CHAPTER THREE: Unwelcome Changes
Harry winced as he hoisted the heavy frying pan from the stove onto the surface and his ribs gave a particularly painful twinge. He resisted the impulse to gasp and instead forced himself to breathe shallowly so his lungs wouldn't expand too much and aggravate his injuries any further.
After a minute he shoved aside the pain and went back to work. Uncle Vernon would hardly accept 'sore ribs' as an excuse for breakfast being late.
Thankfully he was almost finished. He dished out the bacon and eggs onto three separate plates, ensuring that Dudley and Uncle Vernon received the largest portions, then turned back to the stove to check on the progress of the tomatoes, mushrooms and sausages. They were nearly ready. In the meantime, the toaster popped and he set about buttering the slices.
He was setting the table when abruptly a loud crack from outside shattered the early morning quiet. He nearly dropped Dudley's plate, but managed to rescue it before any of the food slipped off the large mound. He set it down quickly.
It had sounded like a car back-firing. Which either meant a car had back-fired, or a wizard had just Apparated somewhere nearby.
Harry contemplated this for a moment before he shrugged it off as unimportant. If it had been a wizard, it was probably just the guard duty changing over. They wouldn't stop by to speak to him, they would just take up their posts and watch for approaching Death Eaters.
He continued his task, and then the second unexpected event of the day took place.
The doorbell rang.
Shortly after Harry heard a loud string of curses resonate from upstairs and heavy footsteps thunder across the landing.
"Who the hell decides to drop by for a social visit at this godforsaken hour of the morning?!" Uncle Vernon yelled. If Harry had been in any sort of mood to be amused by irony he might have smiled at the thought that if the doorbell hadn't woken Dudley and Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon's shouting was sure to do the trick.
A series of sharp raps on the front door announced that the uninvited visitor was still there. "BOY! Answer the door! If it's a salesperson, get rid of them!"
Harry sighed, set the last of the cutlery on the table and moved to do as instructed. He couldn't rouse in himself any feeling of curiosity as to the identity of the knocker, so he didn't bother to look through the peephole or front windows. He just pulled open the door.
"Harry my boy!"
The use of his name – and spoken in such warm, cheerful tones – was so incongruous in Privet Drive that for a second Harry just stood there dumbly. His brain seemed to kick in as an afterthought and he finally recognised both the voice and its owner.
Professor Dumbledore was standing on the doorstep. Wearing a bright blue robe.
"Professor!" Harry exclaimed, genuine surprise sounding in his tone. "What are you doing here, sir?"
"I-" Dumbledore frowned suddenly. "Harry, what happened to you?"
His mind still working to catch up with the strange situation, it took Harry a few moments to realise that Dumbledore must be talking about the large bruise that crossed his cheekbone, blackened one of his eyes and accentuated the broken nose.
"Oh," Harry said. Behind him, he could hear Uncle Vernon coming down the stairs to see who was at the door. "I tripped over that step there," he gestured under Dumbledore's feet, "while I was bringing my school trunk inside. My face hit the doorknob."
Dumbledore's face morphed into concern, but at the same time Harry heard a snicker. It hadn't come from Uncle Vernon. It hadn't been the professor, either, even though the sound had seemed to originate from his direction.
Before his mind had a chance to start work on the mystery it was solved for him.
Draco Malfoy stepped out from behind Dumbledore, a derisive smirk curving his lips. "The Golden Boy of Gryffindor: a colossal klutz. What would your fan club think of you, Potter, if they heard about this?"
The emotionless state that Harry had been floating in was interrupted by a flood of anger and his hand moved automatically to seize his wand. Which, of course, was locked away in the cupboard under the stairs.
Denied the ability to hex Malfoy to kingdom come, Harry was forced to settle for a dark glare and it wasn't nearly satisfying enough. "What are you doing here?"
"My question exactly," Uncle Vernon said dangerously. Harry didn't have to turn around to know that the man's face was crimson and the vein in his forehead was bulging. His reaction to anything strange or magical was always the same.
