"Out of my way," Snape snapped at a small boy as he made to exit Quality Quidditch Supplies. With a yelp of terror, the kid launched himself out of the frightening man's path, allowing Snape to get through the door before he even thought of getting up again.
"Let's go Potter," he said absentmindedly as he shoved an old sack into his coat pocket.
Potter said nothing. In fact, he wasn't even there. Feeling a familiar rush of panic come over him, Snape darted anxious glances up and down the bustling streets of Diagon Alley. No Potter in sight.
Not again, he groaned inwardly as he began stomping his way up the street. Although he had only lingered in the shop for a few minutes after the boy's departure, Potter could be anywhere by now. The boy was unsettlingly troublesome when it came to getting himself lost, and it looked like this time was no different…
Just when he thought things couldn't get any crazier, he saw two figures— unmistakably Muggles— wandering the magical street, looking terribly out of place. It was a man and a woman; both of them were darting confused glances at each other and hurriedly looking down at what Snape assumed to be a map. He cringed at the sight of their blue jeans; if Muggle parents were foolish enough to escort their child to Diagon Alley, then the least they could do was attempt to fit in with the crowd of billowing cloaks and long robes around them.
Dumbledore did mention there were a lot of muggleborns coming to Hogwarts this year, Snape mused to himself, still finding it odd that these two weren't accompanying their child with his or her school shopping. They looked strangely familiar; where had he seen that woman's bushy brown hair before?
Suddenly, the two looked up, accidentally making full eye contact with Snape. He was the only one in the entire crowd of bustling witches and wizards that was staring at them; much to his dismay, the Muggles must have seen this as an opportunity to ask him for directions. They came jogging towards him, smiling and looking immensely relieved to have found a wizard that could possibly take the time to help them. He half considered sprinting in the opposite direction. Just as he turned around, however, the couple ran in front of him, blocking his path forward.
"Good afternoon," the man panted, holding out his hand in which Snape condescendingly ignored. "We're sorry to bother you, but—"
"—it's your first time here and you've lost your child," Snape finished for him, feeling irritated with the man for assuming that helping them was more important than what he had to do, which was find Potter before Dumbledore killed him for losing the boy so many times.
Snape could tell that the two were taken aback by his sudden rudeness, but he didn't care. He never cared. The only thing he cared about was the upcoming school year, and if the new first year was as irresponsible as its parents, then he was doomed.
"Give me that," he snapped at the woman holding the map.
Startled by Snape's sudden demand, she nearly threw it at him. "We need to get to some place called 'Flourish and Blotts.' Our daughter—"
"Yes of course," Snape mumbled as he stared down at the map— not actually studying it, but instead frantically trying to think of an excuse to get these Muggles away from him.
"Why don't you go ask someone else?"
"No one will help us."
Snape knew this couldn't possibly be the case, but pushing the issue would only annoy both parties even more.
"Have you tried the goblin escorts?" he asked exasperatedly. He really didn't have time to argue with these people…
"They refuse to accompany Muddles."
"Muggles," Snape harshly corrected him, feeling his temper rising dangerously.
"Do you know where the place is?" the woman gently prodded him after several moments of silence, trying to sound polite but she only came off as pushy to Snape.
Glaring up at the obnoxious Muggles, Snape tossed them back their stupid map and crossed his arms. Half blood or not, he was still repulsed any time he found himself in the presence of Muggles, even if they had a witch for a daughter. While they couldn't realistically blend in with the other witches and wizards around them, the very least they could have done was watch over their little brat.
"Do you want to know where Flourish and Blotts is?"
The two glanced at each other, then looked back at Snape, nodding their heads vigorously. The woman even offered an encouraging smile, as though showing off her unnaturally white teeth would make Snape more willing to help them.
"Then quit gawking at me and insulting my intelligence!"
The Muggles were once again shocked at Snape's insolence, but remained silent this time. Both looked away uncomfortably, perhaps not having realized they were supposedly 'gawking' at the man.
