Here we are again!
I got a great response from the first chapter (thanks to everyone who read it), which I didn't honestly expect. You all rose above my expectations, and I thank you for it.
Chapter 2 has some moments of Snape being OOC; I was going for the dichotomy of him hating Harry in context but as soon as they were in an unfamiliar situation his treatment and thoughts differed. I'm not sure I succeeded, but it was what I was going for.
Year 2:
Closer Than It Is Too Far
Severus was not sure how he had managed to end another school year once more on an infirmary bed watching the sleeping Harry Potter. At least this year the boy didn't require urgent medical care. Phoenix tears were a cure all, not that Potter had enough knowledge of the wizarding world to know that. Poppy had insisted on keeping the boy over night for observation and Severus had not objected. The boy was far too reckless. No second year, Severus included, should have been able to defeat a basilisk.
Sighing, Severus reached out to take the boy's glasses off his peaceful face. How had Harry managed to get himself into such a mess this time…
-
The crash could be heard throughout the grounds. Nothing in the world sounded like a flying Ford Angela making a hasty and ill-timed landing into the Whomping Willow. As the horrible screeching of rending metal and breaking wood reached his ears, Severus quickened his pace and lengthened his stride. If Potter was dead, Severus would kill him. If Potter was alive, he would be wishing he wasn't.
"I wonder where Snape is?" Harry murmured as the potion master in question rounded one of the castle's corners. The two imbeciles were on their tiptoes, straining to watch the Sorting Ceremony. A slight frown graced the child's face as he looked along the head table once more. It was, Severus was pleasantly surprised to note, a calculating and speculative look rather than the vapid and adrenaline filled expression of his companion. The intelligence Potter was showing almost made Severus overlook the fact that he had not received the title of 'professor'; instead he found his name being thrown about in an unceremoniously impudent fashion.
"Maybe, if we're really really lucky," the Weasley boy began, hope shining out of his eyes like a lantern, "He died."
Immediately Harry's expression lost any trace of the intelligence it had harbored for those brief moments. "Wouldn't that be nice," he chuckled. It hurt Severus, in an odd, sharp way to be spoken of like that by Harry. Having spent the last year doing everything in his power to keep the Boy Who Lived safe, he had expected some sort of…recognition, he supposed. The thought was absurd, so much so that he did not think it worthy of him, so the potion master shoved the feelings aside to concentrate on the boys before him. "Really though," Harry continued as he scanned the Great Hall. "Where is he?"
Three guesses, Severus thought dryly as he clamped a hand on each boys' shoulder. Weasley screamed as he jerked around wildly in shock. Harry merely hung his head, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'knew it was too good to be true', and turned to face his punishment like a good little Gryffindor.
Severus escorted the boys to his office at a brisk trot. They jogged behind him in complete silence like prisoners being led to the gallows. The boys had to understand that this situation was not going to be turned into some great Gryffindor tale of bravery and adventure that they would be telling around the common room fireplace. One particular dark haired boy needed to understand that his life was more valuable than all of the gold in the Malfoy fortune; Severus was not going to allow the stupid impulses of a base Weasley to weigh the Potter brat down until they were both six feet under. Gryffindor's Golden Boy needed to know that Severus would be watching him closely because his fate was directly tied to the Potion Master's redemption. Not that he would ever tell the brat that directly, of course. The hatred was still as strong as ever.
"Sit," he ordered curtly as he slid into his own chair behind the desk. Severus had chosen his own office to berate the boys in because it was perhaps the most terrifying room a second-year could ever enter. The shelves were stacked with archaic boxes, earthen jugs covered in nasty stains, beakers and vials brimming with unpleasant and viscous liquids, tomes bound in decrepit leather, and several skeletons. The slime on the walls and green glow of the fire cast the room in an eerie, unfriendly atmosphere. Not to mention that Severus had chosen Slytherin colors for the rug and chairs. Yes, the Gryffindor boys were most certainly terrified.
"Please Professor!" the Weasley boy wailed as he slumped in his chair. Severus quirked an eyebrow up in amusement; the boy thought he could plead with the potions master. "We didn't mean to crash into the Whomping Willow! The barrier-"
"Silence." That one, cold word shut the ginger up with a yip of fright. "You have broken over a dozen school rules this evening, not to mention Wizarding Law. You were seen," Severus explained, dramatically slamming down a copy of the Daily Prophet, "by no less than seven muggles. Not to mention the damage you've caused to a Whomping Willow that has been on the grounds since before you were born.
