This is the seventh part to my Snape series, and that this series has been so popular never ceases to amaze me. But, now to serious business. Since there's been some problems knowing which part's which, they'll be numbered from now on, 'kay?
I collapsed into one of the chairs in the staffroom, which was mercifully empty. Harry Potter and his friends had been particularly destructive during their afternoon Potions lesson, and I was tired out from trying to keep them under control. And even worse, I had the Weasley twins the lesson after Potter, which accounted for my exhaustion.
"Severus, just the person I wanted to see," Albus said, coming in the door. I mentally groaned, not feeling up to another one of Dumbledore's lectures. Don't get me wrong, I like the man and I admire his many talents, but giving lectures has never been his strong point--he prefers to administer justice with those blue eyes of his--which means that his lectures always wind up nearly the same. It's absolutely boring.
However, I didn't have the energy to protest as the headmaster sat down in the chair opposite me and started in on his lecturing. I just sat there, letting his words wash over me, not hearing one word in twenty. Abruptly he stopped talking, and I tried to pretend that I'd been listening, but he knew better.
"You didn't hear any of that, did you?" he asked, smiling a little.
"I'm sorry," I sighed. "But Potter was being just awful in class today, and then I had the Weasley twins the class after that . . ." He opened his mouth to protest, but I held up a hand.
"I don't care what you say, Albus. Harry Potter is not an angel on earth, begging your pardon. That boy can be just as hateful as I can when he wants to be, and he's got a will of iron."
"He is strong-willed," Dumbledore admitted, "but his heart's in the right place."
"Never said it wasn't. I just said that boy definitely has a mind of his own, and he seemed determined to cause as much trouble as possible today. And if causing trouble was what he had in mind, he certainly managed it quite well, if I do say so myself."
"Well, he isn't exactly an angel, but he's certainly not the demon you make him out to be."
"You're putting words in my mouth, Albus," I said lightly, and he winced.
"Yes, I suppose I am. But really, Severus, I would like it if you two could learn to get along at some point." I was silent as I considered this. I didn't like Potter, and I was sure that what Albus was asking for was a near miracle.
Apparently he was thinking along the same lines, because he said, with a bite of impatience in his voice,
"If you can manage to get along with Sirius, you can get along with Harry. I'm not asking for a miracle here, but please, you're on the same side and it would be better for both of you if you could learn to get along."
"Better for us, or for you?" The words were out of my mouth before I even realized I was thinking them. To my surprise, Dumbledore didn't look upset.
"More for me than for you," he agreed. "But somehow I get the impression that Harry knows more about your past than he wants to let on."
"And there I was thinking that Potter was as good at lying as I am," I mused.
"You're dodging the question." I spread my hands in a gesture of helplessness.
"What you want?"
"Answers," he said simply.
"Answers? Yes, Harry does know more about my past than you do. Yes, he does know what I used to be, and he accepts that. And yes, he knows about the night his parents died. He knows more about that, actually, than you do, and you were there."
"You trust him." It wasn't really a question; it sounded vaguely like an accusation, and that surprised me.
"To a point," I answered cautiously. Albus merely sighed.
"That's good, I guess. But I don't think you need to confide in him anymore."
"And why not?" I demanded. I have never liked someone telling me what I can and cannot do, and the accusing tone in his voice made my reply harsher than it normally would have been.
"Because you don't need to tell him. Because he doesn't need to know. He can't split his loyalties between his parents and you." His words startled me. I hadn't even been aware that that was what I'd been asking Harry to do, but now it seemed strangely obvious. I stood up so suddenly that I nearly tipped over the chair I'd been sitting in.
"Now, Severus," Dumbledore warned. "What are you going to do?"
"I won't come anywhere near your precious Harry," I sneered, and then I left the room, slamming the door behind me. And as luck would have it, I almost ran into Harry on my way out.
"Professor?" he said softly, questioning, noticing my fury. Not that it was hard to miss; I daresay half the school had heard me slam the door.
"What do you want?" I barked, and he automatically took a step away from me. Harry and I had reached a truce some time ago, but I was still a professor, and he was still in danger of losing lots of points for Gryffindor.
"I just . . ." His voice trailed off.
"You just what?" I growled.
"I was considering talking to you, but if-"
"That wouldn't be wise," Dumbledore interrupted, opening the staffroom door. He gave me a look that said very plainly that, in his opinion, I wasn't to be trusted, and I hated it. I backed up a few steps, and then started downstairs to my office, as fast as my dignity would allow.
