This chapter is dedicated to my adorable, fantastic, amazing etc beta
readers DIAGONALIST and BABEKELLYSTAR. Thank you *grins maniacally, bounces
and hugs*
"Harry! Harry, wake up!"
Harry looked up through bleary eyes at Dean.
"What?"
"Harry, there. . .there's trouble. Downstairs. Ron."
The events of the last night rushed back, and Harry groaned and flopped onto his back.
"He's saying you and Snape. . .eww!"
Harry grimaced.
"It's not true, Dean. I don't know who started the rumour; I heard last thing last night. But I suppose Ron would have believed it."
Dean nodded.
"I trust you, mate. But. . .I think you ought to get down there and calm them down a bit. Seamus is trying to shut Ron up."
Harry nodded miserably and got to his feet.
"It's so unfair" he grumbled.
*********************************************
Snape woke up to see the Bloody Baron hovering over him grimly. After shrieking and falling out of bed, he straightened out his night-shirt and gave the ghost his most intimidating glare. It didn't work, of course, but it made Snape feel a little better.
"Severus Snape" began the spectre, and Snape suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the melodramatics.
"You have been purposely unjust to that little snake. You should apologise."
Snape realised with a jolt that he felt infinitely better. With this realisation came an overwhelming surge of guilt, and he lowered his eyes, feeling the lifeless form of the Baron move towards him.
"Apologise, Severus, before it is too late."
"I do not apologise" snapped Snape, drawing the remnants of his dignity about him like a cloak. The Baron glared at him ferociously, and the feared potions master almost quailed, but stood his ground. Sighing at the comparatively young man, the Baron waved a hand and Snape found himself gagged. The Baron smirked in a very Slytherin way and drifted towards the door.
"The ties will leave as soon as you are regretful." And with those cryptic words, he disappeared.
*************************************************
Harry looked at Nick, who was floating in front of him.
"I wish you'd give me some warning before you appear through a wall, Nick!"
The ghost had the grace to look apologetic, but then he blocked Harry's way.
"Harry, there are some rumours in the Common Room. . .I'm afraid you should wait before you go down. . .I mean, it's a little awkward. . ."
"I know. Dean told me. And they won't go away until they've seen me. I have to do this."
Nick shivered inwardly at the flat tone. Surely the boy had grown up enough already? He felt angry at everyone who had done anything to make Harry's life so miserable, but quelled the thoughts as he followed Harry into the Common Room. Immediately all hell broke loose, and Nick moved to the side to allow Harry to rush back to the dormitories as any other boy would have done. Harry took a deep breath and strode through the crowd, waiting for a direct question from someone. He didn't have long to wait before Dennis Creevey's voice piped up.
"Harry, Harry! Is it true, what they're all saying about you and professor Snape? That you're. . ." he blushed - "going out with each other?"
Silence dropped over the room like a cloud, broken by Harry's laugh.
"Snape? Merlin!" he wiped an imaginary tear from his eye, "Eew! That's disgusting! I'd never date anyone like HIM!"
A visible ripple of relief ran through the common room, especially from some of the girls, and Harry gave a dazzling beam.
"I can't believe anyone would be STUPID enough to believe that kind of rumour. Do you have any idea how much trouble me or Snape could get into? Anyway" he added, as if as an afterthought, "If I came onto him, he's probably hex my balls off!"
There were muffled sniggers, and Ron pushed his way to the front of the crowd, face red.
"Yeah, well that's what you say! How can you prove that you haven't been shagging that greasy git?"
Harry turned slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly, and moved towards Ron who visibly flinched. He spoke in a deceptively smooth voice.
"Oh yes, indeed. His preference of me in class has been simply staggering, hasn't it? And the way I am sneaking out at all hours to see him; and the high grades he has given me. It all points to one thing, doesn't it?"
Ron blushed even more, but continued doggedly.
"What about all those detentions he gives you?"
"What about them? Fred, George, last I checked you were tying with me in the 'most detentions from Snape' list. Tell me, have you been getting some with him? A little menage a trois?"
