As Harry was ushered back in the room by McGonagall, he tried not to look as if he had just been eavesdropping on the heated conversation that had just taken place. None of the teachers seemed to have noticed that he might have listened in; although Dumbledore's eyes twinkled when they rested on Harry, but they did that usually anyway.

The silence was tense, and as Harry dragged over the chair that McGonagall had indicated to him, his stomach clenched a little. There was no way Snape was going to be anything but mean, and even if he tempered his spite in the presence of Dumbledore and McGonagall, he'd probably just use it as an excuse to torture Harry in class even more.

They were now sitting in a loose semicircle, Harry between Dumbledore and McGonagall, and Snape next to McGonagall. McGonagall and Snape were seated on black stools, while Dumbledore and Harry had chairs with no arms. Harry's was too big for him, and he had to perch on the edge in order to rest his feet on the ground. He cursed once again being one of the smallest in his year, and almost in the school. He supposed that the years of not getting enough to eat had taken its toll on him, for he had hardly grown for the past few years. He hoped he was due for a growth spurt soon. It would be nice to be taller that Hermione and the other girls. Even Ginny was taller than him.

Settling his viola on his lap, the case at his feet, he rosined his bow while waiting for something to happen. Harry wasn't exactly sure of what would happen, but as he slid the rosin up and down the length of his bow, he found himself becoming slightly calmer. McGonagall was tuning, Dumbledore stared off into the distance, and Snape seemed to be tapping his bow impatiently against his leg.

At Snape's pointed cough, Harry fumbled his hands into position, holding the bow loosely at his side, trying to stop his gazing at the others to appear focused and diligent. He suspected that no one was fooled by his act.

Snape coughed once more, his sneer becoming more prominent.

"Well, boy, I personally would like to hear some proof that you are at least minimally capable of playing that instrument." The tone spoke that his precious old viola was not worthy of its name.

Harry hugged his instrument closer, then, as McGonagall gave him an encouraging smile, lifted it up. He could do this. For Alexis, and for himself. She would have wanted him to have this opportunity. He only wished that he could show her what he would learn.

At the conclusion of the same piece that he had played for his Head of House, he lowered it awkwardly, not used to having an audience larger than a single person. This audience was also particularly strange, with Dumbledore's clapping and gentle smile contrasted to Snape's fixed expression.

Harry tightened his hands around the neck of his viola. He didn't really know what to do now, so he settled for staring at his curled hands.

"Well now, Severus, I hope that you realise that Mr Potter is entirely capable."

Dumbledore added to that with a "Yes, well done, my boy".

Harry knew that he couldn't expect much from Snape, so he was pleasantly surprised when Snape said, with an air of long-suffering,

"I suppose that he is… adequate."

Looking up at the comment, Harry saw that the man looked as if he were chewing on a lemon. He supposed that it would be too much to ask for Snape to accept him right away. He could tell that Snape still didn't want him to be a part of the quartet, and would probably jump at the chance to get rid of him.

Dumbledore moved his legs out in a stretch, and Harry was bemused to see such a mannerism on the old man.

"Well, now, Harry, I think that it is only fair that you hear us play individually as well. Perhaps you might decide that we aren't comparable with your own talents."

Harry was startled to see McGonagall roll her eyes, with a faint smile on her face. He supposed that she probably would relax in the company of other teachers, especially on the weekend, but it was simply surreal. His eyes were probably rather large.

Snape scoffed, and said derisively, "That is hardly the case. I do not wish to make a spectacle of myself in front of a little boy, however."

Harry bristled at that. Little boy, indeed!

"I-"

His voice was fortunately drowned out by McGonagall's.

"Severus, you old prune."

Harry stifled a laugh. She must have forgotten that he was there. Teachers didn't usually contradict each other in front of students, though you could often tell when they were disliking something one was saying, like how McGonagall's lips got thinner, and her silence became frostier. That had happened a lot last year with Lockhart.

"Minerva!" Snape's hiss, and his glance at Harry, seemed to show that he, at any rate, hadn't forgotten him.

"Just because you are self-conscious doesn't mean that we all are. I, for one, have already demonstrated for Mr Potter. Surely you, as a Slytherin, understand the notion of quid pro quo?"

Dumbledore chimed in. "To add my knut's worth, I do believe that this is fair. Severus, really, he will hear have to hear you play eventually."

