Firelight and Dreams

by Icarus

Severus Snape returned to his apartments fairly humming, in rare form today for some reason. Oh, there were many reasons.

He had wrung thirty points from Gryffindor - take that, Minerva, he thought - and ten from Ravenclaw. He had even wrangled a few from those stubbornly good Hufflepuffs. In a nearly even exchange, Slytherin had won forty-five points, though not all of those were from him. Severus visualized those points levitating through the air, from their respective houses, to his own. Winning of course was wonderful, but winning while the others lost was particularly satisfying, as he watched that exponential surge into the lead. It was more how it was like in the real Wizarding world. When one wizard won, another almost certainly lost. He had learned that young, and thought it best others did as well. Luckily for him, in this case it was also fun.

It had been most amusing to watch the discomfited Harry attempt to explain his four-day absence without any reference to either his private classes in the Dark Arts, (sworn as he was to secrecy by Dumbledore), or his even more illicit new closeness with his Potions teacher. He was, as ever, a bad liar.

Severus had originally listened so they could keep their stories straight. But the results were a scream. After a half-hour of partially overheard entertainment, he brushed by Harry in the hallway, and muttered the proper incantation. Then with the briefest nudge with his wand up his sleeve, he put the Listening spell on Harry for lunch. It was illegal, of course (though former spies don't bother with such technicalities), and easy to Ward against if one thought to do so. Amazing how many people didn't. The world was a Fool's Paradise for lawbreakers; something else he had learned as a young Death-Eater, much to his shock at the time. Dumbledore would have his head if he saw this spell employed. But the temptation was just too great.

Severus had trouble keeping a straight face all through lunch. Harry stumbled and contradicted himself, leaving his friends more confused than before he opened his mouth.

Then Harry was even worse than most people at not looking where ought not to - dangerous. It forced Severus to make an excuse to scold him under his breath: "Stop making a fool of yourself." Though in fact, Severus felt warmed by his glances, which clearly sought the man under the robes.

Meanwhile he had a wonderful time mock glaring at Harry, just to enjoy him. He could get away with it. Most would assume it was just his usual dislike for everything 'Potter.'

Severus decided he rather liked the way Harry squared his shoulders when he stood, a habit from Quidditch he supposed. Quidditch players had that astonishing sense of balance. It gave Harry, who otherwise would have been gawky, a bit of poise.

Then Harry arrived five minutes late to Potions class. Deliberately. That raised Severus' eyebrows. Bold of Harry. But the show of independence brought a satisfied inward smile.

Keep it up, Harry, Severus thought, and I may just find that I like the man as much as I disliked the boy.

Those were five of the points he took from Gryffindor today, of course. Whatever the reason, no one came late to his class and got away with it.

So Severus was in a rare good mood as he slid back the hidden panel in the back of the third level dungeon, and said: "Heliotrope."

The passage fanned open to reveal the long square block staircase to his quarters. Despite the fact these particular quarters were capacious, none of the other Professors had wanted them. Too long a walk. He thought the walk would do some of them good: Professor Sprout was getting positively tubby. It was something Severus took seriously. As a Death Eater he had seen many who could have survived their ordeal, if only they had kept in better physical condition. Not every death had been deliberate. Avert. The simple charm diverted his mind from that line of thought. He knew where it led. His mind returned to the past like a lodestone, and it was not a pretty place to live. Unfortunate, that virtually everything conspired to remind him of it.

When he finally arrived at his quarters, he spelled the door open and pulled off his cape. Severus was mildly annoyed to find the fire unlit on the stone hearth. A wind whistled down the flue. He reflexively checked for harmful spells. There were none. Not that it was likely at Hogwarts, mind.

But where were the house elves? No matter. "Incendio!"

With a gesture he lit the fire in his sitting room, and the wall sconce torches, and then with a flourish, all the candles in the mantle candelabra for good measure. He was frugal usually, but he felt good today. His tea wasn't on, either, he noticed with irritation. He was getting more than annoyed with the elves' unusual inefficiency. It wasn't as though he'd changed his schedule.

Severus tossed his cape generally in the direction of the coat rack. It neatly snaked out and grabbed it, as quick as a frog's tongue. A cat was curled up on the hearth, not Minerva McGonagall, thank goodness. It stretched, and then walked absently into the fire. It was a ghost cat that came and went as it chose, and had come with the apartments. Severus had the fleeting fantasy that he was the visitor, while the apartments belonged to her. Or him. He never bothered to find out which. He put out saucers of milk for it occasionally, which it licked without disturbing the surface. It seemed to appreciate it nonetheless. Ghost animals made good pets. They were very clean.

He stepped into the bathroom to change, and found puddles left on the floor. Harry. As he crossed to the bedroom he noted and picked up his bathrobe, slightly damp, from the duvet.

Irritating boy.

What plague had infected the house elves, that they hadn't cleaned up his mess? Then he remembered. The Sealing Spell, of course!

He had Sealed his quarters so no one could come in while Harry was healing. The house elves must have gone mad trying to do their job, but it was no use. McGonagall wouldn't even be able to break in (though no doubt Dumbledore could. Not that he'd be so rude as to try).

Severus took down the spell, and three or four elves tumbled into the room all at once, in the manner of those who had been pushing on a door until it finally sprang open. They scrambled about frantically, putting the tea on, swabbing the bathroom floor with panicked guilty expressions. They did not bob or apologize. He had them trained not to speak to him or otherwise disturb him, and they knew to stay out of his way. They vanished as suddenly as they'd come.

Then he noticed something out of place. Set prominently in the middle of the kitchen table. The sugar bowl. He was about to summon the elves back, when he realized who must have left it.

Severus leaned on the back of a kitchen chair, and stared at it, with a growing warm glow of amusement. The morning came rushing back. Harry's point was taken at once, of course. What cheek, to call one's Potions master a liar. Particularly when he was one. Severus mentally awarded ten points to Gryffindor.

His familiar quarters seemed rather echoingly empty all of the sudden. Well, Harry had been a handful while he was here, and had somehow managed to take up a lot of space and valuable time. As well as a tendency to sprawl, and take up more than his share of the bed. Severus tried to convince himself he was glad to have his privacy back, but he was too honest to fall for his own lies.

He realized then, he was still holding the damp robe. As he touched it, it smelled faintly of that sweet outdoor musk scent that was Harry.

He summoned the house elves for dinner in his quarters. It must have looked odd to them (if they had such thoughts) to find the intimidating Severus Snape, firelight playing about the angles of his face, holding and idly stroking a wet bathrobe.

Finis. Next: 'Eerily Yours.'