Now most of the room was laughing openly, Fred and George included. However the dangerous glint in their and Ginny's eyes said that Ron would be in trouble later. Harry smiled, although none of the Gryffindors spotted that it hadn't reached his eyes, and was grabbed by the elbows and propelled towards the door by Fred and George to go down to breakfast.
Snape watched Harry, surreptitiously, knowing that the rumours would have started. There were the cursory jeers from the Slytherins, but the other houses seemed unconcerned which surprised him. Maybe Harry had managed to pull something off. . .
He almost jumped as the piercing eyes locked with his, and he felt his cheeks beginning to heat under the intensity of the gaze. And then Harry let his lip curl into a perfectly scornful sneer that made Snape feel about a foot tall, and looked away boredly. How Slytherin. Snape actually felt guilty; no, terrible. Like he wanted to disappear through the floor. He wasn't meant to be intimidated!
He felt the gag loosen and disappear (it was invisible), and tested out his tongue. Now he really had to apologise. But how?
**********************************************************
Harry sat at the back in Potions, aware of all the glances and snickers coming from the Slytherins. Well, a few Gryffindors were looking as well. He didn't really care. Walking into that room, on his own, had made him realise how stupid he had been to place so much trust in Snape. Not that trusting him had been such a terrible idea; just to trust him *so* much.
Snape admired the boy's acting skills. He didn't know what Harry had said to the Gryffindors, but it had obviously worked. The boy had more Slytherin sense than anyone gave him credit for. Snape, of course, treated the boy as he always had. Not too much bitter sarcasm, but obviously no niceties. It was a useful tried-and-tested formula, and it had everyone sucked in. A truly masterful performance by both Slytherins.
As he swept around, he slipped a note in Harry's pocket, the tensing of the boy's shoulders showing he had felt it. It was the most obvious, schoolboy kind of trick that he could have played. Which is why nobody would expect it, and indeed none did. He saw several people peering into Harry's cauldron, and waiting for him to issue a detention, but the summons never came, and Harry filed out with the rest of the class, laughing and joking, as though a mask had been drawn over his face. And despite himself, Snape felt a twinge in the pit of his stomach.
Did I really mean that little to him?
**************************************************
It occurred to him, later, as he paced his rooms with his stomach churning that it was ironic how the tables had turned. Now it was Potter who seemed to have grown something of a backbone, while Snape was actually missing his company after. . .one day.
Chastising himself, Snape resumed his relentless pacing before realising that that in itself was making him look harassed, and stood still, fighting the child-like urge to fidget. The blasted boy was late!
***************************************************
Harry lay on his bed, calmly watching a little trickle of blood flow down his arm. This wasn't like the manic slicing he had done before; this was control. He had never had any intention of going to see Snape; he could not bear to forgive the man, after all he had said to Harry. It was obvious, in retrospect, that he annoyed the man. After all, who wouldn't get fed up of the boy's incessant whinging?
No more. He felt. . .liberated, like being with Snape had never made him feel. The time for hugs and soothing words had passed, in due time, and now he wanted respect. Constantly worried that he might become a replica of Voldemort, he hastened to adjust his thought. He wanted to earn respect from the people who counted.
So he would work hard with his magic, and quidditch, he would try to rival Hermione for the best grades now that he had the power. He would keep his friends and put on a respectable face to the wizarding world, and let them believe in the deity that was the Boy-Who-Lived. Then he would pass his final exams, leave Hogwarts, and get a job; hopefully he would get offers, perhaps to become an Auror, or to play Quidditch. He would maybe marry, and have children; become a teacher in later life.
He had it all in front of him.
He could do it alone.
He could cope.
***************************************************
Snape sank into a chair, dejection written all over his sallow face, the flickering candles illuminating the worry-lines and wrinkles that creased his nonetheless thin face. Harry wasn't coming.
The one friend, his conscience told him, that he could have made. The one person in the world who he had cared about, who seemed to be on his wavelength. And he had thrown it away. Just because he didn't understand.
A germ of worry niggled at the core of his heart. What if Harry had started cutting again? What if he wasn't eating? Who would he talk to then?
Maybe he had forgotten. Maybe he had an unexpected detention.