"I assure you that were you in my House and your fate up to me, the two of you insolent delinquents would be on the train back home tonight!"
The Weasley boy looked close to fainting from sheer terror. Severus suppressed a chuckle; he still had it after all these years. He glanced at Potter, hoping to see the same look of fright upon the boy's horribly familiar face. Unfortunately, Potter the Intelligent had decided to rear his intriguing yet vexing head again. Cool, calm, and amused green eyes stared up at the potions master, almost causing Severus to take a step back. Standing his ground, Severus demanded, "What do you have to say for yourself, Potter? And please, try to be more articulate than Weasley."
"The barrier at Platform 9 ¾ wouldn't let us through," the insufferable boy began calmly. He settled back against the green chair and folded his hands in contentment, as though he was trying to prove his potions master wrong about the level of comfort he felt in the room. "We weren't sure if Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would be able to get back out, seeing as we couldn't get in. Ron had the brilliant idea to get in the car and fly to Hogwarts. It wasn't particularly difficult, because we followed the train the entire way.
"The landing was a bit rough, but I think the tree did more damage to us than we did to it," Harry concluded. "I think that we did the best we could with what we knew. Really Professor, you can't expel us for not knowing what to do."
"No, but we can most certainly give you detention," a kindly old voice joked from the doorway. Severus looked up to see Minerva and Albus standing just outside his office, one looking bemused and the other irate. I sincerely hope that her anger is not directed at me. The spy's heart immediately plummeted to the floor; Potter would go free and not learn a damn thing, leaving Severus once more to have to stand under the boy with a net and hope to catch him before he did something else undeniably stupid. If Dumbledore really wanted him to keep the brat safe, perhaps he should give the potions master more of a say in the boy's life. "Minerva?"
"Detention, for the both of you," the transfiguration teacher declared tersely. Her face was drawn in like she had lemon juice in her eyes. It took several moments, but Severus finally realized that Minerva McGonagall was concerned for the two boys. Renowned throughout the school as a harsh taskmaster and completely impartial, McGonagall seemed to have a soft spot for the two rowdy boys. "Come along now. After some dinner, you two are going straight to the Tower. And be thankful that I don't lock you two in it!"
Weasley looked weak with relief. Hopping out of his chair, the ginger traipsed clumsily over to his waiting 'saviors'. Potter also slid off of his perch, following much more lightly in step than his klutzy companion. Not that the boy was graceful, but he at least had a Seeker's attunement to the movements of his own body.
Snape turned to glare moodily off into space. If pressed to describe his feelings at the moment, the word that sprang most easily to mind was 'vexed'. Albus and Minerva seemed not to understand that Harry could have died in that stupid stunt; though that wasn't surprising seeing as the other two adults were both Gryffindors. There were almost a hundred things the boy could have done rather than flying an illegally modified muggle car across Great Britain. That blasted snowy owl was there; they should have used her to send a message to
Dumbledore or himself.
That thought brought Severus up short. How he had forgotten, the Head of Slytherin was unsure, but the fact remained: Harry Potter hated and distrusted him. The hatred was fine, and completely mutual, he assured himself. It was the blasted distrust that hurt so badly. The brat would not have thought to ask him for help or advise because Potter assumed that Severus was attempting to inflict physical harm upon his person. More was the pity for Severus; not only would it have been easier to keep Lily's son safe if there was a bit of trust between them, but there would have been ample opportunity for the cultivation of those wonderfully Slytherin traits that Potter kept displaying. Perhaps Severus had been the only one to notice them…
"Professor?" Snape's head snapped up as he was jerked from his reverie by the very boy that had so consumed his thoughts.
"What is it, Mr. Potter?" he inquired briskly, moving to make it seem he was in the midst of something important. If the Slytherin green eyes saw through what he was doing, Severus consciously ignored that knowledge.
"Well, something you said was bothering me," the boy admitted as he rocked back and forth on his heels. It wasn't an uncomfortable motion. Severus had only heard this innocent tone once before, in the infirmary at the end of the previous year while Potter lay injured on a cot. This voice signaled that Potter was about to say something disgustingly cheeky yet undeniably true. Eyes narrowed in caution, Severus motioned for the boy to continue. "You had said that if Ron and I were in Slytherin, you'd have us expelled. Professor, you and I both know that's not true. You'd have bent over backwards to keep your precious Slytherins' punishment to a minimum."
It took quite a bit of willpower to stop himself from either smashing beakers or laughing as Potter slipped out the door with what was rapidly becoming a trademark victory grin.