Dumbledore's long, white hair and beard, his half-moon spectacles perched on an extremely crooked nose and his wizarding robes of brightest blue fit these labels to the extreme. Malfoy's wore robes of a less obtrusive black, but they still were not anywhere close to the Muggle attire that Uncle Vernon was accustomed to.
All the worse was the fact that they were standing on the doorstep in broad daylight. If any of the neighbours saw them, the image of absolute normality that the Dursleys strived so hard to maintain would be decimated.
Uncle Vernon was undoubtedly furious. It was all Harry could do to stop himself flinching and ducking away.
"Ah, good morning sir!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "You must be Vernon Dursley. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster at your nephew's school."
It was harder, this time, to contain the flinch. Uncle Vernon hated any mention of Hogwarts. At least Dumbledore hadn't called it by name; Uncle Vernon's rigid control was liable to snap if he did.
When he didn't receive any response from the larger man and his proffered hand was ignored, Dumbledore continued optimistically, "I see you are too delighted by our presence for words. No matter, my dear man, we will just pretend that you have kindly invited us into your home."
Harry stepped aside politely, while his uncle stumbled back almost involuntarily, his fear of coming into contact with a full-grown wizard if Dumbledore decided to push past him apparently interfering with his desire to keep them out of the house.
"Thank you," Dumbledore said.
Malfoy's nose wrinkled in disgust, whether at the prospect of entering a Muggle house or entering the house where his nemesis lived Harry didn't know, but he followed the older wizard inside nevertheless.
Harry closed the door behind them, a sense of foreboding edging its way into his emotions. He had just let the son of a Death Eater into the Dursleys' home; for all he knew, Draco himself could be a Death Eater by now. All Malfoy had to do was kill Aunt Petunia and the blood wards would fall, leaving Harry vulnerable. However unlikely an attack was with Dumbledore around, Harry's fingers still itched to hold his wand. He didn't like being forced to rely on someone else for his safety.
"Shall we go into the lounge, then?" he heard Dumbledore suggest.
Uncle Vernon, it seemed, had found his tongue again. "NO!" He said it with such vehemence that Harry could imagine Dumbledore was rather taken aback. Of course, the older man had no way of knowing what had happened the last time that wizards had been in that room – the Weasleys, quite unintentionally, had practically demolished the entire area.
"Kitchen," Vernon grunted, in a compromise of sorts. "You interrupted my breakfast and I'm not ruddy well going to let it get cold."
"That's quite alright, sir," Dumbledore said amicably and then spoke up louder, "Petunia, Dudley, please feel free to join us down here. You must be hungry, too."
A boom echoed from the upstairs landing – Dudley had likely jumped in surprise at being caught spying.
After a minute's hesitation, Aunt Petunia and her son ventured downstairs, probably assuming there would be safety in numbers and not wanting to leave Uncle Vernon alone with three wizards. Dudley was trembling, though, and stuck close behind his mother. Encounters with magic-folk never did seem to go well for him.
Harry hoped, and not for Dudley's sake, that nothing would happen this time. Uncle Vernon might not have the courage to take on adult wizards, but he felt no qualms about taking it out on Harry.
Who am I kidding? Harry thought dully. He's already angry. I'm in trouble no matter what happens.
Unless Dumbledore had come to take him away from here.
Harry felt a spark of hope light up within him, but he quickly squashed it. Holidays had only started three days ago, and the Professor had said that Harry was supposed to stay with his relatives for at least a few weeks. No, whatever the reason why Dumbledore was here, it wasn't to come to his rescue.
He entered the kitchen, numbness settling over him again.
Vernon was already seated at the head of the table and digging into his food. Petunia and Dudley, after a nervous glance toward Dumbledore, followed suit.
"Only three places?" Dumbledore questioned with a frown.
"Oh, I woke up earlier, so I already ate," Harry said. It wasn't stretching the truth too much – he had eaten breakfast, back at Hogwarts. That was sure to keep him going for a while yet.
