A/N: Another Necromancer!Harry! I know, I'm just full of them, eh? XD The Prompt word is Skin. No slash in this one.
Disclaimer: Nada!
~~~Skin~~~
He had thought it was all a joke at first. One of the older kids from school having one over on him. He had refused to believe the strange letter that had been dropped into the mail slot like an invitation to a funeral to be truth. At least until they started coming in droves to his relatives' home. He couldn't believe that he could possibly be anything but plain old Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Can-Feel-the-Darkness-and-Looks-Like-The-Walking-Dead. Certainly not a wizard. He had walked down the street, staring at the paper angrily, convinced he couldn't be anything magical. Well, until he passed old Mrs. Figg's house and several of her deceased cats uprooted themselves and playfully rubbed their soil covered bones and shriveled skin over his leg, begging for attention. He actually bent down to pet one- they were kinda cute- and then recoiled when the rotted skin rubbed off on his fingers. It didn't actually bother him, but Aunt Petunia would roll over in her future grave if he came home covered in the flesh of the kittens that were mirror images of the ones on her calendar on the fridge. That being said, he had always had this…gift. An affinity for the dead, one could say. They just seemed to follow him. When he passed the cemetery by the old church, he could feel them whispering to him, begging to be woken. They wanted to obey him. They wanted to be woken. Maybe Hogwarts would be the perfect place to begin to understand it all. Maybe he'd make actual friends… That's why he was now standing in front of a bustling red train carrying a trunk full of spell books and potions ingredients. His black as pitch clothes covered every inch of pale skin and his wispy hair fell to his shoulders, blending in with his clothes. His glasses were almost too round for his face and covered brilliant emerald eyes surrounded by dark bags. He didn't sleep much, preferring to stay up at night and read or walk outside. More often than not his feet found their way to the cemetery where he felt at peace and comfortable. He wondered idly if Hogwarts had a graveyard, letting the shadows caress him lovingly.
He watched the children around him say goodbye to their parents, give them hugs and greet friends enviously. If only he had friends to say goodbye to…or parents. All he had was a pair of mice (not dead mice) that were even now resting at the bottom of the old leather bag pack he had unearthed in the Dursley's attic where he slept. They had offered him the spare bedroom when his letters started to come, addressed to the cupboard under the stairs but the large window kept the room bathed in light that burned his skin and made him sore. He kept Isaac and Armageddon in their plastic little ball so they didn't get crushed. They were the only friends he had. The only living things that didn't seem to cringe at his presence. He sighed and, as quickly as he could, half jogged through the crowded, sun filled platform and heaved his trunk onto the train, his small arms wavering at the weight. He jumped into the last compartment in the train, breathing a sigh of relief at finally being alone and in a quiet space. Crowds made him nervous. He was always afraid that someone would realize what he was, that he could call the forces of darkness in the form of the walking dead. People always either shied away from him or ignored him. He supposed it had something to do with the constant chill that surrounded him and drew the dead to him like moths to a flame. The dead repulsed the living, it seemed.
It would be a lie if he were to say that he wasn't excited about going to a magical school. He wasn't a freak after all! Maybe there would even be people like him there, others that could call the dead. The thought had a bright smile coming to his face as he dug out his two pets. He set them down on the floor in their ball, letting them run around. They had somehow gotten one of the pages of his Charms book and had nibbled it to ruin. He began to read, eager to soak up as much magic as possible on the off chance that they maybe decided there had been a mistake with him and sent him back. Besides, he wanted to learn how to conceal things and how to get rid of the mess his pets made or even make it so it disappeared immediately. The possibilities made his head spin. He brought out his wand, a lovely thing he thought, though it was as delicate and as frail looking as he was. Harry wasn't a built child nor was a he tall. He barely scraped 5'0'' and was thin and waif like for his age. Many had commented to his relatives at how contrary he looked, like some fairy child dropped in the middle of suburbia. If only they knew.
The door to his compartment opened unexpectedly and he turned in surprise to see an unfamiliar red head staring at him. He looked as if he were about to say something and Harry's hopes soared. Maybe he would join him? Maybe he would be his first friend. Someone to share his dark secret with and to have ice-cream in the graveyards that he wandered to at night, or someone that he could tell jokes to or who would shove cake inn his face while they both laughed at birthday parties, who would explore London and prank the old Mrs. Figg near his house- The boy just seemed to flush.
