Disclaimer: Severus Snape, Harry Potter and Co. belongs to J.K. Rowling. Alternate meanings inspired by "Weight" in Wilderness Tips by Margaret Atwood.
Warning: This is slash so you know what that means! If you don't then the pairing below says it all. Don't like? Then Leave!
Pairing: Severus/Harry
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Harry sat cross-legged, arms wrapped around his body, on the frozen ground and actually seemed oblivious to the storm that raged about him. He was facing the lake as if entranced by the glistening water. (4265 words)
Author: Spirit
x
Wilderness Tips
Ice Storm
x
On Dumbledore's table, though usually hidden from view, sat the equivalent of a snow globe.
It was a little larger than a Muggle version should be and of course it was certainly built from a much better material than cheap plastic filled with confetti and water. In the centre of the globe, complete with the lake and an edge of the Forbidden forest, was a miniature version of the great Hogwarts castle.
Around the castle, an ice storm raged.
The trees of the forest swayed from within the violent wind and everything glistened with the crystal-like sheen of ice that encased every plane surface visible. Even the lake shone. Although the occasional miniscule ripple of the water's surface was proof enough that it had not completely frozen over, and that the Great Squid definitely seemed uncomfortable with the way his tiny world was slowly sealing above him.
Professor Snape tore his eyes away from the globe and instead gazed into warm blue eyes that were filled with worry, as they too turned away from the small weather globe.
"Will you be able to find him?"
Snape's eyes narrowed. "I have my suspicions as to where he could be."
"And can you find him in the storm, Severus?" Dumbledore immediately asked.
Snape's fingers tightened around the teacup in his hand, barely acknowledging the warmth that steadily seeped beneath his fingers from the hot tea within. He took a sip as he tried to occupy his mouth. He needed something to do, instead of spewing the words that rose to his lips regarding his feelings, in having it necessary to venture into the storm in the first place.
"How long before it reaches that intensity?" He pointedly looked over at the weather globe as indication.
Dumbledore sighed. "Minutes. There is no avoiding it. You will just have to find him quickly."
Snape took another sip of his tea, this time to cover the sneer that rose to his lips. Carefully, he placed the cup upon the tray before the older wizard, and rose to his feet.
"The sooner I leave then is the sooner I find him and the sooner I can punish him."
"Severus." Dumbledore's tone held a warning note, but the tired edge to it dampened its severity. "Bring him back first? He just needed a moment to think."
"While an ice storm was in warning?" Snape growled. "His level of stupidity astounds me to no end and you coddle him for his lack of common sense."
Dumbledore sighed again. "Will your opinion of him never change? He is no longer a child."
"Seventeen does not make him a man!" Snape snapped, though he had begun to edge towards the door. "And he is barely that, even."
"Find him before he freezes to death."
"Yes of course, Albus." Snape's voice oozed with sarcasm as his hand braced against the solid wood of the door. "I do only your bidding and have time only to run behind him, perpetually rescuing him from himself."
Dumbledore tried not to wince at the way the entire room seemed to shake at the slamming of his office door.
"I had hoped that your heart would be into this by now," he declared softly as he returned his attention to the tiny storm in the glass globe.
x-x-x
He's in a mood today, isn't he?
Careful you don't let him catch us then. I don't fancy any detentions when it's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up.
Shouldn't we be more worried about 'Mione? She has that look on her face. The one that says exactly what she thinks of us passing notes in class.
She loves us, no matter what she says otherwise.
Of course.
Where does he come up with those words?
Five galleons says he swallowed a dictionary and that's why he walks around like he has something lodged in his arse.
Snape - Snippets of conversation presented at random intervals.
Oh, bloody brilliant Harry!
x-x-x
The storm outside had reached its full capacity.
The intermingled sound of rain and hail hitting the surface of earth was as loud as cannons in the quiet castle. The castle was spelled to dampen the possibly offensive sound of nature, and though there was also the constant comfort of the heating charms in even the dungeons, most of the students had retreated to their common rooms. Curling about the fire, snuggling with a book or the latest thread of gossip was the apparent mood that a storm brought and many seemed to loathe relinquishing such comfort.
Snape, however, would not be so fortunate.