His answer seemed to satisfy Dumbledore, because he nodded and gestured for Harry and Malfoy to sit down at the two spare chairs around the table, and conjured a purple squishy armchair for himself.
The Dursleys jumped. Harry stiffened.
"What are you waiting for, Harry?" Dumbledore asked him, apparently oblivious to the reaction his blatant use of magic had caused.
He realised that he still hadn't sat down. He wasn't supposed to sit with the Dursleys when they were eating, unless Uncle Vernon specifically ordered him to.
He was torn with indecision, until he caught sight of a slight nod from Aunt Petunia. Relieved to have permission, he took the remaining seat. It put him in uncomfortable close proximity with Malfoy, though, so he soon found himself tensing again and had to remind himself that Malfoy couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching. It was somewhat gratifying to notice that Malfoy, too, was sitting rather stiffly.
"Well, now that we are all sitting comfortably," Dumbledore said, although this may have been an overstatement on his part – no one apart from the elderly wizard seemed comfortable at all, "I suppose I should explain why myself and Mister Malfoy are here." He took Vernon's stony silence as permission to continue. "Draco needs a place to stay for the summer."
It took a few seconds for these words to sink in. When they did, Harry's jaw dropped. Surely Dumbledore couldn't possibly mean-
"And this house is, I think, the safest option for him," Dumbledore said. "I understand you have a spare bedroom. We will, of course, reimburse you for any additional expenditure his presence here may cause-"
"Now wait just a moment!" Uncle Vernon's face was swiftly changing from red to purple. "We've already had to take in one of your cast-offs, what makes you think we'd be willing to put up with another one?!"
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "Draco's life is in danger from the very same wizard who wishes to kill your nephew. And this house, as you are well aware, is one of the best protected buildings in the country. By taking Draco in you will be saving an innocent-"
"Innocent?" Harry interrupted, unable to stop himself. "Professor, Malfoy is-"
"Not his father," Dumbledore cut in firmly. "He has renounced Voldemort, at great personal risk, and I have promised him protection."
"But, sir, surely there must be another-"
"Hey," Malfoy jumped in, "I'm no happier about this than you are, Potter." His lips curled into a sneer as he looked around at his surroundings with pointed disgust. "But we don't have a choice. If I don't stay here, the Dark Lord will kill me."
"And why should I care?" Harry shot back.
"Harry," Dumbledore admonished quietly. "I know you and Draco are not friends, but you cannot honestly wish to see any harm befall him at Voldemort's hands."
"Why not?" Harry snapped. "He tried to attack me only a few days ago, on the way back from Hogwarts!"
"A simple, school-yard rivalry..."
"He threatened to kill me!" Harry argued, quoting Draco's words with an inflected accent, "'You're dead, Potter. I'm going to make you pay for what you've done to my father.'"
"He was understandably upset, but I'm sure he didn't mean it-"
"As soon as you leave he'll try something!" Harry insisted. "This is all probably a plot set up by Voldemort to get one of his followers in here, past the wards-"
"No, Harry. I trust Draco-"
"Oh, what, like you trust Snape?" Harry didn't care that his voice was raised, or that he was being rude to the Headmaster. He was sick of Dumbledore's blind faith in everyone, his refusal to consider that maybe they might be lying to him. "Where's the proof?"
"Scared, are you, Potter?" Malfoy broke in.
"Of you? Not likely!" Harry retorted heatedly, even as his hand once again closed on an empty space where his wand should have been. He doubted that Malfoy would be similarly unarmed and he felt at a significant disadvantage, even though technically the other boy was no more allowed to use magic out of school than he was.
"Enough!" Dumbledore thundered, a wave of power crashing over them all, silencing the room.
"My decision," he said with a dangerously calm tone, "is final. Draco will be staying here until school resumes on September 1st. If you two," he fixed Harry and Malfoy with a firm gaze, "cannot get along nicely, you will at least be cordial towards each other. I will remind you also that you are expressly forbidden from using any magic outside Hogwarts."
