Harry Potter had begun to learn something this year - something that he was rather sharply aware Hermione (and, perhaps, Snape and Malfoy, if you wanted to give them more credit than they deserved) had been trying to teach him for years.
Don't Act Angry.
When Harry was angry, he tended to lose his head, scream - shout, say things he didn't mean.
It was even easier to apply the rule when it came to Ron Weasley - his face got bright red, and he sulked, and he hollered, and every bit of the worst of him came out.
What Hermione had failed to realize, though, is that she was also prone to anger. And Harry had felt her anger at the Gryffindor table, it had been a physical force. Hermione tended to get accusatory when she was angry - she really did generally believe that she was right, but when she got angry, her heels dug down into the mud until they hit bedrock.
It was a bad idea to put an angry Hermione into a room with Professor Severus Snape.
Harry didn't, couldn't think of Snape actually being violent... but he didn't need to be, did he now? His tongue was enough of a weapon, often worse than Dudley's fists. It wasn't just the bile and venom, either - Snape knew how to be accurate, in a way that his young Slytherins either never cared to... or didn't feel was terribly necessary, when dealing with "Foolish Gryffindors."
Harry, himself, felt tight - the need for answers clawing inside him. And yet, he felt certain that he could approach Snape, and not trigger an explosion out of sheer stupidity.
Harry Potter braced himself on the Potion Master's door, taking a deep breath. He needed the calm, needed to embrace the calm before the storm, feel the electricity crackling and yet know that it was yet to come.
Apparently, Harry hadn't been quiet enough.
The door swung open, leaving Harry, eyes closed, half stumbling half falling forward into Snape's office. "Ah, Mister Potter. Here for your detention? Regretfully, you shan't be spending it on the floor. Stand, close the door, and we will begin."
With rather a lot more grace than he'd shown in the last fifteen seconds, Harry Potter scrambled fluidly to his feet (resembling a waterfall leaping uphill) and shut the door in a motion just barely less than a slam.
He turned towards Snape, who was looking smug (no doubt at having made Potter look so klutzy). "Well, Potter? Out with it." Snape snapped. his keen eyes clearly having seen that Harry had a question.
"Why didn't you tell me - us - that we were learning Wild Magic?" Harry Potter asked, flashing behind his glasses were the images of distrustful people staring at him, clutching their wands.
Severus Snape looked at Harry Potter, covering his forehead in his hand, with his thumb outstretched along a temple. It was a queer gesture, and Harry only belatedly put together that it was meant to shield Snape's eyes from nonexistent light.
"You've been speaking to Draco Malfoy again, I take it?" Snape said, in a sort of quiet exasperation that came out like a sigh.
Harry Potter nodded crisply. "Hermione heard as well."
Severus Snape rolled his eyes at that one, saying, "Of course she did. What pray tell brought that into conversation?"
"A discussion of inbreeding and outbreeding." Harry Potter said, recollecting himself quickly as he put in nearly before Snape had opened his mouth, "A civil discussion."
"Ah." Severus Snape said, lacing his hands behind his back as he strode over towards Potter. "Lucius Malfoy is a scholar of wizarding lore." Snape spun, his robes flaring out as he faced Potter again, his long strides taking him back and forth across the room, like a panther pacing in a cage. "As such, he has countless tomes describing spell lore, among other things."
Harry Potter just looked at Severus Snape, his head moving to keep fluid track of his teacher.
"Draco Malfoy is no scholar; he reads what he wills, and chooses what to think based on what is convenient for him." Snape said, looking at Harry Potter, "I have not mentioned the words Wild Magic, because they are a false construction. If I could, I'd find a way for you to never have heard of them."
"Why's that?" Harry Potter asked.
"Because those are words constructed out of pure fear." Snape said, his mouth quirking into what was not quite a straight line - maybe less of a frown?
"Constructing new spells is a difficult business," Snape said, "All the moreso if you want them to work for someone else. That is how Miss Lovegood's mother lost her life, after all."
Harry stared at Professor Snape, surprised that he'd known, or cared enough to familiarize himself with her circumstances.
