Hatred is Harder to Bear
-Wujjawoo-
Standard Disclaimers Apply
A/N: Thanks for those who reviewed :) Special thanks to Greyflower, my first reviewer! Your comments were much appreciated. The answer to your question is 16 and a half.
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You may not believe until you see, but you cannot see until you believe.
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Snape scowled down at the students filing into the Great Hall. He hated this part of the first day- the inane Sorting Ceremony and the following feast. Everyone was so happy, and he hated it. The Gryffindors were the worst; loud and laughing with no respect for anyone else's ears.
He absently rubbed his left arm as it twinged; saw the Potter boy simultaneously rubbing that infernal scar. Oh, how he detested that brat. He forced the thought of Harry Potter from his mind and looked away, because despite his dislike of September the 1st, nothing could spoil his mood tonight.
How they would stare when they found out, he thought with glee. How they would despair. He couldn't wait for the moment when Dumbledore would announce his new position as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. The anticipation was so unbearable. He had finally achieved it; after all these years of trying, he has succeeded. He knew he would do a good job, knew he would enjoy it, and knew that he could teach these students better than any other.
With a satisfied smirk, Snape surveyed the reactions of the students. He looked with pride at his Slytherins, who all looked please; with interest at the Ravenclaws, who looked intrigued; looked with condescension at the Hufflepuffs, who all looked nervous; and with scorn at the Gryffindors, who looked none to happy. His smirk grew wider and he sought out the boy who had gotten such an unbelievably high score on his DADA OWLS, and he found him between a murderous looking Weasley and an apprehensive though hopeful-looking Granger. He sat with his shoulder hunched, staring morosely at the table and absently picking a nail.
He looked away. He would not admit that he was disappointed at the boy's reaction; he had better things to think about than a sulking teenager whom he would be seeing the very next day.
After the feast he left for his chambers, not keen to join the party planned by the other teachers.
"Hello, sir," greeted a student as he passed the entrance to the Slytherin dorms.
"Mr Malfoy, Mr Nott," he murmured, sweeping past them.
"Congratulations, sir." Smug, proud, superior.
He smirked, turning the corner and moving out of sight.
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His first lesson as Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He smiled in self-approval and scanned the still-empty classroom. As the students, seventh years, filed in, he noted their change in appearances, most notably his Slytherins. They had grown so much since he first taught them, and he had only let the most worthy into this class. To his chagrin, however, the other houses had equally skilled members, undoubtedly due to Potter's little club.
Draco was the first in, taking a seat with Theodore at the front. Oh so unfortunately, Vincent and Gregory had failed to make it into this class. It was an unusually large class for a NEWTs subject, but that pleased him. The Ravenclaws came next, eager to be on time. Parvati Patil and her giggling friend that he always forgot the name of, followed by three older boys. The front two rows were full. Hufflepuffs next, unwilling to be early, but unwilling to face his wrath if they were too late. Hannah Abbot, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchly. And finally Gryffindors, defiant to the last. All of them, he thought, watching the eight of them file in and take seats in the rear rows.
Thomas, Finnigan and Longbottom, taking seats near Patil and that infernal, giggling- ah, Weasley and Granger, sitting either side of Potter. Eternally loyal, he sneered to himself. It was disgusting. Fawning over him in worry, looking like he was- now that he looked, Potter did seem rather haggard. Bags under the eyes and a little too thin. Ah well, it was not his problem. If the boy wanted to go to extremes to get more attention, he'd let Albus sort it out.
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Harry ate so much at dinner that night he thought he'd burst. He sighed as he thought of the meeting at King's Cross the day before. ("Just a fight with Dudley, honestly. You know how big the great lump is…"). And it was true, the split lip and the bruise on his cheek had been Dudley, a bit too aggressive when he'd shoved Harry in the kitchen. He'd hit the door frame a little too hard and got blood on the carpet, and hadn't that been a great day.
They are so lucky I don't have to show my face around there again.
He was so glad to be back at Hogwarts, even though Ron and Hermione both said he seemed down.
Yeah? Well I guess I am, he told them, and they'd lain off after that. Life really was a drag.
Despite this fact, he'd really enjoyed classes today. Especially Defence, he thought in amazement. Snape was a really good teacher.
Not a very nice one though, another voice added.
Later that night he curled up in bed with the hangings pulled tight and opened a photo album that Lupin had given him last Christmas. It had belonged to Harry's parents, he said, but Harry had yet to look through it. He smiled sadly, tracing his finger over the faces of his parent on their wedding day. On the next page his mother sat alone on a chair, looking sadly down at something. A moment passed, and as he watched she looked up and beamed happily, mouthing something at the camera. He turned slowly through the pages, seeing only photos of his parents and their friends, but finally in the middle, he came to ones with himself. One of the day he had been born. One of him sleeping curled up next to a proudly grinning James Potter. One of his mother reading a book as she sat next to him. On of his mother sitting, cradling him in her arms, looking down at him with a look of total adoration on her face, his father standing behind her. Harry smiled, but then felt his heart skip a beat as his eyes were drawn to the words scrawled across the top of the page.