Harry nodded sullenly. With his wand locked in the cupboard he didn't really have much of a choice in the matter. Beside him, Malfoy nodded too, but Harry was hardly convinced of his sincerity.
"As an added safety precaution, neither of you will be permitted to leave the boundary of this house and its gardens for the duration of the summer."
Harry choked. His occasional walks around the streets of Little Whinging were all the respite he got from the oppressive atmosphere of 4 Privet Drive during the holidays, and now- Then it hit him.
"All summer?" he repeated, hoping he had heard wrong. Hoping that Dumbledore didn't mean it. Surely Harry would still be allowed to stay with the Weasleys for the last few weeks before term, like he usually did. Dumbledore couldn't seriously expect him to stay here the whole-
"Yes," Dumbledore said. "All summer. I know you were expecting to join Ronald at the Burrow, Harry, but I'm afraid their wards are not powerful enough to withstand a determined assault by Voldemort. Having the two of you there will make it all too much of a tempting target."
Harry fell back against his chair, defeated. "We can't risk all of their lives." Ron, Ginny, Mr and Mrs Weasley... No. He couldn't endanger them. Not simply for the sake of shortening his time with the Dursleys. What were a few more weeks, if it meant his friends were safe?
"Don't I get a say in this?" Uncle Vernon said. "This is my house. You can't just waltz in here and demand-"
Dumbledore pinned him with a glare. "Do not test my patience, Mr Dursley. As I have explained, there is no other alternative. You will accommodate Draco, we will reimburse you for your trouble, and you will not argue this matter any further!"
The silence that followed was almost deafening. No one dared to breathe another word of protest.
Dumbledore stood up and with a wave of his wand Vanished the purple armchair. Then he pulled out a small box from one of his pockets, set it on the floor and, with another silent spell, caused it to rapidly grow until it gained the size of a large trunk. Embellished on the side was a Slytherin crest, with the initials 'D.M.' emblazoned at its centre. From this, Harry gathered that it was Draco's school trunk.
"I trust you will see to it that Draco settles in comfortably, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Good day, all."
And with those words, he left.
ooOOoo
Snape paced restlessly in the Headmaster's office, his patience having long since worn thin. If Dumbledore didn't come back soon he was liable to snap and begin breaking apart the inane silver instruments spinning and whirring around him to relieve some of his pent up frustration.
The portraits lining the walls, chatting in what he was sure they meant to be inaudible whispers but which actually carried clear across the room, were not helping to improve his mood.
"... ooh, he doesn't look very happy, does he?"
Snape glowered.
"... not at all..."
"... mind you, that one never does..."
"... hope he doesn't go on a rampage like that Potter boy did a few weeks ago..."
"... horrible racket... all Dumbledore's beautiful instruments..."
Upon hearing these words, Snape's urge to wreak destruction on the infuriatingly peaceful office vanished abruptly. He was not going to act like some out-of-control hormonal teenager. He would return to what he knew and did best – adopting a deep scowl and a delivering a razor-sharp tongue-lashing when Dumbledore returned.
"... should cut the kid some slack... suffering a very difficult loss..."
"... poor lad... so young yet, and already been through so much... first the death of his parents..."
"... James and Lily..."
Snape couldn't take it any longer. "Will you lot be quiet!" he thundered, whipping out his wand with every intention to use it if they were idiotic enough to continue talking. A few gags painted into the portraits would be sure to grant him the peace he wanted.
He had no interest in feeling sorry for the irritating Potter brat, or listening to a list of his woes. His annoyance had absolutely nothing to do with the mention of a certain red-headed witch. Nothing at all.
To his immense relief the portraits fell silent, although many of them shot nasty glares in his direction.
Only now he had nothing to distract him from his thoughts and his frustration with Dumbledore began to climb rapidly. The man was insufferable! He knew very well that Severus wanted to speak with him about the rash decision he had made regarding Draco's welfare, but he had insisted that he deliver the boy to Privet Drive as soon as possible and whatever Snape had to say would have to wait. Which was as an effective way as any to state that he was not to be dissuaded.