From anyone except you? mocked his conscience, and he fought the urge to smash the fire-tongs over his head to shut it up. Of course, that wouldn't help anything. Not at all, he repeated. He would not hit himself with the fire-tongs. . .he would NOT!
A knock on the door made his leap up, tangling his robes in the chair leg and ragging the chair and himself down to the ground with a painful thump. His efforts to get up ceased when he heard Dumbledore's chuckle, and he slumped, dejected, to the ground again. Dumbledore helped him up, and twinkled. Merlin, how Snape wanted to rip that twinkle out of his mentor's eyes and stamp on it.
"Good evening, Severus."
Severus merely grunted and stared sullenly at the floor, aware that he seemed to be regressing to the age of a school-boy. And a damn sulky one at that.
"I presume that you have heard the. . .ah. . .rumours?"
Snape nodded curtly, and Dumbledore sighed.
"I am sorry, my boy. I believe the Gryffindors are in full support of Harry"
Snape snorted, and almost choked when none-too-gentle fingers forced his chin up so he was looking into the blue eyes which looked more like steel and ice now.
"Severus, I will not tolerate this childish behaviour. Am no fool; I know somehow you and Harry have fought. I will say this once, and once only. You must apologise to him, and apologise sincerely. I do not care what grudges you have against James Potter. Look at Harry for himself; he relies on you. Do not repay that trust with cruelty, or you will regret it."
With those cryptic words, he swept out of the classroom, leaving Snape to his very confused thoughts, the most pressing of which was,
How and why would he be sorry?
**********************************************
Harry heard a long suffering sigh, and rolled onto his side, pushing the curtains to one side to see. Dean had his head in his hands and was currently slumped over his transfigurations textbook. Harry pulled the curtains properly open, so that Dean could hear him, and indeed his friend looked up.
"You ok?"
Dean shook his head miserably and gestured at the book with a look of disgust.
"McGonagall set me a ton of extra work, I'm getting behind apparently, but I just hate transfiguration. Can you help me?"
Harry perched on Dean's bed and nodded.
"What are you having problems with?"
"Well, I can turn a match into a needle, and. . .umm. . ."
Harry smiled, and pulled his wand out, gesturing for Dean to do the same.
"Show me a simple transfiguration." His eyes roamed around the room. "Say, this nail scissors into a stick."
Dean gulped, and Harry laughed.
"Relax! I'm not going to eat you!"
Looking slightly less tense, Dean waved his wand in the usual figure-of- eight pattern and looked at the scissors. Nothing happened, and he grimaced. Harry looked at him in faint surprise, before speaking.
"Did you know that you actually have to focus on the object before the transfigurations?"
Dean nodded, affronted.
"Ok then, describe the scissors to me" said Harry hiding them. Dean frowned slightly, brow furrowing in concentration.
"They were silver. Um. . .quite light. They had a screw holding the two blades together."
"What type of screw? What colour?"
"Umm. . ."
Harry smiled, and produced the scissors from behind his back. The screw had a cross on it, and was slightly rusted.
"When we say focus, we mean really focus. Memorise every single tiny detail, or else the spell will go wrong or not work. Then imagine really clearly the kind of stick it needs to turn into. Like, exactly what colour. Build up a picture of it in your mind, so you see every single bump, every shoot. Got it? Now, try again."
Dean shut his eyes, this time for longer, silent and relaxed. Then he opened his eyes and waved his wand, and the scissors became a large twig, green in colour, with several shoots protruding from it. Dean's eyes widened.
"Wow! That's exactly what I imagined it to be like!"
Harry tried very, very hard not to roll his eyes, painfully aware of how much like Snape he was becoming. He also resisted the urge to mutter 'Give the dog a bone' under his breath. He would not alienate Dean from him. Instead he forced a smile onto his face.
"That was great Dean! Do you want to try it again?"
"No, I want to try animals to inanimate objects."
Harry winced; this could be painful, and he could already feel a headache coming on.
"I think it would be better to stick with basic. . ."
"No, I want to do animal transfigurations." Said his friend stubbornly. Harry silently counted to ten, tried to persuade his head to stop throbbing, and nodded.
"Okay, we'll do one more inanimate transfiguration then animals, alright?"
