Whelp II The Wrath of Snape

Giving him a brief – yet almost crafty – smile, she released her grip on Harry and retreated from the room. That one would bear watching. And as for Harry . . .

'Could you sit over there for me, please?' he told the boy, and pointed at a chair near his desk. 'Until this class is done. Then we'll have lunch.'

'Yes, Father,' Harry said dutifully, though he still looked perplexed. As well he might; Harry had no idea of how frightening a prospect it would be to many wizards if he manifested the same odd, Dark power that Voldemort had. It would bring up far too many memories for most people, including himself. And he probably had no idea of the risk he had put himself, talking with such a poisonous snake as that.

Severus had almost turned back to his class, a snarl for them to 'Pay attention!' halfway from his mouth, when he noted Harry's gait was off. With a sigh, he said, 'Harry, did you hurt your ankle?'

The boy's head went down for an instant, before it came up again, and Harry did not meet his eyes. 'N-no, sir?'

'Do not lie to me, boy.'

The tousled head shook wildly. 'No, sir, I mean, yes, sir, I did hurt it, but I didn't mean to, please!'

Keeping tight rein on his snappishness -- this was no time for the boy to temporize! -- Severus still gestured to the chair again, sharply. 'Sit down!'

Then, before he could register the fear in his son's eyes, he turned to the class. 'Get this mess bottled up. You've had long enough. Anyone who did not complete their potion satisfactorily will turn in two feet on the uses of belladonna in calming potions by next class. Those whose potions are satisfactory, which should be every one of you, though I know that is much too much to expect, owe one foot. You should know who you are. If you don't, you are beyond my help. Go now.'

They scrambled to obey, and Severus watched them carefully. It would not do for there to be an incident just because he was worried about Harry. He had a feeling – given the events of the last few weeks – that he was often going to be worried about Harry.

When the last of the little devils had gone, he turned back to his son. Harry was perched on the very edge of the chair, the kit – Treacle, was it? – held tight in his arms, with his cheek resting on her back, and his eyes wide, tracking Severus' every move. The creature didn't seem to mind the close contact, in fact she was purring if the sounds coming from the pair was any indication. The two of them made such a picture that Severus' anger melted away, leaving only the overwhelming concern he had for the boy.

'Harry,' he said, after shutting the door and warding it for privacy. 'Let me see your ankle.'

''M'sorry, sir,' Harry said instead. His face was pinched with fear, but no tears fell from his over bright eyes. 'I shouldn't'a falled. Was an accident. Was just s'prised is all.'

'Harry,' Severus said again, and this time knelt on the floor in front of the boy. 'I'm not angry. Please let me see where you're hurt.'

Slowly, biting his lip, Harry held out the ankle that had been hurt once before.

Taking it carefully in his hands, Severus winced at the swelling. Parkinson should have brought him to the infirmary instead! 'What surprised you?' he asked as he took off the boy's shoe and rolled down the sock, as gently as he could.

'Rose. She said I could call her Rose. Do you think that's okay, sir?'

Another wince for the realization that he had frightened Harry back into old habits. He pitched his voice to as mild a one as he could manage, low and soothing. 'What are you supposed to call me, Harry?'

'Father. Sorry, Father.'

'It's all right.' He cast a quick spell to bring down the swelling, and then another to see where the damage was. Merlin. That tendon was going to need more than his skill to repair, that was certain. Looked like another trip to Madam Pomfrey was in order. In the meantime, he immobilized the ankle and foot with an area specific Body Bind, which should hold it until after lunch at least.

First, he and Harry needed to discuss the morning's events, and he had a free period just after lunch, so he'd bring the boy to the Medi-witch then. When his head was nudged by a soft, butting chin, he looked up into Harry's green eyes, and at his face, almost hidden by white kneazle fur. He pushed he kneazle away from his cheek, but not with any rancor.

'We'll have lunch in our quarters,' he said. 'But I don't want you walking on that ankle, so I'll need to carry you.' He looked pointedly at Treacle Tart. 'But I don't give rides to kneazles.'

'S'okay, Father. She can follow us. She's real smart, huh, Tree?'

Treacle seemed to agree, giving Harry a head butting, along with a substantial purr.

'So long as we understand each other,' Severus told the kneazle.

It stared at him, blinked slowly, then jumped out of Harry's arms and looked up at both of them steadily, as if waiting for them to get a move on.

Shaking his head slightly at her antics, Severus scooped Harry into his arms, concerned once more than the boy felt too light by far -- weren't the House-elves making sure he ate properly? -- and walked them both back to his quarters. The kneazle stayed on his heels and darted through the door like she owned the place when he opened it.

Severus settled Harry on the couch, ordered up lunch for the two of them, and sat down in his favorite easy chair when it appeared. 'Now,' he said quietly, once Harry had begun eating his apple slices. 'Why don't you tell me about the snake.'

Harry's eyes lit up. 'He's real pretty, all gray and with zigzags and stuff on his back. I think he was going to look for voles. They hibernate, did you know?'

'I did know.' He paused, not sure how to approach this. 'Were you just pretending to talk to him? You know, how you talk to your kneazle?'

'No, Father, it's real! Tree doesn't talk back through her mouth like the snake did. He said I'm the only one