But Snape was not one to give up so easily, and so here he was, waiting for the infernal wizard to make an appearance. It really shouldn't be taking this long to force Draco onto the Dursleys – Potter himself had simply been dumped on their doorstep all those years ago, for Merlin's sake! – and Snape could have sworn that Dumbledore was taking his time just to be infuriating.
Time stretched for an eternity before the familiar rumble of the revolving staircase indicated that someone was on their way up to the office.
"Headmaster Dumbledore," a voice announced into the otherwise quiet room. Locating the source of the words, Snape for the first time spotted a miniature gargoyle on the desk which, aside from its size, was an exact replica to the one which guarded the staircase.
Aha! Snape thought triumphantly. So that's how he always knows who it is. The Headmaster's uncanny ability to greet him by name before he even knocked on the door had always annoyed him. Now he knew the secret and it wasn't all that spectacular. He should have worked it out years ago.
The door swung open and Dumbledore entered to cries of welcome from the portraits. He was smiling. Snape wanted to throttle him.
"Finally!" he snapped.
Dumbledore walked straight past him to the perch where Fawkes sat, scratching the phoenix under his chin and smoothing the plumage on his back before even acknowledging Snape was there.
"Ah, Severus," he said, turning and feigning an expression of only just having noticed him. "Been here long?"
"All morning," Snape said sharply, "as I'm sure your pet gargoyle has informed you."
Dumbledore glanced from him to the gargoyle on his desk, eyes twinkling merrily. "Well done, my boy. I knew you would get there eventually."
"Humph." He was not in the mood to be patronised. "What took you so long?"
Dumbledore pulled something from the depths of one of his pockets and waved it happily in Snape's face. "Lemon drops! I was in the Muggle neighbourhood and I thought to myself, what better time to replenish my stock?"
Snape eyed him critically, noting the outlandish outfit the Headmaster was wearing. "You went into a Muggle store dressed like that?"
"These are my best robes!" Dumbledore defended. "They really bring out my eyes, don't you think?"
Snape grunted. Undoubtedly the older wizard had cast a glamour or temporarily transfigured his clothing into more Muggle-appropriate attire for the shopping trip. He was overly fond of playing the part, but Dumbledore was no fool.
"Even that does not account for your tardiness," he pointed out. "So I repeat my previous question."
Dumbledore shrugged innocently. "I know Arabella would have been quite happy to accommodate my use of her fireplace, but I was rather more in the mood for Apparation today."
You can't Apparate or Disapparate inside the perimeters of this school, Snape refrained from reminding the man.
"So I have enjoyed a nice, leisurely stroll through the forest from our Apparation point," Dumbledore continued.
At last, conclusive proof. Dumbledore had been placed on this Earth for the express purpose of driving one Severus Snape completely insane.
"Thank you for finally gracing me with your presence," Snape growled.
"You are most welcome, dear boy!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Now, what is it you wanted?"
"To determine," Snape snarled, "whether or not you have gone completely senile in your old age!" There were sounds of outrage from the portraits but Snape ignored them, turning the full force of his best glare on Dumbledore. To his annoyance, the wizard seemed neither offended nor cowed.
"I dare say I have," Dumbledore commented mildly. "Which event in particular has led you to this line of inquiry?"
"Hm, let me see," Snape said, his tone thick with sarcasm. "Maybe, seeing you try to pick up and put on the ring containing not only a fragment of the Dark Lord's soul, but also an extremely powerful curse that would almost certainly have killed you if I had not intervened! What were you THINKING?"
"I was not, for a moment..." Dumbledore said softly, his eyes briefly taking on a distant look. "But your stinging hex was quite sufficient to return my common sense." He rubbed his hand ruefully.
"Apparently not! Only a few hours after we destroyed the horcrux, you decided that the safest place for Draco Malfoy to stay for the summer was in Harry Potter's house!"
