Chapter Ten

The Daily Prophet seemed to love him. Harry stared at the ever-growing pile of newspapers that ran articles about him. The Daily and Evening Prophet seemed to think his sudden curse of royalty was the most interesting bit of news to be published. Harry could think of a few dozen things he'd rather read then this load of crap. It made the acid churn in his stomach, and not in the pleasant way it did whenever he caught himself staring at Snape.

"You're not still bothering to read that tripe, are you?" Snape asked, entering the kitchen and scowling at the offending pile of papers.

"I have to know what they're saying so I can be prepared when I go back to school," Harry explained. "I hate the Prophet, but I have to read it."

"Their half-truths and lies are only the beginning. As the house is warded, your adoring public has been kept at bay. At school, there will be nothing to stop women and men alike throwing themselves at you. I don't suppose you could make yourself less...appealing?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know," Snape said, gesturing toward Harry's face. "You're too handsome. Maybe we could grow a few warts and pimples on your face. That will repel a large portion of the shallowest of the lot."

Harry snorted. "Handsome! of course I am."

Snape looked at Harry with mock confusion. Be subtle, Severus. "You should look in the mirror more. You have grown into an attractive young man. You've lost that awkward gangliness and grown into your feet. You also have a level of maturity that comes when you've been thrown into circumstances such as you've been through. Overall, you're quite attractive," Snape said, nodding and turning away to pour himself a cup of tea.

"Bloody hell, Snape did not just call me attractive," Harry muttered to himself.

"What was that?" Snape asked. He'd heard every syllable, but he was curious if the boy would say it to his face.

Harry looked at him with fear and confusion marring his features. "You find me attractive?"

Snape shrugged. "Yes, I'm surprised you don't. It's of no consequence; merely an observation I assure you."

"An observation about my attractive qualities," Harry shot back. "Qualities I assure you I don't have."

"I haven't the time or inclination to stroke your ego, but I will tell you that you are indeed attractive."

"You mean Malfoy's cloyingly sweet notes won't be the end of it?" Harry saw the amused look and grinned. "I know big words too, you know."

"And you even used 'cloyingly' correctly. Five points to Gryffindor." Snape smirked. He began to think awarding and taking would be fun, even outside of Hogwarts.

"You know something?"

"What?"

"That's just mean."

"You'll have to be more specific, unless calling you attractive is a mortal sin."

"Not that." Harry groaned. "Giving points when they don't count. That's just plain mean."

"You're never satisfied, are you Potter?" Snape frowned. "Does this mean I can add some things to make you not so handsome?"

"If you must..."

"Generally, the answer to a yes or no question is indeed yes or no?"

"Well, I don't want to say yes because the thought of having warts or boils makes me queasy, but the thought of being attacked in odd corners in Hogwarts isn't any more appealing."

"You're taking all the fun out of it, you know," Snape said, scowling.

"I am?" Harry asked innocently.

Subtle seduction, Severus. Step one, not-so-innocent compliments.

"At least if you were made up to look horrid it would be less distracting than your normal face. Or not. I suppose that would depend on just how horrid you looked."

"Hey!" Harry cried, laughing. "Isn't there another way to make people back off without giving me unsightly facial blemishes?"

"Oh, I suppose so," Snape said with a put-upon sigh. "Would you be averse to being turned into a small fish? A goldfish, perhaps? I could keep you in a bowl on my desk. It would be the easiest way to keep you out of trouble."

"I wouldn't be able to go to lessons," Harry pointed out, "but I think there are worse fates then living on your desk."

"Have you seen the things that live on my desk?"

"Er...no. I tried not to look too hard," Harry admitted.

"Wise," Snape replied, carrying his teacup to the table.

Harry leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes. "So what is on your desk?"

Snape grinned wickedly and sipped his tea.

"Come on," Harry coaxed. "Now you've got me curious."

"In this case, curiosity won't kill you. What are your plans for the day?"

"Homework." Harry shrugged. "I have this killer Potions assignment on top of an insane Transfiguration essay..."

"It's not that difficult," Snape scoffed. "If you'd paid attention, you'd realize that the essay is on a potion you should have perfected in your fifth year."

"Do you remember my fifth year?"

"Rather hard to forget it," Snape said frowning at the memory of their Occlumency lessons.

"Do you remember who was teaching Defense?"

"What does that have to do with Potions?" Snape asked, his brow arched in question.

"When did I get the chance to study them?" Harry demanded. "Between running an underground defense club – yes, I did do that – and being in detention with the old toad, when did I get the chance to do anything at all?"