He snarled the water-repelling charm into existence, although he had been careful to wear clothes that resisted the collection of water also. He made sure to add a heating spell to his person too. Freezing to death was not an option.
His last thought before he plunged into the tumult of rain and wind was that he would be magnanimously impressed if Potter had thought to do the same.
The going was slow.
The ground was a field of ice, made even more slippery by the falling water. The wind howled as it tried to unbalance the fuming professor, but balance was one of Snape's finer abilities. Sheer determination alone kept him on his feet. Anger made him able to move that much faster.
And just when Snape was sure that he would have to cast a search spell, he spotted the figure he was looking for.
Harry sat cross-legged, arms wrapped around his body, on the frozen ground and actually seemed oblivious to the storm that raged about him. He was facing the lake as if entranced by the glistening water and every once in a while he would move his head in the slightest manner in one direction or another, proof enough that he was not frozen to the very spot on which he sat.
Snape grudgingly acknowledged that the Seventh year student had the wisdom to at least keep dry.
"Potter!" Snape growled in his best no-nonsense tone, above the sound of shattering hail, torrents of rain and a howling wind. "Get up boy! Have you lost your damn mind?"
x-x-x
Separation - The act of seeping slowly through solid surfaces.
Nice. Sibilance.
Sibilance? Really? I thought it was assonance.
Assonance - To take one's arse into one's hands.
Bloody good!
Laugh it up Ron! I couldn't tell you how many times I've seen my cousin Dudley assonize.
It doesn't count though. He didn't actually say the word.
It was good though. You must admit.
x-x-x
"I knew you would come," Harry said softly to the image of rage that stood before him. "I suppose I was waiting for you."
"Then ten points from Gryffindor for predictability," Snape snapped, arms crossed before his chest in a feeble attempt not to strangle the younger wizard. "What in Salazar's name do you think you are doing out here?"
Harry shrugged casually, as his gaze returned to the semi-frozen lake. He seemed to barely notice that the wind had picked up and now both his and Snape robes seemed determined to depart from them.
The silence stretched on for so long that Snape considered deducting more points for the sheer audacity of ignoring his question.
"Ron and Hermione have gotten together." The words were quietly spoken. Snape spent more time reading Harry's lips than actually hearing. "They wrote to each other during the summer and now they're together. One month into the school year and they've already found their niche."
"Two points from Gryffindor for your stupidity in not realizing that this has been brewing for some time," Snape snarled.
Harry fell silent again but he made no move to rise.
"Potter as much as I enjoy our little interludes I don't fancy standing out here all night." The irritation was evident.
Harry blinked slowly as he gazed up at the looming wizard. His thoughts, it seemed, were not on their predicament.
"It's not that I mind them being together," he finally responded, as if there had been no break in the conversation. "I mean they're good together. They probably won't end up marrying each other or anything unless either or both change a bit, but the three of us haven't got some unrequited triangle so don't think I fancy any of them."
"Perish the thought," Snape responded dryly. "You're love life is of no interest to me."
For the longest time, Harry looked up at his professor with a multitude of emotion flittering across his green eyes.
"Of course not," he said softly.
x-x-x
Gryffindor - Great beast of fire and fur.
Too easy.
Alright then you come up with one.
Magic - Mixture of marmalade and vodka.
Sounds toxic.
Considering that it's what you're revered for I wouldn't be so quick to judge Hero-boy.
And I suppose you're a Squib now?
I don't have anything against a good shot of magic in the morning.
I never should have told you about vodka. It's made you into an alcoholic Weasley.
Bloody great to be me then. Always on a buzz!
x-x-x
Snape had barely gotten Harry to his feet before the younger wizard was wrapped firmly into his arms. What really annoyed the professor was that he actually felt right having Potter encased like that, as if the Potions Master's arms had been fashioned just for such an occasion.
For all his usual defences, he never saw the kiss coming.
Niggling at the back of his thoughts was the realization that perhaps he had not wanted to stop the descent of spell-warmed lips against his own.
It took every fibre of self control in his body to refuse himself the pleasure of taking Harry's lips gently between his own teeth in return of the kiss. It actually ached somewhere in the pit of his stomach to not give in to temptation and open his mouth to welcome the sensation of Harry's tongue, which slowly caressed the sudden dryness of his lips as Harry silently begged entrance.
