A/N: I know the first chapter was probably really confusing, and didn't make much sense, but trust me when I say it gets better from here. At least to ME it does. :D PS, looking for a beta.
Reviews:
Krystaluvstwilight- I know right? I mean, learning your mom && the greasy git got it on... *shudder* XD At least, that's how he feels *right now*
animehpgurl- Thanks! ^_^
Warnings: Same as first chapter. But yeah, it's also AU, since this could really never happen in the books xD
Getting His End In
Harry stormed down the stairs from Dumbledore's office, furious thoughts circulating in his head as he made his way back to the Common Room.
How dare he! What in Merlin's name was the man thinking?! First, to tell Harry he was overreacting, and then to oh-so-casually inform him he was being sent on a mission. With Snape and no one else! For "father-son bonding time"! Like that could ever happen. The outraged teen was sure the only bonding likely to happen would be between his chopped up body parts and Snape's cauldron. Dumbledore must have been out of his mind to believe the two enemies could suddenly become best buddies.
So intent on his frustration was he that Harry neglected to watch the corridor in front of him as he walked, causing him to run into a surprisingly solid something without warning. To prevent himself from tumbling downwards, the messy-haired teen grabbed for the closest object, which happened to be the something's robes. Steadying himself, Harry chanced a glance upwards and immediately wished he could sink through the floor.
"Release me at once, Potter."
Harry jerked his hands away as if they'd been burned, backing up a few paces to put some space in between him and Snape's scowl. The head of Slytherin glared down at him, his hands automatically shifting to smooth out the wrinkles caused by the Gryffindor's hold on his robes. Harry instantly felt a sense of awkwardness fill the silence that followed Snape's command. Here he was, mere minutes after finding out the greasy git was his father, and what was he expected to do? What could he do? Smile and say, "Hey there, you great over-sized ugly bat, you! Heard you were mi padre; funny how fate always has to get its end in. Or, really, you had to get your end... in. So what d'ya think of the Chudley Cannons' chances this year?"
Not.
Bloody.
Likely.
And so Harry did nothing. He stood perfectly still a few feet away from Snape, his eyes locked on the other's. After a few seconds of absolutely nothing, Snape sneered at him.
"I see the Chosen One has yet to choose to learn some manners, hmm? Detention, Potter. Tonight."
"What!" The teen temporarily forgot his previous hesitations, allowing his frustrations to come rushing forth. "You can't do that!" he protested. Snape's lips curled.
"Don't presume to tell me what I can and can't do Potter." He pusehd the angered teen out of this path and began to continue on down the corridor. Before he'd taken more than three steps however, he turned back to Harry, saying,
"Oh, and ten points from Gryffindor. For manhandling a teacher."
"Bloody hell!" Harry swore. Snape smiled nastily at him.
"And another fifteen for language." Then he was gone, an infuriated Gryffindor left in his wake.
That bastard! Who the hell did he think he was, taking points and assigning detention like it was his god-given right? The frickin' Banana King or something? Upset though he was, Harry's lips twitched. No, he was just greasy-haired Snape. And... his father? The knowledge invaded his mind again, and suddenly he groaned. Tomorrow would begin their mission, and Harry would have to be in close quarters with the man while actually getting something accomplished. This couldn't end well, if these last few minutes were anything to go by. Did Snape know he knew yet? Would the fact change anything? Maybe Snape would be nicer. Ha, yeah, and the man frequently took to riding on sparkly pink unicorns and singing The Clean Up song at the end of Potions everyday.
Sighing, Harry began to walk towards the Common Room again. Until another thought came to him, one which prompted him to aim a kick at one of the nearby suits of armor lining the corridor. He succeeded in hitting it, but really wished he hadn't when pain shot up his foot and into his leg. Holy mother of... he started to swear, before wondering if he could really say Merlin. Was Merlin's mother holy? Nobody ever talked about her. They talked about Merlin himself, and sometimes his knickers, but never his mother. Harry supposed that was awfully polite of everyone, but still. Some things ought to be known. Then he remembered why he'd kicked the suit in the first place, and considered doing it again even though his foot still hurt from the first time.
Detention tonight with the slimy git himself.
