Disclaimer: Don't own, though I wish I did.
NOTE: This takes place in Harry's sixth year, about the second week of October. AU after OoTP.
It was seven o'clock in the morning, and Harry was making his way to Dumbledore's office. He was still mad about the headmaster keeping the prophecy from him until last year, but he had no one else to talk to. His friends never understood; they listened, yeah, but they always had some criticism about what he told them, and the Dursleys . . . well, if he tried to ever go to them about something, they would just push him away and make him feel worse.
McGonagall never understood either. After talking to her a few times (since she was in the Order, he could talk to her about that kind of stuff), he pinned her for a pure Gryffindor. That was one thing that Harry came to understand and deal with this summer: although he was a Gryffindor, he would have done well in Slytherin. When he wanted something bad enough, he didn't stop when his Gryffindor friends would. Although he hated the idea of it, he would use blackmail and threats when he felt it necessary. Of course, he felt bad about doing it (usually), but he would still do it just the same.
McGonagall didn't understand that thinking, but Dumbledore did. Of course, when Harry first told the man his feelings (two weeks ago, which was a month into school), the older wizard got that twinkle in his eye and suggested that he talked to Snape (Snape!) about it, and Harry just shook his head and changed the subject. Even if he was willing to talk to Snape (which, despite the fact that the man hated him and took every opportunity to make his life worse, didn't seem so bad since he was the Head of Slytherin), every time Harry went to the dungeons (amazingly, he got an O on his OWL) the man would give him a death glare, a detention, a deduction of points, or some combination of the three.
Dumbledore, not letting the subject drop, suggested a peace offering; the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets would still be whole, venom and all, because the magic would keep it from decaying for at least a hundred years yet. Harry laughed at that idea . . . he wouldn't even be able to get close enough to the potions master alone long enough to say 'peace offering' before the man would give him a few lengthy detentions.
No matter how hard Dumbledore wanted them to get along, it just wasn't going to happen.
This morning, he wasn't feeling well emotionally, which was the reason for the early morning visit (apparently, it's the only free time the headmaster had without setting up an appointment). Last night he had several disturbing dreams, all involving death. The first one, his friends told him they didn't like him anymore, saying that everything was his fault, before they ganged up to torture and kill him. The second, he was an apprentice to Voldemort, and he was killing his friends and strangers in very graphic ways, laughing the entire time.
Like every other morning, Dumbledore was behind his desk, drinking some sweet tea or other (Harry did not like it, whatever it was), looking over some papers. Like ever other morning, Harry sat down and waited for the headmaster to start.
"What is troubling you, child?"
"I . . . just had really disturbing dreams last night. I don't really want to talk about them though."
"Then why are you here?" Dumbledore asked quietly, and Harry sighed.
"I just wish I were someone else," Harry replied. "I want to be normal. You know, go to classes, go home to a family that actually cares about me . . . instead of having to worry what Voldemort's next plan to kill me is. Any news on that?"
"No," Dumbledore said, shaking his head slightly. "Come with me, Harry, I wish to show you something." Harry followed him. Well, walked beside him, more likely. Despite the man's slow pace, he always seemed to bounce in his step, which, on days like this, irritated Harry to no end.
After a very long walk (which should have only taken a few minutes), they ended up outside next to a particularly large tree.
"Tell me, Harry. Which grass is greener? The grass over here, or the grass over there?"
Confused, Harry gave the headmaster an odd look before looking closely at the grass he was standing on, then the grass where the headmaster pointed to.
"They're . . . both green," Harry finally concluded. "One isn't greener than the other, they're . . . just different."
"Hmm. Interesting. Well, I have work to do, and I'm sure you would like an early breakfast, as you missed dinner last night. I will see you later, Harry."
"Bye," Harry said and watched the man go back into the castle, even more confused than he was half an hour ago. Dumbledore rarely said anything straight out, but he usually had a purpose. Luna was sometimes like that, too. She sounded crazy (usually, what she said was crazy), but sometimes, if you thought about what she said, it actually did make sense, to some degree.
Harry did go for an early breakfast, and inwardly groaned when he saw it was Snape with the early breakfast shift that day. There was always a professor there, usually as early as six in the morning, for those early risers, but they took turns. As far as Harry could figure out, there was no pattern to it.
Ignoring Snape's usual glare, Harry took a seat at the Gryffindor table and took a piece of toast and nibbled at it while he thought about what Dumbledore meant with the grass thing. After a few minutes, he remembered a muggle saying, "The grass isn't always greener on the other side."
Well, the grass wasn't greener on the other side of the tree. It was just a different shade of green. Understanding, Harry shook his head at the old man's antics. He could have just said that. Laughing, Harry turned down the rest of the food at the table (most food, especially meat, just made him feel sick lately. It was probably the dreams), and decided to check out the Chamber of Secrets for the first time since second year. He figured it was okay; after all, Dumbledore practically suggested he go down there.
He threw a transfigured rope ladder down the entrance (after Myrtle bugged him about visiting more often before he suggested she go down with him, which was when she "humph-ed" and went into her toilet) and slowly climbed down. He was able to banish the rocks blocking the way, and he made his way to where the basilisk was. Dumbledore was right, of course. Everything was still intact; it didn't even smell of something dead.
Close to the time for class to start (first class of that day was charms), Harry made his way out of the Chamber and bathroom, and right into Snape. It seemed to take Snape a second to realize what happened, but once he figured it out, the man smirked.
