Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. Thank God for J., and her brilliant genius mind for coming up with them.
I know this has been a long time coming, and I am sorry for that, but hopefully I can get the next chapter out in another couple of weeks. Also, I love reviews. I'm a review whore . Simple maths reviews=update. If I can get at least 10 more reviews, I'll update sooner. Your reviews give me motivation. Also, I wouldn't mind knowing what you guys want to happen, so just either review or send me an email. Hope you like the chapter.
Snape could not talk for a moment. Surely he had heard the boy wrong? Potter couldn't be in love with Draco of all people. And anyway, why the bloody hell was he telling him? That's what puzzled Snape the most. Why, of all the people Potter could tell, why was he telling Snape?
Potter continued to stand in the middle of the room and cry. His breath was hitching now and Snape knew he would have a hysterical Potter on his hands in a minute if he didn't do something soon.
"Potter, take a deep breath in. Now let it out, that's right. In and out, keep going. Now, do you feel better?" Oh, sweet Merlin. What was Snape doing? Why did he care if Potter was bawling his eyes out over some doomed crush? Well, he knew that he didn't want Potter to be crying in his dungeons, Dumbledore would find out about it and then he would be blamed for doing it, when it wasn't even his fault.
Potter's tears had almost dried up by now and Snape moved away from him. When did he even walk up to Potter and start rubbing his back? Potter's head came up at the loss of contact and his eyes widened when he realized that Snape had been rubbing his back and consoling him.
"Yes, I feel a lot better now. I don't know why I started to cry in the first place. Or why I even told you about my crush on Draco." Potter winced when saying the last part and his cheeks turned pink.
"Yes, I was wondering that myself. I'm not sure I really want to know about any sexual fantasies that you have about Draco. I most certainly do not want to know if you two get together. I have a feeling that the potion we were making today has affected you, and muddled your brain. Can you even remember the potion we were making and its uses?" Snape was actually conversing civilly with Potter. Perhaps the fumes from Potter's messed up potion had affected him as well. It definitely explained the way he was so eager to chat, and with Potter.
"Yes, I do remember, sir. We were making an anti-emotion potion, and the uses were so that when the victim took the potion they would not feel any emotions when reliving a traumatic event. How does this involve me?" Potter could be an insolent brat sometimes, not even thinking of what could happen if the potion was reversed.
"Potter, that is correct but as usual you have not thought it all the way through. What would happen if the potion is reversed? Of course, you never think about the consequences of your actions. Just like your... Father." Snape spat the word as if it would hurt him if he kept it in his mouth any longer.
Potter's shoulders dropped and he winced. Snape couldn't understand why. He said stuff like that all the time and Potter should be used to it by now. Perhaps Snape should tell him why he hated James Potter. Maybe that way Potter –Harry, Snape corrected himself – would understand the deep-set resentment that Snape harboured for James, and his envy for him as well.
"Potter, perhaps one day, when I am comfortable with it and you don't get on my nerves as much, I shall tell you how I came to have this profound resentment on James. But, that is another story for another day in the far-off future. Now, what would happen if the potion were to be reversed? Bear in mind that it is an anti-emotion potion." Snape repeated his question and Potter looked up and then away. His cheeks coloured slightly and Snape wondered what he was thinking of.
"Well, sir, I believe that the potion would have the opposite effect and that it would make the person that has been affected by the potion feel their emotions much more strongly. The person that would have taken this potion would have all of their emotions brought to the forefront of their mind. For example, I have sadness, guilt, lust, and contentness. But I also have wariness and a slight sliver of hope." Potter said, catching Snape by surprise. If Potter – no, Harry – knew so much about the effects of potions, how come he was failing the subject?
"Very good, Potter. Perhaps you are not a complete failure after all. If you payed more attention in class to your potions instead of mooning over Mr. Malfoy, I believe you might actually make a good Potions student. But, that would take time. Lots and lots of time, and many, many private lessons in order to get you up to the standard that you ought to be up to by now having taken Potions for five years now." Snape surprised Harry and himself by saying that. Was he actually considering and offering to give Harry private Potions lessons? The very person Snape wished would cease to be an annoyance, and he was offering private lessons? One-on-one to be exact? Why on Earth would he do such a thing? From the bewildered look on Harry's face, he did not know either. Most likely, the gases from Harry's reversed potion had affected Snape more than he knew.
That would be the only reason for what next came out of Snape's mouth.
"Potter, do not ask me why I am doing this as I don't know, but if you are very serious about getting with Mr. Malfoy, I will help you. Provided your grades improve dramatically and that this is not some fleeting romance or crush that you will move out of in the next few weeks."
Harry stared at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw, as if Snape had grown two heads and just announced he was about to assassinate Dumbledore. Snape couldn't understand why Harry was staring at him until he thought over his previous words. "I most certainly do not want to know if you two get together." Yes, he could see now why Harry was staring at him dumbstruck.
Well, he hated to swallow his own words, but this time it was different. This time, it was Harry. As much as Snape felt revulsion at the thought of helping James' son, he knew that this was an ample opportunity to show Dumbledore… to show him something. How loyal he was, maybe? That he could actually be in a room with Harry, and not plot to kill him? Either of those questions would be adequate, bit neither described exactly why he was intent on helping Harry.
Perhaps it was just that Snape had been affected by the fumes of the potion too much. Nevertheless, standing here and debating with Harry wasn't going to get the sixth year assignments marked.
