Chapter Fourteen
Through those infrequent smiles which fail to live
For all thy adjurations?
Harry was outside Severus' rooms punctually at 7:30 on Tuesday evening. After rather more debate than the issue really deserved, he'd decided to bring along all of the notes he'd made in his classes in the past week, but none of his textbooks. After all, they hadn't decided which subject they were going to focus on tonight, and he didn't feel like dragging them all down just so he could use one or two. Knowing Severus, he probably had all of them handy anyway, and Harry knew he could always go back up and get the ones he needed if he didn't.
He realised that he was filling the spaces where he should have been thinking about the things he didn't want to face with inconsequentialities. He found that he didn't really care. The longer he could avoid thinking about those things, the better, in his view.
However, as he tapped on the door and waited for the reply, he couldn't help but contrast this to how things had been not so long before. Mere months ago, he would have walked straight in and taken his seat without any worries about his reception. Or before that, he would have sent a mental knock before he even started down, would have known that he was welcome well before he reached the door, rather than standing here anxiously like now.
And before that, he wouldn't have been seen dead visiting the dungeons if he had any choice at all in the matter.
Well, things changed. How they did. He felt an ironic smile touch his mouth just as Severus opened the door for him.
The man gave him an unreadable look, perhaps in response to the lingering smile. Harry attempted to fix a more appropriately neutral expression onto his face.
"Harry. Come in," Severus said after a moment longer, stepping aside so that Harry could enter.
As Harry walked in, he automatically glanced over the room. Although Severus' face was unreadable as usual, he sensed some tension from the man and couldn't help but wonder at its cause. When his gaze finally fell on Severus' desk, he noticed that there was now a very familiar paperweight at one corner, holding down the neat stack of marked work. He smiled slightly, wondering exactly what its presence meant. After a little thought, he decided to take it as a hopeful sign.
The room was as warm as always, the generous fire in the hearth providing a flickering illumination that augmented the magical lights Severus preferred to use when he needed to work. He'd explained before that with the amount of reading he did, magic was the only thing that could provide the bright, steady light he needed. Harry had so far managed to resist the temptation to try to explain electricity to him.
He followed Severus over to the extra desk that had clearly been set up for him, and sat down in the chair behind it at the professor's instruction. Severus went to stand in front of the fireplace, with his back to it. Harry had expected that, knowing he craved the heat despite the thickness of his robes, at least twice as heavy as Harry's own.
Harry himself felt rather warm, and was quite glad that Severus had chosen to place the desk about as far from the fire as it could be in this room. He noted, wriggling slightly, that the seat he now occupied was padded enough to be comfortable, but just barely.
"I don't remember this being here. You know, before," he commented, stroking a hand over the smooth, dark, heavily grained wood. Someone had probably spent hours on it, varnishing and polishing it to a soft sheen. It was an expensive piece of furniture, if not overly elaborate, and the chair he now sat in had obviously been made to match.
"It wasn't." The answer was given flatly, as a mere statement of fact, but Harry still found himself rather touched by the gesture. This desk was the most overt move Severus had ever made to acknowledging that Harry was – or would be - a regular enough visitor to be made allowances for, and to do it with such a beautiful thing…
"Oh," he replied, feeling like he ought to respond somehow – in some more eloquent way - but unable to come up with something more articulate.
"It usually resides in my spare room," Severus added, in Harry's opinion rather unnecessarily. He wasn't sure if it was a good sign or not that the professor seemed nervous enough to add that. It was about as close to babbling as he ever came.
Harry hadn't even known that there was a spare room, had seen only this room, the workroom and the kitchen. He wondered why Severus would ever need a spare room.
"Oh." Once again, he made an almost unconscious resolution to spend some time with a dictionary in the near future. He knew that he probably wouldn't remember to make the time, and the next time he was here he would end up making the same resolution, but it was at least a worthwhile goal. Of course, it had nothing to do with wanting to impress Severus at all.
"I'm glad to see that your conversational skills are as scintillating as ever," replied Severus in that familiar, sardonic tone. Clearly, he agreed that dictionary time would be a good idea.
Harry fought the urge to stick out his tongue, but eventually had to give in to the irresistible impulse. Severus gave him a thoroughly bemused look in response.
"Hey, you were the one who wanted to be friends again," said Harry, with a smile that was only slightly forced. He thought that was quite a victory, considering the circumstances. It was much easier than he had expected, though, made so by the presence of the paperweight and 'his' desk. He couldn't help but consider it his, now, although Severus would certainly never tell him that it was anything of the sort.
"Oh. Yes." Severus sounded slightly flustered by Harry's reminder, but he soon gained enough control of himself once more to revert to his usual habits. "Do you count your friends by your ability to stick out your tongue at them?" he asked. There was genuine curiosity behind the expected sarcasm, however, which Harry hadn't really anticipated.
"In your case, yes," he grinned widely at Severus, the action feeling far more natural than the last, before setting about getting out his notes and writing materials.
This was better. Much, much better. So what if they weren't talking about major issues and all the rest of it yet? Doing that would only make both of them uneasy, maybe even lead to another argument and yet another breach, which they most certainly did not need now. This was safer.
It was also far, far more comfortable, for the both of them. Severus certainly didn't seem eager to bring up anything weightier, which was exactly as Harry had assumed it would be.
