AN: I'm a little unsure of this chapter, I wanted to show some amount of softening for Snape but I wonder if it's a little too out of character for him. Please let me know what you think.
Snape walked back to his office, lost in thought. In the end it had been Minerva that had given the announcement of Dumbledore's coma, praising the headmaster's survival to the quick thinking and competence of the school's potion master who was with him at the time and narrowly avoided poisoning himself. Snape felt his ears burn at the unfamiliar praise, and glared at any student cheeky enough to smile at him.
"There will be new regulations around food," Minerva had told the student body in her slight highland burr. "No food will be consumed outside of the school dining hall where the magic of the house elves prevents any poison from entering. No student or staff will be allowed any food outside of the dining hall, and all trips to Hogsmeade are suspended until the culprit can be found."
Snape agreed with the sanctions, but he also had to wonder at keeping the school open and the tri-wizard tournament going forward. Wouldn't a student's death and the attempted poisoning of two staff be enough to call it off?
To his surprise, as he neared his office a student waited for him. His eyes widened slightly at seeing this particular student waiting for him, but he covered his surprise with a sneer.
"Out for your morning constitutional, Potter?" he sneered.
"They let me out, as obviously I couldn't have poisoned Dumbledore while in custody."
"How convenient for you," he snapped at the boy.
"So I guess you can take a paddle to me at will, then," Harry spat back.
"The terms of the agreement with Miss Granger include clearing your name fully, which doesn't happen until the real culprit is identified," Snape snapped back at him. "I believe Sunday night was the day of reckoning. I can wait until then."
"Is that all this is to you?" he yelled at Snape. "Some sort of game to be able to punish your enemy's son?"
"I do not feel at leisure to discuss my motivations with an emotional Gryffindor," Snape seethed. "Kindly leave now before I must start assigning detentions."
"You could have saved him!" Harry yelled now, all semblance of restraint thrown off. "You were with him for Merlin's sake! How could you let him drink poison?"
Snape, not disagreeing with the sentiment expressed by the teen, merely glared and brushed passed Harry in order to enter his office.
"Answer me, damn you!" Harry yelled, tears blinding him. "Or are you happy that he has been done away with? Funny nobody is suspecting the man who is a potion master and a death eater for poisoning people!"
Snape turned to make an angry retort, and found himself with his arms full of angry young teenager who was attempting to knock him over in anger. It was clear the lad had little experience in being the aggressor in a physical altercation, and within a few breaths Snape had him firmly on the ground, his arm pinned painfully behind him and utterly unable to move. Snape held him there for a moment, each of them catching their breaths and Harry trying desperately hard not to cry as he fought and twisted in an attempt to break free.
Snape checked himself, forcing his aggressive reaction to calm, and said in a softly threatening voice, "Your grief is some excuse, but if you do not cease this completely nonsensical attack upon my person you will swiftly discover why my Slytherins do not dare disobey me."
"You killed him!" Harry sobbed, his body shuddering with his anger and grief.
"Fool," Snape calmly told him with menace. "If you try to fight your way out of an unbreakable hold you can break your arm. Now I'm going to release you, and we are going to go into my office where privacy is more assured, and we are going to have a conversation in which you will listen to me and show me at least a modicum of respect. Do you agree?"
Harry nodded, realizing he had little choice.
"Verbally, please," Snape insisted, though he released some of the pressure on the lad's arm.
"Yes, sir," he answered, sounding for once not like the angry and spiteful teen raging at his tormentor but rather a child who felt lost.
Snape let him go, pushing himself up and watching as the young man tried to straighten his robes and regain his dignity. Snape, assuming the young Gryffindor would keep his word, swept into his office and motioned for his door to shut behind Harry. He quickly cast muffling and privacy charms, even though no portraits hung in his office to invade his privacy.
"The usual consequence for physically attacking a teacher is expulsion," Snape told him in a neutral voice. "Although occasionally this punishment has been commuted into a sound caning. It was foolish to do so in the sight of so many portraits, as it leaves me little choice."