"Potter, finish cleaning up the mess you've made before I change my mind. Knock on the door when you have done, I am retiring into my personal chambers in order to finish marking these assignments. Try not to make too much noise." Snape said to Harry. Now that he had made up his mind to help Harry, he could hopefully enjoy a bit of peace and quiet in his Potions classes.
Snape's robes bellowed out behind him, scattering the remaining traces of the emotion gas. He went to his desk and gathered up the assignments he was marking. The sixth years were finally learning how to write a good essay. It wasn't the quantity of the essay, but the quality. Sure, it was harsh to set a seven-foot long essay on the use of frog intestines in Potions and expect it due in the week after. It was clear to Snape who went through their Potions textbooks and just wrote down the information without reading it. Mr Weasley's essay was remarkably terrible and had no original thoughts at all, it was just copied straight from books or Miss Granger had done it. Miss Granger's essays, although being somewhat stuffy and long, reminded Snape of his essays when he was a student here at Hogwarts many, many years ago.
This was why he was so hard on Miss Granger. Although he seemed to come across as hating her, he was just trying to make her into a better student. With her amazing ability to be able to remember almost exactly the way she had heard or read a bit of information, Snape knew she would go far. Harry, on the other hand, had to improve dramatically if he wanted to be an Auror. Even though his practical work was dismal, Harry's theory was getting better and better. He had managed to talk about the ways that frog intestines could help a potion greatly or hinder it. If Snape didn't know better, he would believe that Harry had copied this essay from someone else. But something about it was just plain Harry. There was no way to describe it, but it just had the feel of Harry in the essay.
Unaware that he had stopped moving towards his desk as his thoughts turned from the essays to Harry, Snape jerked his whole body when Harry's voice flooded his brain.
"Sir, is something wrong?" Harry's voice was a mix of emotions; confusion being on the forefront of them.
When Snape turned to look at him, Harry's shoulders had dropped and his eyes were filled with tears. Quick to persuade the boy that nothing was wrong, Snape moved towards him and clasped his shoulder. When Harry lifted his head, Snape said gently; "No, Harry. Nothing is wrong. I was simply caught up in my own thoughts. Do not worry, I will still help you win over Mr. Malfoy."
Harry breathed a sigh of relief, happy he was hopefully going to be able to get with the young man that he had been dreaming and fantasizing about for months now. Snape knew this was the best way to calm Harry down, and now he had to get back to marking the assignments.
Snape gathered the assignments but one seem to have been left on the table. He didn't seem to notice it and left the room. Snape's private quarter's resembled Dumbledore's office in the layout and the plush furniture and that was where the resemblance ended. Emerald green and moonlight silver plush chairs were everywhere. A love-seat was placed in front of the fire and it showed years of usage. There was an indent in the seat exactly where Snape sat and in the same position too. Snape loved this chair because it had been one of the first objects that he had brought when he finished school. The upholstery could do with a touch-up and the seat was a little saggy but other than that it was the perfect seat to sit in to mark assignments or even read a book.
The fire was already lit and the resulting light which emanated from the logs illuminated the room casting shadows and catching on the glass jars that lined part of the wall, throwing unusual patterns on the walls. On one side of the room, Snape had rows upon rows of jars filled with various Potions objects, some rare, some valuable but mostly all were very important in any potion. Two walls were taken over by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves jam packed with books on all subjects. The wall where the fire was located was the most interesting, even as it looked sparse and unintriguing. Around the fireplace there was a quote in Latin which said "And even if this place crumbles, I know the memory will still live on."
Snape had acquired quite a few bits of his odd furniture from muggle shops and wizarding shops. There was also quite a lot of transfigured furniture in the room. The mahogany table on which sat the essays, was transfigured as was Snape's foot-rest which he used to put his aching feet on after a hard days work. Snape muttered to himself about the day and the horrible brats that he had to teach, namely Harry.
Snape smiled grimly to himself when Dobby popped into his room and got him a shot of rum. Snape downed the first shot, and Dobby hurriedly got him another one. Snape sipped this time and the rum went down burning his throat. The familiar burn was welcomed and Snape finally felt relaxed. He picked up the essays and began marking them. Immediately, in the very first sentence, Snape spotted an incorrect word and marked it with a flourish.
Meanwhile, in the Potions classroom, Harry was scrubbing furiously. He couldn't believe how big a mess his potion had made. Hopefully, now that Snape had agreed to help him with his campaign to seduce Draco…. Harry shivered just thinking about the blonde. Sure, Draco was snarky and irritable, but he had his moments. The way his eyes lit up when he accomplished a difficult spell or potion, or when he got a really good mark on his homework for instance.
When Harry had finished cleaning the floor with some dirty rags he had found, he stood up and was about to knock on the oak door that led to Snape's private rooms to ask if he could leave, when he spotted the assignment on Snape's table. Harry went and picked it up, careful not to disturb anything. When he looked down, he gasped. The essay was marked E and it was in his handwriting. Harry had finally handed in an essay that got better than a P. Thinking that it was some kind of sick joke that Snape was playing on him, Harry flicked through the 12-page essay and certain phrases leaped out at him…needs more detail but fairly accurate….could have suggested another example….a rather good interpretation of this use...see me after class to discuss this… Harry was flabbergasted to say the least. He couldn't believe that this was actually his essay—
"What do you think you are doing, Mr. Potter?" Snape's silky steel voice cut into Harry's thoughts and he slowly turned around. Snape had a look of utmost rage on his face.
