[This is a requested outtake of Snape's snark, from Nobody Ever Asked My Birthday.]
Harry had been standing in front of Snape's office for what felt like hours, but was probably just a few minutes or something. He shifted from foot to foot, slowly, the practiced air of someone used to waiting for others. And trying to be quiet about it (Uncle Vernon hated him creaking the floorboards). Despite himself, he worried. What could have happened? Anything, that's what.
Harry's face brightened as he saw Snape striding down the hallway.
And that, good ladies and gentleman, is why Potter is not in my house. He can't lie even when he doesn't say a word. Such a disability would prove fatal in the House of the Snake. Even Malfoy wouldn't hesitate to throw Potter to the wolves, and Malfoy liked tools. Wariness would have served Potter well, but he seemed at times almost too attached to the rest of the 'Golden Trio.'
Before he caught sight of Minerva McGonagall, hot on Snape's heels. A different sort of dread rose in him then. Someone was in trouble, you never saw both of them without reason. It was as if they avoided each other... though McGonagall considered Snape a friend. Maybe she had to, because if she didn't, she'd have forced Snape to leave off teaching.
Worse, now Potter is looking disquieted to see his Head of House. That either bespeaks a level of distrust that is actually unwarranted (for Minerva at least, if not myself, ever), or the sudden realization that this is not a late detention. Still, insulting your Head of House is never a wise move, and less so when it's House Gryffindor.
Harry fell into some sort of awkward parade rest, making sure he wasn't leaning against anything. As the professors approached, Harry found himself glad that there weren't Slytherins nearby (he'd been listening, with half an ear). He opened his eyes wide, "Am I in trouble? I didn't do it!" In Harry's experience, there were two types of teachers - those that enjoyed scaring the living shit out of you, and Rubeus Hagrid, who had quite enough of that on account of his rather large body, and thus liked it better if you smiled when you saw him coming.
The lie might have even worked, if Snape hadn't seen Potter looking so gleeful. Surely Minerva wouldn't believe the young troublemaker... Snape's quick glance backward showed Minerva Falling For It. With a ruthlessness he never let the students see, Snape bit back cutting words. Keep the peace.
Snape looked deeply unimpressed by Harry's shading of the truth. Which meant Harry wasn't in trouble, because if he was, Snape would probably be rubbing his hands together in glee. Or something like that. Behind Snape's shoulder, Harry caught McGonagall's mouth twitching. She at least enjoyed his game of pretend. Whether or not she'd caught on.
"You are to accompany us to the Headmaster's office," Snape said, pivoting cleanly on one heel, and nearly pushing McGonagall over.
That was about as ungainly as a penguin on dry land. Let Minerva pass, then head to Dumbledore's office. Impatience gets you nowhere.
As McGonagall stepped towards Snape, rather than the wall, she continued, "There's a matter we were hoping you could help clarify."
Oh, yes, clarify. Call it that, rather than admit that you'd like to call an inquisition down on my head.
Harry nodded, and they walked in strict silence towards the Headmaster's office. Harry knew that Snape wouldn't have let the silence run like this - it was only drawing attention, as if they were the three Fates, on the march - or three riders of the apocalypse, now searching for their fourth. The very idea of Dumbledore as ... War? Made Harry smirk. He couldn't be Plague or Pestilence, and while Death might fit - Dumbledore was known to be more of a warrior...
I wonder how many different rumors will start because of this fiasco? Ten to one, on war, and an easy wager at that. Five to one on a threesome (somehow). And eighteen to one on 'Snape's in Trouble' followed by a one in two of 'Snape's leaving.' I might not be so hard on them if they wouldn't be so happy to have me gone. Yeah, right.
Harry was first up the stairs to Dumbledore's office, though he couldn't say if that was intentional on the teachers' part. He entered, and sat in the far chair, leaving the near one for Professor McGonagall.
Last to enter, first to leave. Expressing displeasure without saying a word.
