Chapter 29 - Gryffindors in Opposition
It was looking to be a glorious Winter day. The two men glided down from the cloudless blue sky, and dismounted the broom at the top of the castle steps, which were at this point bathed in morning sunshine. The younger wizard, his expression more peaceful than it had been by the lake, offered the elder his shoulder to lean on, and the elder, with a slight flush to his face, accepted it without comment. When they reached the great doors, the elder wizard faltered in his step, causing the younger to lurch to a stop and look round, a worried crease appearing between his eyebrows.
"Are you okay?" He asked him, his face now illuminated in the sunlight.
The elder wizard looked back at him through heavy-lidded eyes. There was a pause as the two men stilled, searching each other's faces.
Severus looked at Harry, who had now raised a hand to shade his eyes from the bright sun; and saw a young man who had suffered beyond his years, but indomitably, whose compassion the Dark Lord had mistaken for weakness. Compassion may be a burden at times, he thought, but it was also a great strength. If he ever attained an ounce of what this young man had, he would be the wiser.
"Yes...thank you," He murmured, watching as the crease between the Gryffindor's eyebrows softened, in surprise as much as relief. But of course he's surprised, he realised, Severus Snape never inclined to thank him for anything.
He wondered then if he could ever grow to prefer affecting Potter's mood in a positive way, to make him smile instead of frown. The thought of him smiling stirred up ghosts, old guilt that made him feel like retreating back into himself...his nerves drew taut, mere cotton thread on a knife's edge as he recalled how he had betrayed the last pair of green eyes that used to smile at him...
But what of fate? He challenged himself. Potter had seen all his most regrettable memories, knew, and had forgiven, wanted him regardless, called it fate... Severus didn't know what to think of that, but...
He raised his free arm and grasped Harry's shoulder. The look in Harry's eyes deepened, and Severus felt a flame go over him. The hand Harry was using to shield his eyes reached forward and touched his face, almost shyly.
"You're welcome," He smiled.
Their lips met again, not forcefully as before, but hesitantly, and then after a moment, more passionately and deeply. Harry leaned his shoulders back against the massive oaken doors of the castle, his eyelids dropping in pleasure. Severus saw his look, and again, was flattered that he had had such an effect, and that the boy did not mind...nay...liked it, wanted it. It filled something cavernous in his soul. It struck up new levels of ache and longing from his young body...and also, also long forgotten hope from where he once had been young and hopeful himself, before everything in his life had gone to shit.
Fate. A second chance...
The castle steps were highly visible and public, the risk of being discovered by an unwitting staff member or even pupil would have normally deterred him, but, this was not a normal situation... The horny broom ride had him yearning for more contact, so he pressed his body against the Gryffindor's once again. Harry responded to him with a low, guttural sound in his throat. Severus' heart begin to beat faster...
There was an abrupt clunk, a jolt, and the massive oak door swang inward, taking the two embracing men falling back with it. Harry stumbled, and with one hand caught behind his back, Severus had nowhere else to fall but on top of him, striking his sore leg on the stones as he did so.
There was a collective gasp from within. Severus froze and looked up.
They were sprawled just inside the great doors, in a large, long patch of low morning sunlight which stretched like a spearhead over the chequerboard tiles, almost to the foot of the great marble staircase. Dust motes twirled effortlessly in the haze, and Severus had to squint a bit to make out the outlines of people standing beyond in the shadows.
Whispers began to echo and hiss around the hall. It was at this moment then that the Slytherin wished he'd still had his long hair to hide behind, because the kids in the hallway were ones he'd taught as first and second years, (Although they did not know who he was, of course...) They were now fourteen and all most definitely would view this situation, and put two and two together to make...four.
Impatient footsteps sounded close by. "What on earth...?!" Cried a tight-lipped Scottish tone.
Ears burning, Snape turned to his right and grimaced as he made out the buckles of Professor McGonagall's dragonhide boots glinting in the sun next to him.
"Er, Professor..." Harry stammered. Extricating himself from under him, the young man sprang to his feet, and brushed himself down awkwardly.
Swallowing what was probably a full cauldron of pride, Severus then allowed a red-faced Harry to assist him to his feet. Once up, he stood taller than the Headmistress, a few inches more than his old body had, and he could look slightly down at her, but that did not make her pale, furious expression any easier to bear.
And there was embarrassment too. Severus had spent long enough as her colleague to notice the body language.
McGonagall turned swiftly on her heel then, and clapped her hands. "Now, students, go to your classes, away with you! You too, Mr Stephens, quickly!"
McGonagall shooed the straggling students out of the hallway with a few more brusque words. The kids turned toward the dungeons, still whispering to each other. Snape got a closer look at their faces, they were a mix of Gryffindor or Slytherin fourth years and had probably all been on their way to double Potions for their first lesson of the day...
"So..." The Headmistress announced stiffly. "As you can probably deduce, I've a few words I'd like to say, and the hallway is not the most prudent of places to be saying them."
"Not the Head-"
McGonagall's look sliced into him. "Yes Mr Pucey, my office!"
Severus scowled. Summoned to her office like some delinquent student was deeply humiliating. Of course Minerva would be angry...He had been her colleague...Potter had been her student...recently left school...A Gryffindor no less...There were two decades between them... Also...she was one of Potter's mentors; he did not need to win her approval, but somehow, he felt he did.
Making this kind of an exhibition in front of students was hardly a good start, however...
He raised a hand and summoned his broom from outside, before soberly casting a spell to close the great door. The glorious shaft of sunlight narrowed to a bar, then a chink, then was banished from the hallway altogether with a clunk of iron bolts.
On the way out of the hall, he caught sight of the two House ghosts, standing motionless, swords lowered and expressions agog. The only movement was their heads, following his and Harry's progress across the hall with wide eyes.