-
Minerva had thought it best that Potter serve his detention with Severus, explaining that she had various Gryffindor things (that she listed but the potions master really didn't care about) to attend to. Argus had agreed to take the Weasley boy; Severus assumed that the squib was punishing the youngest boy of the Weasley clan for the transgressions of his older twin brothers. It was an acceptable arrangement all in all, and Severus found himself sitting behind his classroom desk grading papers while Potter scrubbed out several cauldrons.
Potter the younger, Severus mused, was indeed different than Potter the elder. While the dead father preferred ganging up on Severus and physically beating him into submission, the Brat Who Scrubbed Cauldrons always confronted Severus alone, and with the potion master's own words. Harry was tactful while the other was abrasive. Both achieved the same outcome (Severus always felt the need to murder something when they were done with him), but at least Harry's actions caused an uncharacteristic bout of laughter. Of course, both of them were arrogant and self centered. The boy hadn't changed in Severus's esteem that much.
"Professor?" Potter questioned quietly from his spot on the floor. Severus didn't bother to acknowledge him so like any Gryffindor, he plowed on ahead. "May I ask you something?"
"No," Severus replied calmly, marking another failing grade onto Longbottom's paper. The poor child had an impressive understanding of plants for a second year, but unfortunately that did not translate into any sort of potions skill.
"I'm just curious about something," he persisted, completely ignoring Severus's refusal. With a sigh, Snape shoved the pile of essays away in disgust. The papers were filled with the usual drivel. None of his students had decided to rise above his lowest expectations: Longbottom was failing, Granger was a presumptuous know it all, Weasley had finished his paper at breakfast (apparently forgetting that his professors were in the room), and Draco had written quite a bit without really saying anything (a skill he had undoubtedly learned from Lucius). Perhaps Potter would provide a welcome distraction. Or infuriate me, Severus added as an afterthought. Either way, he does seem to provide ample material for contemplation.
"What could possibly be more important than scrubbing cauldrons, Potter?" the potions master asked crisply. If the boy was in one of his rare intelligent phases, he would recognize the invitation to speak. If not, the cauldrons would be cleaned a trifle bit quicker as he misinterpreted the question as an incentive to work faster. The joys of being a Slytherin were many in number.
Continuing to scrub, Potter asked neutrally, "Is there any specific reason that you hate me?"
Specific reason? Severus leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Truthfully, he had separated his hatred of the boy into three distinctly different genres: his parents, his incompetence, and Dumbledore. Obviously the potion master had too much time on his hands if he could ponder an irrational emotion like hatred for a long enough period to categorize it, but that was not the point at the moment.
James Potter, along with his willing cronies, had made Severus's life into a hellish flurry of skirmishes, pranks, humiliation, and a near death experience that still left him chilled to the bone when he thought about it. There had been days when it was impossible for him to leave the Slytherin dormitories because his fear was so great. When he did manage to creep out of his sanctum, the younger Severus spent his time looking over his shoulder and flinching as he rounded corners. Fourth year in particular had been marked by a perpetual twitch, while during his sixth year Severus had developed a lisp. At other times he had welcomed the chance to best his rival. Those victories were few and far between and never seemed to outweigh the pain and terror of James Potter's mere presence. By the end of seventh year, the hand of apology that James had offered him (no doubt and Lily's bidding) had come too late. The other boy's actions had sent Severus running straight into the arms of a man he thought would give him the power he sought; all he had wanted was to not be afraid, and to have the precious Lily Evans. James Potter had destroyed both of those dreams without even breaking a sweat. He was all Severus had ever wanted to be, and everything Severus feared.
Lily, on the other hand, had been Severus's only true friend. Confidant, friend, crush, and so, so much more. When others would have offered a sharp word, she graced him with a smile. Her beautiful, emerald green eyes had enraptured him since they were six years old, though it had taken him years to work up the courage to speak with her; in Severus' mind, she was too pure, too kind, and too beautiful to want to associate with the lowly Snape boy from Spinner's End. But Lily hand extended a hand of joyful friendship towards him, and for years they were inseparable, House rivalry be damned. For some unfathomable reason, Lily actually liked Severus. Lily Evans had been his entire world; her smile was why he awoke in the morning, her laughter was why he tolerated her Gryffindor friends, her tears brought out the caring side of him that his father had failed to beat out completely. The hug, based purely in friendship, which she bestowed upon him every evening that they parted chased away his nightmares. And then he lost her because of that one stupid, horrible, untrue word. To the day, he had never said the word again and even went so far as to severely punish any student unwise and ignorant enough to utter it in his presence. The most brilliant witch of her age, funny and kind, gently yet unyielding, had unwittingly captured Severus's heart. Lily had died with his heart as well, shattered though it was at her choosing James Potter.