"I'd think that once you were banned from Quidditch, you'd find time to study," Snape replied.

"Detention," Harry repeated, holding up his hands. The white scars shone under the candlelight.

Frowning, Snape took Harry's hand, studying the fine white lines on the back of his hand. He traced them with a long, potion-stained finger. "'I will not tell lies'. This was Umbridge?" he asked, the grip on Harry's hand tightening as Snape's face darkened in anger.

"Who else? It certainly wasn't you."

Snape's left eye began to twitch as he released Harry's hand. He wrapped his fingers around his teacup, his knuckles going white. "Did Albus know?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"I don't think so, not about this."

"Why didn't you tell someone?" Snape asked, scowling darkly.

Harry stared at him incredulously. "Who would I tell? If I told any of the other professors and they went and told the Ministry, they were as good as fired."

Snape's eye was still twitching as he pushed back his chair. "I need to pick up a few supplies for the garden. Do you need anything while I'm out?"

Harry shook his head, and reached over for Snape's half-empty mug.

"I'll see you in a few hours." With that, Snape left the room, leaving Harry to stare after him.

The sound of the door opening with a loud creak woke up Harry faster than any bucket of water could have done. He hadn't even realized he had fallen asleep. The air was so thick and warm; he hadn't wanted to leave the manor to go and work in the garden and had decided to go and read in the library near the entrance hall instead.

It had been cool in there and the cool leather sofa had felt good against his sticky skin. The last thing he recalled was thinking that the grandfather clock needed to be set again.

"Did I wake you?" Snape asked. His voice was lower than usual but his eyes were shining with something akin to triumph.

Harry made a small noise of agreement. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he moved to sit up, wincing at the slick popping noise as his sweaty skin detached from the couch.

"Studying hard I see," Snape said, sitting in a nearby chair.

"I wasn't expecting it to get so hot in here," Harry grumbled, still half asleep.

"I've got some things that need to be planted today. Would you like to help, or would you rather lie about all day?"

"I'll help," Harry answered quickly. "It can't be any worse out there than it is in here."

They worked for nearly thirty minutes, when the loud crack of someone Apparating had them both lifting their heads. Snape's wand was in his hand so fast, Harry couldn't help but be impressed, but there was no need for wands. Ron was standing at the bottom of the lane, waving and looking sheepish.

Harry smiled and stood up, brushing off his pants. He dropped his trowel and pulled off his dirt-encrusted gloves, tossing them to the ground, before jogging over to where Ron was standing just outside the wards. Taking Ron's hand he pulled the redhead through unharmed.

"Hey."

"Hey. Hope this is all right. We were all kind of worried and I sort of insisted on coming to check on you." Harry couldn't help but notice the way Ron was warily watching Snape.

"I'm fine," Harry answered the unasked question. His gaze flickered over to where Snape had gone back to his gardening. "I was just doing some gardening, you know."

"Gardening? Have you been hanging out with Neville or something?" Ron asked, grinning. "Wow, Harry, this place is huge."

"That's what I said," Harry laughed. "Come on, I'll give you a tour if you have the time."

"Wicked," Ron said, his eyes shining with curiosity. As they passed Snape, neither Ron nor Snape acknowledged one another, which was probably for the best, all things considered.

Once they were inside, Ron looked at Harry. "You alright mate? I mean here, with him?"

"Yeah," Harry looked askew at Ron, "why shouldn't I be?"

"I dunno, it's just...Snape," Ron said, the look on his face telling Harry all he needed to know.

Harry grabbed Ron's arm to prevent him from walking off. "So what if it's 'just Snape'?"

"Snape, Harry. You know, the guy who made you miserable for how long? Same guy who humiliates Hermione every chance he gets. That Snape!" Ron exclaimed, frowning. "He hasn't, placed a spell on your or anything has he? Bill's home, he can break any curse you throw at him if you want to go and get checked out."

"He hasn't," Harry bit out.

"You know me and Hermione would be happy to come and stay here with you," Ron said. "If it's just that you don't want to be alone..."

"It's not only a matter of loneliness, Ron," Harry sighed, letting go of Ron's arm. He leaned back against the wall, beneath one of the blank portraits. "If you want to come stay here it's fine by me, but don't think I'm going to kick Snape out."

Ron's frowned deepened. "It's because of that journal, isn't it? What did Snape do, convince you that he had to live with you to protect you? Because he doesn't. You've got a lot of friends, Harry."