Snape normally wouldn't have reacted so sourly, but he had no time for these Muggles' ignorance. Of course he bloody well knew where Flourish and Blotts was! Snape also knew that the longer he stalled, the farther away Potter could be by now. Oh, Merlin help him should this be the time where he truly couldn't find Potter…
With a hugely impatient sigh, Snape began spewing out directions as quickly as he could manage: "Head down to the end of that street and take a right and then an immediate left after that. Go past the apothecary and make a left in between Madam Malkin's and the Owl Emporium. Make sure it's not a right, that's Knockturn Alley and you don't want to go down there. Go past Ollivander's and you'll see Gringotts in the distance. Don't go that far, but make a right and you'll be at Flourish and Blott's, now if you don't mind, I must be going…"
"Wait!"
Snape actually stopped and whirled around, looking livid. He gave them perfectly clear instructions; what was wrong with these idiotic Muggles? Surely they weren't that hopeless…
Indeed they were: if they looked slightly confused before, they were completely bewildered now. There was no time to repeat himself, and if he left, he had a horrible feeing that they would follow after him like a pair of helpless puppies.
"Follow me," he barked at them, followed by a string of his favorite swear words under his breath. They followed eagerly, but he pretended to himself that they weren't there. It made him feel better thinking that this little detour would help him as well. Perhaps Potter had gone this way anyways…
"Keep an eye out for a boy with a lightning scar," he muttered, feeling absurd for asking these clueless Muggles to be on the look out for a boy they had never seen before.
"You mean Harry Potter?" the woman asked as she and her husband jogged up behind him.
Snape stopped dead in his tracks and nearly tripped over his feet in shock. While he had expected them to stupidly inquire as to whom the boy was, the fact that they immediately knew his name had caught him completely off-guard.
"I thought you were Muggles," he said quietly, looking at them now as though he had missed something in his prior inspection of the two.
The man grinned. He, too, had dazzling white teeth. "We are, but our daughter is one of Harry's best friends…"
"Granger?!" Snape choked. Aside from their physical appearances, he never would have thought these two to be Granger's parents…
Then again, now that he thought about it, the Grangers were very much like their daughter. Insufferable? Most definitely. However, while Hermione was an arrogant little know-it-all, these people clearly knew nothing. They couldn't even find their way to the book store after Snape had given them crystal-clear directions to the damn place.
Inwardly, Snape knew they probably weren't as ignorant as they looked, but forcing himself to believe it made him feel better. He hated Muggles. He hated Hermione Jean Granger. Naturally, it only made sense for him to loathe the two people who brought that intolerable nuisance into the world.
"You must be Professor Snape," Mrs. Granger eyed him disdainfully. Her expression was no longer that of gratefulness, but rather, revulsion. The appearance, the coarse attitude, and his negative reaction to their daughter's identity said it all. "Hermione has told us all about you."
Snape silently promised himself that the first fifty house points from Gryffindor would be taken from Granger— one way or another— for this.
"Oh, I'm sure she has."
xXxXxXxXx
"Are you sure your parents won't be angry with you for leaving them?"
"Oh, I'm sure they'll be a little miffed, but I told them exactly where I was going."
"But—"
"I gave them a map, Harry. It won't be too hard for them to find me."
Harry smiled and rolled his eyes as his friend went back to shelf-surfing. She had spotted him sitting outside of the Quidditch shop a while ago, and insisted that he came along with her to shop for her new books at Flourish and Blott's. Figuring it was better than fuming to himself about his nonexistent Quidditch career, he had eagerly followed. Not once did he consider what Snape would do to him for running off again…
Every couple minutes, another book would be added to Hermione's skyscraper-tall stack of books; most of which weren't required for school, but since she all she did in her free time was read, she needed as many as possible to keep her busy. She was already moaning how she could have gotten started on advanced charms if she hadn't wasted so much time redoing Ron and Harry's homework last year.
"But helping with our homework helps you remember the stuff we learned," Harry protested, secretly worried that Hermione would leave him and Ron to fend for themselves in terms of schoolwork this year.
Hermione stepped down from the ladder with a thick book about basic Transfiguration laws. "I might have believed that if I didn't know you were only saying that so I'll keep doing your homework."
"But—"
"No 'buts' Harry. Now help me find this year's potions book."
They ambled across the aisle of second year-level books and paused at the potions section. Hermione immediately found the book she needed, but Harry remained behind, unconsciously picking up one of the fourth year-level books and flipping through it.
"Well, look at you!" Hermione laughed smugly from behind him.
