Despite the pounding of his head Harry can't help but notice how Snape's dark eyes suddenly remind him of the eyes of the crow that ate the corpse of Dudley's pet tortoise that Harry's cousin had thrown out of a window in a fit of rage at losing his second bedroom to Harry.
The imagery or rather the comparison is worthy to the situation he's in.
Harry's nails dug into the cold stone of the floor of the DATDA classroom and breathed in deep breaths of frigid air as Harry laid his head on the leg of the student wooden tables.
"Potter," Snape barks as though he was one of Aunt Marge's dogs instead of horrid teacher that liked to bully students instead of you know actually teaching them.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"
Snape smiled at him. The smile (if it could be called such a thing) was all teeth and mockery. "Sir," Snape reminded him never mind he wasn't teaching Harry potions or now defense against the dark arts.
Harry smiled; it didn't reach his mom's eyes. "There's no need to call me sir professor," Harry quipped once again. This Harry knew. This Harry could take and dare he say it? Liked. Or rather, he liked it compared to the alternative despite his hatred towards the greasy haired wizard before him.
(Harry can't help but remember the old chocolate cake slices and hours of looking at photos of 's cats, the warm - to the point he feels as though they may burn him - embraces from Mrs. Weasley, Dumbledore's soft spoken promises and words that might as well be empty, of Sirius' offer of Harry living with him just gone in a blink of eye because he fell into a veil Harry's godfather could not come out of.)
Harry shallowed. Snake seethed with anger. Harry could not find it in himself to care despite how detrimental to his health and house points it would be. His head hurt. His privacy invaded. He memories watched and judged by bloody Snape of all people. (Then he remembers Sirius and whatever protests to these lessons he's about voice become as dead as Sirius in his throat.)
"Go," Snape orders or rather snaps without his usual hatred in his voice.
Harry didn't move despite the get out of jail free card he'd just been given.
"You are dismissed Potter," Snape snarled at him. Slowly, with the grace of fawn learning to walk, Harry walks to the door (the exit) only to be stupidly brave or rather petty from years of belittlement and suicidal and stop. He turns around because he needs to see Snape's face.
"Guess I wasn't spoiled as you thought professor," the title comes out anything but respectful despite Harry finally, willingly by his own choice and not others or Snape himself, calling Snape it.
There's something in the man's eyes. If Harry didn't know Snape he would have named it guilt as the man avoided his mother's eyes and his father's body.
A/N: Originally posted on ao3 under the pen name of youngjusticewriter.
These two are admittedly complex characters so I hope I did them justice.