Dean nodded and Harry settled himself down for a long night of teaching.
"Harry! Harry, wake up!"
Harry looked up through bleary eyes at Dean.
"What?"
"Harry, there. . .there's trouble. Downstairs. Ron."
The events of the last night rushed back, and Harry groaned and flopped onto his back.
"He's saying you and Snape. . .eww!"
Harry grimaced.
"It's not true, Dean. I don't know who started the rumour; I heard last thing last night. But I suppose Ron would have believed it."
Dean nodded.
"I trust you, mate. But. . .I think you ought to get down there and calm them down a bit. Seamus is trying to shut Ron up."
Harry nodded miserably and got to his feet.
"It's so unfair" he grumbled.
*********************************************
Snape woke up to see the Bloody Baron hovering over him grimly. After shrieking and falling out of bed, he straightened out his night-shirt and gave the ghost his most intimidating glare. It didn't work, of course, but it made Snape feel a little better.
"Severus Snape" began the spectre, and Snape suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the melodramatics.
"You have been purposely unjust to that little snake. You should apologise."
Snape realised with a jolt that he felt infinitely better. With this realisation came an overwhelming surge of guilt, and he lowered his eyes, feeling the lifeless form of the Baron move towards him.
"Apologise, Severus, before it is too late."
"I do not apologise" snapped Snape, drawing the remnants of his dignity about him like a cloak. The Baron glared at him ferociously, and the feared potions master almost quailed, but stood his ground. Sighing at the comparatively young man, the Baron waved a hand and Snape found himself gagged. The Baron smirked in a very Slytherin way and drifted towards the door.
"The ties will leave as soon as you are regretful." And with those cryptic words, he disappeared.
*************************************************
Harry looked at Nick, who was floating in front of him.
"I wish you'd give me some warning before you appear through a wall, Nick!"
The ghost had the grace to look apologetic, but then he blocked Harry's way.
"Harry, there are some rumours in the Common Room. . .I'm afraid you should wait before you go down. . .I mean, it's a little awkward. . ."
"I know. Dean told me. And they won't go away until they've seen me. I have to do this."
Nick shivered inwardly at the flat tone. Surely the boy had grown up enough already? He felt angry at everyone who had done anything to make Harry's life so miserable, but quelled the thoughts as he followed Harry into the Common Room. Immediately all hell broke loose, and Nick moved to the side to allow Harry to rush back to the dormitories as any other boy would have done. Harry took a deep breath and strode through the crowd, waiting for a direct question from someone. He didn't have long to wait before Dennis Creevey's voice piped up.
"Harry, Harry! Is it true, what they're all saying about you and professor Snape? That you're. . ." he blushed - "going out with each other?"
Silence dropped over the room like a cloud, broken by Harry's laugh.
"Snape? Merlin!" he wiped an imaginary tear from his eye, "Eew! That's disgusting! I'd never date anyone like HIM!"
A visible ripple of relief ran through the common room, especially from some of the girls, and Harry gave a dazzling beam.
"I can't believe anyone would be STUPID enough to believe that kind of rumour. Do you have any idea how much trouble me or Snape could get into? Anyway" he added, as if as an afterthought, "If I came onto him, he's probably hex my balls off!"
There were muffled sniggers, and Ron pushed his way to the front of the crowd, face red.
"Yeah, well that's what you say! How can you prove that you haven't been shagging that greasy git?"
Harry turned slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly, and moved towards Ron who visibly flinched. He spoke in a deceptively smooth voice.
"Oh yes, indeed. His preference of me in class has been simply staggering, hasn't it? And the way I am sneaking out at all hours to see him; and the high grades he has given me. It all points to one thing, doesn't it?"
Ron blushed even more, but continued doggedly.
"What about all those detentions he gives you?"
"What about them? Fred, George, last I checked you were tying with me in the 'most detentions from Snape' list. Tell me, have you been getting some with him? A little menage a trois?"
Now most of the room was laughing openly, Fred and George included. However the dangerous glint in their and Ginny's eyes said that Ron would be in trouble later. Harry smiled, although none of the Gryffindors spotted that it hadn't reached his eyes, and was grabbed by the elbows and propelled towards the door by Fred and George to go down to breakfast.