"Er…never mind. Sorry." He stuttered before closing the compartment door anxiously and hurrying off.
Harry's hopes came crashing down and disappointment set in like an old familiar companion. He turned back to his book, trying his best to ignore the wretched feeling of hurt pooling in his chest. The door did not open again.
~ o ~
Outwardly he was calm. Once the train stopped after it's long, quiet ride to Hogwarts, the desperate waiting broken up only by the trolley's rounds, he merely slipped into the throng. Another face among a crowd. Another cow in the herd. Inside, though, he was a bundle of nerves. He tugged on his long sleeves nervously. What if they sent him back?! What if he didn't like it here?! What if he was eaten by a dragon?! So many insane scenarios flashed through his mind that they had him worrying his lip anxiously. He was scared. Scared of a change this big even though it offered him answers, his possible salvation at his fingertips. He'd devoured his school books anxiously and practiced from the moment he sat down on the train to the moment they had stopped. Now though, standing in the throng of students headed towards the lake, a cold fear of another type took him. They were getting in…boats? There was a humongous man, looking more like a grizzly bear of some sort, directing them into the boats. Harry found himself frozen to the spot, staring at the water in abject horror. He had never been fond of water. Not since he was six and had been pulled into a deep pond by a rather persistent poltergeist. The lake was black as obsidian before him and he fought the desperate whimper that tried to crawl up his throat like a zombie crawling after its first meal.. He really hated water.
"Move along!" The man-bear thing yelled and Harry felt himself shoved into a boat from behind by a bulky boy with seemingly less brain cells than a rock and his just as unintelligent companion. A blonde boy got in after them, throwing Harry a smirk. He was frozen, gripping the edge of the boat in terror. There were too many of them in the boat! It was too rickety, it would capsize! He couldn't help but notice that the lake was at least a thousand times deeper than that pond. His vehicle of doom began it's slow journey across the glassy surface, seemingly ignoring the silent pleas of it's sole unwilling passenger.
The two gawking brutes seemed to summon some sort of intelligence about halfway across and, sniggering, began to sway the boat back and forth. Harry cried out in alarm at once. His fragile grip on the side didn't protect him though and, with one particularly violent sway, the rocking motion sent Harry face first into the freezing blackness. The dark crushed in around him and the cold smothered him. The water was in his mouth, in his ears and the terror- the fear!- seized him. He thrashed and began to panic. He was going to die! Something was going to pull him down and he would drown in this cold dark place before he even got inside the grand school! Harry was sure there would be tears on his face if he weren't beneath the water. He was just about to give himself a heart attack from all of the thoughts in his panicked mind when a hand broke through the surface of the water and seized the back of his cloak, hauling him out of the fathomless depths. He was choking on all of the water that he had swallowed and there were sniggers and whispers around him. Probably the other children.
"'Eh there. Yer a'right now. Be dried off in no time at all." A booming voice said from just above his head, startling him when a large hand came down on his thin shoulder, nearly knocking him back into the water.
His eyes cracked open just enough to see the monstrous hulking shape of the man-bear above him. The man took up a whole boat on his own but wrapped Harry in his enormous moleskin coat. The tiny creatures shivered under his cool touch and he immediately found an odd comfort in the feel of dead things surrounding him. He could almost inhale the scent, wrap himself in it like a blanket…He began to feel almost lazy, drunk on the sensation. The gorgeous sight of the castle's many lighted windows, spires and winding turrets barely even broke through the calm that had descended over his mind. What was happening? Harry didn't understand it. Maybe someone here would. Just to be on the safe side though, he reluctantly pulled the coat from his body. Something was strange about what he was feeling. He didn't know what it was, but he wasn't going to let it happen until he knew for sure. The boat slid across the rough sand of the opposite bank and one by one, the first years began to climb out of the boats, full of timid excitement. Harry was only grateful that he was done with it. Who the hell came up with boats as a means for transporting fifty new students? Who ever it was needed to fall into an empty grave and stay there!