Yes, Severus hated Potter because of his parents. The father who had tormented him and the mother whom he had lost. Both were alive in the child, and Severus could not help but to resent him for both parts.
The small bit if dislike that Severus held towards the boy based on his own merit was, in reality, a bit unfair. Harry was only a second year. More importantly he was a second year who had not known about anything relating to magic until Hagrid had shown up on the island where his relatives had tried to hide him. Severus had heard the story, at Albus' insistence, directly from the half-breed himself. There was no way that Harry could be expected to thrive in an environment he was still attempting to believe in; Severus had noticed the covert, wondering looks that the brat's face held as he gazed adoringly around the castle. Severus had felt much the same when he first realized that Hogwarts was his true home. The kinder, accepting, almost gentle part of the potion master's mind that was typically reserved for Lily implored him to be soft toward the boy, that he was lost but free for the first time in his life and needed guidance.
Of course, Severus's rational yet cynical side reigned supreme. The Potter brat had never had a day of discomfort in his life. Hogwarts was a chance to gather a horde of fans and be paraded about like a hero or king before his plebeians.
Another facet of Potter's deplorable arsenal of personality quirks were the Slytherin tendencies that he insisted on hiding. Potter was, unfortunately, much more intelligent than he displayed. Severus had a suspicion that he was the only one who knew just how deeply these traits ran. Even then he was not entirely sure of the true extent of the boy's prowess. He had proven himself equal to tasks far beyond those of his age. Yet he was willing to take less than stellar grades that obviously did not reflect his understanding of the material. That was a deplorable aspect of the boy, in Severus's esteem; Harry was brilliant and refused to show it.
Dumbledore's role in this mutual disregard between the two dark haired males was simple: it was entirely his fault that Severus had to put up with the boy to begin with. There was a score of other things that Albus could have asked of Severus in return for 'saving' him from the Dark Lord. Instead, the cracked old man insisted that Severus protect the boy from himself and every other danger the magical world could throw at the brat. Yes, Albus inspired a unique hatred of the boy, fueled by Severus' own disdain of being told what to do.
But how to explain that to a second year boy, eagerly awaiting the verdict from his grouchy potions professor as he scrubbed elbows deep in a grimy cauldron?
"No, no particular reason, Potter," Severus lied lightly. Turning back to his paper work, the man let an uncharacteristic smile slip through. "Now scrub harder."
-
Gilderoy Lockhart was perhaps the most incompetent baboon to ever walk through the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The dueling club that the ponce was attempting to teach was a complete and utter farce that Severus had no desire to be associated with. Severus was not the Dark Lord's dueling champion because he knew how to grovel; the thought that ignoramus Lockhart would be able to do him any harm was laughable, had the potion master been in a more jovial mood. As it was, a bit of a dark cloud had settled around him, informing all students in the room of his obvious displeasure. Lockhart was, of course, oblivious.
"Potter, Weasley!" Lockhart called down from the platform gaily. "Come up here and let's see what you can do."
Severus raised a disbelieving eyebrow. Had the man not allowed wands in his classroom or some such nonsense? Even in potions, a class that did not require wands of those under sixth year, Severus had seen the destruction wrought by Weasley's wayward wand. "Weasley's wand causes catastrophe with even the simplest spell. We will be escorting Potter to the Hospital Wing in a matchbox," Snape drawled in his most bored tone. The ginger glared at him, but it would be beneath his dignity to return the gesture. "Might I suggest someone from my own House? Malfoy, perhaps?"
The name had sprung to his lips purely on impulse; Severus had been answering a letter to Lucius concerning the strange happenings and muggle-born petrifying incidents. With a sharp gesture from his teacher, the blond boy scampered up onto the stage to meet his rival. Draco and Potter, Severus recalled belatedly as the two boys squared off glaring and smirking, hated each other. Well. Unintentionally the potion master had arranged for a bit of entertainment for the mass of students assembled. Lee Jordan and the Weasley Twin Horrors were already taking bets.
After a brief encouragement not to injure Potter too badly, Severus stepped back to watch his godson tear the hated Harry Potter to pieces. Lockhart had deemed it important to impart some grains of golden wisdom on Harry as well, though they were decidedly received less gratefully. One could hear the sarcastic, "Thanks, Professor," all the way across the hall.