I stepped inside my office, locked the door behind me, and just stood there a moment, considering this turn of events. I sat down in my chair for a few minutes, but unable to take it anymore, I got up and started pacing across the office. A few minutes later came a timid knock on the door, and I waited a moment before opening it, trying to get ahold of myself. It wouldn't do me much good to be seen like this, especially if it was Minerva McGonagall. But it wasn't. It was Harry.
"Do he give you the sermon too?" he asked lightly, and I grinned. I couldn't help myself.
"Yeah, if that's what you want to call it. And let me tell you: it gets very annoying after the sixth or seventh time. I know from experience."
"Why'd you leave me with him?"
"Did it look like I had a choice?"
"Not really," he said ruefully. "He looked determined to have his say." It suddenly hit me that we were talking about Albus Dumbledore, not just some annoying Slytherin, and it surprised me that Harry's view on the subject was so close to mine.
"Did my parents come up in your lecture, Professor?" Harry ventured.
"Yes," I said, scowling. "Several times."
"Well, it's not true. Talk all you like. He's just trying to protect me, but it's back-firing on him."
"Who're you trying to convince, me or you?"
"I dunno. But I do know that he's wrong. He can't protect me forever. Last year proved that," he said bitterly. I was silent. I knew without asking that Harry still felt guilty about Cedric's death. I also knew with absolute certainty that nothing I could say would make him feel any better.
"I'd rather know what's really going on with Voldemort," Harry said, and there was a shadowed look in his green eyes.
"Are you sure? Because I might wind up telling you some things you won't want to know," I warned.
"But whether I want to or not, I have to know. I can't be protected my entire life. I need to know what's coming, because the next time Voldemort and I meet, it will be the last."
"All right, then. I'll tell you anything Voldemort tells me, but-"
"I know," he said tolerantly. "I'll be careful."
"You better be," I said fiercely.
"Better be careful, Professor. Now you're beginning to sound like you almost care what happens to me." He disappeared out the door without another word, leaving me to my very confused thoughts.
How much longer could I hold up the charade with Voldemort? But if Harry could stand there with that calm acceptance of the inevitable, I could try my best to help him. And that was what I'd do, until this fight was over. Because finally I admitted that we were more alike than either of us wanted, and neither of us could deny it.
I was actually humming as I sat back down at my desk to finish grading test papers. I remembered Dumbledore's description of Harry, and I realized how close it had actually been.
Maybe there really were angels on earth.
I collapsed into one of the chairs in the staffroom, which was mercifully empty. Harry Potter and his friends had been particularly destructive during their afternoon Potions lesson, and I was tired out from trying to keep them under control. And even worse, I had the Weasley twins the lesson after Potter, which accounted for my exhaustion.
"Severus, just the person I wanted to see," Albus said, coming in the door. I mentally groaned, not feeling up to another one of Dumbledore's lectures. Don't get me wrong, I like the man and I admire his many talents, but giving lectures has never been his strong point--he prefers to administer justice with those blue eyes of his--which means that his lectures always wind up nearly the same. It's absolutely boring.
However, I didn't have the energy to protest as the headmaster sat down in the chair opposite me and started in on his lecturing. I just sat there, letting his words wash over me, not hearing one word in twenty. Abruptly he stopped talking, and I tried to pretend that I'd been listening, but he knew better.
"You didn't hear any of that, did you?" he asked, smiling a little.
"I'm sorry," I sighed. "But Potter was being just awful in class today, and then I had the Weasley twins the class after that . . ." He opened his mouth to protest, but I held up a hand.
"I don't care what you say, Albus. Harry Potter is not an angel on earth, begging your pardon. That boy can be just as hateful as I can when he wants to be, and he's got a will of iron."
"He is strong-willed," Dumbledore admitted, "but his heart's in the right place."
"Never said it wasn't. I just said that boy definitely has a mind of his own, and he seemed determined to cause as much trouble as possible today. And if causing trouble was what he had in mind, he certainly managed it quite well, if I do say so myself."
"Well, he isn't exactly an angel, but he's certainly not the demon you make him out to be."
"You're putting words in my mouth, Albus," I said lightly, and he winced.
"Yes, I suppose I am. But really, Severus, I would like it if you two could learn to get along at some point." I was silent as I considered this. I didn't like Potter, and I was sure that what Albus was asking for was a near miracle.
Apparently he was thinking along the same lines, because he said, with a bite of impatience in his voice,
"If you can manage to get along with Sirius, you can get along with Harry. I'm not asking for a miracle here, but please, you're on the same side and it would be better for both of you if you could learn to get along."
