I'm Not that Naïve Part II

The weeks passed by quickly, a mere blur to Harry as he fought a more constant headache. He was excelling in his classes, except of course Potions. If only he could get past Snape's prejudice!

Passing an open window he shivered, pulling his robes tighter around him while fumbling with the clasp to lock the window closed. Brushing away the small flakes of snow that spotted his hair and midnight black robes he wondered how Hermione or Ron's Christmas was going. Finished he turned to leave and came face to face with the Potions Master.

"Potter" he sneered. "What are you doing here, after hours? Twenty points from Griffindor, and I think a detention" he said softly, his black eyes glittering. Harry looked into the swirling black eyes and shrugged.

"It is Christmas Holiday, professor, but of course you wouldn't want to remember something as cheerful as that"

A sharp eyebrow quirked and something of a smile passed across his cold features. "Get to your common room, Potter"

Harry watched as he stalked off, black folds of cloth billowing malevolently behind him. "Yes, professor"

*~*~*~*~*

Harry's boots clicked against the stone floor of the dungeon as he ambled down the corridors on his way to detention. Shivering from the cold that seemed to penetrate his bones he clutched his robes to himself more securely, ignoring the constant throbbing from his scar. Reaching the door to Snape's classroom he steadied his nerves and knocked on the door. Not receiving an answer he hesitantly turned the knob, hoping there weren't any wards that would hex him into oblivion.

"Professor?" He was again met with silence and entering the dimly lit room he wondered what would have kept Snape from a detention. Eyes roaming over the large room they finally came to rest on the sinister looking desk and the even more sinisterly looking man behind the desk. "Professor! When you didn't answer, I-"

"Save it, Potter, your instructions are on the board, get to work"

Harry ripped his eyes away from the swirling black ones and focused on the blackboard. The potion was simple enough, a concoction meant to soothe pains away for hours. He put each line to memory before getting up and beginning his search for each ingredient.

The hours stretched on for ages, and sweat beaded his brow as he added each ingredient carefully. He stood in front of the cabinet door for a few moments, puzzled. So far he had found everything he needed in this one collection and the thought of having to sift through the rest of the room for one ingredient wasn't appealing. A drawling voice broke into his thoughts, slightly grating his already tense nerves.

"The ram's hoof is in the blue jar, second shelf on your right"

Harry half-turned and inclined his head muttering "thanks" before grabbing the jar and retreating to the simmering cauldron he had chosen to work with.

The salve finally finished Harry put it in the jar provided and turned to give it to the Potions Professor but a searing pain momentarily blinded him. Dropping the jar, his knees buckled under him and both hands flew up to clutch his burning forehead. Something wet and sticky coated his hands and he could smell the blood. After the pain receded some he forced his eyes up and saw a similar sight happening at the desk.

Professor Snape was doubled over on the floor clutching his forearm, his face contorted in pain. It went on for several minutes; each lost in their own world of agony, just short of screaming in pain. But when the pain finally receded to its' usual prickle Harry slowly supported himself on shaky knees and arms before he was able to stand up, wavering. The blood pouring from his scar had stopped and he wiped it away with the sleeve of his robes. Repairing the glass jar he staggered toward his fallen professor.

"Sir?"

"Potter" Harry's lip twitched, he was all right.

"Does it still burn? The dark mark?"

"Do hippogriffs fly, Potter?" he growled.

Rolling up his potions' professors' sleeve he rubbed the salve over the burning dark mark that had likewise opened up and started to bleed. After treating the wound and helping him to sit up in the chair he uttered a spell and sat in the one that appeared beside him.

Stiffly taking a seat he muttered another spell and a tea set appeared on the desk. Pouring himself and Snape a cup he leaned back and took a deep long sip. The two figures sat like that, taking their time in gathering up their strength.

"It's getting worse" Harry sighed, looking at where the dark mark still burned a reddish black on Snape's arm.

"He's getting stronger, you know that." He snapped. " Every time it will be worse. How is your scar?"

"It hurts, it always hurts now" Harry trailed off, watching his tea grow cold and not really caring. He set it down and knitted his fingers, finally locking his eyes with Snape's. "And your arm, has it ever split open like that?"

"No"

Leaning forward Harry poured him another cup of tea before pouring himself some. Snape whispered a "thank you" and the two again lapsed into silence.

"A link is shared between all who have been marked by the Dark Lord, Harry, even one so young as yourself." Harry watched as the black eyes seemed to glitter with hate and anger. "You were not meant to know this life, no one should have known this life.

"Now that the Dark Lord is returning, his powers growing in greater intensity he will do anything to get to you. It becomes more and more difficult to resist answering his call, as you have witnessed tonight."

"He will be defeated, the Dark Lord…"

"But at what cost?" Snape finished for him.

"Innocence" Harry answered bitterly, looking away, hands clasped tightly to his cup. Harry sat silently, watching his swirling tea and the blood on his hands drying. Looking up his ivy green eyes lost some of their youth and Snape could see what he had hidden for so many years. Pain.

The two silent figures sat together for a long time, lost in their own thoughts, comforting each other with what was left of their dignity. The grandfather clock that stood tall and proud in the fall corner chimed three o'clock in the morning before either stirred from their reverie.

Blinking, Harry stood stiffly and clasping a hand over his nemesis' shoulder he squeezed.

"Innocence is ignorance"

"Yet ignorance is bliss, isn't it, Potter?"

"I'm not that naïve, professor"

The Potions master watched as Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, walked deftly from his office, robes swinging with each step. Long after the pupil was gone, the professor was still sitting with his tea long grown cold, eyes glittering with some unknown emotion.

It may be drivel, but what more can you do when wallowing in boredom? The whole fic was an afterthought, Severus, nothing more and (hopefully) nothing less. I do agree that the "three-sentence denoument (tacked on as an apparent afterthought) only avoids the moniker "footnote" because the type was the same size as the rest of the story" was absolute rubbish, hence it's deletion.

But I have more important things to do (She mutters something about regaining house points before other Slytherins get a chance to hex her), so this fic is on hold.