The duel began. Boys with no experience dueling had little chance of hurting each other. They knocked one another back and forth a few times, but neither knew a vast number of spells. With their arsenals depleted already, Severus strode forward and hauled Draco up by the scruff of his neck. "Use the serpent summoning spell," he murmured before he took his place back at the end of the platform. It was a simple spell, one every Slytherin student learned by the time they graduated. Some, like Draco, had known it before they began formal schooling. Sadly, no one ever remembered to use the spell.
Potter stood dumfounded as the angry cobra hissed at him, sliding closer and weaving back and forth like it was dancing.
"I'll get rid of it for you, Potter," Snape declared crisply. Honestly. The boy couldn't even perform a simple Vanishing spell. What hope did the brat have of defeating the Dark Lord? How had he managed so far without someone holding his hand?
But of course, Lockhart had to play hero. Just like The Brat Who Can't Do Anything Right, Severus grumbled as he stepped back respectfully to watch Gilderoy make a fool of himself. The serpent, rather than Vanishing, flew up into the air and landed with a resounding thud right before a group of Hufflepuffs. Rather than an irritated snake, they now had a severely pissed off snake to deal with.
And then something happened that Severus did not expect.
Potter stepped forward, opened his mouth, and Parseltongue came forth from his throat.
Standing in awe and fear, Severus could not tear his eyes away from the boy. Soft sibilants slithered forth like cool water over rock. The snake backed away from his intended victim almost immediately, hypnotized by Potter's voice, as was Severus. Cool, damp air wafted around him as the feeling of a den enclosed around his senses. Leafy decay and warm autumn spice filled his nose, drugging the potion master faster than any concoction he could brew. The warmth of sunlight touched his face, and Severus swore he could almost taste the golden tang of a fall sunset…
Harry Potter stood before him, not a sniveling second year student, but as a proud holder of one of the most feared powers known to wizard kind. The soft hissing never ceased, caressing his ears with its soothing melody. It was not the first time he had heard Parseltongue, but it was the first time he had heard it used in such a comforting and pleasurable way. Yes, the ability was both feared and revered, but in Potter's hands… Harry had the power to take this cursed gift and wield it for his own purposes. Both good and evil would tremble before this child if he chose to reach out and grasp the power that lay dormant inside himself. And Severus would follow him until Potter grew tired of him and cast the man from his sight. Anything, everything would be given up to know that wonderful, terrible, addictive force that The Boy Who Lived brandished with such childlike innocence.
And then someone made a noise, an uncomfortable cough, and the spell that Potter had unconsciously woven around his potions professor was broken. Moving jerkily, Severus Vanished the snake. All eyes in the Great Hall turned to Potter, who stared back in bewilderment. Potter turned his gaze to Severus's, his emerald eyes seeking the only adult in the room who could possibly explain what was going on. He doesn't know what he's done, Severus realized with an epiphany. It sounds like English to him.
The other two parts of the Golden Trio dragged the boy off the stage and whisked him out of the Hall. Severus mechanically cleared the students out of the room. Lockhart had either run to tell Dumbledore or to hide under his desk; either way, the man was useless. Severus needed to find Harry, and he needed to do it immediately.
-
Predictably, Severus found Harry sitting atop the astronomy tower. Though he had never searched for the brat before, Severus knew that's where he would be. Everyone went to the top of the astronomy tower when they wanted to be alone; Severus himself had done it until he found James Potter up atop the spire moping. That was an experience that did not need remembrance.
Harry sat with his knees drawn up to his chin, emerald eyes staring blankly at the darkening horizon. Despite the chilly weather, the raven haired child wore nothing but a sweat shirt and jeans. Beside him was his beloved broom, the Nimbus Two Thousand. Twirling absently in his right hand was the holly wand. It amazed Severus how the boy never let his wand stray far from his grasp. Sure, it was a smart decision, but Severus wondered the reason behind the habit.
Silently as he could, Severus sat beside his least favorite student. Without turning to face him, Potter stated calmly, "You could have done something other than stand there."
"I Vanished the snake, did I not?" the man retorted indignantly. It occurred to him that he should not have to justify his actions to a twelve year old boy. But he is not a typical twelve year old boy, Severus reminded himself as he attempted to calm his anger, And today is not an ordinary day. "I assume that Granger and Weasley have explained your actions to you?" As much as he disdained the two urchins, Granger had read enough books and Weasley was pure-blooded enough to know what Harry's ability was and where it supposedly came from.