Snape, catching the question in Potter's eye, responded softly, "Anyone who can see thestrals at such a young age is deserving of special notice and care."
"And someone like Parkinson isn't?!" Harry said, his eyes blazing brightly in the dim light.
Snape looked at Harry Potter for a long moment, and then said, softly and chidingly, "There can be more than one reason to give a particular student special treatment, Potter."
Harry Potter looked at the floor, his ears tipped bright red.
"I can assure you that House Slytherin looks after its own, as best we may." Professor Snape said, and Harry - sneaking a glance up at Snape, saw something - hot and ferocious in Snape's eye. Something that Snape hadn't let into his face, let alone his voice. But Harry marked it, nonetheless.
"As to the so-called Wild Magic?" Snape continued, "It is pure rubbish. Designed to prevent dullards from attempting things that would ruin them." Harry Potter heard in that statement the quiet confidence that Snape would never voice - you are not a dullard.
"Besides," Snape continued, starting to pace again, "Dark Magic is as different from most of what people would call Wild Magic as to be a separate species. The entire term is ridiculous!" Snape said, throwing up his hands as he paced away from Harry Potter.
Snape covered his eyebrows with his hand again, and said succinctly, "You may convey my explanation to Miss Granger." With a quiet sigh that made his shoulders shake, Snape said, "Her questions will undoubtedly be better formed and easier to answer for your help, and the time to consider what aspects she truly doesn't understand."
"Could I...?" Harry Potter asked, not halfway through the question before Snape's glare cut him off.
"No." Snape said, his voice cold as fallen snow. "Acting, I find, works best when there's an element of truth to it. If there were no just reason for me to be upset with Miss Granger, then where would we be?" Snape's eyes danced with dark humor. "You, on the other hand, I never need extra reason to inflate my fury." Snape said, turning away, "All I need to think about is you flying across all of Muggle England and Scotland, in a flying Muggle Car!"
Harry Potter, blushing, looked down at the floor, fighting back a smile. That really had been irresponsible of him... "If you had been in charge, sir, would you really have had us expelled?"
"Presumably," Snape growled. Just listening to Snape was enough to send his heart pitterpatter - Harry well remembered what the threat of being expelled had felt like, and to hear that Snape really would have... Still, Harry thought, he had known it was wrong, and an epic violation of rules that were meant to keep the entire Wizarding World safe (as well as the Muggles unobliviated...). Snape wasn't criticizing at him for ... even Sirius Black, and that was a wonder in of itself.
Snape continued, in a lighter tone of voice, continued, "I don't make it a general habit to be lax in discipline." Snape knit his hands together, starting to pace again, not saying a word. "As you are apt to cause just as much trouble whether someone is keeping an eye on you or not, I would have found some way to get you readmitted, of course." Snape looked over his shoulder at Harry Potter. "Eventually." Harry really had to wonder exactly what kind of punishment Snape would have devised, if he'd been Headmaster. Bearing in mind that his authority ended at the castle gates.
"Would you have made me into a caretaker, like Filch?" Harry hazarded, not quite looking at Snape as he did so.
"No..." Snape said in that molasses dark way of his, where the word just oozed out of his mouth, slow as golden syrup. "We already have a caretaker after all. I'd have found something worse. I doubt that Hagrid would say no to an assistant. How would you fancy mucking out stalls for a year?" Snape said, his dark eyes glimmering with acid amusement.
Harry Potter stared at Snape, somehow surprised and yet not surprised. It was both a harsh punishment... and something that seemed predictable for Snape, who had assigned him cauldron scrubbing whenever he had a detention. That was odd. Because it was something Harry would have expected... Harry'd gotten... well, used, to Snape over the summer being a little different from how he acted as a Potions Teacher. Here, at least, was something that Snape actually believed in. Harry should have known, too, after all those miles of running - miles that Snape had run alongside Potter, making Potter hate every single burning breath - as Snape made it all look easy.
"Sir, there was something I had wanted to ask you..." Harry Potter said, sounding the least bit uncertain.
