A/N Please excuse the mess I've made of the potions ingredients. I did try to do some research, honest!
He stared down at his hands, noting all their flaws and imperfections. The stubby-looking, crooked fingers. The too-short nails. The scars. He wished his hands looked like—wait. Why would something like that even dare to cross his mind? He snorted and grinned at his own foolishness. It's not like anyone would hear if he finished his thought. After all, it was inside his head, and he was the only person in the library this late at night. Or so he thought."Mr. Potter!" Harry winced as a black-clad form swooped down at him. In a sneering voice, his Potions Professor continued, "I assume you have some astonishingly pressing reason for being in the library at--" He paused to cast a Tempus spell. "A quarter of midnight?"
Harry sighed and continued staring at his hands. He knew that whatever excuse he came up with would not suffice, so he decided on the truth. At the very least, it might serve to shock his professor into not giving him detention. "Sir, I couldn't sleep, and…at night, the library is very peaceful. Particularly when one wishes to read an astoundingly complicated book on Potions."
Snape snorted disbelievingly, but a wicked gleam came into his eye when he noted the open book sitting on Harry's lap. "Very well, then, Potter. Let's see how much information you have—gleaned from reading." He spoke as though he didn't believe Harry capable of the act of edification.
Abruptly, almost viciously, he snatched the book, flipped to a page at random, and began to scan it.
"What is the best use of Acromantula Venom?"
Harry paused to think for a moment before responding, with a slight smirk, "Currently, the uses are unknown, but the author postulates that it might be used, in conjunction with powdered Griffin Claw and Lionfish Spine to make a virtually untraceable poison. Although, personally, I think it might rather explode."
Snape's eyes narrowed slightly, and in a dangerously silky voice, he said, "And may I inquire as to just why you would expect that reaction?"
"Because both Griffin Claw and Lionfish Spine are highly volatile, especially when mixed together like that. And if you were to add Mandrake to stabilize it, it would most likely ruin it, because Mandrake is an antidote, and would probably negate the effects of the Acromantula Venom." Harry paused, and was gratified to see the slightly astonished look on Snape's face.
"Well, Potter. I'm positively exhilarated to discover that your vocabulary has improved over the summer. Although, I must admit that I'm more accustomed to hearing you utter monosyllabic grunts when—conversing with me."
Harry glanced up at Snape. "Well, sir, it's not like you invited cheerful conversation. Always wandering around with a dour expression and scaring the lives out of all the students within your line of sight."
Snape felt the corners of his mouth twitch at the rather accurate representation Potter had presented him with. "True. I suppose you were really reading the book, but what possessed you to read at such a late hour, if I may again inquire?"
Harry sighed. Clearly, Snape hadn't believed him about the not being able to sleep. It was true, but it was also only part of the truth.
"I told you, sir, I couldn't—" Snape cut him off with a violent gesture. "I know what you said, Potter. I want to know the real reason."
Harry shrugged, figuring it couldn't hurt. "I want to improve in Potions. I want to prove to you that I'm not my father, and that I can do things well. Just once, I'd like you to look at my work as—approvingly as you do Malfoy's. But I want that to be because I've earned it, and not because I'm a student you favor."
Harry winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He watched as the professor's face changed from what had been an almost amiable expression (for him) to what could only be described as utter revulsion and disgust. He bowed his head and waited for the stinging words of his most hated teacher to come pouring out, and was surprised when a flurry of black robes flumped down in the chair across from him. He looked up to see onyx eyes glaring at him with an appraising expression. "It seems I was—mistaken about you, Potter," he said, albeit with a dangerous edge to his voice. "Despite the fact that you resemble your father greatly, you have more of your mother's character in you than I ever saw. "
"More than I ever chose to see," he said, almost to himself.
