Rendered Speechless

One shot

A/N: Just one of those strange ideas that pops into one's head, during a school assembly... It may have arisen from a friend's comment about our single file line being a little like the way in which the students of Hogwarts are marched into the Great Hall in the Deathly Hallows. Not that we have a murderer for a Headmaster or anything like that...that I know of, at least.

Summary: It isn't the first time in which a pair of angry green eyes had looked back at him.

The cold atmosphere smothered the Great Hall as the last of the students took their place amidst their house, standing in a nervous silence.

"Many of you are surely wondering why I have summoned you at this hour. It's come to my attention that earlier this evening, Harry Potter was sighted in Hogsmeade," he announced, looking out across the Hall, past the students with a dull, dark glare. "Now, should anyone, student or staff, attempt to aid Mr. Potter, they will be punished, in a manner consistent with the severity of their transgression. Furthermore, any person found to have knowledge of these events... who fails to come forward, will be treated... as... equally guilty," he continued, "If anyone here knows any knowledge of Mr. Potter's movements this evening, I invite them to step forward... now."

He felt Minerva's gaze upon his back; her soft shudder as his words took effect on her old, marginally frail frame; her eyes dark and menacing, as though she were a patronus, prepared to stand and protect every student at once, alone, if necessary.

Similarly, Horace Slughorn cast an anxious glance around the Hall. He knew only too well that if any of his students had participated in such, they would have gone forth immediately.

Slytherins, of course, only think of themselves – wouldn't dare to help out a Gryffindor.

'Stupid clichés,' Professor Snape found himself thinking as he noticed Horace' gaze in his periphery.

Movement before him caught his eye. Unemotional, he cast his gaze over to where students had manoeuvred slightly out of place, as he parted his cold, thin lips to tell them to order themselves properly, he was interrupted;

"It seems despite your exhaustive defensive strategies, you still have a bit of a security problem, Headmaster."

'Harry Potter...here to save the day,' he thought. Unlike every other time he had thought something similar, the thought was not laced with malice, or hatred. But a burning passion; an urge to show some of his true colours – who he was beneath the dark greasy curtains of his hair, beneath the imaginary veil that shielded his true intentions.

"And I'm afraid it's quite extensive," Harry went on, as the doors opened to reveal the rest of the Order.

Snape's gaze flickered to the Order, stood in a neat formation; Remus and Tonks, side by side – Snape was surprised to feel a subtle sense of pity for the werewolf, for he knew that the battle that was sure to come, would not leave him with any luck. Kingsley – stood proud and fierce, not unlike Minerva. The Weasleys – their hair a sharp contrast to the dull atmosphere of the room. Fleur; her usual sharp demeanour - enough to rival that of Snape's own.

Snape found himself somewhat wary of the onlookers – he knew that, as Gryffindors, a lot of them would not hesitate to fight there and then, whilst the Ravenclaws of the group would be looking for a plan that would lead them to success. And then there was Tonks. The lowly Hufflepuff – not to be underestimated, as Remus' expression showed only too well as he cast her a brief look; proud.

Harry opened his mouth again; hurt laced in each word that he spoke, as Snape looked back at him.

"How dare you stand where he stood," he began. Snape took no time to understand as to who Harry was referring to. Though it took no effort for Snape to mask his wish to just tell the boy everything, he remained silent, pale.

"Tell them how it happened that night," Harry's voice echoed around the room; all eyes on him, "How you looked him in the eye, a man who trusted you, and killed him!"

Snape forced himself to remain stationary, and not to recoil to Harry's words.

It wasn't the fact that Harry believed Albus' trust to have been misplaced, which hurt Snape the most. Nor was it the blunt way in which Harry told the gathered crowd of Snape's actions, the year prior.

'How you looked him in the eye...'

Snape's eyes bore into Harry's own - sharp, green. Angry.

Green.

It wasn't the first time in which a pair of angry green eyes looked back at him.

The eyes, so like his mother's.

"I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just —"

She turned back to him; his favourite green eyes now burning with a fierce hatred, glaring back at him somewhat disbelieving.

"Slipped out? It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends..."

He flinched; she thought so little of him...couldn't believe the line he had over-crossed. But then, neither could he. But they'd work it out. He hoped so, anyway. The only person he ever dare to hope for.

"You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine."

Or maybe not...

She cast him one last scathing look, before departing.

As Snape came back to the current setting, he blinked a couple of times; his eyes still fixed on Harry's. The mirrored look of exasperated disbelief, he had seen before on the boy's mother. If he had not spent the last – Merlin knows how many – years, denying any affections or care for anyone other than his House, he would have, perhaps, found it in himself to laugh. Those eyes...looking back at him again. No matter the emotion, he'd make it up to her this time.

But then he remembered where he really was – the position he was really in.

But then his eyes got used to where they were once again, and Snape looked at the bigger picture.

A boy, not at all unlike James Potter himself, stood before him. An on looking crowd, as per usual.

Snape's thoughts – always containing Lily – were mingled with thoughts of James Potter. If it were not for him, Snape had no doubts that this situation would never have arisen in a million years.

But it had.

And so, Snape withdrew his wand.

It was as Minerva stepped forth to stand before Harry – the 'patronus' coming to life – that Snape remembered, once again, the true situation.

And so, with Albus' words ringing in his ears about maintaining a place by the Dark Lord's arm, Snape and Minerva dueled.

It was a mediocre duel – hell, a first year could have beat him the way he was going.

And so he fled, with one last look at those emerald eyes...

In his mind;

He left her, as she had him...

Hmm, that was different. For me, I mean.

Do me a favour, let me know what you think :)

Thank you.