Outside of Draco, who ignored Harry even more, Harry was beginning to have an extremely hard time with the Slytherins. They made a point of talking about all the damage Lord Voldemort was causing in the world whenever Harry was nearby, and they started bringing up the death toll the war was acuminating at the beginning of every Potion lesson. So far the numbers weren't larger than fifty, but even hearing that number days on end could be taxing. Harry was starting to feel those eyes on him again – the eyes of the people who thought he would be the one to end the war, but he had no idea if he was capable of such a thing anymore. Like being Quidditch Captain, he was pretty sure he'd have to pass on the responsibility.
What made Potions the absolute worse classes of the week was that every time Harry failed to produce a decent potion Snape declared him incompetent and threatened to kick him out of his class. On this cold, late January day, those jibes only seemed to be getting worse. He wasn't sure how it had happened, but Snape harbored an even worse attitude towards Harry than ever; Ron was right, the man wanted him hung from the rafters.
But Draco was in that class, which used to make it the best opportunity to keep his eye on him, but now was the opportunity to avoid him. He sat at the front of the class on the right while Harry sat in the back on the left, near the door. No more than three tables and twelve students separated them from one side of the room to the other, so they weren't that far away. They were working on another Rune potion – some ancient useless thing Snape wanted them to make. Harry was sure he only continued to proscribe these potions to watch Harry fail.
The students were standing by their tables and working mostly in silence. The sound of bubbling cauldrons filled the air and the scent was of maple and soot. Draco was several steps ahead of him, chopping stuff up, Harry was stirring, watching Draco instead of the potion even though he told himself to look away. All at once, as if knowing he was being watched, Draco looked up and directly towards Harry. Caught and surprised, Harry froze mid-stir and held still. Draco appeared suddenly upset.
Harry's distraction resulted in yet another catastrophe. He smelt it before he heard or saw his potion bubble over onto the table and burn holes in the wood. Snape was on him in an instant.
"Pathetic, Potter. Pathetic! You're never going to make it out of Sixth Year if you keep up this level of absolute stupidity!" With one swipe of his wand the mess was clean, and everyone watched as Snape loomed over Harry, glaring down his hooked nose at him with venom behind his eyes. "You're the worse excuse for a student of Hogwarts I think I've ever seen. No other would be such a victim! Is it so impossible to follow simple directions?"
Snape was beyond his usual spiteful self. His scathing comments also were a bit more numerous – as if he'd been saving them all up. Harry wondered if the irritated crease that was forming between his eyebrows would ever go away.
He balled his hands into fists – he tried not to talk back because it cost his House a great deal of points, but he would have a hard time staying quiet today. Everyone was watching them. Most of the Slytherins were grinning, but Harry didn't have the luxury of checking out which ones those were.
"Directions are simple if they're written in English!" Harry defended himself with.
Runes – Harry's worst subject since he came back. Snape insisted, however.
What did Snape mean by calling him a victim, anyway? That was a low thing to say.
Snape's glare turned suddenly even sourer. "Ten points, Potter, and leave my classroom. You've already failed for the day. I don't see how you could do any worse."
Harry went ahead and did as he was told. He didn't look at anyone on his way out, and just stormed up to his bed to take refuge from life.
Stupid old git! He thought, and then he thought, Victim?
Harry closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses. He was just so tired of Snape he could kill him. Life would probably be endlessly simpler with him gone – even if Harry had to stand a murder trial.
Harry found himself forgiving his earlier stupidity to bite his wand. He held it that whole afternoon he lay in bed, keeping it close to his lips…
Hermione starting urging Harry that night to take his complaint to Dumbledore.
"It'll only make things worse," Harry stated. "Besides, you know I'm getting better at my classes. It's just going to be this way for a little longer, and then he won't be able to complain anymore."
"I hope you're right," she said at last.
"And what did he mean by calling me a victim in front of everyone?" Harry wondered. He hadn't asked much of Hermione since finding out they were a couple – she walked lightly around in, in fact. Asking her this would be opening a door for them.
She momentarily uncomfortable with the question – unsurprising as it was obvious Snape knew about Harry's attack. He was a victim…maybe even of his own design.
"Snape is just mean, you have to remember that," she said.
