I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am that I haven't updated sooner. There's just been far too much going on, particularly now with my applying to university and doing a lot of work in the European Youth Parliament.

Anyway, amid all this work I found time to finish up this chapter. I'm afraid it's not all too eventful, but it gets along.

Hope you're still out there!

Ivy

"Sna-ape!"

The Potion's Master closed his eyes briefly and took a couple of deep breaths, holding the tip of his quill above the parchment upon which he had been writing a letter. He refused to answer such an insolent call, and would absolutely not indulge in a cross-room screaming match. Drawing one more deep breath, he dipped the quill in the ink once again, and scratched on.

"Sna-a-ape!" Pushing the tip down too hard, it broke through the fragile parchment, and soiled the entire letter. With slow hands, Snape placed the quill in its stand, capped the inkbottle and rose. With a flick of his wand, he heard a surprised shriek a couple of rooms away and in a few seconds, an outraged Harry was being dragged by an invisible force, holding onto his shirt collar, into the room.

"Might I remind you," Severus began, raising one eyebrow at the boy who was still being held onto by the spell cast by his guardian, "that despite what happened a couple of days ago, I am still your legal guardian, and if you continue to fail to show me proper respect, I assure you that the consequences will be most unpleasant." Harry, looking suitably abashed, squirmed a bit. Another flick of Severus' wand released the boy, and he shrugged to get his collar back in some sort of order.

"Sorry," Harry muttered to the carpet. A finger was placed under his chin, forcing him to look up.

"Come again?"

"Sorry," Harry repeated, chewing his lip as he looked at Severus. The older wizard held the younger's eyes for a few more moments, raised his eyebrow once more, and then finally let the boy go.

"Now what has you shouting like a jinxed hippogriff?" Severus asked, walking around to sit behind his desk again, giving his charge an enquiring look.

"I…" The boy broke off, and looked slightly sheepish. "I can't remember." Snape rolled his eyes, snapped his fingers. The useless parchment disappeared, and the professor pulled out a new sheet. He opened the inkbottle again and brought out a fresh quill.

"I suggest you do some of your homework," Snape said as he dipped the quill and restarted the letter.

"But can't I—"

"Do as you're told, Harry," Snape broke him off.

"But—"

"Harry James…"

"But if I could just—" He was broken off, and yelped as he was spun around and scooted into an empty corner of the study by the same type of invisible force which had hauled him into the room in the first place.

"Fifteen minutes," Snape said curtly, not looking up from his parchment. "If I hear a sound from you, it'll be thirty and you'll have a sore bum to think of." Through the corner of his eye, the Potions Master could see the boy's ears reddening, and was pleased to have finally got through to the child who had been completely unreasonable since yesterday's disaster. The professor supposed that this was to be expected, and although he himself was suffering from strange mood swings and trouble sleeping since last afternoon, he would not have himself, nor anyone else, setting a bad example for the boy, who really needed to get hold of his behaviour anyway.

"Right then." Severus broke the silence after the allotted fifteen minutes, and the boy turned to face him, entirely deflated. "Let's put this behind us and not ruin the rest of our day," he continued in a low voice, not looking up from the letter he was writing. "Why don't you go into the sitting room and start your homework. I will be out to join you shortly."

"Yes sir," Harry replied obligingly, and smiled slightly in his guardian's direction before he exited the room. He seemed to be getting used to Snape's disproportionate reactions and punishments. I was only asking if I could go outside instead, he reasoned with himself as he dumped his schoolbooks on the couch. He decided to do his magical homework first, in an attempt to motivate himself.

When Professor Snape emerged from his office fifteen minutes later, Harry was busy scratching down answers to the questions he'd received in his Charms class, his tongue lodged firmly between his lips, his brow crumpled in concentration. The atypical behaviour of his charge almost had Snape laughing, but he settled for a smug grin instead.

"Following orders I see," he remarked casually as he made his way over to the boy, peering over his shoulder.

"I do that most of the time," Harry replied somewhat cheekily, but huffed at being disturbed and hence misspelling 'effect'.

"Two f's," the older wizard added, to which Harry said nothing, but made a face. "And wipe that look off your face," he added, turning towards the bookshelf. Harry spun around in his seat.

"How did you see that? How did you know?!"

"I didn't. But I do now." The look on Snape's face made Harry positively livid with frustration.

"That's not at all fair," he declared, throwing his quill on the table and leaning back with a sigh.

"Life isn't fair," Snape replied absentmindedly as he picked up a scroll that had appeared on the table.

"What's that?" Harry enquired, curious as any self-respecting eight-year-old. Much to his chagrin, he received no answer as his guardian unrolled the parchment, and read it with furrowed brow. "Sir?" Severus kept reading, before crumpling the note in his hand, turning around and sweeping out of the quarters. Harry stared at the door for a few moments, his mouth slightly open. Deciding against being a good boy, he jumped up and hurried after the Potions Master.

His boots clicked regularly against the stone floor, robes billowing behind him in the cold castle air. As much as it pained him to admit it, even to himself, he had been taken by surprise when reading the note. Normally, the Ministry took more or less a year to come to a decision on any trivial matter, not to mention something like the adoption of the Boy Who Lived. Of course, the note being from the Headmaster, it did not really contain any concrete information; however, the urgency of the tone and the writing made it abundantly clear that something of importance must have happened. He supposed, really, that he ought to have given the boy some kind of instruction before he left. He hoped – against his better judgement – that the child would have some sort of self-preservation and stay put. Though that is highly unlikely.

Turning a corridor, he snapped the password to the gargoyle from a distance, the passage opening just as he arrived by it. Taking two steps at a time, he was by the office door in seconds, not bothering to knock.

