Draco Malfoy was piling his books in his bag (Potter having escaped quickly after having thrown Malfoy one last vile and nearly violent glare). "Mister Malfoy." his godfather said in his trademark sneer. "If you will stay behind, for a moment."

"Yes sir." Draco responded promptly to the not-quite-order.

Snape strode over to the door, and shut it on Zambini's face (Granger was clearly dawdling to hear, as well) - they were both fools. If Snape wanted quiet, he would have quiet.

"What lessons have you learned from today?" Snape drawled at his godson.

"First, that balancing acts with words are tricky enough that I need more experience at them, and quickly." Draco Malfoy said promptly.

"And?" Snape prompted.

"Potter knows how to think - he's not so bad at it, really. It's knowing how to feel that causes issues." Draco said with a wicked smile.

"If you were the one training Harry Potter, what would you do?"

"Throw him and me into Quidditch until we're both ready to drop. Then do it again until he Stops Caring So Bloody Much."

"Language." Snape reprimanded quietly.

"Sorry sir." Draco said.

"What future changes can we expect from your behavior tonight?"

"More questions, sir - and more work towards proving the answers."

"Will this, by some chance, involve more pretense in the hallways?"

"No way around that, sir. Too many eyes mean too many questions."

Snape nodded, and said, "You are excused. Thirty lines on your language due before first class tomorrow." Draco wasn't really surprised.

Minerva McGonagall was already in the Headmaster's office, Snape noted with a worldweary sigh. "What are you going to do about the young Malfoy, Severus?" she snapped, trying for a disapproving tone of an elder teacher, but failing mostly due to aggravation.

"What I do for any of my Slytherins." Snape said smoothly, with only a trace of reproof for Minerva's willingness to let Gryffs find their own path. "Guide them, steer them out of trouble, and prevent them from breaking on the shoals."

"Has Mister Malfoy learned his lesson from today? To stop GOADING Mister Potter?" Minerva nearly shrieked.

"He has learned a number of lessons tonight, Minerva." Snape said, pausing. "Mister Potter and Malfoy interacted through a four hour Potions Class with non-existent supervision. and, wonder of all wonders, Nobody Died."

"So he'll stop picking fights?" Minerva said, Dumbledore eyeing both of them sharply.

"Of course not," Snape drawled, "That would be counterproductive."

"WHAT?" Minerva screeched, having finally lost any semblance of composure.

"When a storm comes, you point the boat towards the waves, splitting them with the prow. Otherwise, the entire ship sinks." Snape said.

"Just what is that supposed to mean?" Minerva said sharply, her voice receeding to normal composure.

"The storm's brewing, and I'm trying to prevent it from smashing every single one of us to pieces, or pushing us onto sandbars." Snape said, pausing.

Dumbledore interrupted, before Severus' rather extended analogy succeeded in getting under Minerva's skin. "I'm sure you can ask Mister Malfoy to restrain himself."

Snape responded noncomittally, "He knows what the consequences are, Headmaster."

"Not much from you!" Minerva snapped back.

"Then you both know what to do about your wayward students." Dumbledore said with a cheery smile, that he knew Snape hated on principle, and Minerva loathed when she thought it patronizing, which in this case it certainly was.

Severus strode towards the dungeons, with almost a skip in his stride. Today had been a good day.

[a/n: What? You thought Snape was going to chew Draco out? Lessons are important.]