"Better for us, or for you?" The words were out of my mouth before I even realized I was thinking them. To my surprise, Dumbledore didn't look upset.
"More for me than for you," he agreed. "But somehow I get the impression that Harry knows more about your past than he wants to let on."
"And there I was thinking that Potter was as good at lying as I am," I mused.
"You're dodging the question." I spread my hands in a gesture of helplessness.
"What you want?"
"Answers," he said simply.
"Answers? Yes, Harry does know more about my past than you do. Yes, he does know what I used to be, and he accepts that. And yes, he knows about the night his parents died. He knows more about that, actually, than you do, and you were there."
"You trust him." It wasn't really a question; it sounded vaguely like an accusation, and that surprised me.
"To a point," I answered cautiously. Albus merely sighed.
"That's good, I guess. But I don't think you need to confide in him anymore."
"And why not?" I demanded. I have never liked someone telling me what I can and cannot do, and the accusing tone in his voice made my reply harsher than it normally would have been.
"Because you don't need to tell him. Because he doesn't need to know. He can't split his loyalties between his parents and you." His words startled me. I hadn't even been aware that that was what I'd been asking Harry to do, but now it seemed strangely obvious. I stood up so suddenly that I nearly tipped over the chair I'd been sitting in.
"Now, Severus," Dumbledore warned. "What are you going to do?"
"I won't come anywhere near your precious Harry," I sneered, and then I left the room, slamming the door behind me. And as luck would have it, I almost ran into Harry on my way out.
"Professor?" he said softly, questioning, noticing my fury. Not that it was hard to miss; I daresay half the school had heard me slam the door.
"What do you want?" I barked, and he automatically took a step away from me. Harry and I had reached a truce some time ago, but I was still a professor, and he was still in danger of losing lots of points for Gryffindor.
"I just . . ." His voice trailed off.
"You just what?" I growled.
"I was considering talking to you, but if-"
"That wouldn't be wise," Dumbledore interrupted, opening the staffroom door. He gave me a look that said very plainly that, in his opinion, I wasn't to be trusted, and I hated it. I backed up a few steps, and then started downstairs to my office, as fast as my dignity would allow.
I stepped inside my office, locked the door behind me, and just stood there a moment, considering this turn of events. I sat down in my chair for a few minutes, but unable to take it anymore, I got up and started pacing across the office. A few minutes later came a timid knock on the door, and I waited a moment before opening it, trying to get ahold of myself. It wouldn't do me much good to be seen like this, especially if it was Minerva McGonagall. But it wasn't. It was Harry.
"Do he give you the sermon too?" he asked lightly, and I grinned. I couldn't help myself.
"Yeah, if that's what you want to call it. And let me tell you: it gets very annoying after the sixth or seventh time. I know from experience."
"Why'd you leave me with him?"
"Did it look like I had a choice?"
"Not really," he said ruefully. "He looked determined to have his say." It suddenly hit me that we were talking about Albus Dumbledore, not just some annoying Slytherin, and it surprised me that Harry's view on the subject was so close to mine.
"Did my parents come up in your lecture, Professor?" Harry ventured.
"Yes," I said, scowling. "Several times."
"Well, it's not true. Talk all you like. He's just trying to protect me, but it's back-firing on him."
"Who're you trying to convince, me or you?"
"I dunno. But I do know that he's wrong. He can't protect me forever. Last year proved that," he said bitterly. I was silent. I knew without asking that Harry still felt guilty about Cedric's death. I also knew with absolute certainty that nothing I could say would make him feel any better.
"I'd rather know what's really going on with Voldemort," Harry said, and there was a shadowed look in his green eyes.
"Are you sure? Because I might wind up telling you some things you won't want to know," I warned.
"But whether I want to or not, I have to know. I can't be protected my entire life. I need to know what's coming, because the next time Voldemort and I meet, it will be the last."
"All right, then. I'll tell you anything Voldemort tells me, but-"
"I know," he said tolerantly. "I'll be careful."
"You better be," I said fiercely.
"Better be careful, Professor. Now you're beginning to sound like you almost care what happens to me." He disappeared out the door without another word, leaving me to my very confused thoughts.
How much longer could I hold up the charade with Voldemort? But if Harry could stand there with that calm acceptance of the inevitable, I could try my best to help him. And that was what I'd do, until this fight was over. Because finally I admitted that we were more alike than either of us wanted, and neither of us could deny it.
I was actually humming as I sat back down at my desk to finish grading test papers. I remembered Dumbledore's description of Harry, and I realized how close it had actually been.
Maybe there really were angels on earth.