The man-bear had them all follow him to the entrance of the castle where he handed off the group to a rather stern woman in a pointed hat. She had wrinkles on her face, but her eyes had lost none of the sharpness. They were filled with knowledge and authority. The other students, aside from noticing his stunt in the lake, didn't seem to notice the strange boy in the back of the crowd. Harry hoped that Isaac and Armageddon were okay on the train. He tried the drying spell he had practiced on the train on himself a few times as they filed into a room to wait. A toad hopped by his foot but he paid it no mind. He was sure he would see stranger things in a school for magic, after all. It took him four tries, but he finally got the spell to work. Harry's chest swelled with pride. His first spell! He couldn't help the grin that came to his face. Now at least he wouldn't look like a drowned rat. A few of the others were talking excitedly about the Sorting. He deduced that it must be how they decided where each student would go. Others were whispering about, left to their own devices until the severe woman returned.
"- I heard he's going to be in our year! Do you think he remembers what You -Know-Who looked like?"
"I'm starved. I hope they plan on feeding us here tonight."
"The ceiling in the Great Hall is enchanted, you know. I read it in Hogwarts: A History." One girl chatted to the two uninterested boys next to her. Harry noticed one of them as the red head that he had seen on the train.
That ball of nervousness was back in his stomach. He chewed his lip, a habit he had picked up in primary school. What if they didn't like him here? He leaned against the wall in the very back of the room, watching everything around him, afraid to miss a single thing. If he missed something, they may decide he was too stupid or he may miss the Sorting if he didn't pay attention! How mortifying that would be! Fortunately, he was spared any other panicky thoughts by the return of the professor.
"Follow me." She said, her voice thick with an Irish accent.
Harry was quickly glad that he was just one person in a crowd for as soon as they stepped through the door, trying in vain for a single file line, they were immediately accosted by the stares of the entire Hogwarts population. He gulped lightly, licking his chapped and worn lips. So many eyes on him…They made his skin itch and crawl just as much as the sun did. They stopped before the professor and a mangled hat sitting on a stool. Hogwarts practically thrummed with magic around him, playing along his senses like a breath across his skin. The sensation raised his hopes for something better once more. He could do this. He had to. He had nothing to go back to should he fail here. The Hat, much to Harry's surprise as well as that of his classmates, opened it's brim and began to sing.
~ o ~
First called was Hannah Abbot. The line began to move slowly and I sighed. Okay, so it wasn't so hard. They just put the hat on their head and it called out the house they would be in. I turned to survey the room inquisitively while McGonagall called for Susan Bones. Each house table was focusing on the Sorting in concentration, waiting to see who would be joining their fold. I couldn't help but wonder where I would take my place. Suppose there wasn't a house that fit me? Did that ever happen? There was Hufflepuff, for the loyal, and Ravenclaw, for the brains. I wouldn't mind being in Ravenclaw. I enjoyed reading more than anything else, although I wasn't particularly studious. I grinned to myself as I imagined them tossing me out cause I didn't make perfect grades. It would be a funny sight really. My gaze fell to the stoic, proud Slytherins next. I shuddered at the thought of being one of them. They were so cold, it seemed. Likely I would be outcasted anyway. I wasn't like them. One only had to have eyes in their head to see it. My reaction was similar with the Gryffindors. I grimaced at their boisterous attitude. I would stick out like a sore thumb there and likely have one killer migraine to boot. Ernie Macmillan joined Hufflepuff and the hat barely even touched the blonde head of who came to be known as Draco Malfoy before sending the smirking little sod off to Slytherin. I sighed, barely paying attention, my gaze drawn to the Head Table and the faces there. When she called my name, I felt a small shock of apprehension shoot through my stomach.
"Harry Potter." She drawled in her kind but stern tone.
Whispers began like a wildfire, spreading throughout the room immediately. At this reaction, I was momentarily glued in place. Everyone was looking around and muttering amongst themselves. Why all of the attention? I didn't understand why my name could bring such a reaction from such a large and expansive crowd. It drew a chill down my spine. I hated attention. I loathed it. I preferred to stay in the shadows with my mice and my books and my corpses. Their eyes seemed to pass right over me, a fact that irked me to no end. Why was I so hard for these wizards to see? I would make them see me one day. They would see me, not the strange, unwanted little odd child that they so carelessly glanced over. When I managed to walk over to the chair and sit down, angry and afraid of this new attention, the room's buzzing nearly halted for a split second. They stared at me like I was an exhibit at the zoo, the professor herself appearing surprised at me. I didn't know why but the confusion in her eyes made me shrink into myself alittle. I couldn't help but feel as if I had disappointed her some how and, even though I didn't even know this woman, it made me feel sick to my stomach. I was aware of my own appearance. I was small, scrawny and weak looking. I looked like a baby bird next to the other first years. I was by far the smallest of the lot.