Harry grinned. "He hasn't killed me yet, has he?"

Ron shrugged and shook his head. "Your choice, even if I think it's a stupid one."

Harry's shoulders slumped. "Do you trust me?"

"Course I do, it's him I don't trust."

"No, you don't." Harry pushed off the wall and jerked his head towards the door leading into the library. Once they were both inside, Harry continued, "You don't trust me. If you did you'd believe me when I said I was safe. It's not just the journal that's making me feel this way."

"Then explain it to me, so that when I go back home and everyone asks I can give them a better answer than 'Harry trusts him'!"

"Ron, how much do you remember about the final battle?" Harry asked gently.

"Everything up until that spell addled my brain," Ron said, flopping onto a chair. "Damn these are hard," he said, shifting to get more comfortable.

"That's Snape's chair," Harry said, smiling. "I think he likes it that way."

Ron jumped up, looking around in a panic. "He won't care, you prat," Harry said, smirking.

"Better safe than sorry," Ron said, settling into a different chair. "Anyway, the last thing I really remember is climbing that hill with you and all hell breaking loose at the top."

Harry nodded, perching himself on the arm of Snape's chair. "Has anyone bothered to fill you in on what happened next?"

"No."

Harry couldn't help but cringe at the bitter tone the word had. He was one of the guilty ones as well. He hadn't wanted to tell Ron because he didn't want to remember himself.

"When you got struck by the Obliviate, I was too far away to get to you. I saw you go down, and so did Hermione, but we were both too far away and too busy to reach you." Harry's gaze rested on Ron's pale face. "You were stumbling around disoriented and screaming something about not wanting to degnome the garden."

Harry shifted and fell ungracefully into Snape's chair. He wasn't sure how well his next bit of news would be received. "It was Snape who got to you first, Ron. He handed you his emergency Portkey to get back inside Hogwarts and activated it."

Ron sat up, frowning. "Snape? Wish someone would have told me," Ron groused, his brow furrowed as he thought. "So what? I should be all grateful and trust him now? I mean I am, I am grateful and I'll even tell him as much. But trust? I don't know that I can ever do that mate; I'm just being honest with you."

"I don't need you to trust him; I just need you to know why I trust him." Harry grinned ruefully. "Hell, I need to work out why I trust him."

"Which is what I've been trying to do! Tell me why you trust him!"

Harry ran a hand down his face, closing his eyes as he leaned into the winged-back armchair. It was hard, just as Ron had said, but it wasn't that bad.

"I trust him because he's always kept me safe," Harry mused aloud, "I suppose, or at least that's part of it. It just seems to boil down to I feel safe around him. Did you notice how he reacted when you Apparated outside the wards?"

Snape was about to announce himself, but decided against it. He would learn more this way, neither boy would censor what they had to say.

"Yeah, he had his wand out right quick. I was afraid he was going to hex me before I even got a chance to say it. The man is terrifying when he's set to duel." Ron shivered. "Wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that."

Harry snorted. "I have been. It isn't fun. But that's my point, even his knee jerk reactions, the ones spawned from paranoia," Ron snorted this time and Harry grinned, "are meant to keep me safe. No one knows he is here with me, but I'm fairly certain the entire wizarding world knows that I am."

"And he hasn't done anything to you? He hasn't like tried to… you know," Ron rubbed the back of his neck. "Kiss you, or anything, right?"

Snape froze with indecision. Listen to the answer, or hex Weasley for his impertinence?

Harry laughed. "Would you really want to know if he had?"

"No!" Ron said, holding up his hands. "But...did he?"

Harry shook his head, still looking amused. "No, he hasn't."

Ron studied him. "You don't seem very opposed to the idea," Ron said, cocking his head at Harry.

"I've had Malfoy write me love letters," Harry told him frankly, "And to be honest I'd rather snog Snape than go on a date with that narcissistic prick."

In the hallway, Snape's eyebrows shot up.

"Frankly Harry, I'm concerned that you consider snogging Snape is even an option."

"You shouldn't be," Harry said firmly. "Because it's unlikely ever to happen. I doubt highly that Snape's as excited about the idea as you are."

That, Mister Potter is yet to be determined, Snape thought. Deciding he may as well have a bit of fun at Weasley's expense, he entered the room. "Tell me, Weasley," he said, moving to Ron's chair and looming over him. "Why, pray tell, is my name being bandied about in the context of snogging? While I am flattered, Weasley, I'm going to have to decline your generous offer."