"Ah! Harry!" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "We were wondering if you could shed some light on an incident!"
Incident. Is that the new word? For something that requires a disciplinary hearing on a teacher?
"I'll do my best," Harry said, sounding a little more unsure than he actually felt. Either he knew it or he didn't.
We wouldn't have called Potter here, if he didn't know what he was talking about. False modesty is unappealing, even in a child.
Everyone just sat there, which Harry mentally interpreted as Snape (still standing behind Harry) glaring at the other two to get on with it, Dumbledore twinkling...
Nobody's discussed who's going to speak, so now no one does? Fascinating, how Gryffindors conduct serious business.
And there was McGonagall, right on schedule. "What exactly happened during Defense Class this morning?"
So certain you know? and so certain that it is only confined to the classroom? Slippy sloppy.
Harry took a deep breath, mentally composing what he wanted to say. "Snape said that we were practicing blindfighting. He drew a dueling circle around me. I assume he used Nox, though he might have used a handful of other spells. It was dark. He said not to dodge, so I didn't." Harry took another breath, "After the demonstration, he gave me a potion. I feel better."
I feel better. What an understatement. Still, the paucity of details is worthy of some approbation.
Harry had his mouth open to say something else, when Prof. McGonagall cut him off. "Did he, or did he not, trod on your hand, in full view of the entire class, to the point where they could hear it breaking?"
Harry shrugged, "Was that what had happened?" Harry tilted his head, looking back at Snape, who as usual was completely expressionless. "I was in a very dark place, so I couldn't tell you. I doubt I broke bones, though - it's my understanding that those are difficult to heal."
Truly skillful, Potter, though the teachers should be able to understand, I doubt they actually will.
I should try the potion out on broken bones. If only Malfoy really had broken his arm...
Albus Dumbledore leaned forward, "Have you had any pain due to this lesson, afterwards?"
Ah! the crux of the complaint - completely ignored, due to the emphaticness of my lesson.
Harry smiled a cherubic smile, "No! It's the strangest thing, though," Harry said, directing his smile down at his left hand, which he flexed in a way he was dead certain Snape would recognize from class. "My hand works now!" It was true, it had been burned years ago. Harry had gotten his hand on the hot frypan, and ever since, his palm couldn't be stretched to full extension. It didn't matter for Quiddich, and it wasn't his wand hand.
You needn't stare at it so, like a gormless idiot.
Harry could see the questions simmering behind Prof. McGonagall's glasses, so he was glad when Snape said, "The terms of my contract, Albus, when it comes to harm perpetrated on students."
Just the right level of smugness, or she'll hex me.
Dumbledore smiled, almost approvingly, "No permanent harm, nothing that leaves bruises or worse past when academically necessary."
Snape smirked, "I trust my contract will not punish me for helping a student?"
Dumbledore laughed, though McGonagall looked spitting mad. "I think we've unriddled this mystery," Albus said, gesturing toward the door in clear dismissal.
Albus Dumbledore is such a soft-hearted person. Minerva will never realize she lost before she stepped in the door.
"You wasted my time, and Albus' " she hissed at Snape, as they went down the staircase.
No, that was you. You could have simply asked me, like a friend would have. Over-reaction generally wastes time.
Snape's voice, when it echoed down the spiral staircase, was lofty, "I would have told you, had you asked. Calling me on the carpet is hardly conducive to civil conversation."
Professor McGonagall left in a huff.
Harry turned to leave, only to feel Snape's long-fingered hand clasping his shoulder. "Forgetting about your detention so soon, Potter?" Snape's tone was mild, but that didn't stop Harry's stomach from dropping a foot.
You didn't think I'd let you out of detention, did you, Potter?
[a/n: Yes, Snape enjoys stuff like this. Smug bastard. Leave a review?
Snape's snarky commentary on Potter was hilarious (and the source of the title). Anyone want it in an outtake?]