Snape watched Harry, surreptitiously, knowing that the rumours would have started. There were the cursory jeers from the Slytherins, but the other houses seemed unconcerned which surprised him. Maybe Harry had managed to pull something off. . .
He almost jumped as the piercing eyes locked with his, and he felt his cheeks beginning to heat under the intensity of the gaze. And then Harry let his lip curl into a perfectly scornful sneer that made Snape feel about a foot tall, and looked away boredly. How Slytherin. Snape actually felt guilty; no, terrible. Like he wanted to disappear through the floor. He wasn't meant to be intimidated!
He felt the gag loosen and disappear (it was invisible), and tested out his tongue. Now he really had to apologise. But how?
**********************************************************
Harry sat at the back in Potions, aware of all the glances and snickers coming from the Slytherins. Well, a few Gryffindors were looking as well. He didn't really care. Walking into that room, on his own, had made him realise how stupid he had been to place so much trust in Snape. Not that trusting him had been such a terrible idea; just to trust him *so* much.
Snape admired the boy's acting skills. He didn't know what Harry had said to the Gryffindors, but it had obviously worked. The boy had more Slytherin sense than anyone gave him credit for. Snape, of course, treated the boy as he always had. Not too much bitter sarcasm, but obviously no niceties. It was a useful tried-and-tested formula, and it had everyone sucked in. A truly masterful performance by both Slytherins.
As he swept around, he slipped a note in Harry's pocket, the tensing of the boy's shoulders showing he had felt it. It was the most obvious, schoolboy kind of trick that he could have played. Which is why nobody would expect it, and indeed none did. He saw several people peering into Harry's cauldron, and waiting for him to issue a detention, but the summons never came, and Harry filed out with the rest of the class, laughing and joking, as though a mask had been drawn over his face. And despite himself, Snape felt a twinge in the pit of his stomach.
Did I really mean that little to him?
**************************************************
It occurred to him, later, as he paced his rooms with his stomach churning that it was ironic how the tables had turned. Now it was Potter who seemed to have grown something of a backbone, while Snape was actually missing his company after. . .one day.
Chastising himself, Snape resumed his relentless pacing before realising that that in itself was making him look harassed, and stood still, fighting the child-like urge to fidget. The blasted boy was late!
***************************************************
Harry lay on his bed, calmly watching a little trickle of blood flow down his arm. This wasn't like the manic slicing he had done before; this was control. He had never had any intention of going to see Snape; he could not bear to forgive the man, after all he had said to Harry. It was obvious, in retrospect, that he annoyed the man. After all, who wouldn't get fed up of the boy's incessant whinging?
No more. He felt. . .liberated, like being with Snape had never made him feel. The time for hugs and soothing words had passed, in due time, and now he wanted respect. Constantly worried that he might become a replica of Voldemort, he hastened to adjust his thought. He wanted to earn respect from the people who counted.
So he would work hard with his magic, and quidditch, he would try to rival Hermione for the best grades now that he had the power. He would keep his friends and put on a respectable face to the wizarding world, and let them believe in the deity that was the Boy-Who-Lived. Then he would pass his final exams, leave Hogwarts, and get a job; hopefully he would get offers, perhaps to become an Auror, or to play Quidditch. He would maybe marry, and have children; become a teacher in later life.
He had it all in front of him.
He could do it alone.
He could cope.
***************************************************
Snape sank into a chair, dejection written all over his sallow face, the flickering candles illuminating the worry-lines and wrinkles that creased his nonetheless thin face. Harry wasn't coming.
The one friend, his conscience told him, that he could have made. The one person in the world who he had cared about, who seemed to be on his wavelength. And he had thrown it away. Just because he didn't understand.
A germ of worry niggled at the core of his heart. What if Harry had started cutting again? What if he wasn't eating? Who would he talk to then?
Maybe he had forgotten. Maybe he had an unexpected detention.
From anyone except you? mocked his conscience, and he fought the urge to smash the fire-tongs over his head to shut it up. Of course, that wouldn't help anything. Not at all, he repeated. He would not hit himself with the fire-tongs. . .he would NOT!