Ron's eyes widened to a size that had to be painful. "Bu-bu-!"

"Breathe, Weasley," Snape said, rolling his eyes at an amused Harry. "I'm going to cook dinner, is he staying?"

"I dunno," Harry said, trying to stifle his laughter as Ron's face turned bright red. "You staying for dinner, Ron?"

"Sure he won't poison me?" Ron asked, scrubbing the back of his neck.

"I only have enough poison to give Potter. You'll have to come again another night if you want the full experience. Otherwise, we'll be eating in about an hour."

Harry waited until Snape had swept out of the room, before addressing Ron again. "You okay there, Ron?"

"Snape thinks I want to snog him," he cried, his voice high and whiny.

"No, he really doesn't."

"Doesn't he ever scare you?" Ron whispered, keeping an eye out for Snape coming back.

Harry nodded. "If I don't notice him when he's looming, yes, he can scare the piss out of me. But not in the way you're thinking, at least, not any more."

"If you say so," Ron said, giving a small shudder.

"I should go see if he wants help, you coming?" Harry asked, getting to his feet.

"Is it all right if I go and poke around for a bit?"

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, of course, but don't get lost. I have. Oh, and while you're poking, see if you can get any of the portraits to talk to you. They won't come out and it's starting to irritate me."

"Portrait baiting. Sounds fun," Ron said, grinning.

"If you get lost, yell and we'll come and find you. Eventually."

Harry grinned all the way to the kitchen. He pushed open the door to see Snape washing assorted vegetables. "Need help?" he asked, leaning on the counter next to Snape.

"Start chopping those carrots into strips," Snape instructed, indicating the freshly washed vegetables on the countertop.

Harry grabbed them, set them a safe distance away from the sink, and went to the drawer with the knives in it. "What are you making?"

"Stir fry I think," Snape said, pulling out the raw chicken and rinsing it in the sink as well.

"What do you mean, you think?"

"I've never actually done it, but I don't see it as being any more difficult than anything else." He reached for a cutting board and began slicing the chicken into smaller chucks. "Where's Weasley?"

"Goading portraits," Harry answered distractedly, "and what do you mean you've never done it?"

"I've never made a stir fry. Have you?" Snape inquired.

"Well, no, but that's a bit beside the point seeing as I'm not the one who is going to try and make it!"

"So little faith in my cooking abilities? I'm wounded, Potter, wounded."

Harry flushed. "No, it just seems a bit daft, that's all."

"What seems daft?"

"You don't have any instructions on how to do this, and you've never done it before. I like edible food. Edible, reliable food."

"Don't be ridiculous, it will be perfectly edible. If you're intention is to mock me while I'm cooking, you may leave."

"It's not like you don't mock me when I'm brewing a potion," Harry countered.

"That is different, in that situation I'm trying to teach you something. Here, it would just be mockery."

"Whatever it was you were trying to teach, it got lost in translation," Harry grumbled, chopping at the carrots with an extra amount of noise.

Snape dumped the diced chicken into the already heated pan, and it sizzled amongst the oil and water. He stirred it around a bit and summoned a bottle from the cupboard. He read the label, shrugged and poured a generous amount in with the chicken.

"Have you got the onion?" Snape asked, and Harry handed him the dish full of onion. Snape dumped it in the pan and stirred it around with the chicken.

Harry leaned against the counter with a soft sigh. "I think I'd better go and find Ron."

"Wonderful, you can both get lost together. Food should be ready in fifteen minutes, give or take." Snape stirred the chicken and onion around the pan, browning them.

"Yes, sir." Harry rolled his eyes and meandered out of the kitchen.

"And I have no intention of saving you any food if you're not back in time," he muttered when Harry left. Weasley wasn't a variable he had been prepared for. Sighing, he resigned himself to being civil to the boy. Step number two in subtle seduction: get along with his friends.

Harry found Ron on the stairs, talking quietly with the portrait that had caught Snape's fascination on their first visit. He crept up the stairs, careful to avoid the ones that squeaked as he tried to make out what was being said.

"I am sorry, young Master Weasley. There is nothing I can tell you. It is for you to find out on your own."

Harry paused and cocked his head to the side. The voice was familiar, but not. And then it hit him. It wasn't the voice, so much as the language. If he could just see who it was... Creeping up the last few steps, he could finally see the mystery man in the portrait. Lank black hair covered most of the man's face, but he could still see the scowl so familiar to him he was unnerved.

