Oh for heaven's sake, Harry thought to himself. Pull yourself together. It wasn't as if he didn't already know the Dursleys hated him. He strangled down the noise of his sobbing, but couldn't seem to stopper the tears which poured unrelentingly down his cheeks.
And the waves of emotion kept on pounding over him. There had to be something wrong with him. Other people were loved by their families. Not him. His real family had died when he was one year old, thanks to him. And then Sirius had died, also thanks to him. There had to be something fundamentally wrong with him.
He wasn't sure at what point words got muddled in with his silent sobbing. However, he suddenly realized that garbled phrases were emerging from his lips.
I closed my eyes briefly. This was just getting worse. Reluctantly, my mind translated the incoherent babble streaming from Potter's mouth. I would really have preferred not to know.
"What's wrong with me?" he was whispering in heartbroken tones. "What's wrong with me? It's all my fault…"
Anger shifted in my stomach. I swept to my feet and sat down fiercely in the chair opposite him.
"Shut up, Potter," I said sharply. "Shut up."
He wiped his eyes, and tried to still his sobs.
"S..s..sorry," he whispered thickly. His head was hanging and he refused to meet my gaze.
"Do not apologize," I growled. "This was not your fault. This was never your fault." I directed my fiercest glare at him.
He stopped crying, from sheerest surprise I think.
"Wh..what? I would have thought you would say it was just what I deserved, the famous Mr Potter and all that."
I was now annoyed. "Don't be ridiculous, Potter. Whatever I think you deserve, it is not being half-killed by your revolting relatives."
"Why not?"
The simplicity of the question came close to stumping me.
"Why not? Well… all right, Potter. You tell me. What do you think you did to deserve it?"
Lovely: Severus Snape, former Death Eater, turns non-directive counsellor.
"I..dunno…only everyone I care for gets hurt or put in danger, or …killed…and maybe the Dursleys are right to resent having me in their lives…they never asked for me after all…"
"I dare say not. That does not justify what they did to you. And I can assure you , Potter, I am not prejudiced in your favour. I cannot count the number of times I have wished to strangle you. You will note, however, that I have managed to refrain." Darkly, I added, "…So far.."
He smiled then. He rubbed his eyes again, and finally did look at me from under his lashes.
"Thanks, Professor," he said.
Looking back, I wonder if that was the turning point. The directness of those green eyes, still bright with tears, disarmed me.
Disarmed, one is vulnerable.
If I had walked away at the outset, left him alone with his grief and his burdens, would things have turned out any differently?
It is too late now.
It hardly matters. For me, I suspect it has been too late in all the important ways for the whole of my life.
Harry blinked, and wondered why he didn't feel more appalled.
"So I do apologize, Mr Potter, for spoiling your holiday plans," Snape had said to him stiffly with a low-powered sneer. "I have consulted with the chief medi-witch at St Mungo's by Floo.. She considers it inadvisable to transport you magically at this time since you have recently suffered a head injury. You have already undergone one Apparation when you were not in fit condition. So I fear you must remain here for the time being."
"Oh. OK," Harry said. "And, er – sorry. I mean, I don't suppose this is how you wanted to spend your holidays either…"
Snape regarded him inscrutably. "Quite right, Potter. We will both just have to put up with it as best we can."
Harry paused. "And, er- "
Snape sighed heavily. "Yes, Mr Potter?"
"I can't just lie here all the time," Harry said in a rush. "While you're working, there's no-one else around to talk to, or play chess with, or anything…. Can't I help you in your Potions lab or something? I'll go mad just staring at the walls…"
Snape stared at him. His face dripped scorn. "You really think, Potter, that I want your assistance in the precise and delicate work that I am currently undertaking?"
Harry was abashed. His face dropped. "I'm sorry. I just thought I could chop stuff up or something…you know, frog livers or something nice like that…"
Then he realized that the glint in Snape's eyes was actually amusement. "Here. Have an overall, Mr Potter. "
It was odd watching Snape engaged in his own researches. He muttered constantly to himself and kept having to put down whatever he was doing to make notes. Eventually Harry decided the most useful thing he could do was follow Snape around and write down what he was murmuring. Afterwards, Snape would examine his commentary as if it were a logical dilemma, and piece together from seemingly unconnected fragments of information tiny little steps forward in whatever puzzle he was attempting to solve. Harry wondered why Snape was so desperate to get the Defence Against the Dark Arts job when he was clearly so absorbed, and so brilliant, in the field of Potions.
After three days of this, Snape informed Harry that he was far too pale and needed to get out of the dungeons. ("Potter, you look like a sick hag. You are spoiling my appetite. Go and get some fresh air.") Harry wandered disconsolately in the grounds for a while, and then decided this was thoroughly boring. With a rush of joy, he recalled that his Firebolt would still be here in the broom shed, as he had not thought it remotely worthwhile to take it with him back to the Dursleys. It occurred to him that Snape would probably not approve: but Snape was still down in his dungeons, wasn't he?
Harry trotted happily to the broom shed and spoke the words of unlocking. He picked up his Firebolt with reverent hands and spent some time lost in admiration of its sleek lines. Then he dashed back outside. This would be so much more fun than mooching about on the lawns on his own. He wished Hagrid had not gone away for the summer.
He skidded to an abrupt halt when he realized that a dark-clad figure was looming menacingly in front of him.
"Potter," Snape snarled, eyes snapping. "Just what do you think you are doing?"
"Er…going for a spin on my broom?"
"Potter, do you recall what I said to you when I told you to go and get some fresh air?"
"Er..something about taking it easy, and sitting outside in the sun…"
"Yes, Potter. Precisely. Do you think whirling around on an international class broom qualifies as sedate activity?"
"No?" Harry looked hopeful, as if giving the right answer to this question might possibly assuage Snape's wrath.
Snape took a menacing step forward. He looked very tall, and the sun was behind him, casting his face in hooded shadow.
Involuntarily, Harry found that he had shyed away, and half-raised an arm to his face. Snape stopped. He looked shocked.
"Professor," Harry stuttered. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean…"
Snape narrowed his eyes at him and curled his lip.
Harry found himself unaccountably disappointed. He had thought he was actually learning to get along with Snape. But from the expression on Snape's face, the dearest wish of his heart was to hex Harry into next Christmas.