The brat beside him nodded morosely. "I never really thought about it," he admitted, still not looking at Severus. "I mean, I assumed loads of people here could do it. Never really thought it was that special."
That piqued the potion master's interest. "This is not the first time you've spoken Parseltongue?" he asked as gently as he could. It wasn't particularly difficult to speak politely with the boy when he truly wanted information. What was difficult, he found much to his chagrin, was meeting those intelligent, lonely emerald orbs.
"I accidentally set a python loose on my cousin Dudley once, after Vanishing the glass in its cage in the zoo," Harry admitted with a chuckle that quickly lost its humorous tenor. "Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were furious, of course."
Petunia Evans. That was a name that Severus had not wanted to hear ever again. He wondered if she had changed much from the selfish, shrill, shrewish girl he knew from childhood. Doubtfully, in Severus's opinion, because her type never had enough self awareness to see the need for change.
"Do you know who was famous for being a parselmouth?" Severus asked lightly, hoping the boy was intelligent enough to understand the conjugation of the word.
With a nod, Harry elaborated, "Salazar Slytherin, which according to Ron is why Slytherin House has a snake for its emblem. 'Mione said that Voldemort was also rumored to be a parselmouth."
Severus nodded, content with Potter's understanding for the moment. "You do realize how serious this is, don't you Potter?" he asked crisply, falling back into his teaching voice effortlessly.
"If you mean that everyone will be thinking that I'm the Heir of Slytherin, then you're a bit late on the newest gossip, Professor," Harry informed him with a humorless grin that did nothing to hide the pain in his eyes. "Why do you think I had to fly up here? Some of the Hufflepuffs are demanding a lynching for what I supposedly almost did to Finch-fletchly."
Having been there at the time of the incident, Severus felt that the students were over reacting as per their usual. None of them seemed to have had as strong a reaction as he had though, which was for the best. Deep inside, Severus knew he wanted to keep that feeling for himself whether Potter had been its source or not. "Are you actually concerned about that, Potter?" Severus asked condescendingly.
Harry gave him a sharp look. "Of course not," the Hero of the Wizarding World scoffed, "They're Hufflepuffs; they can't do much. The Ravenclaws might be a bit more unpleasant that usual, and the Gryffindors are certainly wary, but I'm not in any physical danger."
"And the Slytherins?" Severus asked curiously. What did Harry think of his rival house? Did he care what they thought, or was he just as arrogant as his father and assumed that nothing interesting could come out of Slytherin HHHouse?
Another chuckle came easily from Harry. Severus was not sure what he was doing to encourage such behavior, but he needed to stop it immediately. "The Slytherins will probably be either enjoying my misery or not really caring," Harry answered easily. "It depends on how close they are to Malfoy."
It was an accurate assessment, much to Severus's surprise. Having gotten what he had come for, namely Potter's ignorance removed, Snape stood to return to his dungeons. Even they would be warmer than the blasted chill that permeated the air out on the tower. There was just one more thing that Severus wanted, though he was not entirely sure how to ask for it.
"Potter," he began slowly, unsure of how to voice his request without it sounding…creepy was the only word that sprang to mind, though he was loath to use it. 'Creepy' belonged in the vocabulary of a first or second year, not a thirty year old man.
A soft hissing sound graced his ears. Looking down, he saw the bright green eyes of a snake staring up at him. Once more he was enveloped in a crisp autumn day, the kind that appear more often in memory than in actuality.
"And what was that, Potter?" he asked when he finally ascended out of the depths of the daze Potter had placed him in.
"I said 'goodnight, Professor'," the boy explained, another cheeky grin on his face. Without waiting for a reply, Harry hopped on his broom and flew back to, Severus assumed, the warmth of Gryffindor Tower.
Severus stared after the arrogant boy for a few moments, then went inside. He needed a drink.
-
"Are we absolutely certain that it isn't young Harry?" Lockhart asked in his most charming interview voice as Severus entered the teacher's lounge. "I mean, he does have a bit of a thirst for publicity and he is a, well, you know." Among other things that Severus had to complain about when speaking of Gilderoy Lockhart, the man had the worst conspiratorial voice Severus had ever heard, including the Weasley prefect.