Startled by Hermione's reaction, Harry hastily shoved the book back to where it belonged and turned around, feeling sheepish under his friend's haughty smirk.
"What?"
"Since when did you take such an interest in Potions?"
"Oh!" Harry gulped. He hadn't even realized what he had done until Hermione pointed it out. "Never…I don't…I just…thought I needed a new book."
She glanced at him oddly as they walked back to her mountain of books that were precariously stacked at the edge of a cramped table. Harry felt that it annoyed him somewhat; he'd only know the girl for a year, after all, and he wasn't entirely used to Hermione's air of hauteur regarding scholastic-related things just yet. Still, she was one of his best friends and he found it hard to stay irritated with her for long.
"Haven't you already gone shopping for your things?"
"Yeah…you'd never guess who—"
"—I'm surprised your relatives let you go so easily this time."
Harry bit his lip. It would be terribly embarrassing admitting that he was actually in Snape's custody until the Hogwarts Express left in a few days. Still, this was Hermione; at least she would understand.
"Well…they didn't exactly let me off 'easily.' Dumbledore—"
"—Dumbledore came and got you?" Hermione looked excited by this prospect, but her face fell when Harry shook his head.
"No, Dumbledore sent Snape."
"Snape?!"
"I know, I thought he was mad too," Harry replied glumly. "But he got me away from the Dursleys, at least. My aunt nearly had a stroke, though. They acted funny around each other…I don't know if Snape treats all Muggles like that, but I'd almost swear my aunt knew—"
"—are you okay?" Hermione cut him off, looking incredibly worried at the fact that their grouchy git of a teacher was the one responsible for Harry. "Snape hasn't hurt you or anything, has he? Oh Harry, tell me everything!"
So, for the next quarter of an hour, Harry told her all about his summer: from Dobby's attempts to keep Harry from going to Hogwarts to getting poisoned ("How could you not remember the bezoars?!") to destroying his broom; Hermione heard everything. She was quite a good listener, and didn't interrupt Harry until she was certain he had finished.
"How's your cousin?" Hermione whispered.
"He's going to heal fine. If it weren't for Snape, it would have been me in St. Mungo's," Harry added with a shiver. Thinking of the method in which Snape had saved him from hitting the pavement, Harry looked directly up at his friend. "He used this funny spell on me…something that jerks you up by your ankles in mid-air. Wouldn't tell me what it was, though. Have you ever heard of something like that?"
Puzzlement washed over Hermione's face for a moment then she shook her head. Harry frowned: if anyone knew what Snape's mystery spell could have been, it would have been her.
Unbeknownst to the two second years, Snape and the Grangers had finally found their way over to Flourish and Blotts. While the Grangers went upstairs to prowl the seemingly endless aisles of books for their lost daughter, Snape headed straight for the second-years' section; not bothering to ask the Grangers to follow him again.
As expected, Granger had somehow managed to find Potter and lure him away from the shop where Snape had expected the boy to wait for him as any normal kid would have done for their guardian. Then again, rules didn't apply to Potter…ever.
The kids were sitting at a table towards the very back of the book shop, talking in hurried whispers. Snape could hear them from where he stood, and he half considered coming up and yanking Potter out of there, but he decided against it for one reason: kids always said the most interesting things when they assumed no adults were around. Certain that Potter had done his fair share of eavesdropping his previous year at Hogwarts, Snape felt absolutely no regret in doing the same.
"Why do you think Dumbledore sent Snape? Surely he couldn't send someone who actually cared about you?"
Snape scowled from his place behind the sixth year-level books. Leave it to Miss Know-It-All to come to hasty conclusions like this.
"Well yeah, but Snape wouldn't explain anything to me, he just said that he was watching over me for the rest of summer, and that's that," Potter replied despondently. "I'm sure he'll be back to his nasty old self once we're back at school."
Snape clenched his fists. That ungrateful little bastard. Did Potter not realize how much he had personally given up for him this summer? How many times had he rescued the brat this past week alone? Three? Four? It felt like ten million times to Snape.