You may not believe until you can see, but you cannot see until you believe.
It was such an innocuous statement that Harry doubted he would have noticed it had it not been so familiar. He stared down at it, urging it to reveal its secret, but he could find nothing unusual about it. Confused, he pulled out a piece of parchment and penned a letter to Remus, asking about the saying. He grabbed his Cloak and headed up to the Owlery to find Hedwig. He watched the snowy white owl disappear against the dark horizon and wondered if he was getting into anything, or if he was simply being paranoid.
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"Diffindo!" yelled Dean, and the spell caught the front of Harry's shirt a second before he cast a Stunner and his opponent fell. He scowled down at his ripped shirt in consternation before repairing it with a flick of his wand. He looked up to see Snape staring at him. Snape sneered and looked away, so Harry woke Dean and moved back over to his friends, his heart pounding slightly.
He sat back at his desk and watched in boredom as the next pair got up to duel. This lesson was thoroughly boring, Snape wishing only to see what level they were at. He yawned and laid his head on the desk. He was so tired…
"Potter! POTTER!"
Harry blinked and raised his head, hearing the Slytherins laughing maliciously.
"If you do not have the respect to stay awake in this class, Potter, then maybe you should not be in it," growled Snape. "You will stay after to repay the time you have missed."
"Yes, sir," Harry replied, his heart sinking. Just what he needed, he thought, a bloody detention with Snape, and it was only the second day…
At the end of the lesson he told Hermione and Ron not to wait for him and approached Snape's desk, bag in hand. He heard the door swing shut as the last person left. He stood waiting as Snape wrote something, and it was well over five minutes before he looked up. He paused, looking Harry up and down with a slight sneer on his face.
"Can you tell me why you have bruises all over your chest, Potter?" asked Snape, spitting his name out viciously, as though it made up for the inherent caring that his question implicated.
"I had a fight with my cousin," said Harry automatically, feeling his cheeks flush slightly. Snape scowled but seemed to believe him.
"Muggle fist fights?" he asked with a tone of derision.
"Something like that," Harry muttered.
"Very well," said Snape. "But I will warn you now; this is the last time I will tolerate you wasting your time in my class. Is that clear?"
"Yes sir," replied Harry, relieved.
"Good. The Headmaster requires me to continue teaching you Occlumency, and I will not have you slacking off as you do here. Though I doubt you will ever succeed…"
"Actually, I think- I think I might have it," said Harry quickly. Snape raised his eyebrows in obvious disbelief.
"Indeed? We shall see then, eight o'clock on Wednesday night, Potter. You may go."
Harry fled from the room as fast as he could without running and hurried to the Great Hall for lunch, his stomach churning with anxiety.
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Many miles away from Hogwarts, in a large house that seemed dilapidated from the outside but was really quite grand on the inside, Voldemort marked his newest follower. It was policy that the Death Eaters were not made aware of the identity of their fellows, but Severus Snape would recognise that arrogant gait and unctuous voice anywhere. The son of Lucius Malfoy had become a Death Eater, and it appeared he would not be the only one to go through the ritual tonight. If he was not mistaken, that was Theodore Nott, back there, and Pansy Parkinson.
He felt his hope for the young Draco slipping away. He had held a lot of optimism that he would not follow in his father's footsteps, but it seemed he had not been able to overcome the calling. They had had words, many times, on the topic, and Snape knew he had been reluctant, knew he detested his grovelling father, no matter how much he tried to gain his approval. And Snape had understood, because he too had been like that once.
When he had been young, he had done anything and everything to gain his father's approval, and his father's love, but in the end it had all been in vain. He had prayed so hard that Draco would not go the same way, had tried to guide the teen, but now his efforts seemed to have been futile.
He heard Draco utter a strangled sob as the Dark Mark was burned into his arm and their Lord grinned in joy. Snape felt his heart stretch in pity for the misled and confused young man who was his godson and vowed that he would do everything to protect him.
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Harry woke with a silent gasp and rubbed his scar.
Malfoy the Death Eater, he thought disdainfully. He had known it would happen. He swung out of bed and went to the window to watch the sun rise, and less than an hour later he saw Hedwig appear on the horizon, a letter clutched in her talons.
That was quick, Harry thought. Remus must be near. Harry opened the window in preparation for Hedwig and took the letter eagerly from her the moment she landed, tearing the scroll open.
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A/N: Agh! Short, I know. I promise they'll get longer! Please review- Wujjawoo.