"Harry?" Just a hint of concern made it into the man's voice, though Harry was sure that no one else, with the possible exception of Professor Dumbledore, would have picked up on it. He had the feeling that Severus had said his name more than once already in the preceding few minutes.
"Hmm? Sorry, I was thinking," he apologised, glancing up from his blank examination of the desk. He was just in time to catch the edge of a worried expression slinking away from the professor's features.
"Ah. I merely asked if there were any areas you felt unsure about or particularly wished to cover," he explained. He walked across the room to stand in front of the desk opposite Harry, who hurriedly began to extract the rest of his belongings, setting them on the desk.
"Uhm, well actually – all the Potions we've done since we stopped the tutoring before?" He looked up at Severus' face again to gauge his reaction, hoping he hadn't offended him too much by the request. He'd been concentrating so hard on getting things right in class in order to avoid the teacher's attention that he'd not had a chance to learn the theory.
Severus' lips quirked. That was a good sign - as long as he wasn't in front a roomful of 'ignorant' pupils. "I suppose I should have expected that from you. Very well, then."
That set the tone for their encounters for some weeks. They managed to develop a quiet sort of friendship again, although nothing like the closeness they had begun to acquire before that night. For the majority of the time, they were reasonably polite and distant to each other.
Yet, the new amity was interspersed with times when they would fall into the old pattern of comfortable insult and retort. Harry thought both of them enjoyed that – he knew he certainly did. However, there were also moments of odd anxiety, unspoken tensions that neither of them would acknowledge surfacing for an instant before being shrugged off as quickly as possible. And there were moments when Harry would look up, and feel his breath catch at the realisation of just what he felt for the man.
Both of them knew the situation couldn't last, but they each were willing to let it go until the other was ready to open the subject of bigger things.
And so they each waited for the other to make the first move, and made no progress with the issues that they needed to face.
***
Voldemort had not called Severus since that night. However, neither had he been subjected to anything that would indicate he had been branded a traitor to the 'cause'. The only conclusion he could therefore come to was that Thane had neglected to inform the Dark Lord of the exact circumstances of the end of his 'punishment', perhaps for fear of the reaction if he realised that he had allowed Severus to escape. In that case, the long silence almost certainly simply meant that Voldemort had no need of potions.
However, that in turn presumably meant that he was formulating a plan, and Severus could not attempt to investigate without causing further suspicion. Instead, he had to rely on the attempts of his fellow members of the Order, and it grated on his nerves.
The realisation that Voldemort was planning something wasn't particularly surprising. After all, it was nearing the end of the summer term, the traditional time for Voldemort's annual attempt to kill Harry. Severus told Dumbledore of his suspicions, and resolved to be even more cautious and paranoid than usual himself. And then he had to decide what, if anything, to say to Harry on the subject.
One evening at the end of May, as Harry was finishing off his task for the day, his forehead slightly creased in a frown of concentration, Severus decided he should not – could not - put it off any longer. The end of the year was only a month away now, and the anticipation of an attack on Harry had been growing for months.
"Harry?" he questioned, looking over at the boy from his own desk, where he was attempting to do some marking. Unfortunately, Harry's presence was quite distracting. He had a terrible habit of breathing that Severus didn't care to try to break him of.
"Hmm?" the boy replied without looking up, his quill still scratching busily over his parchment.
"After you're done, would you care to stay and have some tea?" If there was a little hesitation in his tone, it would have taken someone extremely familiar with him to detect it. Unfortunately, Harry was, and did.
He finally looked up, giving Severus an enquiring look. They had not as yet resumed their habit of regularly spending time together after the lessons, although he did occasionally wander down to chat for a while. He was always greeted courteously, even welcomingly, as time passed.
He nodded after a moment of thought. "Umm, sure. I don't have any plans or anything."
"Good." Severus went into the kitchen to prepare some tea as Harry began to pack up his belongings. He returned just as the boy was finishing. As they settled into the armchairs, he handed a mug over, then spoke. "Actually, I have something I need to say to you."
"Thought so," commented Harry under his breath. Severus almost always had an ulterior motive.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing," Harry replied, the faintest hint of a smile crossing his face. "Um, you were saying?" He didn't really feel like explaining himself, because he could just see it leading to a more complicated conversation, the kind they'd both been studiously avoiding.
"Yes. I merely wished to advise you to be careful until the end of term. Voldemort is quite obviously planning something. The Headmaster agrees with me," urged Severus. He leaned forward in his chair in the attempt to convince Harry of the danger.
"Ah, well, you know I could have figured that out for myself. He's been trying to kill me on a regular basis for the last six years, after all. But thanks for reminding me anyway." He smiled at the man, surprised by how much concern he was showing.
"Don't hesitate to use the bond if you need to. I have an interest in seeing you remain alive, after all," he said, clearly hoping it would be reassuring. Harry decided that it was.
"I won't. And it's good to know you don't want me dead." He'd intended it to be completely light and teasing, but there was an undertone of involuntary honesty, and perhaps just a touch of relief, in his voice.
"I never wanted you dead." Severus sounded slightly shocked by Harry's statement, and a little defensive.
"I know." He had known that, known it for a long while. He'd just wanted to hear it. He'd needed to hear it ever since his first year, and the revelations about Quirrel, he realised.
Their conversation, however, soon turned to trivialities. Neither of them was yet willing to take this close to perfect opportunity to bring up anything more significant, and Harry didn't stay long.