"What does it matter?" Harry answered, suddenly despondent. "It doesn't matter, not if Dumbledore dies. I don't care what you do to me."
"You may feel differently bent over the desk," Snape snapped at him, and then sighed. "You may have been laboring under a false premise."
"What?" he asked dully.
"I want you to perceive for a moment what would be a good course of action if someone were actually poisoned," Snape told him, keeping his voice neutral. "Perhaps if someone were poisoned but was saved by the quick thinking of a bystander. Would it be best to show the poisoner that the person has made a full recovery or would it be better to play along that the person was indeed disabled?"
"Huh?" Harry asked, not understanding.
Snape sighed, wishing this boy was just a touch more Slytherin. Really, how much clearer could he be?
"Really Potter?" he asked. "Have you no imagination? I'm trying to tell you that Dumbledore is fine."
"But he was poisoned!"
"He was," Snape agreed. "But Madame Pomfrey and I made short work of it. The headmaster is a bit tired, and is recuperating at an undisclosed location as we speak."
"Are you sure?" Harry asked, his eyes hopeful. Then, his eyes shuddered with doubt and he said, "How do I know you aren't lying?"
"What possible benefit do I have in lying?" Snape asked, exasperated. "I mean, other than staving off your frightening physical attacks upon my person?"
Harry grimaced at the dig, but Snape could see he was starting to believe. "So you and Dumbledore are doing this to try and solve who is the poisoner?"
"Yes," Snape answered simply. "And we would endeavor it a great personal favor if you in particular would follow the guidelines set by the Deputy Headmistress, as you are likely on the list of targets as well."
"I will try," Harry nodded, beginning to relax.
There was a sudden knock at the door, and the Deputy Headmistress swept in the room. "I see the portraits have been reliable," she told them as she looked over the Potions Professor and the miscreant. "I trust you have it well in hand, Professor?"
"Are you checking to make sure I hadn't killed the lad, Professor?" he grimaced. "As you see he is still currently in one piece."
"I know you can keep your temper when you want to," she smirked back at him. "Even given extreme provocation. Would you like me to see to the student's discipline in this matter?"
"I believe I have it well in hand," Snape answered, glaring at the teen.
"Can he really cane me, Professor McGonagall?" Harry asked, his voice uncertain.
"He may," she answered firmly. "He may also call for your expulsion, if what the portraits told me was correct. Usually heads of house discipline their own students should such a need arise, but for a physical attack it is up to the discretion of the injured party and the approval of the acting Headmaster."
"Do you approve of me caning the boy?" Snape asked, arching an eyebrow at the Deputy Headmistress in surprise. He had expected her to be ruffled and making excuses for her precious Gryffindor.
"Of course I do, why else would I come?" she asked. "Attacking a professor is egregious indeed, and not to be dealt with by a few detentions. As long as Professor Snape isn't blinded by anger and can approach it reasonably, then I approve. It was seen by too many witnessing portraits for me to expect anything less."
"But Professor!" Harry protested.
Professor McGonagall looked at Harry full in the face then, and with such a stern countenance that it caused Harry to look down in guilt. That look told him what any amount of words would not convey – her disappointment in him, her sadness, but also her strength. "And I expect you to take your punishment like a true Gryffindor," she told him firmly, giving him back some measure of dignity.
"Yes, Professor," Harry agreed, looking down. He wouldn't fight and argue about it as he was tempted to do, he would obey his head of house. Shame burned his cheeks to even find himself in this position.
"Thank you, Professor," Snape nodded to her.
"Let me know if you need anything further," she told him, sweeping out of the door.
Harry felt his stomach sink as he heard the door click, realizing there was no excuse for what he had done. What would Uncle Vernon have done if he had attacked him like he had Snape? And Uncle Vernon was a petty dictator that he could outrun if strictly necessary. Professor Snape was much more frightening.
"Do you have anything to say on your behalf?" Snape asked with interest.
