Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to J.K.Rowling.
Chapter five: barely managing
"Severuss! I was beginning to wonder if you would join uss." Hissed Voldemort.
"Forgive me my Lord, bowed Harry. The old fool was telling me some stupid tale about sweets and birds, and I couldn't leave without it being suspicious."
"Really? It's a wonder you manage to stand his presence for so long a time. He's such an insufferable man."
"Right as ever, my Lord, Harry answered". If Voldy continued to insult Dumbledore he wasn't sure how long he would manage to refrain himself. That way his anger seemed directed at Dumbledore, but it was frustrating.
He wasn't used to just agree when someone he hated talked badly of someone he cared about. Granted, the old Headmaster had made many mistakes, but the past week they had managed to rebuild some of their ancient trust. And to hear him being mocked by the Snake-Head…
But after all, this wasn't much different from Vernon and Aunt Marge pestering him about his "useless father"…
Fortunately, Voldy seemed to have had enough of this line of thoughts.
"Take your place inside the circle."
He bowed and did as he was told, letting Snape's instincts take hold.
The headache he had was absolutely awful, and for a man who was used to be put under the Cruciatus Curse, that was saying quite something.
Severus quickly occluded his mind. He didn't need to see the meeting anymore. He had been rather worried that Potter would be too Gryffindor to lie convincingly, but he realised he shouldn't have. What he had seen was enough to know the boy was indeed capable.
If Voldemort felt he was there he wouldn't speak freely and Potter wouldn't bring any news to Dumbledore, which was why he had to occlude. Besides, he was in holidays. He didn't have to deal with Voldemort's meetings anymore, which was about the only bright side he could see on the situation.
Harry returned "home" an hour later, exhausted. He wasn't tired physically but mentally. Staying in the presence of the snake-like bastard was more energy-taxing than he would have thought. How did Snape manage to do it? For years?
Unexpectedly, he began to wonder if there was more to his Potion teacher than met the eye. After all, these little meetings would be enough to make anybody mad. Could he blame the professor if he decided taking his foul mood on his students was a small price to pay for maintaining an ounce of sanity?
Harry felt sick after only one session, so it didn't really surprise him that the man he was posing at had become twisted and cynical. Maybe he hadn't always been that way. The war was affecting people's life in more than one way…
Half a week later, Severus was beginning to wonder how the Potter brat managed to survive each summer. Or how he had manage to survive ten years in this house before going to Hogwarts, for that matter. Not because of the beatings (he hadn't done anything that deserved one, even by the uncle's standards, for more than a week), nor because of the emotional abuse, but for the lack of food. He had never had an enormous appetite, but now he found himself constantly hungry and dizzy. Every day, he was given a tiny piece of bacon (when he was lucky) for breakfast, then a piece of bread and a half fruit for lunch (but more often than not the aunt said he hadn't done enough chores and didn't give him anything), and the same for dinner. On top of it all, he had to do physical chores all day long and that was more than enough to burn all the calories he had eaten.
He had to write another letter to the Order, and he couldn't tell them anything. Not because he wanted to save his pride. But because Potter had his…
The food arrangements weren't anything new in the Dursley's house. They never gave Potter anything more than they thought he deserved, so he hadn't got any more food the previous summers than Snape was getting this one. However, he had never complained, not once, to anyone, that the Dursleys didn't give him enough to eat. Severus was sure of that, because if he had, not even the Headmaster would have made him come here once more. The Boy-Who-Lived was starved by his relatives, and no one but Snape knew it.
That, more than the actual abuse, more than anything he had learned about Potter's life since he was here, disturbed him. The fact that Potter had never told anyone about what his home life was really like…
It wasn't what he expected from a Gryffondor and a Potter. He had always pictured Potter for a reckless defender of fairness and justice. After all, his five years at Hogwarts this far proved it. Saving the Philosopher's Stone in his first year (alone), rescuing Ginevra Weasley in the Chamber of Secrets and slaying a Basilic in his second year, proving to Dumbledore that Black was innocent in his third year, participating in the Tri-Wizard-Tournament in his fourth year and claming that Voldemort was back, getting his godfather killed by trying to save him in his fifth year…
But what, in this secret he defended so much, was fair? What was fair about accepting every snide remark from his hated potions professor, why didn't he correct him when Severus called him a spoiled brat?
