pop into his mind. He sat there, blinking, and reviewed the feast. Reviewed everything. "I don't know."

And Snape smiled, that crooked teeth, snaggletoothed smile that so few people ever got to see. "Then, clearly, you weren't the one who tipped him off. Relax." Harry Potter seemed to deflate, as if it was only the tension that had been holding him up.

"Sit. Tell me everything." Snape said, pretending not to see what looked almost like a wave of dizziness.

Harry Potter tried to recall it word for word, as he'd been taught. He didn't do terribly bad, all things considered.

"You admitted to it?" Snape said at last, raising an eyebrow.

Harry Potter looked down, saying, "Yes sir." Then he looked up, hopefully, and said, "What am I going to do?" He was up and pacing before Snape could get a word in, wringing his hands.

"You are going to do precisely nothing. Not a word to encourage Mister Malfoy. Allow him to initiate all moves, unless I tell you otherwise." Snape said smoothly, his arm almost casually grabbing Potter by the shoulder and spinning him to look into Snape's inky eyes. "Above all else, do not reveal that you are Harry to him, unless he indicates that he already knows. This goes for every interaction with him, until I tell you otherwise."

"Are... are you going to oblivate him?" Harry asked, and Snape felt the boy shiver under his fingers.

Snape smiled his toothy smile, "We shall see."

"And, about the proposed friendship? Ron'll kill me!" Harry blurted out.

"Overall, it's a positive step. And rid your mind of fears about the youngest male Weasley. If he's your friend, he'll stick by you no matter what. That's what friends do." Snape said, pausing, "Or so I'm told. Mind you, I've never had one of my own. Perhaps, Mister Malfoy might be a better choice." Potter stopped wriggling under Snape's hand to turn to him, and stare. "Still, you don't have the option of choosing, at this precise moment. Remember, Harry, it's about more than you."

Snape's words had an unusual effect on the boy, who looked a bit shaken. "Yes, sir. I'll... try not to worry."

"Then off with you." Snape snapped kindly, "And remember, you're not to come visit me unless there's a crisis."

"Yessir" Harry said, and flew off as soon as Snape dropped his wards.

As soon as the door shut, Snape buried his head in his hands, and started laughing so hard his shoulders shook.

[a/n: Snape's been around enough adolescent drama that he finds the whole thing funny.

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