The journey to the hospital wing was completed in total silence, unless you counted Snape's looks, which shouted volumes. They were on the stairs leading from the third to the fourth floor when Harry tripped. Forgetting himself, he reached out and caught himself with his injured hand.
"OW! Merlin!" Harry squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth and waited for the pain to pass. He'd had worse. At that particular minute, he couldn't really remember it, but he was sure he had. Vernon—Harry stopped the thought. Opening his eyes, he was surprised to see Snape staring at him in what appeared to be fascination.
"Mr Potter, are you quite finished?" He asked scathingly. Out of force of habit, Harry glared at him before replying. "Yes, Sir."
"Good. Then we shall continue"
He stalked off, clearly meaning for Harry to follow. Which, of course, he did.
"Sir?"
"What, boy?" Harry winced slightly at Snape's tone. Not the words. Just the tone. Yeah, right.
"Never mind, sir, it wasn't important." Somehow managing to scowl even through the back of his head, Snape growled, "Clearly it was, or you would not have interrupted my ruminations with your inane chatter. Please, share your thoughts with me, I beg of you." Harry glared at the man in front of him, greatly resenting the sarcastic order.
"I was just wondering why you had to escort me to the hospital wing. I mean, I've been worse injured than this before and I made it there on my own."
"The correct way to phrase that would be 'I've been more badly injured', not 'I've been worse injured', Mr. Potter. And to answer your question, I always escort my students when they've been injured, no matter how distasteful I find their company. Or how small the injury. One can never be too careful."
By this time, they had reached the hospital wing. Harry entered and was immediately attacked by Madam Pomfrey. "Harry! What in Merlin's name have you done now?"
"I—"
"The foolish boy was not paying attention in my class, and somehow managed to slice off a piece of his thumb," Snape murmured frostily.
Pomfrey gasped and immediately entered full nurse mode, while Harry rolled his eyes at Snape's back. The man paused in the doorway, seemed about to say something, thought better of it, and continued on his way. A moment later, however, he had returned. "Potter, Detention with me tonight." Harry gaped at him. "Whatever for , Sir?!" Snape smirked. "For not paying attention in class, obviously. Perhaps I should schedule another one for sheer inobservance?" Evidently, this last sally did not require an answer, because Snape departed hastily.
That evening, Harry reluctantly trudged down to the dungeons, with Hermione's disapproving look still lingering in his mind. Once he reached the door to Snape's office, he hesitated, wondering which Snape would be there tonight. Harry was beginning to think that there were two Snapes. The nice one, who was a long lost twin, and the usual Snape, who was the evil one. With this in mind, he knocked twice and entered. Snape, predictably was sitting behind his desk, marking papers. There was one other chair in the room, directly across the desk from Snape. With an absent-minded glare in Harry's direction, Snape motioned for him to sit down while he continued marking. Harry sat, which afforded him another opportunity to study Snape's hands. Funny. The ring was back. Wait. Maybe the ring had been dipped into some personality altering potion, so that when Snape wore it, he got nicer. That must be it.
Harry looked up at Snape to find the man glaring at him as though expecting an answer. Harry belatedly realized that Snape had asked him a question.
"I—uh—I'm sorry, sir. I wasn't paying attention," Harry stammered. Snape favored him with a frosty glare before replying. "Clearly. I asked you what jejune thoughts were passing through your head this time."
Harry eyed his professor quizzically. "This time?"
"You were gawking at my ring again."
"Oh." Harry decided that since honesty had served him well in the past, being honest once more couldn't hurt. "I was thinking that it must be dipped into some kind of personality-altering potion. Whenever you wear it, it makes you be nice." To Harry's utter consternation, Snape started chuckling. Granted, it was not great, belly-heaving guffaws, but it was a laugh. After a few moments, Snape regained his composure, looked Harry in the eye…and lost it again, although, this time, it was more of a snort-up-the-sleeve type.
"Potter, you never cease to amaze me. Personality altering potion, indeed." Harry shrugged; it had seemed like a viable option when he'd thought of it. "Then, if it's not a potion what is it?" he inquired boldly. Snape's eyes narrowed, as though he were determining Harry's level of trustworthiness. Then he shrugged. "Albus decided to interfere, as usual. He knew that I was being surveiled at fandom by the Dark Lord, and devised a spell to alert me. The crest—" he paused, his finger feeling almost as though someone had poked it. Harry stared at him expectantly. "The crest appears when it is safe for me to act as though I didn't do the Dark Lord's work." Harry's eyes widened as he realize the implications of this. "So that night you took points for—utter inarticulateness, I believe it was; that was only because you couldn't be seen being…normal?"
Snape's lip lifted in a sneer. "Normal, Potter? Since when has the word 'normal' applied to me?" Harry darted a look at Snape's hand. The crest was still there. This must just be regular Snape snark. Harry took a breath, hoping that Snape wouldn't murder him for what he was about to say. "Normal applied to you since you quit acting like you hated the world and started being almost cordial to certain people."