"Severus." The Headmaster was sitting behind his desk, his head bowed over a long piece of parchment.

"I received your note," the Potions Master said, striding through the room in four steps and seating himself across from the elder wizard.

"I've understood as much."

"Let us cut the nonsense. What did the Minister say?" Severus demanded, tired of Dumbledore's flowery words, wishing to get straight to the point. He didn't trust Harry alone in the quarters for too long.

"My dear Severus—"

"Albus, please," Severus interrupted, massaging his temples with his long, pale fingers. "Not today." Gazing pensively at the professor for a few moments, Dumbledore heaved the smallest of sighs.

"They will be unable to set a date for another month," Dumbledore said quietly. "Whether this is due to scheduling or simply politics I cannot say." Severus let his hands drop from his head, grateful for the swift reply. It did not please him, however, that they would have to wait another month for any form of progress.

"Is there no way we can speed the process up?" he enquired, folding his hands in his lap.

"I have owled the Minister, emphasising the urgency of the matter, but you know what it's like," the Headmaster replied airily. "Politics." Snape hissed under his breath, knowing all too well about so-called politics.

"Bloody dirty tricks and large sums of Galleons is all they care about," he muttered, flexing his fingers.

"Indeed." Dumbledore waved his hand, starting a fire in the fireplace. The room was beginning to get chilly as the sun disappeared behind a large, grey cloud. "How is young Harry?"

"A nuisance," Snape replied easily, raising an eyebrow at his old mentor.

"Now I'm certain that is not true," Albus smiled through his beard, his eyes twinkling through his glasses.

"The way he shouts inside, it's as though he has hearing problems," Snape retorted, not to be deterred. The child was a menace, and the sooner Dumbledore realised this, the better. He could only imagine the havoc the boy would cause once he started school.

"He's only eight," Dumbledore remarked.

"Close enough to nine to know how to behave himself," Snape argued. Albus merely smiled, and Severus decided he had left the boy to his own devices for far too long already, so he rose.

"Things to attend to as always, I presume," Albus commented.

"I have an eight-year-old alone in my quarters. That, if anything, is cause for alarm," Snape sneered, taking his leave of the Headmaster.

Exiting the office and walking through the corridors, the Potions Master sunk into thought. The delay in a new Ministry hearing meant that Black would have more than enough time to create a case for himself, not to mention find a suitably expensive attorney. Snape was rather certain that he would win the case either way; despite Sirius quickly being raised to the heavens by the British public, he had spent enough time in prison to need a thorough psychological check at St Mungo's, and even if he did pass this, he would need investigation into whether or not he wad fit as a parent. This would take months, if not a year, to complete, whilst Severus, being employed by a school, dealing with children regularly, and having Albus Dumbledore's backing, only needed a signature from the child's Godfather. He was well aware that if, when, he did gain permanent custody, Sirius would have to be part of the raising of the boy; there was no way Sirius or Dumbledore would ever allow Snape to separate Harry from his Godfather for ever.

Whipping his cloak around a corner, Snape headed towards the stairs descending down to the dungeons. As he started down, he saw the sole of a trainer disappear into the darkness below. Growling to himself, he kept the same steady pace as he walked down. Let the boy wait. Let him believe he was not seen. Saying nothing, the Potions Master continued down the stairs, his shoes clicking ominously as ever.

As he reached his quarters, he opened the door swiftly, and closed it as swiftly behind him. The room was empty, the only noise to be heard the clock on his desk. Tugging his cuffs into order, he strode through the room, down the short corridor, and entered his ward's room without knocking. The boy was sitting cross-legged on his bed, his Charms book open in front of him. He did not look up when Severus entered, and the man noticed easily that the child was trying to suppress his heavy breathing.

"Living room. Now." Turning around, the Potions Master stalked out of the room again, heading straight for the living room, sweeping around his desk and leaning his palms flat against the polished, wooden surface. Within seconds, the sound of small feet hurrying along the carpet met his ears, and Harry appeared around the corner, the tips of his ears already reddening in embarrassment. "Explain yourself."

"I don't know—"

"I am quite certain that I have never tolerated lying," Severus snapped immediately, glaring the boy, who fidgeted uncomfortably. "The truth. This minute."

"I just wanted to see where you went," Harry squeaked.

"If I wanted you to know where I was going, I would have told you," Snape thundered.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"If you knew, you would not have acted so deplorably."

"But I –"

"I am tiring of your excuses and ramblings, boy," the man cut him off again. "You will learn to behave yourself." Harry bit his lower lip, and tried not to shuffle around too much to avoid irritating his guardian further. I only ran out for a little bit, he thought miserably, wondering how the Potions Master had even known he'd been out at all. He'd been so quick running back, and the dungeons were really dark.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again. Staring silently at Harry for a few moments longer, the professor then walked around the desk and grabbed hold of the boy's arm. Bending him over slightly, he landed three hard smacks to the child's behind; Harry yelped at each.

"Find yourself a corner." Harry scurried away from the angry professor, stopping with his nose in one of the corners, and trying not to reach back and rub his bum. He could not believe how easily Snape could make it sting so much, and wondered why it was always he who had to be on the receiving end. He wished Snape would meet Dudley; that would not end well. The thought of Snape smacking his cousin made Harry giggle.

"I do not want to hear a sound from you, boy, or I'll give you a proper smacking."

"Sorry, sir," Harry said quickly, his amusement immediately dampened by the threat of further punishment. Sighing as silently as he could muster, Harry leaned his forehead against the intersecting walls and closed his eyes. It can't be too long now…