Not to mention the two consecutive sleepless nights Snape had already gone through. The first night, he was busy treating Potter's injuries and making sure the poison didn't spread throughout his body, thus killing him. The second night he wasted fussing over the boy's irremediable broomstick. The lack of sleep was taking its toll on Snape, and he knew he'd snap sooner or later if he didn't get some rest soon…
Intent on dragging Potter back to the Leaky Cauldron, Snape took a step towards the two, but instantly retreated when he saw the familiar face of Draco Malfoy— clearly alone— headed towards Potter and Granger.
"Well if it isn't Potty and Granger…what an unpleasant surprise," Draco spat as he sauntered over to the two Gryffindors.
Hermione glared at him, but managed to stay calm. "Malfoy."
Harry, on the other hand, could not. "Where's your dad, Malfoy? Too embarrassed to be seen in public with his son now?"
"My father's whereabouts are of no concern to you," Draco grinned maliciously. "But where's your dad, Potter?"
Hermione grabbed Harry's wrist just before he managed to get his hands around Malfoy's neck and strangle him. He laughed at the two, clearly excited he had provoked Harry so easily.
"Come on Harry, let's go," Hermione whispered, picking up a stack of her books. Harry angrily followed suit, but Draco stepped in front of them, blocking their path to the front cashier.
"So you're going to Hogwarts after all?" Draco hissed, though there was a tone of uncertainty in his voice as he eyed the books in Harry's hands.
Harry put Hermione's heavy stack of books back on the table and crossed his arms. "Of course I'm going back. Why wouldn't I?"
"My father heard from someone in the Ministry that you were expelled," Draco bluffed.
"If you're talking about that bloody elf—"
Draco laughed. "Pinning the blame on house elves now, are we Potter?"
"I wouldn't blame Dobby if it wasn't true," Harry growled, thinking of how much grief that elf had caused him so far.
"Dobby?" Draco yelped, sounding startled but immediately regaining his composure. "Well I can't say I'm surprised the Ministry's letting you off. Everyone's always sickeningly sympathetic to poor, parentless Potter…"
"Shut up Malfoy," Hermione snapped, setting her books down as though she were preparing to fight.
Draco sneered at her. "Sorry Granger, I forgot you have your own set of parent issues. Perfectly understandable of course, I'd be ashamed of my parents too, if they were Muggles."
"I'm not ashamed of them," Hermione replied hotly.
"No need to say it Granger, it's written all over your face. Maybe your worthless parents could learn a thing or two from Potter's—"
"Shut up!" Hermione hissed before he could finish his sentence. Harry had his hand in his pocket, ready to pull his wand out, but this only made Draco howl with laughter.
"Using magic outside of school again Potter? Maybe you really will be expelled after all…go ahead, I dare you," he smirked as he tauntingly beckoned Harry to hex him with everything he had. Harry remained where he was; his fingers still gripping his wand tightly in his pocket, but he wouldn't allow the other boy to incite him into purposely using magic.
Draco sighed as Harry's hand came up wandless. "I could have figured. It's not worth expulsion, is it Potter? Not worth saving your precious Mudblood friend…"
Harry froze as Hermione's face went from that of irritation to full-out rage in a matter of milliseconds. Her breathing quickened and she held up her book , as though she were threatening to hit Draco. Harry detected a hint of uncertainty on her face, though; while neither of them probably knew what 'Mudblood' meant, by the way Draco had said it; it couldn't have been a compliment…
Draco's malevolent expression distorted into one of sick, satisfied pleasure. He sauntered over to them again, this time picking up the topmost book from Hermione's pile. He examined it with great curiosity for a moment, then looked back up at the two's infuriated faces.
"Sorry Granger, I didn't know I was interrupting your study time…I heard they might ban Mudbloods from attending Hogwarts soon; you might want to hurry and steal all the knowledge you can before they send you back to the Muggle world where you belong…"
Hermione glared at him. "And where will you belong when you get expelled from Hogwarts, Malfoy?"
"I won't get expelled...ever," he laughed cruelly. "See, my father has connections with the Ministry."
Harry wondered why Draco didn't attempt to deny that there was even the slightest possibility that he would do something awful enough to get expelled someday.
Hermione and Harry glanced at each other as Draco pretended to study the book in his hands with great interest.
"Go away Malfoy," Hermione said at last, clearly uncomfortable with the other boy hanging around them.
Draco looked up and smirked. "Very well, Granger."