"Of course Potter is not the Heir of Slytherin," Minerva snapped. Sitting in her favorite wooden chair and nursing a cup of tea, the Transfiguration teacher looked no worse for wear at being roused for another emergency involving a petrified student. "He's a half-blood, so there's no reason for him to be attacking muggle-borns. One of his best friends is muggle born. Besides, Potter simply would not do something like this. It's not in his nature. He's Gryffindor." The note of pride in her voice almost made Severus wretch as he poured a cup of tea.
Filius was quick to agree. "Oh yes, Potter would never ever do something like this," he declared with his high voice. Unlike Minerva, the tiny Charms professor looked as though he was half asleep on the sofa. "He's such a good boy. Reminds me so much of his mother, sometimes…"
Severus sat down on a wooden stool to wait for Dumbledore and Poppy. He had never heard the other professors' opinions on Potter. It was shocking to hear how well they liked him, and a bit of worry began to gnaw at the potions master. Was he the only one who hated the arrogant little imp?
"Severus?" Lockhart asked expectantly. "What do you think? Is Harry Potter, The Boy Who Saved Us All, the Heir of Slytherin?"
Raising a mocking eyebrow, Snape retorted, "One would think that to be the Heir of Slytherin, Potter would have to be in Slytherin House, now wouldn't he?" A part of Severus was unhappy that Lockhart had referred to the boy in ridiculously capitalized phrasing, just as he did. There was to be no common ground between that idiot DADA teacher and the potion master.
Minerva sent him a disapproving glance. "Harry is s sweet child, Severus," she admonished. "I do wish you would treat him better."
"I'll treat him better when he behaves better." The cold words signaled the end of the discussion. An awkward silence descended on the four teachers as they awaited the Headmaster, and Severus would not have changed the situation for anything in the world.
-
"Sir?" the red head asked tentatively from his spot on a pile of rubble. "What should I do about Professor Lockhart?"
Severus didn't look up from his task of levitating the boulders out of the way so he could drag Potter's corpse back up through the girl's lavatory. Personally, Severus would have left the dunce on the floor unconscious where he had been for the last half hour. Unfortunately, the Ministry frowned upon celebrities dying in the bowels of Hogwarts. Hence the potions master's current task of digging out The Boy Who Talked With Snakes and Therefore Was Immortal. "If he comes to, hit him again," Severus ground out as he lost patience with the ineffectual method of clearing the rubble. With a flick of the wrist, he Vanished the offending obstacles.
"Yes sir!" Weasley responded enthusiastically. It was perhaps the first order that Severus had given him that the red head brat was willing to obey.
The door to the Chamber was wide open. Glancing cautiously inside, Severus saw the form of a great snake. The basilisk! Flattening himself against the wall, Severus waited for the creature to move away. Hopefully Potter was close enough that Snape wouldn't have to sneak past the basilisk to retrieve the body. The amount of danger Severus put himself in for that brat was never worth it, in the end. Not even Lily's undying love was worth being killed and eaten by a basilisk.
After several minutes of silence, Severus looked through the portal once more. The snake hadn't moved. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was dead. Severus crept silently into the Chamber, just in case. The floor was wet and slimy with blood running in rivulets from the dead serpent. Its eyes had been gouged out by something, and there was a piercing hole through the animal's skull. Almost like a sword…
Had Potter killed the basilisk? That did not seem possible, and yet the boy was nowhere to be found. Logic dictated that Harry was victorious while common sense dissented, saying that there was no way for the second year to best a basilisk.
A great ruckus and the sound of a great bird came echoing from the antechamber where the Weasley boy had been left with his charge. Running back (though he would deny it later), Severus was shocked to find Harry holding onto the little Weasley girl, Fawkes clutching the Boy Who's Still Alive's shoulder protectively. Of course the great red chicken would like the brat, Severus grumbled as he made his way over to the happy gathering.
"Potter," he greeted curtly.
Harry looked up from embracing his friend and grinned at the potions master, temporarily flooring him. James Potter had looked at Sirius Black like that more times than Severus cared to remember. It was the reckless we-just-risked-life-and-limb-and-possibly-expulsion victory look, reserved for only certain people to see. Severus was honored to be one of them, and furious at himself for feeling honored.
"Professor," he replied breathlessly, peridot eyes shining and bright with adrenaline. "Fawkes has agreed to fly us out of here. Need a lift?" The joking tone directed at the cold potions master made the Weasley boy do a double take between the two dark haired males, obviously confused. Severus thought it was better that way.
"The Headmaster's phoenix will not consent to carry me," Severus explained lightly. Lockhart was beginning to rise to consciousness, groaning and moaning incoherently. Harry made a move to help his DADA teacher, but Snape shook his head. "Leave him. I'll take the imbecile to Madam Pomfrey."