I heard someone snigger and shot my acidic gaze up. It was the bumbling idiots who had knocked me into that terrifying black lake. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Hot stirrings of anger licked at the inside of my stomach at the sight of their smirking faces. Cruel bullies they were! That's all! By the time the Sorting Hat descended on my head, I was feeling angry and somehow unknowingly ashamed of myself. Why did these things always happen to me? The instant she began to place the hat on my head, the thing began to shriek, writhing as if to get away from her. To get away from…me. My stomach curled in horror, shock and shame. Why did these things keep happening?! It jumped out of her hands and began hopping away towards the Head Table for safety.
"Don't make me do it! Albus, don't make me!!" It cried, sounding close to having some sort of breakdown.
I didn't know who "Albus" was, but as soon as the Headmaster stood up and took the frazzled and shaking hat into his hands, I could only assume it was the old man's name. He was frowning at me as if I were a most peculiar oddity. The entire student body had alighted in fearful whispers and dark mutterings. I was still sitting dumbstruck on the stool, McGonagall inching slowly away from me, her eyes wary. The Slytherin table was the only one that was not looking at me in horror. Their eyes were interested and brimming with intrigue. The Headmaster was whispering to the Sorting Hat silently. I was cold, shaking and felt sick. I suddenly wasn't sure that being here was worth all of this humiliation. What was I thinking? I had to be here. There was no way I could go back to the Dursleys after seeing this wonderful place. I had to belong here. I couldn't go back to that now. The Headmaster looked over at me, his eyes still in that same deep frown. He waved a hand over the crowd and the whispers fell silent. I knew that it wasn't magic but the man's overwhelming presence that commanded full silence.
"Mr. Potter, please go to the Ravenclaw table." He said calmly, returning the Sorting Hat to the Deputy Headmistress.
The Ravenclaws didn't look very enthused to have him in their house. I sat at the very end of the table, away from everyone, while my house mates were more interested in whispering about the hat's reaction amongst themselves and observing me in silence than watching the rest of the Sorting. They were the curious house after all.
He never noticed the black eyes watching him with barely veiled confusion nor the blue eyes hidden beneath a turban watching him with calculating coldness. It didn't look like he would be finding a friend today.
~ o ~
"But Albus, you can't seriously be considering letting him stay! We don't even know what he is! Judging by the Hat's reaction to just his aura-"
"Yes. The Hat's reaction was rather strange. So many possibilities…"
The door opened but neither of them turned from the pensieve where Dumbledore was depositing his memories of the night
"Necromancer." Came the hissed voice, causing them both to spin around in shock at his words, "The Potter boy is a Necromancer. I don't know how they managed it but they did."
McGonagall was visibly shaking, plopping herself down into the nearest chair. A Necromancer in their school…It was completely unheard of. It couldn't be allowed!
"Are you certain, Severus?" Albus asked, his aged face seeming to slump wearily.
The Potions Master nodded shortly.
"As certain as I am standing before you, Headmaster."
"This cannot be allowed! He could be a danger to the students! Albus!" Minerva demanded heatedly.
He sighed inwardly. Bloody Gryffindors. Always going right into things without thinking them through. Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose lightly, staving off the coming headache.
"Do you forget, Minerva, that Potter is also a student here now? Should we not try to protect ALL of our students? You cannot just abandon one because he has an unfortunate characteristic. If that were so then I suppose we would have four different Hogwarts' instead of just one united school." He said scathingly.
"But he is DARK! Necromancers are the darkest of creatures! Even the Dementors bow to their will! You cannot seriously be considering this!"
"I don't believe Potter even knows what he is. Didn't you see him at the feast? He looked as lost and confused as we did. And should we have tossed out every student that could possibly have become a Death Eater later on? Our attendance would be drastically low if we held ourselves to such ridiculous and prejudicial standards." Severus added calmly, sneering at his coworker.
Dumbledore finished at his pensieve and was pacing slowly and thoughtfully, sucking on a lemon drop as he walked. This continued on for some time while both Heads of House fumed silently at each other. At last he stopped before them, with a grave look on his face.
"I agree with Severus. To turn him away when he needs our attention the most could very well create a new Tom Riddle. It is true that Necromancers are dark creatures, but Harry has a choice. He can chose his own path, whether his powers are dark or light. He has a choice. Severus, can I trust you to keep him safe and watch over him? I think he would relate more to you than any other teacher. Perhaps it's time I gave the Dursleys a call."