"Go on," Snape said, and there was something in the lack of impatience that impelled Harry to, indeed, keep talking.
"I convinced Zach Smith to take over the ... study group," Harry was convinced that Snape surely knew what it was called, but it didn't seem quite so dignified saying it to the Head of Slytherin House. "I did so by appealing to his pride. He's so convinced that he'd do a better job than me, that he leaped at the opportunity."
"Potter, that's not a question." Snape said.
"No, sir, it's not. It's just... I had wondered... would Draco Malfoy have reacted the same way?" Harry Potter asked, fighting to not shift back and forth on his feet like a silly first year.
"Yes, and no." Snape said shortly, pausing a moment before continuing. "Pride wouldn't have been the reason Malfoy would have accepted. No, he'd have moved for status, and status alone."
"What's the difference?" Harry Potter asked quietly.
"Pride, at least the way Mister Smith has it, is internal. He believes, and thus does things that will further his belief in himself." Snape said.
"And Not Malfoy?" Harry Potter asked.
"No." Snape said, turning the word into five unendingly slow syllables. "He wishes to be seen as your equal, if not your superior. So, he would have accepted because it would be you implicitly acknowledging that he stood on the same level as you."
"I'm not sure I understand." Harry Potter asked, and Snape sighed.
"Have you never, ever wanted someone to think something in particular of you?" Snape asked
"I've wanted Hermione and Ron to think me a good friend." Harry said promptly, before flushing, somehow knowing that wasn't the right answer to say.
"You abjectly humiliated yourself in front of the Dursleys." Snape said, "To prove yourself lower than them in their eyes." Snape said, "That's the key, in their eyes. Malfoy wouldn't have accepted because of his own prideful bearing. But he would have accepted to have others look up to him."
Harry Potter nodded, quietly. Not in a million years would he ever understand these Slytherins. He wasn't sure why he tried, really. Couldn't really help himself, he supposed.
"I don't think I understand how to cast one spell while saying another," Harry Potter said, in frustration. "I keep on getting confused - changing the spell, rather than casting another one."
Smugly, Snape smirked, and said, "Try saying one spell until you have it on instinct. Limit it to a time that you can control - say falling out of bed."
Harry just looked at Snape, as that hadn't even been something on his radar. At all. Blankly, he nodded.
"Once you have a spell that you simply say, and do not cast, casting a spell automatically will come with time, and practice." Snape's mouth quirked, drawing itself up into nearly a flat line. "Practice, practice, and yet more practice."
For the rest of his detention, Harry got to work - Snape sat nearby, reading and correcting homework assignments. It was surprisingly peaceful, though occasionally Snape would call out a correction. Those were, by and large, helpful, so...
Before Harry left, he caught himself wondering what Snape would like taught in the homework club next, but resolved not to pry. If Snape had any Special Requests, he'd have said so.
Coming back from detention, Harry barely waved at Hermione in the common room, instead racing upstairs to his dorm. Everyone was there, working on last-minute finishing touches. Harry let his own magic stretch out, wandlessly giving a bit of it to a few flowers that were starting to flag.
"All set for tomorrow?" Harry asked, fighting to hold back a grin. He'd missed times like this - Gryffindors just being Gryffindors.
They had everything set up, and Ron Weasley was waiting in the transformed Common Room for her to come down the stairs.
The rest of the galoots? They were hiding, so as to get the joy of her reaction, but not spoil the surprise.
So, when Lavender Brown (prompted, which is to say - kicked out of bed - by no other than Gin Weasley) walked down the stairs, she walked into a bouquet of flowers. Literally. There were daisies and poppies and roses (which is to say, the flowers the boys could manage to find), and there was Ron, in a surprisingly well tailored outfit, looking up at her adoringly. He had a simple necklace in his hands, and he offered it to her as he smiled weakly, "Will you go out with me?" He asked, almost bashfully but with that smile that Lavender adored.