"Please…" Harry's breath ghosted upon his lips.
He stood unmoved. Unresponsive.
'He's a student. Teacher. Stop!'
Resting a palm firmly against the robe-covered chest, Snape pushed Harry away as hard as he dared.
For one split second though, his fingers itched to pull the warm body back against his.
Harry stumbled backwards in horror. His eyes glistened with betrayal and hurt. Backwards. Backwards he stumbled, as if the distance would never be enough to quell his pain of being rejected.
"Sorry," he murmured brokenly. His words dispersed into the howling wind and nature's blend of rain and hail. "I'm sorry…I shouldn't…I didn't -"
Snape watched as the world slowed down and sound became funnelled into one sharp gasp of surprise…before Harry slipped on the ice.
He reached out a hand to grab Harry as he descended towards the ground, but was not prepared for the way that Harry pulled away his own hand at the very last second before they connected. The slope leading to the lake had always provided protection before but this time it was ominous as Harry slid.
The sharp sound of a loud crack rent the air as Harry's head connected with solid ice. Snape's curse was soon to follow.
"Potter!" Snape exclaimed. "You imbecile!"
Harry lay still on the ground, propped up slightly by the small slope and miraculously not sliding towards the lake. It took just a second for Snape to reach him. Cursing again he pulled out his wand from his robe and gently pulled Harry back up onto level ground.
The ice on which Harry had hit his head was shattered and the unmistakeable red of blood seemed surreal where it had pooled into the newly crushed ice.
"Come on, wake up! You will not do this to me."
Snape turned the still body over, mindful of the blood that still seeped from somewhere at the back of Harry's head.
"Wake up!" he commanded again.
Harry groaned, slowly opened his eyes, and then swore an expletive. For once Snape allowed him the freedom of expression.
"Tell me I'm dying soon. Anything has to be much better than this. My head!" Harry groaned yet again.
"Why didn't you take my hand?" Snape demanded the instance he realized that Harry was conscious.
Sitting up, Harry raised a hand to his head as blood crept slowly down the side of his neck. The slight tilting of his head, to look at his kneeling professor, did not help his predicament. It seemed to take him a moment to focus on the figure before him.
"You would have fallen too," He responded as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. "I didn't want to take you down with me. If we'd both been injured then there would be no-one to get help."
Snape stared at him in a most disquieting manner before he found his voice to speak again
"You're bleeding, and rather badly at that."
Harry's fingers came away coated with blood. He barely noticed the way the rain washed it away as he stared in a confused daze at the sheer amount that was there. Even when he shivered from the torrent of water that began to soak through his robes and his hair, plastered against his head from the soaking, began to seep water along his face, Harry sat enthralled.
"Potter, your spells have faltered," Snape pointed out. He somehow managed to pull himself and Harry up. "Come here. You'll catch your death of cold."
Without hesitation, Harry wrapped his arms around Snape's neck. He buried his face in the spell-protected cloth, nuzzling the firm jaw line as he listened to Snape cast a water-repelling charm.
"How are you feeling?" Snape asked in a voice uncharacteristically gentle in Harry's ear so that the words were hard to miss. His fingers were busy separating the wet clumps of hair to find the source of the constant stream of red.
"You have to ask?" Harry chuckled dryly. "Wet. Cold. Dizzy."
x-x-x
What are we supposed to be doing?
Brewing a potion, maybe.
Yes I know that. What's that got to do with Quidditch and Hogsmeade?
I believe his point is that we're idiots and should have no freedom. Anyone would think he was made of stone the way he goes on.
I wouldn't be so sure that he's not an undead.
Recreation - To create something valuable from that which is lost.
Tell that to the raving lunatic that's teaching us Potions.
He's not so bad.
He's not so good. Don't let his dazzling display of charm fool you.
Oh no. Never. What would we do without his daily insults?
Let me get out my ninety feet parchment on that one.
x-x-x
"Congratulations Potter. You have managed to not only create a gaping hole at the back of your head but I do believe that you may also have a concussion," Snape informed Harry dryly.
Harry's response was to try to nuzzle his face deeper into the side of Snape's neck, while his hold on his professor tightened.
