Disclaimer: I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.
Warnings: This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. There is heavy implication of questionable motivations in an adult's interaction with a child. Please exercise understanding of personal sensitivities before and while reading.
Author's Note: This story will likely be continued at some point. However, it will be very slow going because of where the story is designed to go from this point. If you want to read this story as a fluffy & sweet turnabout for Snape, I cannot stop you. As a final note, portions of the dialogue were lifted from Philosopher's Stone and adapt to better fit Snape's new goal.
Competition/Challenge Block:
House: Hufflepuff
Category: Short (500 – 2000 Words)
Prompt: Professor/Student (Pairing Type)
Representation(s): Teacher
Bonus Challenge(s): Tomorrow's Shade; Second Verse (Mouth of Babes)
Word Count: 1985 (Story Only); 1999 (Story & Epigraph)
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Fleur de Lys
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"Unhappy people can be very dangerous. Don't forget that." – S.E. Lynes
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Everyone who knew the history of the Marauders had certain expectations about how things would go once Harry Potter came to Hogwarts. Severus Snape was irascible and prone to bitterness. There was only one person who knew the lengths that the Potions master was willing to go to for a certain red-haired witch. Even those who remembered the friendship between the two seemed to have developed a certain level of blindness of either of them existing outside of James Potter. It didn't matter to anyone that Severus Snape had once been inseparable from Lily Evans, and that it only devolved after a particularly violent event following their Defense OWL.
(No one ever stepped forward to explain what had led to the condition of Severus which had him spending the weekend in the Hospital Wing, despite the confirmed presence of most of the fifth-years and multiple prefects. Even Severus didn't have anything to say about the matter. Without anything to go on, the professors had been forced to let the event go unremarked. It was very tragic.)
With so many years of expectations built up, it came as a great surprise when instead of some kind of declaration of dislike or hatred, the first encounter between the potion-maker and the Boy-Who-Lived went much differently. After a week of observation—not just of how people acted around Harry but also of how Harry himself acted—Severus made a different decision than he might have done. It shocked many at the time, but it laid a foundation for a very different kind of relationship.
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"Ah, yes, Harry Potter," Snape said while calling roll. Like Flitwick, he paused after the name. Unlike Flitwick, he didn't squeak or fall over. "Our newest celebrity. I do hope you don't expect any kind of special treatment for that."
"Not at all, sir," Harry hurried to affirm, blinking up at the man. It was almost too dim for Harry to see anything in the dungeon classroom, but he had already noticed that no one else had any problems, so he wasn't going to say anything. He certainly wasn't now that the professor had indicated that favors would be a bad thing. Snape hummed at Harry's words, as if he didn't believe him. That was okay, because he was used to not being believed. The Dursleys had made certain of that.
"Very good," Snape commented drily before continuing with the roll call. Harry could barely pay attention to the rest of the names. His mind was replaying those two words, unable to fully comprehend what possible meanings they could have. Did Snape mean that Harry was good or just not expecting special treatment was good? At the end of roll, Snape looked around the class before settling his dark eyes on Harry. It felt like being in his cupboard, not particularly comfortable but undeniably safe.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exacting art of potionmaking," Snape began. His voice was pitched just right to be heard in every corner of the room without much effort. No one dared to interrupt him any more than they would have Professor McGonagall. Harry found himself leaning towards the man, half-rising in his seat to tuck a leg under his bum for balance. "As there is very little reason to use a wand here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I do not expect many of you will truly understand the simple beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate enchantment of liquids creeping through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. If you practice strict discipline and work hard, I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death."
Harry swallowed hard in the silence that followed Snape's introductory speech. He wasn't very good at things like discipline and working hard, no matter how his aunt and uncle had tried to instill both things into him. Harry didn't particularly care about fame or glory, but Snape was obviously very passionate about his subject. If that was what it took to gain more of that particular word being tossed his way, Harry was willing to do anything. It would be so nice to have someone think of him as good for once.
"Potter," Snape barked. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
"I d-don't know, sir," Harry replied. His heart was starting to pound in his chest. It was the first question any of the professors had asked him directly and he was already failing. Snape was going to hate him more than he did already just for being a Gryffindor. He had to offer something. "Um, maybe absinthe? That has wormwood in it, I think."
"Tch, close," Snape countered with a twitch of his thin lips. "It's the base for Draught of Living Death, a sleeping potion so strong that even the slightest mistake in preparation or dosage can make the imbiber slip into a slumber from which they will never wake. There is no fermentation necessary." Harry noticed that Hermione was waving her hand in the air as if begging Snape to call on her instead. He almost wished that it would work, if only to give him a chance of maybe salvaging his standing with the professor. Snape clicked his tongue again to bring Harry's focus back to him. "Let's try again, Potter. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
Harry's stomach tightened as he realized that he didn't even have the faintest idea what a bezoar even was. He was only vaguely aware of how Hermione's hand-waving had grown even more frantic and how the group around Malfoy was barely holding back their laughter. He didn't have any choice but to admit his ignorance, and yet… Harry knew that the Dursleys never liked it when he was cheeky but hadn't Snape almost smiled when Harry had added something to his answer before, even though it had been wrong? Maybe it would be worth the risk to include the cheek?