Just as he went to put the book back on the top of Hermione's book stack, he appeared to have tripped over his own feet. He fell forward, purposely thrusting the book towards the others, and knocked the entire collection to the ground.
"Oh, Granger, I'm so sorry," he choked with laughter as Hermione fell to the ground and hurriedly began picking up her precious books. "You know how clumsy I can be sometimes."
Harry glowered at the other boy, knowing there was nothing accidental about his little stumble. Still, he somehow found the will to ignore the obnoxious boy as he bent over to help his friend with her books.
Out of the corner of his eye, Snape noticed an old, coverless book slip inconspicuously out of Draco's hands and into the seemingly endless pile of books that were now scattered amongst the kids' feet. Had Snape not been watching Draco, he wouldn't have noticed it at all. Harry and Hermione, too preoccupied with organizing the sea of books around them, hadn't even noticed the newest addition to the pile.
Why would Draco do that? Snape wondered to himself, keeping his eyes trained closely on Draco now.
With a high, childlike laugh, Draco turned on the spot and began walking towards the exit of the shop. Harry wasn't done with him yet, however; without thinking, he unknowingly grabbed the blank book and flung it as hard as he could possibly manage towards the other boy. His aim was flawless, but it didn't hit Draco; instead, a pale hand reached out from nowhere and caught it in midair.
"Professor!" Harry looked up in horror at the person whom had caught the book.
"Throwing books, Potter?" Snape asked softly, his black eyes glittering hatefully.
"No sir," Harry replied calmly, keeping his eyes focused on his hands. Whenever he looked at Snape, he always got the feeling that he could see something Harry didn't want him to see...
"So am I to believe that this book took flight on its own accord?" Snape sneered back, hoping to get some sort of reaction out of Potter. He missed tormenting kids; was Potter suddenly immune to his threatening approach?
"No professor, I didn't—"
"I threw it, sir," Hermione spoke up at once. Harry looked at her in shock. It was just like the previous year, when Harry and Ron had fought off the troll and Hermione took the blame. He thought that had been a fluke though; was she seriously lying to a teacher again?
Snape didn't need Legilimency to see that Granger was covering up for her friend; he'd seen the temperamental boy throw it right in front of him. What of their punishment, though? They were not at Hogwarts; therefore he could not deduct house points. He could not give them detentions, either. Snape hated the feeling of not being the one in power, but then it occurred to him: he was Potter's guardian. This clearly meant that Dumbledore would allow him to discipline the boy in a way he felt would be suitable, right?
As for Granger's punishment, he wouldn't dare lay a finger on her— nor would he verbally reprimand her— while her parents were in such close proximity. Muggles or not, they were her guardians, and thus only they could punish her while she was outside of school.
"There you are Hermione!"
Snape grimaced at the sound of the girl's father coming from behind him. Hermione didn't smile at her parent's approach, but rather, continued cowering in terror from Snape's fierce glare.
"Mum…Dad…" she said faintly. "Um, I'd like you to meet my friend, Harry—" she gestured to Harry, who looked extremely uncomfortable under Snape's watchful gaze, "— and this is one of my teachers at school, Professor—"
"We've met," her mother interrupted, her loathsome expression directed at Snape. Hermione didn't understand why there was such animosity between the two, but it was clear that she was discomfitted by it.
"Ready to leave, dear?" Mr. Granger asked his daughter.
"Oh yes," Hermione replied too quickly. She could not have looked more relieved at the excuse to get away from her daunting Potions professor; it was bad enough seeing him at school, but summer was supposed to be her Snape-free time. She hurriedly shoved the reorganized stacks of books into her parent's arms and tried pushing them away from the scene before Snape could do anything else. She couldn't even look back to apologize to Harry; she figured he'd understand and besides, it would have been worse if Snape saw her mouthing an apology to him.
"Miss Granger, I believe you've left a book," Snape called back, holding up the coverless book in which Potter had unsuccessfully thrown at Malfoy. He had managed a quick glance inside as she began walking away, but found, to his disappointment, that it was completely blank. Surely Granger didn't keep a diary? Or…was this the book Draco had so surreptitiously dropped into her pile? He didn't remember, but it didn't matter, seeing that Draco had obviously wanted to be rid of the book anyways.