And when the Order made him write a letter every three days, why didn't he complain then? Potter had spent two weeks in the Dursleys' house before Severus took his place. Two weeks. Five letters. And not one word of complaining.
Well, if Potter could manage to bear it, so could Severus. Not because of his pride, though. But if he were to complain to the Order, they might wonder why he complained now when he never did before. They might discover he wasn't quite himself, these days. He couldn't afford it.
It was like second year all over again for Harry. In ten minutes, he would be sixteen, but he knew he wouldn't receive anything from his friends for his birthday. Albus (as he wanted to be called) had make himself clear. It would be Snape, in his body, who would receive his birthday's presents in Little Whinging. And he couldn't even owl to know what they were. It would be too suspicious if the owl was intercepted. Since when did Snape ask Harry what he had received for his birthday?
Well, he had had ten years without presents, he supposed he could bear another…
Severus was abruptly awoken by an insistent tapping on the window. Yawning, he looked at the hour and growled. Who had the gall to wake him up at midnight?
Sighing, he stood up and stared blankly at the six owls bearing various boxes waiting for him outside. Shaking disbelievingly his head, he opened and began to untie the packages.
When he finished, he found himself smiling. Three birthday cakes and two sweet boxes… That was how Harry managed to survive the summer holidays! Well, even if they were from a Weasley, a muggleborn and a half-giant, they were more than welcome. But he wouldn't touch the WWW's sweets unless absolutely starving to death.
Now came the less enjoyable part. He had to read and answer all Potter's friends' letters…
Mid-august, Dumbledore owled every teacher, Harry included, to come eating lunch in the Great Hall. Harry realised that was the very first owl he had received since impersonating Snape. Didn't the man have any friends at all? Or family? Well, at least he would have received much mail this holiday. My mail, Harry thought bitterly. He still hadn't completely forgiven Albus for placing him in this situation, but he had to admit it had done him good. At the Dursleys, he had mostly sulked and mourned for Sirius. Since he was at Hogwards, he had simply too much work to do to worry about anything else. Order meetings, Death Eaters meetings, and most of all, Potion making.
How did one who had never been gifted in Potion could learn to teach the subject within less than two months? It was simply impossible. After a month's study, he could certainly impersonate convincingly a good student, but not a Potion Master. And he wasn't sure it would be any different in two weeks. He would have to talk to Albus about it.
Of course, it would have to wait the end of lunch. Albus had been very clear on that, no one else, professors included, could be told who he was. For everyone except Albus, he was and should remain Snape until the potion's effects wore off. They were at war, and no one could be trusted.
So today's lunch was his first real act with his co-workers. Somehow, he was even more nervous than when he first met Voldemort in this guise. Unlike Voldemort, with whom he met less than twice a month for a few hours, the other professors would see him every day for months. His act would have to be constantly perfect. Snape's chambers alone were safe enough to act as he wished. Not even in the Headmaster's office could be relax and be himself, because of the many portraits it contained. Snape's chambers (which he was slowly beginning to think of as his) were spelled against any spying methods. They didn't contain any portraits, or even pictures. The floo recognised Snape's magical signature and would burn anybody else foolish enough to try to floo in the Potion's Master's personal quarters. For once, Snape's paranoia benefited one of his students…
Out of these chambers, he had to be Snape. It wouldn't be easy. Harry knew from Albus and eavesdropping that Snape was often rude and sarcastic when talking to a member of the staff. Harry couldn't imagine being anything but respectful when confronted to, for example, Minerva MacGonagall. Worse, he would have to call them all by their first name, without adding 'sir' or 'madam' every now and then…
Difficult, but not impossible. He just had to act… like a Slytherin. Time to see if the Sorting Hat had been right…
Carefully composing Snape's smirking expression, he pushed the doors of the Great Hall open.
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