"I was distraught," Harry told him. "But I know that is really no excuse. I wanted to hurt something, and you were easy to blame. I'm sorry, Professor."
"Remove your robe and bend over the table there," Snape told him firmly, trying hard not to be impressed by the boy's answer. He understood the situation with very little scolding. He always secretly admired the Head of Gryffindor's house ability to rule the disorderly bunch, and he just saw a piece of how she accomplished it.
Harry obeyed, fumbling a bit with his robe. Moving a few items, he bent over the table then, his stomach flipping in protest as he awaited what he assumed would be a very painful punishment. He had never been caned, but he had heard stories. Given his Aunt Marge's approval of the punishment he assumed it had to be simply horrible. He felt his lips go numb in anxiety.
"Accio cane," Snape barked, and a cane flew from his cupboard into his hand with a sharp crack. Harry winced, realizing that was about to be laid over his backside. "Six of the best, Mr. Potter," Snape told him formally. "Do you understand why you are receiving this punishment?"
"Yes, sir," Harry answered, trying to keep his voice level. "I attacked a Hogwarts professor."
Harry then heard Snape mumbling a spell, and he glanced back to see him casting the spell on the cane. Was it to increase the pain? Prevent healing? Harry's legs twitched in anticipation.
Snape said nothing else as he tapped the miscreant's bottom in order to take aim. He smirked a bit as he did so, knowing what he was about to do but also feeling that Potter deserved at least the fear of it. He raised the cane high, and brought it down on the trouser-clad backside presented to him.
Harry heard the swish and the crack, and anticipated the pain. But then the resulting pain never came beyond the mildest of taps.
"One," Snape said, and then cracked down the next stroke. "Two."
"But . . ." Harry protested after the second stroke hurt no more than the first.
"I hope you recognize the mercy given to you," Snape told him firmly, pausing the caning. "Your real punishment will be an extra stroke of the paddle applied on Sunday night. Had you attacked me in a less public manner, that is all you would have received. However, since you attacked me publicly and we are in a tenuous political position with me trying to clear your name, I didn't think my showing you any favoritism would be a good idea."
"Favoritism?" Harry asked, his mouth agape. "Me?"
"You surely don't think that another student attacking me in such a way would receive a fake caning, do you?" Snape asked. "I have charmed the cane to deliver a glamour to your backside, that any scan of your health or physical inspection would show that you had been soundly punished. Do try to flinch a bit when you sit tomorrow."
"But why?" Harry asked. "You seemed keen to paddle me before, I would think that Professor McGonagall approving a caning would be like Christmas to you."
"Let's say that I have some sympathy to your grief," Snape answered in a quiet voice devoid of its usual sarcasm. "Though do not expect this mercy on Sunday night. I wish to paddle you for actual transgressions that I feel are deserving, and this is not that situation. Now hold still, we have four more to go."
Snape applied the last four strokes with gusto, and then banished the cane back to the cupboard. He saw Harry push himself off the table, his face still looking confused.
"Don't tell anyone beyond your two sidekicks what happened here today," he told Harry firmly. "And do try to at least act like you've been soundly punished. The portraits will spread it around if you limp a bit."
"Yes, sir," Harry replied, rubbing his backside at the tingly tickle from the glamour. "Thank you, Professor Snape."
"You are welcome, Mr. Potter," Snape replied, surprised at the respect Harry used in addressing him. He couldn't remember a time the boy had willingly showed him this type of respect. "And please have a care."
"I will sir," Harry answered, affecting a slight limp as he exited the office.
Snape watched him go, wondering a bit at himself. Why had he given the lad mercy? But he knew why – and that answer lay in the night that Lily had died. His grief had overtaken him, caused him to go to Dumbledore in anger and attack him for not protecting Lily. Instead of Azkaban or at least a rather painful hex, the man had given him firm sympathy and a place to vent his anger and grief. He had never had that before, and it was what made him staunchly Dumbledore's man from that day forward. How could he give less to Lily's son?