"Drink this."
Snape handed Harry one of the many potions that he kept hidden within the folds of his robe. Silently Harry accepted it. His arms were still wrapped around his professor's chest. Snape could feel the tremors that coursed through Harry's body ever so often.
"The bleeding should stop immediately. You will of course feel even more light-headed but that cannot be helped for now. I cannot levitate you or the wound will begin to bleed again. You will have to walk back to the castle."
The didactic tone came easier than concern to Snape. He could hear the shallow gasps of air that Harry ever so often, yet Harry hesitated briefly before he swallowed the potion.
And suddenly Harry's body went slack in his arms.
"No!" He shook the slumping figure, tightening his own hold around Harry's body. "You have to stay awake Potter. We have to get you to the Hospital Wing conscious."
Harry made a sharp gasp that sounded suspiciously like a sob before he nodded briefly to show that he understood.
"I'm sorry," he whispered very softly against Snape's ear.
"Keep your head tilted upon my shoulder," Snape responded, ignoring the regretful words. "We'll make our way slowly. If at any time you need to rest, tell me, and I will accommodate you."
Harry pressed a soft kiss at the base of his neck.
"Potter!" Snape chided, but Harry only chuckled softly.
"You say my name a lot you know," he said softly as Snape guided him slowly along the icy path. "I once counted how many times I heard you say my name in a given day. Thirty-eight times is your record and I didn't even have Potions that day. Ron says you set the bar for how disdainful Slytherins make their tone as they try to imitate you."
He shifted his lips until they brushed Snape's ear yet again. "I love your voice."
"That is the most ludicrous thing I have ever heard you say Potter and I can assure you that I am well aware of your lack in cognitive abilities," Snape returned in a less than convinced voice.
Harry merely smiled.
"Potter. Pointed object with two or more handles," he quipped.
"Should I be impressed?" Snape asked.
He paused to steady Harry who had been so absorbed in speaking that he suddenly slipped and almost took the professor down to knee level also. Harry spent a few minutes laughing in the most irritating way before finally allowing himself to be pulled into the spell warm embrace again.
They walked a little further, ever so slowly, before Harry began to speak again.
"When I was young, my aunt and uncle would leave me in my…room…for hours at a time." His voice had suddenly lost its glee. "It was dark and cold and I was so afraid. I could hear little scurrying noises and random squeaks that always seemed to head straight at me. I use to try counting but it's distracting to remember what number comes where while half scared to death, you know. Instead, I would think of words that my aunt and uncle used when they spoke. Words I didn't know the meaning to when everyone else did. I would sit for hours thinking up meanings for them myself so that I could feel smart. I use to think that if I were smart then I would be too smart to be scared of being locked in a dark place for long."
"Your room?" Snape asked hesitantly. "A cupboard?"
"Oh you know about that?" Harry countered softly.
The storm had lessened to just the lightest shower of rain, by then. There was no longer the sound of the wind tearing through its surroundings and though the sky was still darkened by the clouds above, the ice still shone like wet crystal from every surface that it had formed upon.
The world suddenly seemed to encompass only the two figures as the stood side by side for a moment.
"I thought that was merely a rumour, created to enhance your appeal as the lost hero," Snape said quietly.
"It wasn't so bad." Harry ducked his head shyly against Snape's shoulder. "I'm sure the rumours exaggerated a bit."
"Living in a cupboard for ten years of your life hardly seems to need much more for exaggeration, Potter."
"Harry," he countered. "My name is Harry. Potter just reminds me that everyone thinks of me as their best bet."
"I'm quite aware of your given name." Snape tugged Harry back into his arms and started their slow progress of sliding and shuffling again. "I'm also quite aware that you're not as stupid as I assumed you to be in understanding your role as a valuable weapon to Albus."
"Weapon?"
"Yes." Snape smirked at the castle that loomed before them. "But don't ever think that is all you are. Power is only as valuable as the one who wields it."
They paused as Harry prevented himself from slipping again.
"You may share his name but your father did not possess half the strength of character so admired in you by all," Snape mentioned casually. "You inherited that from your mother."