"Thelonious?" he whispered in shock. It was one thing to be told off by a portly gentleman in a suit that he didn't recognize, it was quite another to come face to face with a man he'd read about intimately.

The man in the portrait cocked his head, studying Harry with a scowl. "You'll do," he said, and disappeared out of the frame.

Ron looked at Harry, an unrecognizable look on his face.

"Ron, what were you talking about?" Harry asked, taking the stairs two at a time to reach his friend.

"Nothing."

Harry stared at him in disbelief. "All right, so then it meant nothing that he said I'll do? What was that about then?"

"As king I suppose. Look, I just asked him a question and he gave me the run around. That's it," Ron said, brushing passed Harry to go back down the stairs.

Harry followed quickly after. "Well, what did you ask then?"

"It's not important," Ron replied.

Harry grabbed Ron by the arm, stopping him. "The portraits are already hiding stuff from me; I don't need my best friend doing it too!"

"Really, Harry, it isn't important," Ron reassured. "If it was I would tell you."

"Yeah, right," Harry muttered irritably. "Dinner's about ready, come and eat," he said sulkily.

"Come on, mate, don't be like that," Ron groaned.

Harry didn't answer, but sped up leading Ron through the halls.

Snape looked up from the table he was setting when the two entered the room. Potter was obviously upset about something, and Weasley looked guilty.

"Potter?" Snape asked while scowling at Ron.

"Guess who Ron got to talk to?"

"Harry, it's not like that!" Ron cried.

"Who?" Snape asked, his scowl deepening.

"He was having a chat with Thelonious' portrait," Harry said bitterly.

"Merlin, Harry, do you have to tell him everything?" Ron asked, beginning to get angry.

"No."

Snape looked between the two of them and rolled his eyes. "Forgive me, I have no desire to mediate your lover's spat," he sneered, turning back to the food on the stove. "Grab a plate."

He watched as first Harry, then Ron went and grabbed a plate each, neither looking at the other.

They sat in awkward silence at the table. Harry was angrily stabbing at his vegetables, and Ron was watching him out of the corner of his eye. Getting fed up with it all, Snape finally spoke.

"You know, Weasley, Legilimency isn't illegal," he said lightly, placing a small piece of chicken his mouth, counting on the veiled threat to get things moving along.

"I didn't do anything wrong!" Ron cried.

"Look Ron, I know to you it's no big deal, but to me it is, alright?" Harry snapped, pushing his plate away. "Why can't you just tell me what you talked about?"

"Because it's none of your damned business," Ron exclaimed, "That's why!"

Harry shoved back from the table and stormed out of the room, leaving Ron and Snape alone. "You stay out of my mind, Snape," Ron said nervously.

"Do you need help finding the door, Mister Weasley?" Snape asked, smirking.

"I can find it on my own," Ron muttered, also pushing away from the table, following in Harry's wake.

Snape continued to eat his meal, debating whether to let Potter come to him, or if he should go after him. In the end, he determined that Potter wouldn't expect Snape to come after him, therefore that was what he should do.

He wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it on his plate. Snape cast a warming charm on Harry's plate, and went in search of the boy himself.

It didn't take him long. Harry was sitting on the steps, ear pressed against the wall.

"Did he leave?"

"Yes," Snape answered, considering his options before sitting on the step next to Harry.

"Good."

"You're certain it was Thelonious he was speaking to?" Snape asked, shifting slightly to look at the empty portrait frame.

"Yes," Harry replied, exhaling.

Severus stood and walked a few steps up the stairs to stand level with the portrait. "I'm beginning to think we should just burn the lot of them."

"There's too many of them."

Snape studied Harry. The boy's anger was gone, and now he was morose and brooding. "I've got to begin replenishing the supplies for the Hogwarts infirmary. Considering you spend half of your time there, perhaps you could help me brew some Pepper-Up Potion." As far as distractions went, that was about the best Snape could do.

Harry leaned back on the stairs, and tipped his head backwards so he could see Snape. "You seriously want me to help you with potions?"

"Even you can manage a simple first year potion."

Harry stared at him for another few seconds, before standing up and turning to face Snape. "Yeah, sure, I'll help."

A small smile of triumph on his face, he led Harry to his temporary lab.

The next morning when Harry glanced through the Prophet, he finally found reason to laugh. On the fourth page there was an article about Dolores Umbridge. Apparently, she had been admitted to Saint Mungo's with an 'unknown' curse that had left her unable to fulfill her duties at the Ministry. Harry made a note to ask Snape if he knew anything about that.