The two teachers nodded with matching sighs and left the Headmaster to his brooding. There was no telling what vast thoughts would come to that aged mind in the dead of night. For now, though, Severus banished thoughts of sad, scared emerald eyes and focused on the room full of Slytherins he had to greet into his house.
~ o ~
Harry booked it down the hall, tugging anxiously at his sleeves, making sure he was completely covered. His first class of the day was Care of Magical Creatures. Outside. He gulped, trying to hide his anxiety. The sun peered through the high windows of the hallways, forcing him to pull up his hood in order to keep it's poisonous rays from his flesh. Breakfast was just getting through and the students were pouring into the halls, off to their respective classrooms. He got several sniggers as he ran, and more often than not, more looks of trepidation or people nudging their partners to get them to more over so they wouldn't have to be near him. It hurt, he wasn't afraid to admit. He had wanted a friend more than anything. He stopped short at the front door, double checking his covering once more. He was gathering his courage to step out into those hurtful rays when a hand caught him from behind and pushed him out into the sun.
"Move it along, Potter. We don't have all day." Malfoy laughed at his state of anger, fluster and embarrassment.
When he felt no pain, he sighed in relief. The shove hadn't jogged his coverings out of place. He headed down to where the class was assembled, finding comfort in the shade of a big tree. His classmates' eyes wandered to him with varying reactions to his appearance. Some didn't even bother to keep down their voice or not to outright stare. It was like he was an animal in the zoo.
"Doesn't look like much, does he?"
"Yea, some Boy-Who-Lived."
"He's such a scrawny little thing!"
"I don't think he defeated the Dark Lord, after all. I mean look at him!"
Harry nearly moaned in despair and embarrassment. Maybe if he kept his head down and stayed silent they would pass over him eventually. They would grow bored with their gossiping and move on to the next thing. He just had to stay quiet, calm, and uninteresting. He pulled his magic into himself as tightly as he was able to. It wasn't hard. The cold power that usually seeped from him naturally was sluggish and slow under the bright sun. He could almost feel the rays bearing down on him like some lead weight on his psyche. Halfway through class, he began to get a pounding headache and by the time he stumbled haphazardly back to the castle, it had increased to a full out blinding migraine. Fortunately, he didn't have another incident with his classmates on the way back, just a few sneers as he pushed his large glasses back up his nose in the hallway.
Defense Against the Dark Arts was in a large room on the second floor. As soon as Harry arrived he breathed a sigh of relief. The windows had all been shuttered closed, leaving the room in shadows and the air was cool and crisp. The turbaned man, Professor Quirrell, was facing the board but somehow, Harry felt as if the man was somehow watching him as he took his seat in the most deserted, darkest corner of the room. He shrugged off the feeling. That was impossible after all. The other students filed in after him, cheeks rosy from laughing with friends in the hallways. Harry would always be the first to class, he realized. After all, he didn't have friends to chat up inbetween classes. He watched them resentfully. Why couldn't he be more like them? Why couldn't his cheeks be pink and softly rounded like theirs? Instead, they were sharp and angular and pale as death. Why couldn't he be just a few inches taller? Why couldn't he be…normal? He bit his lip angrily. He wanted so badly to just be normal. Harry pulled his parchment, book and quill out as the professor began to lecture on properties of wands. While he listened though, he doodled pictures of Miss Figg's dead cats on the bottom of his paper. They were cute little things. Maybe he could raise a cat for his very own?
"Mr. P-Potter, w-would you c-care to tell the c-class what type of w-wand you have?"
His head shot up immediately, his cheeks coloring in embarrassment. The professor's blue eyes were staring at him from mere inches away.
"Holly and Phoenix feather, sir."
As soon as the words left his lips, a smell came to him. The students always said that Quirrell smelled of garlic, but Harry had to disagree. To him, Quirrell smelled like death. Toe curling, nerve exploding, spine bowing, ecstasy. He felt his eyes roll back in his head at the scent. It almost felt like the man's aura was wrapping around him, calling to him as surely as he called to the dead. He fought a whimper when the smell retreated, Quirrell crossing the room quickly back to the front. Harry finally managed to open his eyes, his body finally calming even if his mind was frantic with confusion and fear. What was that?! Fortunately, none of the other students seemed to notice his strange reaction but none of them seemed to experience the same either. Oh, and Quirrell was staring at him intently from his place at the front of the classroom. He fought the urge to bang his head on his desk. Why couldn't he just be normal?!