"Of course!" she said, nearly leaping from halfway down the stairs into his arms. "Yes! Yes!" She said, plastering herself to him, (his hands were on her thighs, holding her so she wouldn't fall, as she did the best impression of a koala that Harry'd ever seen.)
"How'd you come up with all this?" Lavender asked, grabbing at the box of chocolates that was in the middle of the common room - clearly for her. "Cockroach clusters, my favorite! How did you know?"
"Hermione'd mentioned it," Ron said softly, "Erm... about two years ago." Ron wasn't about to tell Lavender that Neville was the one to remember the very exciting story about cockroach clusters exploding and winding up on top of Hermione's bed - not the spread, the silk canopy.
Dean popped out from where he was hiding, rubbing his head, "Erm... we may have helped a little, but I do want to say this was all his idea." Which it was, sort of. Ron had wanted to do something big to wow Lavender, because he wasn't thinking that he was good enough for her... but everyone had contributed both ideas and time and magic to the endeavor (Harry's part was mostly 'Dealing With Ginny.' as he had to convince her to do a favor for her prattish brother, always a dicey thing).*
Parvati was down the stairs by this time, laughing and clapping with her friend, hugging her too - and Colin-with-the-Camera was also down the stairs, shooting pictures of absolutely everything (including Dean and Seamus goofing off, as usual).
It was nice to have something turn out right, for once.**
By the time they were down to breakfast, Gryffindor House was merely cheerful, rather than "bouncy, happy, zoom, jump for joy!" Just as well, Harry thought, as a certain spiteful Snape might give them all detention for the crime of being happy. Speaking of Snape, Harry looked up at the head table, and didn't see him there. Harry thought back to the way Snape had been shielding his eyes with his hand. I wonder if his headache's gotten worse... Harry thought.
Harry let out a loud groan, as he realized - everyone of course looking at him now, "I've got detention..."
"With Snape?" Ron asked, and at Harry's nod, he responded, "Rotten luck that."
Lavender and Ron were sitting side by side, which meant that Harry was sitting beside Herimione, whose face was stuck in a book as usual. "Hermione." Harry said gently, "I'd like to talk with you after my detention."
"Library. Near the 1700's Goblin Rebellion." Hermione said, not lifting her nose out of the book.
The long, long way down to the dungeon seemed like it was designed to kill Harry's high spirits (probably a good thing, Snape wasn't the type to like happy). Still, a feeling of almost dread started to creep over Harry, until he suddenly realized that he'd forgotten yesterday to talk with Snape about something important.
Harry arrived (hopefully on time) and knocked at Snape's door.
No answer.
Harry took a deep breath, and knocked harder.
Half a minute went by and no answer. Harry cast a Tempus spell, and determined that he still had five minutes. He settled in to wait.
Five minutes later, Harry Potter knocked on the door, his curiosity getting the better of him, as he let his magic brush the wards. Strong as ever, those.
Still no answer though, and Harry was starting to get curious.
Two minutes passed, and then three, and then seven.
Finally, Harry knocked hard enough to rattle the doorframe.
And waited.
And waited some more.
It wasn't conceivable that Snape, of all people who cared about timeliness, would be late. Not for a detention, he had an example to set after all. ***
Harry knocked again, knowing that Snape was fifteen minutes late, and time was ticking. Then, an inkling thought started to rise out of his unconscious. This was a detention that Malfoy assigned, not Snape. He might have not told Snape (deliberately? ) about the detention.
Speak of the devil and he appears. Harry Potter thought, not pleased to see Malfoy sauntering down the hall. Malfoy in his home turf (Malfoy with appearances to keep, his inner conscience said), wasn't likely to be a good meeting, no.
"Potter," Malfoy said, his voice oozing cocksure confidence, "What brings you to the dungeon on this fine sunny day?" Malfoy's lips still seemed tight at rest, he had seemed that way at breakfast too... Was something wrong? Harry found himself thinking.****
"As if you don't know." Harry spat back, falling back into old patterns as if they were new again.
"Pretend I don't." Malfoy drawled.
