The following Monday was a bright and summery one, with dusty sunbeams finding their way into the entrance hall of the castle. I let the warmth seep through my pores for a moment and then turned towards the sound of the shuffling footsteps of my friends behind me. Ron and Hermione, feeling obviously sorry for me, had promised to bring back sweets from their trip into Hogsmeade. As I waved them of, I tried for a regretful look. I hadn't bothered to tell them I didn't mind having to stay behind for my lessons with Snape. That would have meant explaining what had happened in that classroom last time and the idea didn't particularly appeal to me.
But I couldn't deny it: last time something had changed. Snape had talked to me like I was a normal person and not the pathetic, ignorant boy he always made me feel like. He hadn't laughed at me or told me I was spineless for not standing up against my uncle. He'd been all right for once, though I did find the homework he'd given me a bit embarrassing. With every other teacher I might have 'forgotten' to make it, but this was still Snape we were talking about. So I'd made an effort in scribbling down a few things, hoping he would forget to ask for it.
I'd nearly made it to the end of the Occlumency lesson, assuming by then that he had indeed forgotten, when he reminded me of my homework. I sighed at the prospect of having to talk about my uncle again.
"Can't we just pretend you didn't give me any homework?" I asked, already sounding defeated.
"No", he answered.
"I don't want to think about my uncle", I whined.
Since Snape said nothing in return I grumbled and got my homework out of the back pocket of my jeans. I tried to flatten the crumpled piece of paper to no avail. In the end I just let it stay there on the desk between us. I'd written down a title on the paper: How I will deal with uncle V. this summer. I realized how stupid that sounded, like a title from some bad action movie, but Snape didn't comment.
"So Harry," he said, "what ideas have you come up with?"
"They're not really realistic, professor. I mean…"
I shrugged, not knowing how to continue. Again Snape remained silent and I let out a frustrated sigh. I looked down to the first item on my piece of paper.
"Well," I muttered, "I thought about setting my owl loose on him."
Snape nodded. If he was mocking me, he didn't let it show. Instead he asked a question: "How would you get your owl angry enough to make her attack your uncle?"
I laughed and thought: "This has to be the weirdest conversation I ever had."
"Well, that won't be too difficult, sir. If I simply let Hedwig out of her cage, my uncle would start kicking at her like a madman. That would get her upset."
"I would think so", Snape said and actually smiled. He indicated that I should go on. I looked at my list.
"I could pull the rug from underneath him. Might lead to a concussion", I suggested.
Snape nodded but made a gesture that I should continue, like he wanted to hear if I'd come up with something I could truly put into action.
"I could tie my cousin Dudley to the train tracks near our house."
Snape rubbed his temple.
"How would you do that?" he asked.
"Sticking charm", I answered.
"Do you think your uncle would jump in front of a train to save his son?" Snape asked.
That was an interesting question. Guessing from the look on Snape's face he didn't give my uncle much credit for it.
"Perhaps he would if Dudley was holding his favorite snake plant", I smiled.
Snape chuckled. I relaxed a bit, realizing Snape wasn't going to make a fool of me. I took a small intake of breath and blurted out: "Maybe I should just hire a hit man to do the dirty job."
Snape didn't comment immediately, but I thought I saw his nostrils flare for a moment.
He nodded and admitted: "I've thought about that more than once myself when I was younger. How would you find a hit man, Harry?"
I thought about it for a few seconds.
"It would have to be someone who doesn't leave traces, right? Who makes sure he's not being seen? So my guess is that I'm looking for someone within the wizarding world… Perhaps someone like you?"
I instantly knew that I'd said the wrong thing. I'd meant it as a joke, but from the small intake of breath I heard I was sure Snape didn't find it funny.
"Sorry," I muttered, "I didn't mean…"
When I looked up at him I found his sharp gaze trained on me. I squirmed. Snape shook his head then and tried a smile.
"You know I usually don't kill people, Harry."
I gave a shaky laugh, relieved that he was still in a good mood and nodded: "I know…"
"Though I might make an exception for you… I mean, your uncle", Snape added.
I laughed uncomfortably, feeling confused about what he had said. What exactly had he just said?
"You know I'm not serious, do you?" Snape asked then.
I nodded, only then realizing how relieved I was to hear that. It was silent for a while.
"Now Potter, before you go I have just one more question to ask", Snape finally said. I looked up at him.
"You realize why I gave you this homework, right?
I thought for a bit.
"I think I do", I muttered hesitantly.
"And why is that?" he asked.
I didn't answer immediately. It was a rather confusing thought.
"To make me see I don't have to be a victim, I guess."
Snape nodded. "You guessed right. You are nearly eighteen, Harry. It's utterly pathetic to let someone beat you up when you're eighteen."
I had to swallow back the bile that rose in my throat.
"You're a Quidditch player, for Christ's sake", Snape continued, watching the tears in my eyes. I gritted my teeth and wanted so bad to say something nasty to him. Instead I turned around and ran from the room.
...HP/SS...
He'd done it again! Implied that I was spineless and got away with it! I should have kicked him in the gut when I had the chance.
That was the line of thought I had when I raced back to Gryffindor Tower. But already along the way I realized I wasn't entirely being fair. Snape had also been eighteen and had apparently found it as difficult as me to step up to his father then. At least he knew what he was talking about. That made it a bit easier to swallow. I told myself angrily I shouldn't kid myself: Snape was right, of course. I was almost eighteen; I didn't have to take that crap anymore.
When I entered the common room I was relieved to see nobody was back from the Hogsmeade trip yet. I threw myself on the bed and closed my eyes. I had a lot of thinking to do.
