Harry awoke about an hour later. He felt sleepy and drugged, but he forced himself awake. He idly swung his leg a couple of times, and it made him think of a pendulum. How could pendulums be so perfectly balanced?
Everything has to have balance, he thought sleepily. Everything is exactly where it is -
No it isn't.
Vanishing spells. Where does the stuff go?
This woke him a little more, and he blinked sleepily. The leather was warm and comfortable, and the yellow firelight flickering over the faded red seemed safe. He thought about Vanishing spells a little more.
It would be theoretically possible to Vanish a human, but extremely difficult. Where would they go? Could you get them back?
"Sir, there has to be balance in the world, right?"
Harry seemed surprised at himself. He hadn't meant to speak out loud.
Snape was absorbed in his marking.
"Yes," he replied, absentmindedly.
"Everything has a place in the world, whether physically as a shape or molecularly."
"Yes."
"So where does stuff go when you Vanish it?"
Snape paused, his mind readjusting to fit the question beyond monosyllabic answers - and then who asked it. His face took on an irritated expression.
"Why do you care?" he snapped, turning a page, angry at having his concentration broken. Harry shrugged, and looked back into the flames.
"Just didn't make sense, is all," he said quietly.
Snape rolled his eyes.
"And what else doesn't make sense, Mr Potter?" he asked scathingly.
"Humanity. For a while."
"Don't give me any of this philosophical -"
"It's just what I've been thinking," Harry said, irked. "I didn't ask you to criticise it."
Snape gave Harry a full on glare, and Harry stared right back, annoyed. He'd asked a fair question. What right did Snape have to bite his head off?
Snape narrowed his eyes malevolently. Unfortunately, the boy had a logical point; the sheer irritation emanating from him quite clearly was asking what was going through his head. On the other hand...
"I am still your teacher, whether it be the holidays or not, and you will call me 'sir' or 'professor' at all times," he said quite slowly. Now it was Harry's turn to roll his eyes. Snape felt himself getting angrier and he stood up, fingers itching for his wand.
You still have the trump card to play... cool it, cool it...
"Do you really think I'm my dad?" asked Harry bluntly
This stopped Snape in his tracks. Acid green met obsidian black and held, and Snape felt shock cloud his mind as it did not his expression.
What did he say?
"Do you really think I'm my dad?" Harry repeated. This was obviously not a rhetorical question.
There was only one reply left for Snape without losing face.
"That is not the question, Mr Potter. The question is of your insolence."
It was Harry's turn to stand up. He removed his glasses and wearily rubbed his face.
"This, professor, is called the holidays. It is meant to be a time of relaxation. This means that you cannot take points, award detentions or any other kind of punishment. And seeing how you're being less than fair to me, I think it's only in my rights that I can get angry sometimes!"
Harry's voice, having grown steadily more snappish, left the word 'sometimes' a positive bite.
Snape grinned.
Harry immediately felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. It was the kind of grin you saw on sharks, just before they sunk their teeth into their prey.
Snape carefully placed his quill onto his desk, and folded his arms across his chest.
"Potter," he said slowly, appearing to savour every word, "Dumbledore wishes me to inform you that your Occlumency lessons will start the day after Christmas. Boxing day, to be specific."
Harry narrowed his eyes, pushing his glasses back onto his nose.
"And?"
"And what, Potter?"
"Is that supposed to mean something significant?"
"The more you disrespect me, the more chance there is that I might accidentally-" at this Snape smirked, " -batter further into your mind than is absolutely necessary."
Harry sat back, exhaling.
He was tired. He was Godawful tired.
How was it that Snape could be so immature? It infuriated Harry beyond the limits of endurance. Harry closed his eyes, trying to block out the burning feeling that comes from keeping your eyes open for too long.
"I never, ever thought you would be as childish, as immature, as... as puerile as to threaten me with blackmail," said Harry in a low voice. "For God's sake..." Harry opened his eyes, and met Snape eye-to-eye. "Have you no honour?"
Feeling much older than his sixteen years he levered himself up and stalked to his room.
Apathy draining, he paced furiously, and it helped calm his rage a little.
Trying to distract himself, he turned to the bookcase in search of something to read, and for a moment wondered why none of his books were there. Then he realised; he hadn't actually got round to properly unpacking.
He smiled grimly to himself, and tapped a blue book.
The bookcase vanished revealing the stone staircase. Harry smiled again and began to climb. The stone steps went around a couple of times and then evened out into a long straight passage. Harry followed it warily, wand out and lit.
About three minutes later, the passageway ended in another set of spiral stairs, and Harry followed them around about three times, until he came upon a wooden door. Carved on it, in a delicate script, was the word Vive.
He pushed it open.
It opened into a room that looked like an estate agent's nightmare. The wooden walls looked in a state of disrepair as did the floorboards, but it seemed sturdy enough. There were broken windows on the walls, and a nippy breeze blew through them. Harry strode to the opposite end of the room, and opened the wooden door.
It opened into a clearing in the forest. Soft turf and moss created a natural carpet. It was almost completely silent, as nothing but the wind and the birds could be heard... oh, and the distant scream of something being eaten. Normal foresty sounds.
It was obviously out of the way here. Harry felt himself begin to grin. Dumbledore was trying hard, and he'd gotten it right. The place was perfect; it was isolated and alone, and reasonably quiet. The sun in the sky marked it as early evening.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked moodily at the turf. The knowledge that Dumbledore had gone out of his way to create this little space was comforting but completely useless. Someone would know where he was should he ever go missing.
He felt his rage rise again as his trainer scuffed at the grass. Could he ever be out of this hell-bound castle?