"Oh!" Hermione unwillingly went back to Snape and went to take the book— not yet realizing it wasn't hers— but Snape pulled back before she could snag it.
"Are you certain this is yours?"
"Oh yes, I've wanted that book for a long time," Hermione said absentmindedly. Harry secretly knew she was lying so that she could get away from Snape as soon as possible. As he watched her retreating figure scrambling after the two elder Grangers, he found himself sincerely wishing that he could join her. At least she had said goodbye this time.
Harry sighed and looked up at his guardian, who, as usual, was smirking at him. The circumstances were not looking good at this point, because he now found himself alone with Snape once more. Joy.
xXxXxXxXx
Bleh.
Cold oatmeal was not the sort of breakfast Harry had looked forward to upon his departure from the Dursleys. However, he'd already forced down four spoonfuls of the garbage, would another few scoops really kill him? The saddest part was that it was better than any of the morning meals the Dursleys had ever provided for him at Privet Drive. Breakfast didn't really even qualify as a meal with his relatives, who refused to give him anything more than a piece of mouldy fruit and an iceless glass of water.
At least Tom the barman had brought him some orange juice. It tasted a little bitter, but it was a refreshing change from plain water.
Harry was used to eating alone; he'd dined solo for nearly a decade in his little cupboard until the year he found out he was a wizard. After that, his aunt and uncle seemed to fear what he would do to them if he was forced away during mealtimes. Still, while they let him eat at the table like a normal human being, they still gave him nothing but Dudley's leftovers, which usually weren't much, since his pig of a cousin ate so much.
Still, Harry couldn't help but feel out of place sitting in the Leaky Cauldron's main area by himself. Every other occupied table around him had at least two or three people sitting together, chatting merrily about the latest goings-on in the wizarding world. A few others read the Daily Prophet with their friends and colleagues. As much as Harry liked watching how other people acted in this still unfamiliar world of witchcraft and wizardry, he felt a nagging sense of loneliness rising in his chest. He wished Ron and Hermione were here.
Snape had warned him the night before not to disturb him: after nearly three straight days without sleeping, Harry grudgingly decided he couldn't blame him for wanting peace. He never really considered Snape to be a morning person, after all; he was most definitely a prowler of the night.
Sighing to himself, Harry idly reached into his schoolbag and pulled out the first book that his hand latched onto. Somehow, it didn't surprise him that it happened to be his potions book. Figuring there was nothing really interesting to do— Snape had forbade him from allowing even one toe to step outside of the Leaky Cauldron— Harry opened it up to a random page and read. Potions had been a terribly dull subject the year before…why did it seem a little more appealing to him this year, then?
Last year, someone had vaguely mentioned his mother being a brilliant potioneer when she attended Hogwarts. Was he merely determined to live up to her legacy? Or had he simply imagined someone telling him about Lily's potioneering abilities? He didn't really know, but he did know one thing: he wasn't going to let Snape humiliate him this year. He'd be prepared for those trick questions the grumpy git always reserved just for him.
At the sight of a black, billowing cloak brushing past him, Harry looked up. Now awake, Snape had come down for breakfast without even the slightest "good morning." Harry had obviously expected this, but today Snape didn't even acknowledge him.
Tom the barman immediately rushed over with a mug of steaming hot black liquid. Harry held back a snort of laughter when he recognized the smell that wafted over to him from Snape's table. Apparently his potions professor was fond of Muggle coffee. Like everything else about him, it was black. Harry half wondered if the man had ever worn anything besides that dismal colour. Maybe the Weasley twins could do something about Snape's dreary attire this year…
Snape knew exactly where the boy was sitting; he had simply chosen not to greet him. Every new day was a terrible day; each one meant that he had to continue pushing himself through this miserable existence. Seeing Potter's face first thing in the morning would make it worse. He concentrated as hard as he could on the tattered Daily Prophet in front of him, but he could feel Potter's gaze on him, even through the paper. Oh Merlin, would the boy ever leave him alone?
Unable to take it any longer, he slammed down the paper, making his half-empty coffee mug wobble dangerously near the edge of the table. Potter's eyes widened in terror as he and Snape made eye contact, but for some reason, the foolish boy didn't look away. Instead, he seemed somewhat cheered by the fact that someone had finally looked at him. Snape shook his head in disgust, figuring that he would never understand how Potter's mind worked. A ridiculous little attention-seeker; that's what Potter was.