Harry looked at him with emerald eyes that seemed to be lit from a fire within. He smiled, and suddenly Snape found himself fighting the curl of heat that sparked and spread throughout his body.
It lasted for about a minute before Harry suddenly slid to the ground in an unconscious heap.
x-x-x
Merlin, Harry! Steady on! You'll lose us the House Cup at the rate you're going if you don't can it soon!
He makes me so angry!
I've heard that one before, but you can't just let him have it every time he angers you. He's the professor no matter how much of a bastard he is.
He just makes me so angry! I want to hex him every time he says anything to me. My fingers are just itching to grab my wand and curse him. Bloody prat! Him and his damn voice!
Hey keep those random thoughts to yourself mate! I have enough problems without envisioning what his voice does to you. Goddamit! Now I'll have nightmares for a week.
I know him! I know he's not always such a prat! What's he have against being nice?
Mate, wrong person to ask.
Bastard.
I agree. And the word of the day is "insufferable".
Insufferable - Having unmentionable traits of unreasonable value.
Feel better now?
Sod off Weasley!
x-x-x
"Would you like to see him Severus?"
Snape glared darkly at the prim witch before him, just to prove that such a question should not have made it past her realm of thoughts.
Pomfrey glared right back at him until she gained the response that she was waiting for.
"No!" Snape finally snapped.
"Then stop hovering!" Poppy returned immediately. "Either go in or stay out!"
Snape decided that she was not worth the hexes that sprang to mind. But, since she did look formidable enough to hex him herself, and since he generally kept on her good side since their days of attending school together, he chose to obey the former suggestion.
Harry looked pale although Poppy had assured Snape that the Seventh Year was merely resting and would be released from the infirmary soon. The wound had been closed, the concussion had been healed and yet Harry looked worse than he did when Snape had thought he had broken his neck.
"Potter, you foolish Gryffindor," he muttered sourly at the still figure.
"I love your voice," Harry whispered with a smile as he opened his eyes. "Come to visit me?"
"Don't flatter yourself." Snape glared. "If anything I came to kill you myself. Twenty points from Gryffindor for showing poor judgement by venturing out into an ice storm. Three more for your abysmal lack of balance and another for dropping your defences long enough to lose a simple water-repelling spell."
By the time he was finished Harry's face was set into a deep scowl also and his eyes cackled like rods of lightning. When the younger wizard spoke however his tone was even.
"I know you Severus. I didn't spend six years of my life having you tirelessly try to protect me without getting to understand even a few things about you. You're an enigma and you love the dark shadows and air of mystery that makes you who you are. But, I've seen glimpses of the real you and I'm not bloody likely to forget, professor. I know you. I have dreams about you all the time now and it frightens me how much it hurts when I think that Voldemort has killed you. I wake up and I'm so relieved that they are only nightmares. I close my eyes and picture you standing in your dungeon sneering and snarling and insulting every living thing in sight. It makes me smile. You don't think I notice how much you do for me, but I do. And I like you. I get that this scares you because I'm Harry-bloody-Potter and you're my professor. Damn it! Can't you just be nice for once?"
"Are you quite finished, Potter?" Snape asked in a low voice. "It would seem that you have forgotten your place. Five more points from Gryffindor for insolence."
"Yes of course," Harry responded coldly.
Snape walked out of the room with an air of calm that he was not feeling.
x-x-x
Severus - The name given to pieces detached from the whole.
x-x-x
"What is it Albus?"
Two pairs of worried gazes fell on the Potions professor as he entered the Headmaster's office.
"What is he doing here?" The sneer came naturally at the sight of Remus Lupin.
"No time for insults Severus," the werewolf chided quietly. "This is important."
"Albus?"
The Headmaster sighed tiredly before levelling the two men with an intense look.
"Harry and his friends were accosted in Hogsmeade a few hours ago. Apparently the entire Seventh Year group was surrounded by Death Eaters. You know our Mr. Potter. He bargained to have everyone else freed. His friends refused to leave him and thus all three were taken."
Remus' fingers curled into fists at his side but he took the news generally well.
"Do you know where they would have taken them?" he asked the other wizard, who had reacted even less.
Potter. Pointed object with two or more handles.
"No," Severus responded softly. "But I will find him."
X-x-X
fin