So; blatant homosexual encounters are guaranteed to stall feuding ghosts, how useful to know... He thought ironically.
He hovered behind the two Gryffindors on broomstick, to save his aching leg, and before long found himself – reluctantly – being helped up the spiral staircase into Dumble- Minerva's Office.
As he passed through the door, his eyes rested heavily on the great desk. Though he had sat at this desk once himself, it had never seemed like his, he had never wanted it. This was probably another reason why Dumbledore had trusted him.
He heard the portrait above the desk snoring lightly, then waken. A surge of grief and pain flared within, so he kept his gaze firmly on the desk.
"Why Harry, and Severus my boy, it is good to see you both."
Snape felt himself quiver with a myriad of emotions, and tried his best not to let any of them show on his face. He felt he had nothing more to say to Dumbledore, not that he could put into words at this moment, anyway.
Next to him, Harry muttered something under his breath. The man had been uncharacteristically quiet up to now, he stole a look sideways and saw the Gryffindor wore a troubled expression.
"Albus, I am glad you are here," Said the Headmistress curtly. "For I am drawing to my wits' end with this pair of shameless upstarts; I've half a mind to dismiss them both from the castle this very afternoon!"
A splutter of surprise came from a portrait immediately behind them. "Dismiss your favourite Gryffindor, McGonagall?" exclaimed Phineas Nigellus reedily. "Are you under the Imperious? Feeling quite sane?"
"I am perfectly sane, Phineas!" Snapped the Headmistress. "Though the less can be said of these...two..."
Snape saw Harry's body visibly stiffen next to him. "But we've done nothing wrong!" His voice rang out, hurt, defiant.
There was a tense silence. Snape felt his ears burning with embarrassment again, he still did not trust himself to speak.
Then the lightest hum of amusement came from the portrait above the desk.
"My opinion...if it is still deemed to matter...is that you have not, Harry..." Mused Dumbledore. "Scottish Muggle law has certainly not been broken, and Wizarding laws finally managed to catch up around a decade ago, so the Daily Prophet reluctantly reported at the time. Hogwarts' rules, being the age you both are, also do not apply in this situation. Of course the, how shall we say, taboo surrounding former student and professor relations is regrettably...unavoidable, but as ex-professor and ex-pupil...it is your will, not others wills, that should guide you here."
During the speech, Snape's gaze had shot from the desk straight to Dumbledore, incredulous, stunned. The old white wizard's portrait looked back at him, eyebrow raised in challenge. Of course the man's portrait already knew everything, as ever...Hogwarts had a complex network of portraits...eyes everywhere, and they all gossiped...
He glanced then at Harry, who had set his jaw and was trying to calm himself as best he could, his eyes still defiantly locked on his former Head of House. Finally Snape dared himself to look at Minerva.
Her face was flushed red, her mouth a dangerously thin line. She whipped round to glare at the portrait who had contradicted her.
"But in front of students, Albus, in front of a shocked hall full of fourteen year old greatly impressionable Gryffindors and Slytherins!" She cried. "How can you possibly defend such irresponsible behaviour in a school?!"
The portrait tsked. "Come come Minerva, these are old-fashioned views! You full well know that most students nowadays are not easily shocked, and are aware of many things from a surprisingly young age, though it was not so much the case in our youth..."
"How subjective, Dumbledore," drawled Phineas Nigellus. "In my time as Headmaster I recall encountering more than my fair share of abundantly knowledgeable young people who appeared to know very well how to-"
"That's enough, Phineas, if you don't mind!" Cut in McGonagall sharply. Easing herself into her chair, she shook her head in disbelief. "I invited Mr Potter here in the belief that he would assist me with Inter-House relations...and this is the outcome!"
Dumbledore let out a low chuckle. "But my dear Minerva, I sense he has helped...! Just not in the...ah.. way you intended. If you ask me, Hogwarts' needs a few more people kissing with wild abandon in the corridors, not less...!"
Eyes twinkling with something that looked suspiciously like triumph, the old, former Headmaster shifted back in the painted chair he was resting in and picked up the open book on his lap, allowing the cover of it to be viewed clearly by everyone in the room.
McGonagall turned beet red. Snape knew his face had likely taken on all the gormlessness of a goldfish, but he didn't seem to be able to gather the mental faculties to do anything else but stare incredulously at his old employer's portrait. He felt Harry place a hand on his arm. He looked round to see Potter smiling almost shyly at him.
"Let's get out of here," He said.
Just before they reached the door, the Headmistress spoke again.
"Severus," McGonagall said, in a wounded voice that had the Slytherin's insides twisting. "Do not forget that Potter was your student..."
Snape saw Harry turn a few shades paler beside him and gritted his teeth. She had been angry with him for upsetting Potter, now she was angry with him for giving in to him...He clearly could not win!
"Was, Minerva. Was." Repeated Snape coolly.
He snapped the door shut behind them.
They descended the spiral staircase in silence, Harry leading the way. Snape's thoughts were a maelstrom...ever since Potter had come on to him in the corridor he'd felt as if he had never learned Occlumency. The only other thing he'd felt to rival this intensity of emotion was his love for Lily...but then that had been more obsessive, for she had never returned his affections, he had never known anything quite like this... The impregnable walls he had built up to protect himself following his friend's death had been smashed down by her son with nothing more than a simple kiss.
His mind was a maelstrom...but for this moment...or rather for that unforgettable moment down by the lake, he would most certainly tolerate it.
Once they reached the corridor, Harry turned back to look at him, an expression of amused disbelief on his face.
"The Penguin Book of Gay Short Stories?! Did you see the picture on the-"
"Yes Potter, I saw it; I'm not blind."