As Snape went back to reading the newspaper, Harry casually flicked through his potions book once more. He landed on a page and briefly glanced over it, not really paying attention until his eyes somehow focused on the ingredients to the potion. He knew Snape thought him to be a dreadful potioneer, but the instructions on this particular potion intrigued him. Without thinking, Harry stood up and walked across the room— with book in tow— to where Snape was so desperately trying to focus on the Prophet and ignore him.
Harry stood patiently next to the man for several seconds. Snape seemed to sense him there, but he didn't want to give in and have to talk to the boy. He concentrated so hard on the newspaper that the print seemed to swirl beneath his eyes after a while, thus giving him a rather irritating headache. Potter remained where he was, clearly intending on talking to him sooner or later.
"What do you want Potter?" Snape asked at last, folding the paper and tossing it aside. Much to his annoyance, Potter took this as an invitation to sit down across from him. He didn't quite smile, but then again, he didn't glare at Snape as he usually did in Potions class. Snape noticed he had a book on his lap.
"What is that?" he inquired sharply. He knew he was coming across as harsh, but this was Potter; criticism hardly stopped him from being an arrogant mini-toerag.
"Oh, uh I had a question…it's about potions, sir," he said calmly. He had grown accustomed to his professor's snappish questions by now, and no longer looked as flustered under Snape's interrogations. He propped the book up onto the table and pushed it towards Snape.
"It says to add half an ounce of wolfsbane and three ounces of monkshood, but…didn't you say those were the same plants?"
Snape found it exceedingly difficult to hide his shock. Potter…did pay attention in class last year? Where was Granger? Surely it was she who had slipped him this bit of information…? Granger was nowhere to be seen, however. It appeared that Potter had found this all on his own, though Snape really did not believe this to be possible. Snape looked up at the boy; he was looking at Snape expectantly, partially fearful of a potential hostile response, half excited to have shown Snape that he really did listen to his lectures, no matter how dull they were most of the time.
Snape took a long sip of his now-cold coffee, pretending to mull it over in hopes that the boy would lose interest and retreat.
Stupid Gryffindor pride, he thought sourly when Harry didn't budge. In fact, the boy scooted his chair closer; his anticipation was nearly driving him mad.
"Well…sir?"
Snape hated how he always seemed to add that when he wanted a good response. If Potter was expecting praise for this little discovery, then he needed a good dosage of common sense knocked into him…
"Yes Potter," he said at last, finding himself increasingly annoyed with the way the boy gazed at him so eagerly. Snape couldn't bring himself to add 'You're right.' It would have felt like swearing in front of a young child; strange and inappropriate.
Snape had hoped the boy would go away after this insignificant finding, but Snape's positive response only encouraged him further.
"And this sir? Are we learning to make this one this year?" he pointed to another page that Snape definitely knew he had chosen randomly. He didn't know what Potter was getting at, but he had to discourage him before he actually started asking for more help.
"Yes Potter, now go away," he said it bluntly because there was simply no other way to get rid of the unbearable boy. Harry appeared to have ignored this, however; he had company now— never mind how bad-tempered Snape was.
"And this—"
"Potter!" Snape snapped at him, feeling rather irritated that the boy had already managed to ruin his morning with his idiotic questions. He suddenly felt himself wishing Granger was here so that little know-it-all could answer Potter's questions, rather than have the boy waste his time.
As Harry's wide green eyes silently stared back at him, Snape sighed impatiently. "Why do you care about Potions, Potter? You've never shown any interest— or talent, for that matter— in the subject before."
Harry frowned, clearly thinking it over. "I don't know, sir," he said finally. "I guess…I don't like being terrible at a subject, really…so I figured…I'd try a little more this year."
The two were silent for quite some time. Harry didn't dare ask any more questions for a while, and Snape didn't want to talk to him anyways. Harry lost himself in thought for a while, then decided there was one last question he wanted answered, and this had nothing to do with potions.
"Sir?"
"What now Potter?" Snape didn't bother looking up this time, but rather focused his attention on resisting the overwhelming urge to hit his head against the nearest wall.
