And here's part three...I'm tossing them up there a bit faster than one a day, huh? Can't help myself, I guess.
Anyway, enjoy and review. Thanks.
"I won't leave! I'm not a child!"
"You are more of a child now than you ever were. Nothing more than a silly, little boy playing at being a grownup."
"I'm not a child!" he repeated, his voice growing louder, threatening to carry into the next room where people were laughing and chattering.
"You will be jellying garden slugs," Severus stated as Harry walked into his office at eight the next evening. "Everything you need is on the work bench."
Without a reply, Harry walked across the room and pulled the first, fat, wriggling slug out of a deep, wooden bowl.
Free to return to his reading, Severus looked at the ancient text, skimming the weathered pages. He was looking for a specific--
Knock, knock, knock!
Severus glared at the door. There was no doubt in his mind that Draco would be standing on the other side, his school bag over his shoulder, that pouting glare in his silvery eyes. "Enter," he commanded.
When the door swung open, it was, indeed, Draco who entered, his bag in place, his glare fixed. He hesitated when he noticed Harry by the work bench, then he pressed forward. "I needed to see you about something."
"Not now. I told you earlier."
"It's important."
"I said, not now." The slapping and snapping of Harry chopping slugs on the wooden cutting board slowed to a steady, automatic pace, indicating that he was paying more attention to the conversation than the slimy creatures.
"Profess--"
"If I have to tell you again, you will be joining Mr. Potter in his detention," Severus warned. Jellying slugs, he knew, would not bother Draco in the least. However, sharing a work bench with Harry Potter was obviously not what the boy had envisioned for his evening when he'd set off from the common room.
"It can wait," Draco muttered, walking out of the room after casting one last glare at Harry.
Silence resumed, save for the slap and snap of slugs being prepared. Harry's pace became erratic once more, and Severus went back to his book. He needed to find a specific potion...he'd seen it just a few days ago.
"Sir?"
"What?" He did not look up.
"I don't have a cauldron."
"In the store cupboard behind my desk."
There were several seconds of rummaging before Harry returned to his work. Before long, the thick, slightly sweet aroma of simmering slugs and lilac fumes filled the office. There was a hint of the odor of burnt flesh on the back of the lilac scent that made Severus look up. "You're overcooking them. Take them off the fire."
Obediently, Harry removed the cauldron from the fire and began to ladle jellied slugs into several small jars, screwing the lids on tightly and sealing each with a softly muttered preserving charm.
"Finished."
"Put them in the students' store cupboard and you may leave."
"Yes, sir."
Severus sat up for several hours after Harry left, pouring over his books, searching, one ear always perked towards the door for the sound of footsteps or another sharp, demanding knock. It was nearly three in the morning by the time he put out the candles and wandered into his room for bed.