Title: Severus Snape, How Sweet the Sound
Summary: Harry has a peculiar outlook on life. Only Snape knows and understands it.
Warnings: Please refrain from copying my work. It's just sad. This story is a Harry Potter fanfic, Severus Snape and Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 889
Status: Completed
Growing up at the Dursleys, Harry lived in a cupboard. It was his first prison. He rarely thought of it in those terms or at all. It was small, cramped, and spiders occasionally inhabited the corners.
There could have been worst things.
He learned not to fear the dark. Closing his eyes had the same effect as dousing the lights.
When he turned eleven, Harry traded his first prison for a much larger one named Hogwarts. It was large, expansive, and dark lords annually made an appearance in its hidden rooms. He sometimes thought that Dumbledore treated him like Uncle Vernon did, except nicer.
The only difference between the two was that Dumbledore remembered his name and Uncle Vernon did not.
Harry busied himself at the Dursleys' during the summer cooking, cleaning, and taking care of himself by dodging Dudley and his friends.
Harry busied himself at Hogwarts during the year attending classes, doing homework, and taking care of himself by dodging Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
No one knew of his perspective on life. Hermione thought he filled his head with Quidditch. He did, partly. Ron thought he filled his head being the Boy-Who-Lived. He did, though not in the way his friend did.
Snape knew. Harry stood over him in the Final Battle, wand poised at Snape's head.
"I'm Dumbledore's man."
Those black eyes simply looked at him. They were bitter and tired.
"You killed Dumbledore." His prison had no guard, no warden. Voldemort was dead. His prison had no lock either.
Snape was in the middle of rising when Harry had turned his attention onto him. He sank down onto the ground. "Belt up Potter. Stop crying because you have no master. I'm not, now that my two are dead."
"I'm Harry."
An eyebrow twitched as if to say, 'Of course you are and how long did that take you to figure that out?' Snape gave an exasperated snort. "Only the Boy-Who-Lived would take his time killing me."
Harry tucked his wand into his robe and sat down, confused.
Snape grunted. "I am not a chair. Transfigure one if you need to but remove yourself from my bodily possession!"
Harry didn't budge. The grass was a blinding green around them. Birds chirped. Bees buzzed. The occasional ladybug crawled up a blade of grass, found itself wanting something different and flew to another blade of grass. The day was quite peaceful.
"You've repeated this for the past fifteen times." Snape groaned. "How difficult must it be for the evil spawn of James Potter to off me? Must you continue this humiliation? You forcefully bind me to you. And then, force me to re-enact the scene of my death sixteen times."
"It's not right."
"Oh, let's not forget the fact that I'm not dead yet," Snape muttered. Sullenly, he wondered if anyone went through the tribulations he had to go through. Malfoy and his ilk only had to endure dementors. He had to live with Harry Potter. If only they knew how easy they had it. "You bore me Potter."
"I don't think I can kill you, sir."
"Of course you can."
Can was not the issue, Harry thought. "I don't want to kill you anymore."
Snape leapt up, sending Harry tumbling to the side. "You don't want to kill me," he screeched. "I've been waiting for this moment since Voldemort kicked the bucket and landed on his proverbial snakey bottom. You're determined to make my life a misery you tyrannical imbecilic child, aren't you?" He kicked Harry's ass, literally, sending him rolling down the hill.
Harry tried to reply, honestly, he did. Before his vocal chords could decide that they were going to make some noise, Snape let out a howl of fury. It sent goosebumps up his arm.
"You bring me to this god-forsaken piece of dirt to decide that you're not going to kill me?" Snape thundered from above. The normally graceful potions master flapped his arms looking like a misshapen crow doing the boogie-woogie.
Harry thought the rolling hills of Scotland were quite beautiful. Really, calling it a god-forsaken piece of dirt was a bit dramatic. The blue sky and clouds lazily floating above resembled something from a picture book for children. Maybe that was the problem. He bet that Snape preferred rumbling dark clouds and sleet and thunder and lightning. If there was the odd person struck by lightning, well, the more the merrier. "Do you want me to kill you?" He stated from the foot of the hill.
"Yes!" squeaked the figure resembling Death (on a good day and without the scythe). "It would be a mercy compared to living my life in torment with Harry Blasted Potter!" Snape transfigured a few of the leaves on the grass into bludgers. They were small and smelled fresh, like nature. His mouth curled in distaste. They would have to do.
Harry stared as the tornado of miniature bludgers descended upon him with the rage of one Severus Snape. He ran.
How could I ever think of living without this, he thought. His life seemed empty without the thought of Severus Snape screaming at him, swearing at him and sending things flying, belittling his intelligence, and turning his days upside down.
"Harry Potter, I am going to kill you!"
Severus Snape, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.
From "Amazing Grace" by John Newton.