"A girl's bathroom, Potter?" Snape hissed. "I think we'll go see the headmaster."
"I was only . . ." Harry wasn't able to finish, since Snape put a silencing charm on him. Silently sighing (literally), Harry followed Snape to Dumbledore's office and sat down in his usual chair for the second time that morning. Snape then took the charm off.
"And what would be the problem?" Dumbledore asked, clearly surprised to see them both.
"I found Potter leaving a girl's bathroom," Snape said flatly. "I was going to give him a detention, but seeing the possibilities of the issue here . . ." he said, sounding like he won a war.
"It's not like I can get into the chamber any other way," Harry defended, knowing Dumbledore would know what he was talking about. "It's not like anyone would use that bathroom anyway."
"And why would you go to the Chamber of Secrets, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, and Harry groaned. If Harry didn't know better, he would say that the man planned this. Actually, considering, the headmaster probably did.
"Checking to see if the basilisk was decaying yet," Harry answered truthfully.
"Ah, I was wondering when you were going to do that. And was I right?"
"Of course," Harry said.
"Basilisk?" Snape asked unwillingly. Harry could tell the man was fighting with himself, despite the blank look on his face. Push for a punishment, or be nice for the chance of extremely rare potions ingredients. Harry almost laughed at the predicament.
"Yes, the monster that was petrifying everyone a few years ago," Dumbledore said. "I suggested to Harry a week ago that he should check on it. Legally, the dead creature would be his, since he is the one who killed it, and there would be plenty of apothecaries and potion supplies shops who would pay a lot for parts of it."
Harry groaned, realizing that Dumbledore was going all the way with this. Snape groaned at the same time, Harry assumed it was because he realized where the older wizard was going with this. If Snape wanted the basilisk parts, he would have to be nice to Harry, and Harry would have to be good in order to not get detentions.
"Perhaps you would be interested, Severus?" Dumbledore asked. "I am sure Harry would be willing to let you look?" The last statement was more of a question aimed at Harry. After a few minutes, Harry nodded slowly. If anything, perhaps the man wouldn't be so mean to him all the time. He doubted Snape would ever not hate him, but perhaps he would act like he didn't have pure negative feelings about it. It would surely make potions class easier. "Good, good," Dumbledore said. "I'm sure after dinner would work for both of you. Now, you both have classes to get to. You don't want those second years alone in there, Severus. Good bye for now."
After dinner, Harry reluctantly went to Myrtle's bathroom and waited outside. He had no idea whether Snape would come or not (he was entirely unpredictable in situations like this), so he brought his transfiguration text with him so he could read the assigned chapter.
An hour later, Harry was thinking about leaving soon, when Snape stalked quietly up to him, startling Harry. Harry led him quietly to where the basilisk was and Snape set to work, his bag on a high shelf on the stone wall, while Harry started the next chapter in the book.
"Bring me a few jars," Snape said, waking Harry up from his partial sleep. "And do not use magic on them, it would contaminate the ingredients." Sighing once again, Harry went toward Snape's bag and stopped short when he realized he was too short to reach. "Well?"
"I can't reach," Harry said. Snape came out from behind the basilisk and studied Harry before getting the jars himself.
"Why are you so short? Most boys your age are at least half a foot taller than you," Snape commented.
"I can't help it," Harry said.
"Perhaps if you ate more."
"I eat plenty!"
"Oh? A piece of toast is plenty?"
"Well, not lately," Harry consented. "But during the school year, I usually eat more than enough."
"Not during the summer?" Snape asked offhandedly, and watching the potions master work, Harry figured he wasn't paying much attention to the conversation anymore. Dumbledore did say to talk to him, Harry said, so he decided to give it a whirl. The worst he could do is make fun of him, right?
"Well, not as much as I would like," Harry said. "Especially now since Dudley is on that diet. I usually have to eat what Ron or Hermione send me. Not that the muggles care if I get enough food or not," Harry said, then decided to stop. With no response from Snape, Harry went back to reading in an attempt to fall asleep. The required reading was interesting (theory of giving animation to an inanimate object), but this chapter was dull. Once again, he was brought out of his partial sleep by Snape talking.
"I assumed the boy celebrity was always spoiled," sneered Snape. "Perfect Potter and his fans, getting everything he wants." Harry looked at the potions master and actually thought before he answered the man's taunt, unlike every other time (which, of course, usually earned him negative points or a detention).
"The grass isn't greener on the other side, Professor," Harry replied, thinking about Dumbledore's earlier comment, realizing that part of Snape's anger towards him was because he thought that Harry always did get everything he wanted, while Snape was stuck in a job he hated, and probably a bunch of other things about his life he disliked (like spying). "It's just a different shade of green."
After that, Harry skipped forward to a more interesting chapter and continued reading, and Snape continued working, both of them in silence. Both of them contemplating the other's life, and what they could do to make their own better.
Now, one who didn't know the two personally would say that after that day, they got along rather well, but they really didn't. They took more to ignoring each other after the basilisk was completely carved up, and only talked to each other when they were really irritated with each other, or when needed at an Order meeting. Usually, they both took place in Dumbledore's office or at Headquarters, so those who weren't in the Order would think they didn't hate each other as much. Nope, they simply understood that the other's life wasn't as good as they assumed it to be, and unconsciously took a truce to simply tolerate each other.