"I don't know what that is, sir," Harry said, trying to sound calmer than he felt, "but I would start with either my kit or the ingredient cupboard."
"Good answer, Potter," Snape commented, silencing the sniggers from Malfoy's Slytherins. "Would you be so good as to explain your reasoning for the rest of the class?"
"Er, well, sir, if you're the one asking," Harry started, fighting down a blush at that word being used again, "then it must be a potions ingredient, right? So, um, it would be in either my kit or the cupboard and since everything is labeled, I don't really have to know what it is. I just have to find it for you."
"Very sound reasoning," Snape agreed.
Harry knew his surprise must be showing on his face, but he just couldn't help it. No one had ever sounded so pleased with something Harry had done. Even better, there was no denying how the corners of the professor's lips were slightly turned up. Harry didn't think anyone else would notice. No one had ever seemed to notice the differences in how Aunt Petunia's face would pinch depending on how angry she was or the differences in the shades Uncle Vernon would turn. Harry could see it though, and he felt like nothing could compare to the unfamiliar warmth growing inside his chest.
"Two points to Gryffindor for admitting your limitations and working around them, but—" Snape held up a hand as if to forestall any more reaction than the sudden intake of breath that the entire classroom had taken. "—you missed the obvious solution, Potter, so one point from Gryffindor for my utter disappointment."
Just like that, the warmth disappeared, leaving behind a ball of ice. Harry was dizzy from the rapid shift. He had made Snape happy, at least a little, hadn't he? What had he done? Why couldn't he do anything right for once? He had been so close to doing the right thing. What had he missed? What had he missed? Aunt Petunia was right. Harry really was just a stupid little freak, especially if whatever it was that he had missed was obvious. But he didn't know either of those answers! It was only the first lesson—
It was only the first lesson.
None of the other professors had expected the students to know much about the subjects. They had clearly understood that their students came from both magical and Muggle backgrounds. They had all tried to engage the students in their subjects immediately, to make it fun. When Harry had admitted his ignorance before, Professor Snape had offered information and had been pleased with Harry still trying to answer. Maybe the solution really was that obvious?
"I'm sorry, sir," Harry offered. He bit the inside of his bottom lip briefly before pushing forward with his realization. "I should have asked, shouldn't I? I should have asked for help? Because you're the professor and you have the information. I'm just the student, and—and it's only the first lesson. Even reading stuff ahead of time, I wouldn't really know much, would I? Potions can be dangerous, and—and you said that one potion could kill someone with just the slightest mistake, so things really do have to be exact, not just sorta close. So, um, so we should ask questions of the person who is the master, right?"
Silence filled the room at the end of Harry's ramble, as thick as treacle in winter. He bit the inside of his lip again to keep from breaking it out of nervousness. Snape's face was smoothly blank, reminding Harry of uncarved stone. The ball of ice in Harry's chest felt like it would grow to freeze all of his body if something didn't happen soon. His stomach twisted itself into knots and Harry couldn't tell if he was even breathing anymore.
Then Snape's expression shifted, and there was no denying that look, despite the fact that Harry had never had it directed at him before. That was pride. The resulting warmth in his chest immediately melted the ice and Harry felt like he could just float away on the happiness he felt at making someone look like that. He would do anything if it kept that expression on Snape's face.
"Good boy," Snape praised. "Five points to Gryffindor for, ah, displaying cunning worthy of a Slytherin and the wisdom of a Ravenclaw." Snape's eyes swept over the classroom full of shocked students. "Potions are not the type of magic where simply shouting the incantation louder will compensate for a lack of talent. Given access to the raw materials, potions can be made by even the most Muggle-like of Squibs. Do not use this as cause to doubt their power. Most potions do wear off if given enough time, but until then, you may not even notice being under their influence. Many transfigurations and charms end when the caster is incapacitated, but this is not the case with potions. For all that potions can be done by anyone, few show the willingness to put forth the effort needed to do so. If I seem overly harsh, it is safe to assume that I have just cause. Now, the instructions are on the board. Get to work."
Everyone jumped into action. In the rush to collect their ingredients, none of the other students noticed how Harry slipped up to the front with his quill and parchment to copy down the instructions he couldn't see clearly from his seat. They also didn't notice how Snape watched with a satisfied smirk.
As they were just children, they probably wouldn't have thought anything of it anyway. It wasn't like they had anything to worry about in the safest place.
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An Ominous Ending
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