"And by certain people, I suppose you mean yourself? Please, spare me from being included in the Potter fan club." Harry glared daggers at Snape. "Yeah, you know, having a fan club is the best thing since…oh…I dunno. Getting bitten by a basilisk. Oh, wait. I think that was more fun, seeing as I got a phoenix ride out of the deal." Snape scoffed. "Please. Cease regaling me with falsehoods. If you'd been bitten by a basilisk, you'd be—" he broke of as Harry pulled up his sleeve, revealing two round, purple scars. "I'd be what, Professor? Dead? Yes, if it hadn't been for Fawkes. He cried on me, which, I assume, negated the poison. Phoenix tears are a powerful ingredient in antidotes, are they not?"
For once in his life, Snape was speechless. Not only had he had an almost civil conversation with his nemesis, he'd discovered that said nemesis had been bitten by the most poisonous creature to inhabit the wizarding world. And the kid had survived. No wonder the brat was such a…brat. "Does it ever pain you?" Snape almost kicked himself for asking, but his insatiable curiosity had gotten the better of him once again. Harry glanced at Snape briefly before returning his gaze to his hands, which were resting on his lap. "Not really. I mean, I suppose it does, but I don't really notice it much. I've—" No, no, no, stop! Mustn't think about things like that.
Snape narrowed his eyes as he watched Potter drop his. The boy had been about to say something...and Snape had a feeling that it was important. "You've what, Potter?" he asked softly. Harry kept his eyes firmly affixed on his shoes as he answered blandly, "Nothing, Professor. I misspoke." Snape's nostrils narrowed. The boy was lying to him! He--he seemed...ashamed? What could the Golden Boy have to be ashamed about? Especially considering the topic that they had been discussing. "Potter!" Harry's head whipped up and Snape could have sworn he'd seen the glittering of unshed tears in the boy's eyes. "Yes, Professor?"
Snape deliberately gentled his voice. "I know you were about to say something to me. I also know that it is something that you are ashamed of." Harry started to protest, but stopped when Snape held up his hand. "If you wish to--confide in me, rest assured that anything you say will not ever reach the ears or thoughts of another." Harry sneered slightly in an approximation of Severus himself. "Will it be safe from the biting sarcasm and burning wit of one Severus Snape?" Severus felt a momentary flash of anger run through him before he decided that the boy's words were not completely without grounds. "Yes. Anything you tell me will be completely forgotten once we leave this room." Severus gave Harry a look as he said this, making sure the boy know what was meant by 'forgotten'. Harry sighed and looked down at his hands. that was as good a place to start as any. He held them up so that the professor could see them clearly. "Tell me, professor. What do you make of these scars?" Severus looked at them closely. They were heavily scarred. They looked, perhaps, as if their owner was... "A fighter? Do you get into fights often?" Harry grimaced. " That would depend upon your definition of fight, Professor. If your definition includes me being chased by several boys who are all older and bigger than me; includes them catching me, holding me down, and stomping on me until either I lose consciousness or they lose interest, then, yes. I suppose I get into a lot of fights." Severus' nostrils flared as he felt another wave of rage course through him. Despite the fact that this boy was a Potter, he still did not deserve to be treated in that manner. "How long, boy?" Harry flinched before answering, something that did not escape Snape's notice. "As long as I can remember, Sir." Snape nodded to himself. "From your earlier comments, I would assume that there were other instances of...maltreatment, yes?" Harry thought wildly for a second. Here was his opportunity. Here he could choose to either confide in someone who had seemed to hate him from the moment he'd first laid eyes on him, or he could take the intelligent route and tell him "Well, really...that was the worst of it. The only other things were Dudley chasing me by himself and sitting on me when he caught me...and the occasional slap upside the head from Aunt Petunia...but those I deserved, really." Harry chuckled. "She only did that when I was being lazy in the mornings and didn't want to get up and make breakfast." He crossed his fingers and hoped that Snape would take the baiit and believe that the Golden Boy was really as spoiled as he'd always believed him to be. Severus looked at Harry. Really, truly looked at him for the first time. Harry was small. Severus knew that the boy was 15, but if he hadn't known that, he'd have sworn up and down that the boy was only 13. Severus knew that the boy's parents were not that small. Ergo, his size, or lack thereof, must have come from not eating enough. The other thing he noticed was that the boy rarely looked up unless he was spoken to directly. Take now for instance. The boy was staring down at the desk--but not quite...Severus saw that Harry was keeping one eye on him at all times. Almost as if he were expecting to have to leap out of the way of something...Harry broke the silence. "Now who's woolgathering while staring, Professor?" Severus started, then groaned internally as he felt a chill on his ring finger. "Harry, we will need to continue this conversation at another time. The Dark Lord--" Harry nodded. "I understand, Professor." Severus watched as the boy slipped out the door. Just in time, for the crest disappeared almost as soon as the door was shut.