"I'm certain it is," Dumbledore said firmly. "I set up those wards myself, using the power of Lily's love and sacrifice as the foundation for the magic. The result has been the strongest shield currently in existence. The inhabitants of 4 Privet Drive are beyond the reach of anyone who would mean them harm as soon as they enter the boundaries of the property. Any witch or wizard with malicious intent cannot pass through, no matter what curses or hexes they may bring to bear, and even staying in near proximity for any length of time becomes increasingly uncomfortable. While Harry maintains his connection to his aunt and continues to call that place home, not even Voldemort himself can penetrate the wards. Yes, I believe that is the best place for Draco, and I will not change my mind."
"Maybe it is safe from the Dark Lord," Snape said. "But it is wholly unsuitable for an entirely different reason! Draco and Potter hate each other! The Dark Lord will not have to lift a hand – they will kill one another before the summer is out! At least when they are at Hogwarts their interactions are supervised and they are not forced to be in close proximity for too long. Even then, I have caught them on the verge of a duel on more than one occasion, the most recent not a week past! And now you are making them live together?! You must be out of your mind!"
"Come, now, Severus, it won't be that bad..."
Snape felt like he was about to explode. "Didn't you see Draco's reaction when you first told him of your moronic plan?!"
"Yes," Dumbledore stated calmly. "He ranted and raved, much as you are doing now, but he came to see reason."
"Only because Narcissa was there, begging and pleading him with tears streaming down her face until he could bear it no longer and gave in!"
"If he were as opposed to it as you seem to be, no amount of crying on his mother's part could have swayed him. Besides, if Draco truly disliked Harry enough to hurt or even kill him, as you have suggested, he would not have been able to cross the wards. But he had no trouble."
That was slightly harder to argue against, although Snape strongly suspected that even if Draco didn't feel such murderous inclinations towards Potter right now, a few days of living with him would almost certainly be enough to alter his temperament. "And what about Potter? I doubt he was any happier about the arrangement than Draco was."
Dumbledore had at least the common decency to look slightly sheepish. "I didn't give him, or the Dursleys for that matter, a choice. But Harry will respect my decision. He trusts me."
Snape growled, deep in his throat. "Headmaster, this is a very, very bad idea. Five years of solid dislike cannot be-"
"Ah," Dumbledore interrupted with a raised hand, "but this experience might even be for the best. They will have the opportunity to get past their differences, to get to know each other properly, perhaps even to become friends..."
And suddenly Snape understood what exactly Dumbledore was trying to do. "You are an old fool," he hissed. "Have you forgotten so quickly what a fiasco it was trying to get me to teach Potter Occlumency? You thought we, too, could 'get past our differences'. Your attempt with Draco will have no more success and it could have equally dire consequences!"
Dumbledore frowned at him, disappointment showing clearly on his face. "Harry was not entirely to blame. If you had-"
"That is not my point," Snape cut across him sharply. "Potter and Draco have no more love for each other than Potter and myself. Forcing them to live in the same house for two months can only end in disaster."
"I think they may surprise you. Either way, the decision has been made. You may not like it, but it is done and I will hear no further arguments from you." Dumbledore's voice was hard. "Is that understood?"
"Yes, Headmaster," Snape muttered.
"Good." The twinkle returned to those blue eyes and Dumbledore's face crinkled into a smile. "Now, this might cheer you up a bit, Severus. I have an offer for you that I think you are going to like."
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" His tone made it clear that if this offer was the 'honour' of checking up on Draco and Potter during the holidays, Dumbledore was going to have a very angry and uncooperative Potions master on his hands.
"With Dolores Umbridge gone, we once again find ourselves without a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," Dumbledore explained. "How would you like the post?"
Against his will, Snape felt excitement flare up within him and a smile almost broke out on his face. He halted the expression just in time. "What of Potions?" he asked as calmly as he could. "I cannot teach both."
Dumbledore grinned at him. "No, of course not, that would be quite an unfair work load for you. I was thinking of asking Horace Slughorn – you remember him? He taught you, I believe. I plan to ask him to return to Hogwarts. I think I can persuade him without too much trouble."
