"Come in mister Potter." She smiled sweetly. Harry tensed and came to sit by the small table with the pink doily. The parchment was twice as long this time and the black quill sat proudly on top of it.

"What should I write this time?" He asked trying to sound casual.

"Oh, I think the root of your problems is your greatest infraction so far. The same as last time. Unless there's something you wish to confess to?" She asked gently. Harry narrowed his eyes slightly.

"He is back. If I deny it just to make you or Fudge feel better, then I would be lying." Harry said. He felt a thrill of delight seeing her face twist with rage, though the victory was knocked out of him when she brought her hand hard across his face with a strength he didn't realise the petite woman possessed.

"It seems that I need to extend your detention." She said and the parchment became longer. The sting of the slap, shocked him into silence. He looked up at her and her nasty sneer had turned into a sadistic grin. She took a deep breath however and smiled sweetly once more. "Begin."

Harry started. I must not tell lies. He tensed his hand and took a deep breath as every cut felt like his hand was on fire. And now he had to do it three times longer than last time. He decided to go as fast as he could, but the pain was almost unbearable. As he got halfway down the parchment he disguised a sob with a gasp and had to stop, opening and closing his hand, this time it stopped healing just before it closed up completely and glancing at his hand he saw a couple of droplets of blood oozing from the wounds.

He heard a giggle and a sigh from Umbridge and wiped the moisture from his eyes before continuing, not even looking up. The searing pain extended all the way to his shoulder and when it healed as much as it could the dull ache remained. He had to go slower now, having to wipe his eyes every so often. The detention started at eight and by the time he finished the last line, it was quarter to ten. He wiped the humidity in his eyes once more, standing and handing Umbridge the parchment. She looked at it, smiling gently.

"Well, I hope the truth is finally sinking in." She giggled and glanced at Harry's hand before handing him back the parchment. "I'll let you keep this one." She smiled rolling up the parchment and handing it back to him. Harry took it, feeling numb as he walked back out. He started heading straight to the tower but then he remembered that Snape had his presents. He was probably in his rooms by now. If he remembered correctly it should be near his stores. His left hand was trembling and he was just trying to ignore the throbbing going through his entire arm, even going up his neck and giving him a headache.

Down in the dungeons he tried a couple of portraits until he found one with Salazar Slytherin, sitting proudly with a bright green boa curled up on his lap. "Are these Professor Snape's rooms?" Harry asked. The snake perked up as did Salazar.

"I shall call him for you."

Harry waited before Snape opened the door, looking a bit more alarmed than Harry expected him to be. "Potter. What on earth…"

"Uh… I… my packages sir…" He said not understanding the confusion.

"Salazar said a snake had come to my doors. You spoke parseltongue to it?" He frowned.

"I… well, I didn't know I did. Though how he confused me for a snake I won't know." Harry frowned eyeing the back of the opened portrait.

"Right…" he moved his wand and a bunch of packages came forward. Harry winced as he had to use both his hands to hold onto them. "Now get out. I'll take points if you're out past curfew." He said. Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed one of the packages, it was slightly different than the rest and he distinctly remembered not having it before. "Professor I think this is yours." Harry said. Snape frowned and nodded.

"Ah, yes. Potions ingredients. I doubt they'd be much use to you anyway Potter." He said taking it. Harry would have argued but he had no will power. He was so drained, he just wanted to crawl into bed, cradle his arm against his chest and go to sleep.

"Goodnight Professor." He mumbled. He paused briefly realising he'd wished the other a good night but Snape simply slammed the portrait shut and Harry huffed.

"Rude." He mumbled and turned to leave. However, a second later the door swung open once more and Snape grabbed him by the arm, dragging him inside.

The abrupt motion left Harry a bit dazed, trying to understand what was happening. Snape's quarters were actually quite cosy, though he'd never thought he'd find himself in it. Snape then held up the package Harry had just returned to him up against the light. It was stained with blood.

"Ah." Harry mumbled and looked away.