~ o ~
He booked it double time out of the classroom, trying not to listen to the sniggers of his classmates behind him.
"Scared of the big bad defense teacher, Potter?!" One called down the call as he ran. Their voices faded at once when he immediately headed to the dungeons.
No sane Gryffindor would go into snake territory willingly. At least not until the finally moment that they could be late before potions. He sighed after a time, slowing down and breathing in the cool musk air of the dungeons. It was nice down here, he found. Quiet, cool and soothing. Deathly silent in most places. It was almost as if in this place, away from all of the hubbub and commotion of the main floors, he could almost hear whispers. Old whispers from ages long past, all trying to speak to him in that deep stillness. The hallway was abandoned and he couldn't help the relief he felt. It seemed that the easiest way to be content here at Hogwarts would be if he could avoid his schoolmate at all costs.
Harry heaved the heavy door to the potions classroom open and walked in silently. He'd always been able to move as quietly as a wraith, as if nature didn't dare to alert him to it's presence. It was freakish. Just like that time that he had gotten angry at Dudley for tripping him and accidentally made Aunt Petunia's flowers wilt and blacken. He seated himself at the back of the classroom, taking a moment to revel in the cool silence. It was so…perfect. Well, until he looked up and a pair of obsidian black eyes were glaring at him from mere inches away.
"Potter!" He jumped at the harsh bark so close to his ears, "Your class does not start for another half hour. I do not want to see you until then. Get out." Professor Snape hissed darkly.
He immediately spun around, his robes billowing behind him. Apparently he expected Harry to cower and run in fear. Apparently not.
"Oh please, sir! Please let me stay!" Harry begged.
He felt a pang of fear go through him at the torment his classmates would give him if he were to be seen above again. They would take the mickey out of him, that's for sure. Even the Ravenclaws despised him as he had already well learned, but the Gryffindors and Slytherins were by far the worst. He didn't really fit in anywhere he supposed. Snape turned to glare at him, his eyes full of contempt.
"And why, pray tell, would you wish to stay here so badly, Potter? Don't you wish to go frolic above in childish stupidity with the rest of your classmates?"
He shook his head, his long, uncut hair swaying with the movement. His eyes were pleading with the man.
"No, sir. They-…They don't like me. None of them do and they're always…saying things."
"What sort of things?" Snape asked with an eye roll but his orbs were indeed curious as if Harry were a science experiment he were suddenly interested in.
"They say I'm freakish. Unnatural. And…I think they're right. I can do things that no one else can and hear people speaking when I'm all by myself. I like it much better down here. There is no one to judge me or hurt me and it's so quiet." His tone turned from bitter to blissful all in one word and Snape's eyes became full of contempt but his disdain was not aimed towards Harry.
Snape tugged him back down into his chair and sat in the adjacent one. He sighed as if in disbelief that he was actually about to have a, cringe, heart to heart.
"Those children are pathetic, Potter. What you are is neither freakish nor unnatural. If anything, what you are is more natural than they can ever be. Your kind usually prefers the cold and the quiet."
"My kind…?" Harry questioned softly, pulling at his sleeves anxiously.
"The things you can do are just a part of what you are. You're a Necromancer, in fact, one of very very few to ever grace these halls. That is nothing to be ashamed of. It is a gift. Those other silly children will never understand your power. They may hate and fear you but always know that you have something that they do not and it will always make you stand above them. One day, there will be very powerful people competing for your attention and then they will all see who is the worthless one."
He wasn't sure why he was saying all of this. He had meant to give some superficial speech but instead, what came out was actually heartfelt. Weird. Severus supposed that he saw abit of himself in young Potter. He had once been misunderstood and misbegotten because of his own gifts too. Harry's eyes had brightened with wonder. Severus couldn't help but compare them to another pair of emerald eyes that he had once cherished so wholly. He sighed.
"Potter…If you ever need someone to talk to or just a place to get away, if you can prove yourself competent in potion making in the next half hour, then I will allow you to come and assist me in brewing from time to time."
Those seemed to be the key words because Potter's head snapped up to look at him and the hope shining through those eyes somehow made all of the inevitable annoyance to come worth it.
~ o ~