"What does 'Mudblood' mean?"
Snape nearly choked on his drink. While he had been expecting another obnoxious question about the subject he hated almost as much as Potter did, he hadn't been prepared for this. Oh, how that awful word had brought him so much grief in the past…
"It has no meaning, Potter."
"Of course it does," Harry shot back heatedly. "Malfoy called Hermione that yesterday."
Indeed he had. Snape had heard it himself.
He personally hadn't used the cursed word since his fifth year at Hogwarts, but he did not forget its meaning, although he wished he could. Why should he tell Potter, anyways? Knowing what it meant did not guarantee he wouldn't use it later against his friend…
Glancing at the boy's fierce expression, Snape shrugged as apathetically as he could manage. "It's a term to describe those of Muggle ancestry, Potter."
The boy considered the idea for a few moments. His forehead creased as though he was in deep thought, then he finally responded quietly: "Why? Does it matter, being muggleborn?"
Try as he might, Snape could not ignore the question. As much as he despised Granger, he did not hold a personal grudge against muggleborns. And, knowing Potter, he would launch into a full-out interrogation if Snape said 'yes,' so there was only one answer left if he wanted the boy to shut up once and for all…
"No."
xXxXxXxXx
Draco was not happy.
Actually, he was rarely happy on most other occasions, but today, he was fuming.
The elf had lied to him. It was unbelievable. Did the foolish creature realize how terrible his punishment would be?
Harry Potter was going back to Hogwarts. But why? Dobby swore to him that he wasn't returning; how in the world had Potter managed to squirm his way out of trouble this time?
It was bad enough that he was going to have to put up with Granger and Weasley for another ridiculously long school year, but Potter too?
"Dobby!" he called the elf from the darkness of his room. He'd already wasted the past two hours brooding over his misfortunes; it was time for a little pay back.
Crack!
Just as the scrawny elf materialized out of thin air in front of him, Draco furiously punted him with a kick so powerful that professional Muggle soccer players would have envied him. The elf screamed as he soared across the room— his body twisting into various grotesque positions in midflight— and landed with a resounding crash! on the opposite end of the room.
Before he could even pick himself up, Draco yanked him up from his feeble position amongst the rubble and threw him onto a nearby chair.
"Master Draco! Master Draco!" Dobby was now sobbing, but Draco didn't have time for the elf's pathetic behaviour right now.
"You lied to your master, you stupid elf!" Draco hissed as he advanced threateningly towards the cowering creature. Dobby's huge tennis ball-shaped eyes were wide with fear and tears poured unashamedly down his face as he stared up at his young master with apprehensive reverence.
"Master…" Dobby pleaded, but Draco would hear none of it.
"Didn't you tell me that Potter wasn't returning to Hogwarts? Didn't you?" Draco grabbed the elf by his rag and shook him violently, unwilling to wait for his bawling to subdue in order to get an answer.
"Dobby has tried, master! Dobby has done everything—"
"Clearly you haven't! I saw Potter yesterday in Diagon Alley! He's going back!"
Dobby squealed as Draco indifferently tossed him towards the door. Dobby waited several seconds before he got to his feet, wondering what his cruel young master would do to him when his back was turned. For some reason, no further punishment came, and Dobby started inflicting his own form of punishment on himself to compensate.
"Stop it! You'll break a hole in my wall if you do that enough!" Draco snapped from behind him. Dobby stopped at once and timidly turned around to face Draco.
"Do whatever it takes to keep Potter from going back to Hogwarts, do you understand me, you piece of filth?"
Dobby nodded immediately, and then added in a terrified whisper: "Master…what if the only choice left is to kill Harry Potter?"
Draco frowned. While he certainly hated Potter, it wasn't worth going to Azkaban by ordering his family elf to kill him.
"No, don't kill him," he replied with a hint of reluctance in his voice. "And don't kill Snape either," he added quickly, remembering for the first time that his favourite professor was watching over Harry for the rest of the summer.
Dobby trembled slightly. "And…what if Dobby…"
"If you die, then I'll consider it a worthy sacrifice. You're hardly of much use around here as it is," Draco said smugly, unable to contain his joy at the petrified look on the elf's face. "Now get out of my sight!"