"Show me your arms Potter." Snape demanded. Harry glared at the stained package and put his own down on the short coffee table and pulled his sleeves up, showing them, palms facing upward. He grimaced however when he saw that his left palm was stained with patches of blood and Snape turned his hand over.

Harry groaned in pain as he saw the markings, twitching, healing, opening up again, as if unable to heal him but unable to give up trying.

"I must not tell lies." Snape read.

"It's nothing." Harry shrugged.

"Really… were you not in detention until now?" He asked and picked up the parchment he had put with his packages. Harry simply cradled his hand close against his chest, his arm throbbing even more painfully as the markings played up. "I must not tell lies. Well. I understand now why you'd want Murtlap tentacles. Now explain why these lines are written in blood." He said.

Harry looked down. "I don't want to give her the satisfaction. I can handle it on my own."

"I don't care what you've deluded yourself into thinking you can do." The grandfather clock in the end of the room signalled ten o'clock.

"I'm out after curfew sir." Snape made no move to show he gave a damn about the time. "Umbridge has a black feathered quill. I think she invented it or something. It doesn't need ink. It healed over the first time… I had three times as many lines this time so I guess it didn't heal anymore." He mumbled.

"You didn't think to tell the headmaster that?" Snape demanded, his voice a little louder than usual.

"Professor Dumbledore has more important things to worry about. Hermione suggested I tell McGonagall but I don't think she has the authority to do anything anyway." Harry said and winced feeling the markings twitch once more. Snape looked at him for a while, as if debating with himself about something. In the end he pushed him back into the armchair and went to get some kind of poultice that smelt oddly sweet. "Is that… honey?" Harry asked.

"Honey has strong healing properties." Snape said grabbing some cotton, wetting it with water to clean the blood stains and around the wound. Harry said nothing as he leaned against the side of the arm chair.

Snape's hands were rough but they felt strong and strangely Harry felt re-assured. He winced slightly as Snape applied the honeyed poultice on the markings and started bandaging his hand up. Harry felt his eyelids getting heavy.

oOoOoOo oOoOoOo oOoOoOo

Severus bandaged the boy's hand carefully. He was not a medi-wizard by any standards but with his line of work he'd had to learn basing would healing procedures to treat his injuries when serving the Dark Lord or Dumbledore.

He could feel the trembling from the boy every time he but the bandage over the wound. To think that blasted woman had been able to create a tool of dark magic while still keeping her job in the ministry. She probably made it recently, just for Potter. He glanced up at the boy and saw him asleep, that peaceful expression returning to his face. He looked back down and finished, sealing the edge in place and the bandages adjusted to look as the same colour as Potter's skin. It made it a little less conspicuous.

He sat back on the couch and watched the boy for a few moments before looking away. Why did he call after him? Why did he drag him into his rooms just to bandage his hand? What happened to ensuring the boy continued to hate him? This was Potter's son. The man who made his school years hell. The man who took the one woman he ever loved. The man who took his only friend away. It should be easy to hate him!

But even he realized… that it wasn't. It wasn't as easy any more. He stood and grabbed a potion from a small chest, coming to the boy and shaking him awake.

"Get up Potter. Drink this."

The boy groaned, looking around disoriented and then looked at the clear vial. "Whasit?" He mumbled.

"It'll help it heal and take away the pain." Severus said. The boy uncorked it and swallowed it with a grimace. "Get your things." The boy gathered up his packages and stood, groggily making his way to the door. "This way." He led the boy down corridors that would not be supervised and walked him to the corridor leading to the entrance of Gryffindor tower.

Potter paused for a second, looking at his bandaged hand and Severus shoved his head slightly in the direction of the fat lady's portrait. He heard Potter tut in annoyance and glare at him softly before marching into the Gryffindor common room.

He frowned once the boy was gone, a little confused himself about this whole situation. He resolved that by occluding and making his way back to his own rooms. He needed a long night's sleep. But not before he tossed that blood soaked scroll into the fire.