With a nod from Potter, the phoenix took flight back up the pipe that led to the girl's lavatory. Severus didn't want to contemplate what Slytherin was thinking when he put his Chamber of Secrets in a women's bathroom…
-
Unlike the last time Severus had sat beside the injured form of Potter in the infirmary, there was a certainty that the boy would wake up and be completely fine. Well, as normal as the brat can be, I suppose, Severus amended as he folded the glasses and placed them on his knee. Harry's gentle breathing flowed in and out at a regular, restful pace. The stab wound on his arm, caused by a basilisk fang, was nothing more than a faint scar thanks to Fawkes' affection for the boy. Phoenix did not bestow their tears on just anyone.
"Hhhmmmm," Harry hummed gently as he stretched. Opening his eyes, he let his face curl into a wry grin. "Professor Snape?" he asked with a touch of humor.
"Yes?" Had the boy grown used to waking up in the infirmary with his cold, hated potions master by his side? It was an unsettling thought.
"May I have my glasses back, please?" the boy asked, his emerald eyes unfocused and slightly dazed. Severus handed them back without a word. "Thank you." Slipping on the spectacles, Harry looked expectantly up at his teacher.
"Yes, Mr. Potter?" Snape growled, raising an eyebrow in warning.
"You have grown fond of me, you know," Harry informed his least favorite teacher with a cheeky grin. "I just don't think you realize it yet."
"Don't be absurd, Potter," Severus drawled. The boy must have been having an ill favored side effect of one of the potions Poppy had given him. Admittedly the two had a strange relationship based in hatred and Potter's unbearable recklessness, but that did not rationalize the boy speaking to Severus in such a familiar way.
Harry shook his head. "It's the end of the year, sir," he pointed out needlessly. At Severus's blank stare, the boy elaborated. "I'm in the Hospital Wing again, you're sitting on my cot-which is an improvement from last year when you sat across the room-and I've once again proved you wrong. We're always absurd at this time of the year, and I think we deserve it. Don't you?"
Severus, for the first time, chuckled in the presence of Harry Potter. Second years: assuming that just because it's happened before, it will go on happening until the end of time. "If you say so, Potter," he relented. It wouldn't hurt him to be a little nicer just this once. Making a habit of such gestures might cause prolonged bouts of nausea and headaches.
The grin Potter gave him in return was almost enough to make the man regret his decision. It was far too happy and far too familiar a look for the brat to direct at Severus.
"Dumbledore told you what happened in the Chamber?" Potter guessed as he sat up. The effort did little to even their heights, which was no doubt his intent, but Potter continued undaunted. Severus nodded, and the boy continued, "I'm sorry for not telling you, but you wouldn't have let Ron and I down into the Chamber. We didn't want to take Lockhart, but he was dumb enough that we felt sure that we could overpower him if we needed to."
"You two were arrogant enough to assume you could overpower a fully grown and trained wizard?" Severus asked incredulously. The boy never ceased to surprise him.
Harry gave him a look that Severus was sure the boy had also shared with Weasley and his other year mates. "Lockhart is a bumbling idiot," he declared calmly, unworried about debasing a teacher in the hearing of another teacher.
"For once Potter, we agree on something," Severus stated dryly. "Now if you will excuse me, I have to go brew the potion that will wake your Granger friend."
Standing up carefully so as not to jostle the boy's cot, Severus turned to stride dramatically out of the room. He knew quite well that as soon as he walked out those doors that the moment of familiarity (companionship, some part of his mind supplied) would be broken between the two. Severus would once more hate Potter for existing, and Potter would once again hate Severus because that's what all students at Hogwarts were expected to do.
"Professor?" the boy called. Severus turned around warily; the teasing tone had reared its ugly head again. A swift string of sibilants slithered from the boys mouth, halting Severus in his tracks.
For a brief moment, Severus was dazed and confused and a bit high on the imagery that the simple hissing aroused in him. "What did you say, Potter?" he asked the moment he could, still slightly breathless and hating it. He would find a way to prevent Potter from effecting him so next year. The loathsome brat had no right to such a power over him.
"Thank you."
Severus had no desire to see the grateful, happy look in the boy's eyes as he stared up at his least favorite teacher. He wasn't even sure what he had done that deserved thanks. Turning on his heel with a brisk nod, Severus Snape swung the Hospital Ward doors open and strode out into the empty halls of the castle.
That insufferable boy is going to be the death of me, I know it.
-
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