"You assigned me a detention, and Snape hasn't shown." Harry Potter said, the rest of the words dying on his tongue as he saw Malfoy's eyes widen slightly. This was new to him. Maybe he's not so much in the know as he thinks he is.
"Well, Mister Potter, I suppose you can wait and see if he shows." Draco Malfoy drawled, his lips curling into a victorious smirk. "If he doesn't, we can simply move it to tomorrow."
Harry Potter turned on his laser eyes of death, and drilled them into... the back of Draco Malfoy's head, as the blond swaggered his way out of the dungeons. Unfortunately, just like every other time Harry Potter had tried this, they failed to work.
So, with basically nothing to do except wait, and cursing Draco Malfoy for being a gitty git git and so utterly full of shite that... Harry Potter started to review things.
His mind flashed back to the last time he had actually been talking with Malfoy (civilly for once, it was passing strange). Malfoy's needling about Harry marrying Pansy was a little pointed, come to think of it. Was Malfoy trying to say that the Properly Gryffindor way to save Pansy was to marry her? Maybe he was... Harry considered, before shaking his head. If that was the only "proper" way to do some heroing about the situation, she could well rot. Seriously, Harry Potter didn't want to know if that was the case, as it would ... sort of bug him, in an itchy short of way. No, if that was the case, Harry'd rather it not be the case, but didn't want to go out of his way to fix it either. And he didn't exactly fancy himself some sort of matchmaker that could actually find a way to help Pansy out with marriage. Assuming she wasn't going to marry Malfoy... Was that what Malfoy was trying to say? That he couldn't stand her? Well, in that way, he was pretty clearly her friend? Or whatever Slytherins have instead of friends, that seems way too Hufflepuff a term...
Harry suddenly realized he'd spent about five minutes thinking about something that he didn't really care that much about.
Harry Potter returned to staring at Snape's door, wishing the man would just show up, and slowly starting to worry that he wouldn't. After all, Malfoy had created this detention, and may not have bothered to tell Snape. If it was just going to be cauldron scrubbing, Harry felt like Snape didn't really need that much warning either.
Harry Potter idly tried to figure out if there was ever a time when Snape hadn't been at school. He couldn't really think of one off the top of his head - wait, his head! There had certainly been times when Snape had been kneeling before his Dark Lord and Master... but Harry didn't feel anything from that quarter. If he could believe his own head, which hadn't been the most reliable barometer in the past.
Three hours later, his detention was done. Still no sign of Snape. Would he even be there tomorrow? Harry certainly didn't know, and he felt more and more certain that Malfoy didn't either. Would Malfoy the Death Eater know if Snape was summoned? Harry Potter blinked at having put it that way, even in his mind. Somehow, it seemed true and mostly false at the same time. Huh. He'd have to consider that further...
Harry spent a good thirty minutes after his detention carping about it to his friends. He'd forgotten, really, how much fun it was to get rid of frustration like this - to know that his friends would have a good listen. Hermione would tell him he was blowing things out of proportion (or, more rarely, that he was completely misunderstanding the situation). Ron would simply growl at whichever Slytherin Harry was currently mad about.
And, in this case, Harry Potter felt he was justified in being upset at Draco Malfoy. He'd let his tongue get the better of everything, and said something he probably shouldn't have in the library (where stacks could shield many prying eyes)... "If we're going to be training with him...Why does he have to act like such an absolute git?"
Time seemed to stop, at least for Harry Potter. Hermione, as well, from how her breathing had stopped. Ron just looked at both of them. And then looked again. He smiled, and said, "You're not planning on leaving me out of this, are you?"
"Of course not!" Hermione said stoutly.
"It's just that ... we were told not to learn what you've learnt, and ..." Harry Potter paused.
"Not sure it'll be that easy for you to learn what we've learned either." Hermione finished.
Ron Weasley just looked at them.
"But whenever he's there, we won't be working on our... specialties..." Hermione said quickly.
Ron nodded slowly, and everyone began to breathe again. Harry Potter went back to ranting about Malfoy, and Hermione only said twenty minutes later, "you don't think he was acting, do you?"
