Why Makest Thou it So Strange?
The next week passed far more agreeably than Severus could ever have possibly predicted. He'd expected Harry to become increasingly resentful of his continued punishment, but quite the opposite actually occurred. They'd never not been at odds before, and it was strange at first. Then it simply became comfortable, and he and Harry fell almost effortlessly into routine.
There were no warm greetings at the door but, every evening, once they had descended into the lab, Harry had new questions for him, and Severus couldn't resist indulging the boy's honest curiosity. At first, their miniature potions lessons were given and wrapped up before Harry started his exercise, as he should have silence for it to be most effective. But after a few days of this, Severus found himself getting carried away in his one-sided discussions of his work, and at some point Harry would simply begin scrubbing calmly at the sink while Severus waxed philosophical. He could do so smoothly as he went about his own tasks, bottling finished product or adjusting settings on his equipment. The young man couldn't possibly absorb all Severus was telling him or even understand much of it; but Harry seemed to enjoy listening regardless, and, to his surprise, Severus found he enjoyed speaking, as well.
Severus so rarely had the opportunity to speak, at least not at length and not about anything that he truly took pleasure in. He found it unusually satisfying to muse aloud on all the delightful intricacies of whichever potion Harry had quizzed him about that evening. It had been some time since Severus had given any thought to his love affair with potions; and it was as if, in telling them to Harry, he was reminding himself of the reasons for it. Through Harry, Severus was rediscovering a passion that had become somewhat stale in recent years due to repetition and the tedium of attempting to convey the subtle and inherent beauty of potion-making to an unappreciative young audience.
Harry could not really appreciate the details Severus provided, either, but he clearly appreciated Severus' mastery of them, and Severus appreciated the young man's silent acknowledgement of it. Each night their sessions stretched longer and longer, as neither seemed in any rush to draw them to a close. And in the hours in between, Severus eventually admitted to himself that he looked forward to the young man's company.
But though he admitted it, he was still divided on how he felt about it. Severus wondered how differently things might have gone in past years if they'd struck this balance earlier. He found it a pity that old rivalries and misunderstood magical influence had prevented it until now. He was not meant to be Harry's friend, but he could still be his mentor.
The young man clearly needed one. To Severus' supreme annoyance, Harry still wore Lupin's threadbare cardigan, pushing back its sleeves to go about forgetting the pain that caused it to pass into Harry's possession in the first place. If the young man was ever to truly move past the event, he would need to relinquish it. Severus secretly hoped it would have an unfortunate encounter with some caustic potions residue, and he had to actively fight the urge to make such a thing 'accidentally' occur.
Still, despite that constant reminder and the distraction the Potions Master provided, Harry reached a point in his practice that Severus finally, reluctantly, gave Loraina permission to meet alone with the boy. When he told her, she squealed in delight and immediately departed with no mention of what she planned for them to do or when she planned for them to do it; and so Severus was surprised (and not a little disappointed) to answer the knock at his office door one evening and find Loraina there instead of Harry.
She never knocked. It annoyed him that she had, for some reason; as if she'd known he'd think it was Harry and had simply wanted to get under his skin. She looked smug and content. Severus thought it best not to ask why, or to ask about the bits of wood and debris clinging to her hair, though no doubt she was waiting for him to comment on them.
"Well, don't look so happy to see me," she teased as she stepped inside without waiting to be invited.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked tightly, glancing at the clock. "It isn't that I'm not always delighted by your company, my love, but I'm expecting Harry for detention soon." The hint was not subtle, neither was it meant to be.
"No, you're not," she said dismissively, hoisting herself up to sit atop his desk with no respect for the items that covered it, annoying him further. "Because he isn't coming."
Severus scowled at her. "Why not?" he asked apprehensively.