"Slughorn," Snape mused. "Yes, he would be accept-"
He stopped. He forced himself to think logically about this, without allowing emotion to get in the way. He had wanted the DADA job ever since he started out teaching and it had been a source of constant frustration to him that Dumbledore had consistently given the post to someone else. Often times, the new DADA teacher had been at best completely incompetent and at worst evil or possessed. Mad-Eye Moody might have been half decent, if he hadn't been replaced by a Death Eater. In fact, the werewolf might well have been the least harmful of the lot, even if Snape was loath to admit it.
And... Potter had displayed the highest level of competency in Defence when Lupin was teaching. He had been someone the Potter brat felt he could trust, even like, and he had learned more in that year than any year previously or since.
Snape would have been quite happy not to care about Potter's progress in the class. But he was the Chosen One. The only person who, according to prophecy, had the 'power to vanquish the Dark Lord'. With Voldemort growing in strength with every passing day, it was vital that Potter be adequately prepared to fight him when the time came.
And hadn't Snape just pointed out how disastrous his attempts to teach Potter Occlumency had been?
If Snape was brutally honest with himself, he would have to admit that Potter's poor showing in Potions might also have to do with having him for a teacher. There was no trust between them. No fondness. Not even respect. Just pure and unadulterated dislike.
Snape could accept the DADA position. But if he did Potter and other students like him would not learn as well as they could. Or should. These were dangerous times and children in particular were the most vulnerable. He wanted to teach them how to defend themselves, but many would not or could not learn from him adequately enough.
He had no right. It would be selfish and stupid of him to accept the offer. He had just accused Dumbledore of making rash and irresponsible decisions – he could not do the same. He would not.
"No."
Dumbledore looked startled. "Why not? Horace was a fine teacher in his day-"
"No," Snape repeated. "It is nothing to do with Slughorn and everything to do with me. I do not accept. I will remain in my Potions position and you will find someone else to be the Defence teacher."
For a time, Dumbledore actually seemed at a loss for words. "But-but why? Severus, every year for fifteen years you have applied for this position and now when I hand it to you on a silver platter-"
"My answer is no," Snape reiterated firmly. "I am not the right person for it." When he sensed that Dumbledore was not going to accept any less than a proper explanation he buried his pride and said, "Potter will not learn from me. Some of the other children, particularly the Gryffindors, will have similar difficulties. This is not the time for me to put my personal preferences above the safety of the students. They need someone who is not only competent, but experienced, trustworthy and-" he almost choked "-likeable."
Dumbledore stared at him. His expression was one of dumfounded amazement, pride and deep respect. Snape almost blushed at the sight.
Thankfully, the older wizard didn't say anything gushy. "Very well, Severus. Who would you recommend, then?"
Snape thought about it for a moment. He couldn't bring himself to suggest Lupin and he thought perhaps the parents would object anyway. They were worried enough as it was. "An Auror," he said finally. "Someone not too high up in the ranks, nor irreplaceable in skill and experience. Their job is more important now than ever, but these students will soon be out facing the world and they need to be taught properly." He nodded to himself. "Someone trained recently, but with enough field experience to be able to impart valuable tips and advice. Of course, their loyalty must be unquestionable as well."
"Of course," Dumbledore echoed, quietly enough not to interrupt Snape's train of thought.
An individual who fit the requirements floated to the top of Snape's mind. "I think..." he said slowly, "Nymphadora Tonks. She is a bit clumsy, but she is earnest, graduated from Auror training two years ago, has some experience, is a member of the Order..." He wrinkled his nose slightly. "And from the reactions of Potter and the Weasleys, the students should like her well enough. She seems to be somewhat fond of the werewolf too – though I cannot fathom why – so I suppose if she needs it he can provide her with some assistance."
Dumbledore clapped his hands together once, a delighted smile tugging at his lips. "I agree with you, Severus. She is a wonderful choice. I will ask her as soon as I get the opportunity."
Snape nodded and withdrew from the office.
I can't believe I just did that, he thought incredulously. You had better be grateful for this, Potter.
ooOOoo