At which point, Harry Potter wanted to kick himself for having spent nearly an hour being upset about something Malfoy hadn't really meant in the first place.
Ah, well, frustrations that get poured out to friends are infinitely better than being caught fighting in the halls, Harry thought with an inner impish grin.
Harry Potter hoped to a fever pitch, that Snape would be back tomorrow. He really, really didn't fancy spending another three hours staring at a wall.
For the second day in a row, Harry Potter was staring at the Potion Master's Office Door. He wanted to kick it. Wanted to pound on it until it burst free from its tracings.* Wanted, in fact, to be doing absolutely anything rather than simply standing there.
Worse, he couldn't be completely sure that Draco Malfoy had done this on purpose. He hadn't reacted yesterday - but with Malfoy, that was more likely to mean he was surprised than he had intentionally done something. Besides, since when did Severus Snape leave Hogwarts? Harry Potter could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times that he'd seen the man even outside the building.**+
Harry Potter hated waiting, but waiting like this was even worse. It was the uncertainty that was driving him up a wall. In fact, he could feel his magic pricking at his fingers. Now there's a thought... Harry Potter started preparing to cast a spell - wandlessly and wordlessly, summoning Earth. He could feel the leaden feeling pooling in his hands, and he instinctively slumped, bringing his hands closer to the ground. Then, at a flick of his concentration, he was channeling Fire, which leapt into his hands and only was resistant to staying there. Harry bit on his lip to keep it there.
"Potter?" Draco Malfoy said, stopping short in his walk down a different corridor entirely - he'd obviously seen Harry and been caught a bit offguard. From the suspiciously long pause, Harry amended that to 'caught well off his guard.'
Draco came down the connecting corridor with a swagger, and said, "Still no sign of my Head of House, I see." Draco's mouth quirked into a smirk, as if Draco Malfoy had actually been responsible for it. But, Harry's reason asserted, he couldn't possibly have been. He was surprised, I saw it! "You can make the detention up tomorrow. If he doesn't show." No excuse there for slacking off, Harry thought with a grumble as Draco swaggered away, uncaring that Harry hadn't actually responded.
Harry went back to working through the elements, with water being such a slippery thing that he had trouble summoning it.*+* Nearly half the time had gone by before he remembered needingwater in his cupboard; he cupped his hands, and it was there, pooling and not trying to slither away from him. Huh.
Air, Harry found, took even longer, as it didn't want to come or stay. He was forced to make it spin, and then his hands hurt. A lot. Harry stopped working for a while, just letting himself think.
Almost unbidden he started thinking about Snape's comment about how easy it was to get mad at Harry Potter. Oddly, Harry found the notion slightly comforting. After all, Snape could have been referencing his father. He'd certainly made enough comments bending in that direction that Harry wouldn't have been surprised at it. But no, he'd found something that Harry'd Done to be upset with. And, it was actually NOT something that Harry should have done! Harry would have been upset, he thought, if Snape's "get mad at Harry" memory was Harry chasing after the Philosopher's Stone (best not to mention to Snape that they'd thought he was the one stealing it...). And... and it would have hurt if Snape's memory was of Harry running off to the Department of Mysteries. Harry now knew that he was in the wrong, but... it would have still hurt.
As the minutes clicked by, Harry began to look forward to Zach's study sessions. He wondered idly what they'd be learning today. Probably Ravenclaw's turn next, he thought wryly. Because if it was either Slytherin or Gryffindor, someone was still apt to take it ill.
**+Snape does get fresh air from time to time. Why else does he wander the halls late at night? (answer: harvesting potion ingredients).
*+*Gryffindors are naturally fire aligned, befitting their quicktempered nature. Slytherins are naturally water aligned, and still waters run deep, shall we say?
*Harry, being harry, hasn't asked why he was the one selected for that task. Oblivious much?
**famous last words.
***Snape's capable of powerplaying with time, and Harry's aware of that. Just... not for a detention. That'd be silly and counterproductive.
**** Yes, harry, something's wrong. your existence, specifically.