Harry looked at his professor in utter astonishment. First, Snape hadn't immediately given him detention, and had heard him out. Then, he'd given him a compliment, even though it was a rather backhanded one. Then he'd almost….well…apologised to Harry for his treatment of him. He wondered what had happened to the real Snape…
Unexpectedly, he was distracted by a gleam in the corner of his eye. It was a ring on the Potion Master's hand. Harry stared at it, almost hypnotized. The thought that he'd left unfinished earlier came back to him. "I wish my hands looked like his. Long and graceful. Not so pale, though. I don't think I'd like resembling a vampire." He snorted at the irreverence of the thought, and was forcibly reminded of the other's presence when his gaze was trapped by a pair of hard, black eyes. "Would you care to favor me with the reason for your merriment?"
"Harry gulped as he remembered to whom he was speaking. "I—Uh—just remembered something funny that Ron said at dinner, that's all."
"And you remembered this while staring fixedly at my family crest?" Snape scoffed. "I find that highly unlikely. Try again"
Harry was lost for words. It wouldn't do to tell the man that he admired his hands. That would come across completely wrong. And it wasn't that he admired Snape's hands in particular, he just noticed other people's hands in general. You could tell a great deal about someone from their hands. From Snape's hands, you could tell—he stopped that particular line of thought as he realized that the owner of the hands he was staring at-yet again-was waiting for an answer. He took a breath, decided that he couldn't say that, took another breath, and let it out in frustration. Since he and Snape were being so frank with one another tonight, he decided he might as well tell all. In for a penny, in for a pound, as the saying goes. "Well, sir, I was actually looking at your hands, not your crest. It was just shiny, and caught my eye." He paused to register the dumbfounded look on the man's face before plowing forward. "And, no, I don't have some—creepy obsession with people's hands, I just find it interesting what you can tell about someone from looking at their hands. Take mine, for instance." He held up his crooked fingers for inspection. "You can tell they were broken, so you know that I either play rough sports or get into fights a lot." "Or get your fingers stomped on by overweight bullies," said the more cynical part of his mind.
Snape looked speculatively at him. "Hmph. Since you're so interested in my hands, why don't you share with me what you've discovered from them?"
Harry stared at Snape for a moment before speaking. "Well, you write a lot. There's usually ink on your fingers. And you work with plants, because your fingertips are stained slightly. You're not much of an outdoors person; there's no dirt under your nails, and they're rather longer than most outdoors-type people would like. Umm…" He studied Snape's hands for a moment longer before making his final pronouncement. "And, you're left-handed. At least, you were born that way. Maybe not now, but you were."
Snape raised his eyebrows and said menacingly, "Whatever gives you that idea, Potter?"
Harry looked at him smugly before replying, "Your ring. It's on your right hand. Presumably so that it doesn't get in your way while you're writing. I'm almost positive that it would be cumbersome when holding a quill, big as it is."
"Very interesting, Potter. I still fail to see the humor in any of that. "
"Oh. That was just because it briefly crossed my mind that you resemble a vampire." As Harry finished his sentence, he felt his lips start to twitch, and had to bite his cheek before he laughed outright. The scandalized look on his teacher's face would be remembered for a very long time. Harry decided to ask something while the man was still stunned by being compared to a vampire.
"Sir, may I ask…Why are you being so civil to me all of a sudden? You've come upon me many times after curfew, and never once before decided to hear me out." He started to say more, then stopped as a thought struck him. He looked suspiciously at Snape.
"Are you…really Snape?" The death glare he received in response was enough to answer that question, once and for all.
"Well, since you ask, I suppose it was my surprise at finding you willingly inhabiting the library--alone--without seeming to be planning any mischief," Snape drawled. "Now, as it is quite late, and I would relish at least a few hours' rest before attempting to teach this school's horrid excuses for students, I suggest we both retire to our respective beds." He rose gracefully, and waited for Harry to do the same.
They strode (or in Snape's case, stalked) to the door of the library in an almost companionable silence, and once they were outside the door, Snape turned to Harry and said, "Oh, and Potter? Do continue your—studies. I think they might have a—positive effect on your time in my class. However, I suggest you choose a more appropriate time for them. Detention with me, Saturday at 5.00." He smirked smugly to himself and whisked away.
Harry groaned. At least it afforded him another opportunity to study his hands…