"Why'd he say it that way, though?"
She didn't say the obvious, that perhaps he meant that Harry trusted Ron too much, and that was why he got hurt so badly, and thus why he was so far behind in his classes. She just gave him a gentle hug.
Ron and Hermione started cuddled by the fire that evening, and Harry wasn't in the mood to put up with it. It had only been a few short weeks since he learnt they were a couple, and even then they mostly kept it hidden. But it seemed as if they were saturating him in their romance lately, and he just had to get away.
Seamus and Dean were going down to the kitchens for a last meal before bed, and so Harry decided to tag along.
"Looks like your troubles have only just begun," Seamus told him as they reached the fourth floor landing and were making their way to the stairs that led to the third.
"You mean Snape?" Harry asked.
"Snape and your friend's relationship," Dean corrected.
Harry wondered, "Did they use to do that sort of thing before I came back?"
Seamus shrugged. "Not really. They're a lot happier having you back. All of us are, mate!"
Harry got an arm draped over his shoulders, and sort of liked it.
Harry thought about what he said the rest of the way down, and then when they were nearly to the kitchens, the worse thing in the world happened: Snape came out of a door and started walking down the hall right for them. Seamus and Dean realized Harry's predicament right away, and they weren't near anywhere to get to safety. Snape walked right up to them and stopped.
"Out in the corridors five minutes before curfew…I should take points away now for ill-planning."
"We were headed in for a snack," Dean said. Of all of them, Dean was probably the one Snape had the least amount of problems with; Seamus tended to blow things up a lot in his classroom.
Snape looked at Harry and his eyebrow arched inquisitively. "A snack? Potter, I retract my statement from earlier during my class: you have just succeeded to fail even more miserably today than I expected."
"You fucking –"
"DON'T –" Snape ordered, grabbing the front of Harry's black sweatshirt and bunching it up in his fist, jerking him forward. "Don't – finish that sentence, Potter."
Seamus and Dean took a step back from Snape and Harry. Snape glared fiercely down at Harry, who was beginning to wish he had stayed upstairs, because down here he was feeling even more uncomfortable. Snape turned his attention on the other two Gryffindors.
"Get back to your dorm!" He told them. "Next time…better planning on your parts, Finnegan and Thomas."
"What about Harry?" Dean asked.
Snape pointed with his free hand down the hall the way they'd come. "Get!"
Once those two were gone, it was just Harry, still in the clutches of Snape.
"What are you going to do?" Harry asked.
Snape seemed to be thinking this same thing, although probably not with the amount of worry as Harry had accidently used in his voice. Once again, Harry was startled by how much surprises put him off his game these days. First with Draco in the hall, and now with Snape; he was just a walking corpse if he kept it up.
Would that such a bad thing? A little part of his self asked – that same little part of himself that was willing to sleep without a shirt on in a cold bathroom stall.
"I have two options for what I can do," Snape said. "It would be three, but I'm no killer, so that's out of the question."
Harry swallowed hard and tried suddenly to pull way from Snape, but he only gripped him harder and pulled him closer. Harry was on his toes as Snape stood at his full height. He no longer looked down at Harry; he was looking over the top of his head down the hall. Perhaps he was watching for other people, or perhaps he was just deep in thought.
"Then what are the two things?" Harry asked, now reaching for his wand in his robe. Snape seemed to have sensed his motion, because Harry's right arm was grabbed in a vice similar in strength as his sweatshirt was being held – he felt instant bruising.
"The first – obviously – is to take House points from you, and send you on your way."
"Sounds reasonable," Harry muttered.
Snape didn't try at all to hide his annoyance at Harry's rudeness as he snapped, "Don't backtalk to me, Potter!"
Harry kept his mouth shut. His fingers were turning blue in the face of Snape's death-grip, though; he was really starting to feel scared.
"The second thing," Snape said, "is to do what a part of me has wished to do for the past five and a half years…"
"You just said you're not a killer." Harry reminded him, and Snape sneered.
"You're right…so instead I'll give you detention. For a month."
Snape released him.
Oh, come on, a voice of reason argued, I was out to get some food. Is a month of detention really the necessary punishment?
Wouldn't you like to hurt me a little more than that? A cold voice asked.