"I've just put him to bed, is why," she said dreamily, swinging her dangling legs. Severus' scowl deepened. He didn't like what she'd said or the way she'd said it, though he wasn't sure why it so irritated him beyond the fact that she'd dismissed his student from detention without consulting him first. She couldn't possibly have meant she'd actually entered Gryffindor Tower and tucked him in.
"Why?" he demanded. "Did something happen? And if so, why was I not informed?"
"Oh, something happened alright," she muttered distractedly, with a lift of her eyebrows and a mischievous smile. Severus' scowl intensified to a point it threatened lasting damage to his features. Loraina didn't pay it much mind, she simply began humming to herself as she picked twigs and bits of leaf from her hair and let them fall unheeded all over Severus' desk and floor. Severus gave both her and the litter a look so incendiary it was a miracle they didn't spontaneously combust through accidental magic. "Our Little Harry just displayed some remarkable talent," she sighed happily. "I swear, my nethers are still quivering."
Severus, who had been standing with his hand still on the knob of his open door, hoping it would encourage her to pass back through it, now slammed the thing shut. "Loraina, is your innuendo intentional?" he said, rather dangerously. "Because it is not appreciated. Why can you never speak plainly?"
She grinned at him, unaffected by his temper except to be amused by it. "Because there's no fun in it. Were you this jealous of me when we were together? It's rather cute," she said, poking the tip of her tongue between her teeth after. Severus felt his hackles rise, but he refused to play into her hands. They'd had this discussion already many times over. He refused to waste any more time denying his non-existent attraction to his male, teenaged pupil. And he wasn't going to remind her, yet again, that the boy's virginity was practically sacred and not to be joked about. The insinuation was infuriating, but addressing it only encouraged her.
"Loraina, where is the boy and why?" he said carefully. She sighed disappointedly at his self-control.
"I told you, I put him to bed. Don't know if he'll stay there," she shrugged. "He has been a good boy of late, though. Just venturing out for midnight snacks in the kitchens now and then."
"Why the hell is he in bed at seven o'clock?" Severus practically shouted, reaching the end of his patience. She tutted at him.
"Were you always this humorless?" she said, eyeing him with clear distaste. "I can't imagine my falling in love with a boy so stuffy." He glared at her until she relented. "You told me I could practice with the boy and so I have," she said, exasperated. "He's spent. Wandless magic takes an enormous amount of energy. And, Severus," she said, taking a moment to catch her breath which seemed to have been stolen by the memory of that afternoon's events, "you would not imagine the amount of energy he discharged. I certainly didn't, or I'd have had more on hand than chocolate for after. He worried me for a moment," she admitted. "Woke up surprisingly quickly after, though," she added brightly. "I'd only made it halfway to the infirmary with him. Decided to simply take him to Gryffindor Tower instead, as it was closer. He is truly marvelous," she finished with a sigh, as if she hadn't just advised Severus that she'd led Harry Potter to black out in the forest and then had to rush him toward medical care. Severus' mouth had fallen open. He took in the leaves in her hair and the dirt on her knees.
"You took him to the woods? Alone? To practice wandless magic you knew would be taxing?" he asked, dumbfounded. It seemed unforgivably irresponsible.
"Well, I couldn't risk him damaging the castle or drawing attention," she shrugged. "You wouldn't believe what he did to my cupboard the other day. It's not something we can do often, though I am anxious to see it again. It was breathtaking."
Severus was too angry to even shout. He walked stiffly back to his desk and took a heavy seat. "Next time, I will be present, is that understood?" he said in a tone that allowed no argument.
"Very well," she said sulkily. "Though try not to be so grumpy, my love. I know you worry, but surely you know you can trust me. You know how important the boy is to me. I would never risk allowing him to come to any actual harm."
Severus' mood melted somewhat under her persistent and somewhat theatrical pout and he puffed out a sigh. "I know," he admitted grudgingly. He simply disliked the idea of Harry being in any kind of danger. It was something he'd have to learn to get over. The boy would be in perpetual danger until the Dark Lord was vanquished; and the accomplishment of that feat would place him in immediate peril. The thought made Severus anxious, but he could not banish it. Someday, no matter how careful they were, Harry would have to face almost certain death. They were saving him to risk him at the right time. It made the man feel slightly ill.