Harry made it back to his room, surprised at the time. He'd spent all morning on the Quidditch pitch and all afternoon thinking, reliving his worst memories and getting into another scrap with Snape.
Sometimes he felt perilously close to breaking point. The happy pink bubble that surrounded everyone, kept them sane, was threatening to pop on him. The tension in his mind and his body was unbelievable. He was close to the edge
six feet from the edge and thinking that maybe six feet down wasn't that far after all
and he knew the slightest push would send him over.
Going out of his way to avoid arguments of Snape would be counter-productive. Admittedly, Snape was pushing him further toward a huge mental cliff, but fighting with him was a way of siphoning of some of the tension. He relaxed and became more agitated with every passing word.
He wanted a scapegoat, he could feel it building in his chest. His current one held an awful lot of power over him and that wasn't too good for the sharp retorts.
He could feel it in his muscles. After a long day lying in his bed, he could feel his sinews shaking and his eyes threatening to cry. One little slip and he'd be
six feet from the edge
tumbling down the greased slope and into instantaneous mental shmoozy.
Punching the wall a few nights ago had only helped a little, mainly because the wall didn't fight back or return the animosity. He knew he was dangerously close to a breakdown
and thinking that maybe six feet
of possibly genocidal proportions. He also knew that he was losing the will to exist sometimes. Suicide held no attraction but had never been more appealing.
It was times like this he wished he could just break down. Get this world-weariness out of his system. Earn himself a nice private ward in St Mungo's, and the world could go hang. He realised he was actually welcoming the idea that
down wasn't that far after all.
the War couldn't come sooner.
Harry Potter glared at the fireplace and wished fervently that life could go fuck itself.
He tired, and wished it would simply end. Where was the bliss of the void when you needed it?
Hi everybody. I won't be able to update for at least two weeks, due to the fact I will be in Corfu, St George's. That would be why this chapter is longer than usual. Thanks everybody for reviewing, I really appreciate it. If you leave your e-mail address with your review I will be able to get back to you as soon as I get back. See you all!
Severus' Wife: Ironically enough, your conceptions of Snape are extraordin-arily similar to that of Harry's, and I think that's where I'm trying to go with this fic. If the two think that maybe the other has a chance of understanding them, then maybe there is hope after all. Sorta.You've got a good point, however, about slushy-Snape fics. I read a fic by someone who will remain unnamed and Snape became Harry's dad, a caring sharing person and loved Harry, all in the space of ten minutes. I mean, how is that possible? Seriously?I would love to be able to e-mail you, but my (somewhat crappy) computer refuses to load the pic on an author profile page that displays the e-mail address. If you could leave it if you review again, that would be great. Thanks!
kateydidnt: Harry;s depression issomething thatno-one except Snape seems to have noticed. Harry thinks that there may be life in the universe but nothing will ever make a difference... I spent a while thinking about that a couple of months ago after I read 'Paradise Lost' for the second time. Oh, yes... and this is most definately NOT a severitus.
kraeg001: Everyone went home for Christmas. Still, you may see Ron and Hermione sooner than expected...
FUBAR: Indeedy. Tell Leigh I won't be able to update for at least two weeks... oh, the look on her face...
lovelydarkness: Groovy. Thanks for reviewing!
texasjeanette: working as hard as I can... I'm in Corfu for the next two weeks, so don't expect to hear much from me, though.
leggylover03: who doesn't love Legolas?
starinthedark11: yes, I'm beginning to like the chair the more I write about it. Expect to hear more. Just as well it played a crucial role in this chapter.
Dragonmaster Kurai: Thanks for reviwing!
Foureyedsnail: I can see why it would be hard writing Harry in the situation you are in in your story, because you have not only hatred and anger, but also sadness, regret, remorsefulness, depression, etc, yawn snore... oh, where was I?Personally, I like using repetitive phrases, because like you said, they emphasise stuff. The first friend I showed the first chapter to said it was crap to my face (ISN'T THAT RIGHT, 'FUBAR'????!!!! Sorry. Said friend reviewed this chapter.) but I like the idea.Oh, and I LOOOOVE long reviews. All the more to make my head swell, my dear.
Shada Bay: Yes, I was in a particularly dark mood when these thought first came to light. Still. My guess is the human race will kill itself out in the next thousand years or less. Neh. What are you gonna do.
ckat44: What the hell, I'll reply here as well. Snape and Harry angst is brewing on the horizon, and neither of the characters have any idea how soon it will come...
Ahmad53832: Yeah, I reviewed your stories. I quite like their themes.
Shadowface: Groovyness. Thanks for reviewing!
Bekquai: Hello again.
Sue: How lucky I got this review, mere seconds before I was due to upload the next chapter. Yes, I am a strange little girl as well. Strange Little Girls Of The World Unite! I know totally what you mean about reviewing something, only after you've finished it, 'cause I do the same thing.The trombones are in my head, tootling along quite comfortably with the Pink Panther tune at the moment. I'll send them when I get the chance Your unofficial friend, Bluethought
Kip: You're making my head swell. What the hell, it's good for my ego. Snigger.We appear to have similar senses of humour. I have a favour to ask you: could you A) give me your e-mail address so I can get to you to have a good chat, and B) tell me which bits of the story made you laugh? I have tried to include some humour, and several people told me it made them laugh, but I appear to have fed bits in that I didn't mean to. That is not a bad thing and I won't remove them, I just want to know which bits they were. Ugh. I hate soppy Snape fics. Let's hunt down their authors and burn them at the stake.Ahem.
A. Person: Oh, my trusted beta, what would I do without you?