Harry twined his fingers as Snape grudgingly uttered a "Fine."

"I'll go first, shall I?" Dumbledore lifted his bow and dipped his head to McGonagall. "Since the lady has already gone?"

Swinging his legs up onto the seat to get comfier, Harry was ready to listen. It would have to be good. This was Dumbledore, for God's sake!

After the first bar or two, Harry recognised the piece. Of course, this would be the sort of thing that the headmaster would play. But there was something different, for all that. It wasn't just the way that the piece was played, but the way that the music seemed something more than when Harry had heard the recording. It made him almost feel that he was actually in a field filled with wildflowers, watching-

The music stopped, jerking Harry out of his thoughts.

"How was that, my dear boy? The Flight of the Bumblebee, one of my favourites."

Harry's eyes were shining with delight. "It felt as if I could nearly see it going! How on earth did you do that? It was almost like magic!"

Snape let out a harsh bark of laughter, a sour look on his face. "You idiotic boy, of course it was magic."

"Now, Severus, Harry hasn't experienced that before. Has he, Minerva?"

Before she could say anything, Harry burst out, "I have, haven't I? You were doing it, only not as much, when you played your piece. It made me feel like I had just come inside after a walk in the snow." It made sense, now.

The woman smiled at him gently. "Yes, I used a little then. Not much, though. We'll teach you how to do it, and you'll find that the effect is much stronger when we play as a quartet."

"You ought not to interrupt, Potter. Also, get your feet off the chair."

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes and swung his legs off.

"Deplorable manners…"

McGonagall, thankfully, decided to move things along. "Severus, your turn now. What have you got for us?"

Tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, Snape said nothing.

Harry hadn't expected much, but he knew that he hadn't expected whatever he was hearing. He supposed that if he had had time to think about it, he supposed that he would have imagined Snape to be very rigid in his playing. It turned out he was anything but that.

Snape was totally absorbed, and his dour look faded away from his face once he had started. The man's movements had a presence that caught Harry's attention and wouldn't let it go.

Harry knew that he had never heard the piece before, almost right from the beginning. The enchantment, now that he knew what he was looking for, was very strong, stronger than the others had been. Harry could nearly taste brackish water, and when the man did a series of descending arpeggios he breathed in the mist of the air near a river. The shifting modulations were a slight pollution. It made him feel like he was intruding in someone's memory, and left him slightly uncomfortable.

As Snape ended on a quivering note, Harry vowed to himself that he would play like that one day, with such a fluidity and feeling. If Dumbledore had entertained him, and McGonagall had made him feel safe, Snape's music was pure life, uncomfortable yet wonderful.

The sound of clapping brought Harry out of his introspection. Dumbledore was applauding, and McGonagall was sitting very still with a rather vulnerable look on her face.

"Well done, Severus! Is this what you have been working on over the summer, then?"

At the headmaster's words, Harry noticed that McGonagall came to herself with a jerk.

"Yes, it was beautiful," she said.

Snape brushed away a lock of hair that had fallen in front of his face while he was playing. "You are correct, Albus. I finished it only a week ago, and am still deliberating on a name. As a miniature, I feel it ought to be descriptive but can come up with nothing better than By the Mill, By the River, which is grammatically confusing, or The Mill by the River, which is prosaic."

Harry, at this point, knew that the man had probably forgotten that he was there. The man's tone was actually conversational. It would be nice if that continued, but he had the feeling that it was probably better if it didn't.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Harry said, "I liked it." Then he closed his mouth quickly. That was not what he had been meaning to say, but it was true. Of course, it didn't mean that he liked the man any better.

Snape didn't seem to know what to say to that, and the silence was broken by Dumbledore, who seemed to have taken on the role of mediator.

"Well, I think that we have done enough for today. Harry's friends must be wondering where he is, and it is almost time for dinner."

That surprised Harry- it seemed like it had all gone by in a mixture of extreme quickness interspersed with moments that were agonisingly slow, like when he had been waiting for Snape to notice him.

"Next week, same time?"

They all agreed on that.

As Harry walked out of the door carved with magical creatures alongside Professor McGonagall, he realised that Snape would probably be horrible to him in Potions Class. The man had a habit of venting his frustrations on Harry, and Snape could probably be very mean without ever referencing why.

Oh well. The music would be worth it. Just.