A knock on the door made his leap up, tangling his robes in the chair leg and ragging the chair and himself down to the ground with a painful thump. His efforts to get up ceased when he heard Dumbledore's chuckle, and he slumped, dejected, to the ground again. Dumbledore helped him up, and twinkled. Merlin, how Snape wanted to rip that twinkle out of his mentor's eyes and stamp on it.
"Good evening, Severus."
Severus merely grunted and stared sullenly at the floor, aware that he seemed to be regressing to the age of a school-boy. And a damn sulky one at that.
"I presume that you have heard the. . .ah. . .rumours?"
Snape nodded curtly, and Dumbledore sighed.
"I am sorry, my boy. I believe the Gryffindors are in full support of Harry"
Snape snorted, and almost choked when none-too-gentle fingers forced his chin up so he was looking into the blue eyes which looked more like steel and ice now.
"Severus, I will not tolerate this childish behaviour. Am no fool; I know somehow you and Harry have fought. I will say this once, and once only. You must apologise to him, and apologise sincerely. I do not care what grudges you have against James Potter. Look at Harry for himself; he relies on you. Do not repay that trust with cruelty, or you will regret it."
With those cryptic words, he swept out of the classroom, leaving Snape to his very confused thoughts, the most pressing of which was,
How and why would he be sorry?
**********************************************
Harry heard a long suffering sigh, and rolled onto his side, pushing the curtains to one side to see. Dean had his head in his hands and was currently slumped over his transfigurations textbook. Harry pulled the curtains properly open, so that Dean could hear him, and indeed his friend looked up.
"You ok?"
Dean shook his head miserably and gestured at the book with a look of disgust.
"McGonagall set me a ton of extra work, I'm getting behind apparently, but I just hate transfiguration. Can you help me?"
Harry perched on Dean's bed and nodded.
"What are you having problems with?"
"Well, I can turn a match into a needle, and. . .umm. . ."
Harry smiled, and pulled his wand out, gesturing for Dean to do the same.
"Show me a simple transfiguration." His eyes roamed around the room. "Say, this nail scissors into a stick."
Dean gulped, and Harry laughed.
"Relax! I'm not going to eat you!"
Looking slightly less tense, Dean waved his wand in the usual figure-of- eight pattern and looked at the scissors. Nothing happened, and he grimaced. Harry looked at him in faint surprise, before speaking.
"Did you know that you actually have to focus on the object before the transfigurations?"
Dean nodded, affronted.
"Ok then, describe the scissors to me" said Harry hiding them. Dean frowned slightly, brow furrowing in concentration.
"They were silver. Um. . .quite light. They had a screw holding the two blades together."
"What type of screw? What colour?"
"Umm. . ."
Harry smiled, and produced the scissors from behind his back. The screw had a cross on it, and was slightly rusted.
"When we say focus, we mean really focus. Memorise every single tiny detail, or else the spell will go wrong or not work. Then imagine really clearly the kind of stick it needs to turn into. Like, exactly what colour. Build up a picture of it in your mind, so you see every single bump, every shoot. Got it? Now, try again."
Dean shut his eyes, this time for longer, silent and relaxed. Then he opened his eyes and waved his wand, and the scissors became a large twig, green in colour, with several shoots protruding from it. Dean's eyes widened.
"Wow! That's exactly what I imagined it to be like!"
Harry tried very, very hard not to roll his eyes, painfully aware of how much like Snape he was becoming. He also resisted the urge to mutter 'Give the dog a bone' under his breath. He would not alienate Dean from him. Instead he forced a smile onto his face.
"That was great Dean! Do you want to try it again?"
"No, I want to try animals to inanimate objects."
Harry winced; this could be painful, and he could already feel a headache coming on.
"I think it would be better to stick with basic. . ."
"No, I want to do animal transfigurations." Said his friend stubbornly. Harry silently counted to ten, tried to persuade his head to stop throbbing, and nodded.
"Okay, we'll do one more inanimate transfiguration then animals, alright?"
Dean nodded and Harry settled himself down for a long night of teaching.