"I forgive you," she said, her mood lifting again. Severus woke from his thoughts and he raised an eyebrow at her, not remembering having apologized for anything. "Listen, my love, why don't you and I go hunt? Hmm? I miss it. When was the last time you had real, warm, fresh blood? It won't cause the medicine to work any less effectively. Might take your mind off of things," she proposed. "Nothing for stress like getting lost in the hunt."
Severus shifted uncomfortably. He had not tasted live prey in years. He had never particularly enjoyed it. There was the swoon, of course. But the entire concept disagreed with him, especially since he had an alternative. The hunt provided some thrill, but that was simply instinct taking hold, canceling out reasoned thought. Severus could do that just as well with meditation. He didn't need to take life to calm his nerves. He shook his head and her hopeful expression failed.
"Well, I'm going alone, then," she said, sliding from his desk and taking the several papers resting beneath her arse with her, sending them spilling to the floor. She made no move to clean up the mess, and he knew it was because she was irritated with his refusal of her invitation. "You'll have your pet back tomorrow evening," she tossed over her shoulder as she passed through the door, leaving it swinging open behind her. Severus stared after her for a while, allowing his temper to cool. Then he sighed and rose to close his door. He picked up his things and reorganized them before retiring to his cot in the lab where he mulled.
Harry had to be taught, and Severus was not qualified to teach him everything he'd need to learn. Still, Severus didn't like any part of this situation. He never had, really, but before it had just exasperated him. Now, he was troubled. Now, it was not just Severus' worry that the young man might find himself in a situation where he would be unable to fulfill his designated role, it was distress at the thought of Harry in any kind of jeopardy, physical or otherwise; at the thought that he might do his duty and survive but come out the other side of it as good as dead. Loraina claimed to want help them avoid that fate but Severus was still distrustful; not of her motivations, simply of her methods. He felt as if he was the only one who truly understood the boy and everyone else was causing him harm, however unintentional. But Severus had other responsibilities, he couldn't follow him about all the time as Loraina did. So how was Severus to protect Harry from the good intentions of others when he saw the young man so seldomly?
Severus then realized, rather bashfully, that he was less upset by Loraina's carelessness as he was by the fact it had deprived Severus of Harry's attendance that night. He'd bristled when she'd referred to Harry as Severus' pet, but was he treating him as one? It was true that having him around had been unexpectedly pleasant, but Severus' newly rediscovered loneliness was not Harry's responsibility, and Severus would have to eventually release the young man from nightly detentions.
It was ridiculous, really, that he felt so shaken by the prospect. He was annoyed at himself that he would actually miss their ritual. He should be relieved to think he'd be rid of the boy soon. But he wasn't. In fact, the anticipation made him anxious. Breaking Draco's nose merited at least a month of detention, though. Surely Severus could make peace with things in the next couple of weeks.
Or perhaps continuing their meetings that long would only make it harder to relinquish them.
Severus sighed. He felt foolish, mourning already the loss of a couple of hours in the laboratory each night with a boy whose company he'd only recently forced himself to learn to tolerate. He wasn't Severus' peer, neither was he his friend. They didn't share anything besides a vaguely overlapping interest in potions. They didn't connect on some fundamental level, did they? Harry was a student and Severus' charge, and there was nothing really intimate about their interactions. It was nothing to turn maudlin over, for Merlin's Sake.
Still, Harry's scent now permeated the place. Severus found it was more a comfort now than the annoyance it had seemed before, less a temptation and more a gentle reminder of his frequent presence. And though half a dozen projects bubbled and hissed on the tables around him, the room seemed uncomfortably quiet; and the hours that passed before Severus finally cajoled sleep to overtake him seemed egregiously empty.