"And get back to your bed, Potter. You have no idea how very little anyone could do for you if you were to get in the wrong hands."
Harry took a few steps back, though was still looking at his teacher with a mixture of anger and fear. Snape didn't look much different than before, but he seemed darker on the inside. Being a spy for the war on either side was taking its toll, obviously. Harry was about to turn to go when he saw movement behind Snape.
"Tell him the truth, Severus," said a new voice – Dumbledore's.
Warmth and safety flooded Harry's mind and spirit. Dumbledore was here!
The Headmaster was coming out from the kitchens. He was wearing long blue robes and holding a sandwich with lettuce sticking out of it from every side. Something in his face was different than any other time Harry might have seen him; it was as if he were ashamed…but Harry never thought he was ashamed of anyone.
Snape also seemed to have had a similar transformation. Something in his face had melted away, and he looked pained.
"What's that?" Harry talked in a most modest tone, thinking this was a strange place for a meeting of minds.
Snape, slowly, shook his head while still looking at Dumbledore.
"The Slytherins are asking for your help, in their own way…" Dumbledore clarified to Harry, speaking for Snape.
Harry held his ground and didn't move.
"…they have lost more family members to this war than anyone. Since you left, all the Dark Lord has done is try to find you. He can't. And now you're back at this school and news of your return reached his ears late."
Harry looked at Snape, "Why?"
Instead of lie or beat around the bush, Harry had the feeling Snape simply offered a small confession of the truth. "I didn't tell him, and I warned the Slytherins not to tell their parents, either."
He knows all my secrets, Harry thought. He could have told the Dark Lord all about me this whole time.
"Are you protecting me?" Harry blurted. "That's going to get you killed."
"Not likely," Snape said snidely.
"What's going on?" Harry repeated, feeling now a sense of urgency.
"What does it matter if you know what's happening or not? The war doesn't concern you anymore, it appears."
That was a painful blow, mainly because it was mostly true; he'd been avoiding the responsibility of his fate. He'd given up being a wizard back when he went to Smeltings, for crying out loud! He'd gone and forgotten how hard he'd fought to defend good people.
Despite Snape's remarks, Dumbledore was now smiling. "As someone less willing than I to speak with a Gryffindor, you have done a remarkable job showing your trust in one, Severus."
Snape gave Dumbledore a sour look and then marched on, leaving just Harry and the Headmaster together. Harry watched his retreat until he turned around a corner, and then he rubbed his arm where he'd been held. He hated being touched by him, and hated even more having to smell his breath, but he hated most suddenly his feeling that he was failing something entirely.
"Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, and Harry looked at him meekly. "You don't belong on the frontlines of this war, but you do play a part. Voldemort is fixated on you. You are both something to be feared and something to be reckoned with to him."
Harry swallowed hard.
"Now," Dumbledore walked up to him and handed him over the lettuce-filled sandwich. Harry took it, then looked up into his blue eyes. "It is hard for me to ask you to find your feet again, but you must. I need you to play your part; Professor Snape and everyone trying to keep Voldemort at bay need you to, also."
In that moment, Harry remembered what it felt like to be betrayed by who he thought was his best friend, and what it felt like to be given the opportunity to become his own person while at Smeltings, where he pretended to be a Muggle for two months. Now, he was being asked to deny any feelings for these events, and get back to work missing his parents and feeling anger for the man who killed them. No moving on – he had to move backwards.
"You mean that?" Harry asked of him bitterly.
Dumbledore nodded. "Opportunities are showing themselves where we can take a valuable leap in stopping Voldemort, but I need you to be aware of a few things before our time comes. You've been away, but now you're back. You need to be back with us, my boy."
Harry felt quite afraid suddenly, although…he also felt that familiar feeling of once again becoming comfortable with death. What Dumbledore was asking of him…included needing to become comfortable with that. Harry had been feeling this comforting feeling for the last few days…every time he licked the tip of his wand and felt the power of it.
"What do you need?" Harry asked quietly.
"To teach you a few things. I'll call you to my office when it's time."
Harry could only nod his consent. Dumbledore left him, and he stood there for a long while with that stupid sandwich in his hand, hating how very lonely he was.