Professor Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, finally caught wind of what was happening two entire days after Severus Snape was "safely" stowed away in the fourth-year Gryffindor boys' dorm. (Where Remus had taken the initiative and rearranged things so the transplanted Slytherin was between him and James, with both Peter and Remus between Sirius and such completely irresistible temptation. James was specifically moved to the bed between Snape and the door. Remus didn't say if that was to prevent pranking from other any Gryffindors, or to keep the rather nervous Slytherin from fleeing in the night. The other three Gryffindors didn't dare complain about the rearrangement, too busy trying to get over their shock that he'd actually been assertive for once.) None of the wards Professor McGonagall had long ago put on Gryffindor Tower to alert her to the proverbial mass murder and mayhem had alerted her to anything being wrong, as the recent hullabaloo had been much more sound and fury than anything like death and destruction; no one had been sent to the Hospital Wing, after all. None of her little lions had sought her out with any complaints or concerns for nearly three weeks, either.
Which in and of itself was somewhat worrisome, in the House that contained the four self-styled Marauders!
The Professor couldn't quite recall going more than five days straight without alarums and excursions in her House's Common Room, not since Those Boys came to Hogwarts. Which really should have had her investigating the unnatural quiet sooner; except her N.E.W.T.-level Transfiguration students were already having this year's collective pre-exam epic melt-down, and needed extra attention for counseling and reassurance to avert possible self-combustion--even the Slytherins.
Minerva McGonagall was strict enough in her own classroom that gossip stopped at the door, or she might have had more warning that Something Was Afoot in Gryffindor. The Professor had finally overheard a couple of her most incorrigibly chatty third year Gryffindor girls muttering gravely to each other about Potter's Insanity, as she made her rounds amongst the students attempting to transfigure potted dandelions into little lion plushie toys--an exercise guaranteed to send her Slytherin students absolutely spare. She held no sympathy for them, though, as the previous week she'd had this same group transfiguring sticks into live snakes; which exercise had drawn a great deal of discontented grumbling and glowering from her Gryffindors.
Worried about a new spate of pranks to make up for the recent and quite unexpected dearth, she'd promptly grilled the two girls for details. Their surprising answers had sent her eyebrows to her hairline, and got the two chronic gossipers out of a detention with Mr. Filch that evening for failing to pay attention in class--again. (The mostly furry, if slightly green-tinged lion plushies on their desk also helped; at least these two had no leaves remaining in odd places, and the mane wasn't all yellow petals! Not to mention the vaguely disturbing root-like, slowly wriggling toes that Mr. Sinclair's plushy sported. Really, how hard was it to visualize a lion, for Merlin's sake?! Especially as she'd pinned a large picture of a cheerful-looking lion to the board at the front of the classroom!)
Professor McGonagall had a hard time paying attention in her own classroom for the last two classes of that day. What in Merlin's name could possibly have prompted Mr. Potter to bring any Slytherin into the Tower?!! This was--unprecedented, to say the least! Not to mention extremely worrisome.
And how in the name of Merlin's polka-dot nightshirt had the boy managed to convince or hex his friends into going along with it?! Had her Tower wards failed her after all? Poppy hadn't sent notice recently of any of her lions being in the Hospital Wing...
The Professor had noticed Mr. Snape's new mealtime seat in the Great Hall, but had put it down to Miss Evans' quite obvious insistence--the girl had almost looked to be yanking the boy's arm from its socket as she all but dragged him after her, at first. Luckily for him, he hadn't seemed prone to resisting too much.
Unlike the Headmaster, Minerva McGonagall had never forgotten that Mr. Snape and Miss Evans had been childhood friends long before coming to Hogwarts; and she had seen that the two had stubbornly refused for four years to be parted by House divisions. She had silently applauded them for it--especially their careful discretion in not rubbing their House-mates' faces in their friendship and thus sparking further hostilities than normal between the two most volatile Hogwarts Houses.
She hadn't been aware, however, of Mr. Snape's sudden change of residence. Which bothered her on so many levels, not least that she hadn't known something so momentous, unprecedented, and potentially destructive had happened!!
Just before curfew that night, the Head of Gryffindor marched straight up to Gryffindor Tower to find out for herself exactly what in Merlin's blush-worthy pink boxers young James Potter thought he was doing--that is, if the girls had been correct, and not simply speculating on a wild rumor. Though they claimed to have personally seen Severus Snape being all but dragged through their common room and up to the boys' dorms by one James Potter... There were several explanations as to how that could have happened that did not involve the real Mr. Snape at all, but Minerva was fairly certain that at least three-fourths of them were well beyond any Marauder's ability.
She certainly hoped three-fourths of them were still beyond any Marauder's ability!!
Professor McGonagall entered their dorm after giving only the most perfunctory of knocks. It was much too early to be concerned for the boys' modesty, and she knew giving them too much warning merely gave them time to 'hide the evidence', if necessary.
Mr. Lupin yelped and jumped off his bed as the door swung open to reveal his Head of House, the textbook he'd been studying falling to the floor with a thump. Mr. Pettigrew startled and lifted his head from where he was draped half-off his own bed, his books spread out opened on the floor as he had stared unseeing at them while half-dozing; he squeaked in wide-eyed surprise when he her. The small boy nearly slid completely off his mattress onto his head before catching himself with a wild grab at the sheets.
Sirius Black was missing, she noted--which was probably a very good thing; as one Severus Snape was sitting on his own newly Lupin-assigned bed, having been reading ahead in his texts as his homework was, as usual, already completed. The displaced Slytherin's somewhat homely face remained blank as he calmly looked up at her, as if he'd been expecting a professor to barge in unannounced at any moment.
Minerva was observant enough to catch the flicker of trepidation that crossed those sharp features, and wondered at it. Could it be...the boy was actually somewhat content to be there? Sharing a dorm with the very boys who'd been making his life at Hogwarts most miserable?! There certainly was something odd going on here!
The most amazing thing, however, was that one James Potter was settled cross-legged on his own bed--text books and parchment, loosely capped ink bottle, and various quills scattered haphazardly about him; one quill tucked forgotten behind his ear, another being used to write out an assignment. Mr. Potter was actually absorbed enough in his homework that his Head of House gaped at him in open astonishment for almost two full minutes before he raised his head and noticed her, giving a start and dropping his quill as his eyes widened in surprise.
Maybe having Severus Snape rooming with her most troublesome lions wouldn't be an unmitigated disaster...especially if it got James Potter to voluntarily study! She would even forgive an Imperius on Snape's part, if that's what it took to accomplish this near-miracle! She wiped a completely wide-eyed look of shock off her face only with great difficulty, completely losing track of what she'd been meaning to say.
The boys had no doubt as to why she was there, in spite of her silence. After a few minutes of stuttering and talking over each other while trying to excuse and explain--except for Mr. Snape, who only watched quietly with growing trepidation--Mr. Lupin and Mr. Pettigrew finally looked almost helplessly to a highly nervous Mr. Potter to explain what was going on. Professor McGonagall listened to it all with growing amazement that was quickly tinged with more than a hint of annoyance, and even outright anger at the Headmaster--and absolute fury at one Tobias Snape.
The Transfiguration Professor could easily picture Albus' first reaction; she'd no doubt James was spot-on in his assessment of the Headmaster's probable lack of appropriate action, though she suspected the old man did have something up his sleeve that he had neglected to mention to any of the boys. He'd be in for a grilling as soon as she was certain the Tower wasn't in imminent danger of going up in flames, though that didn't seem so likely as it had before she saw the boys together. Granted, she didn't know where Mr. Black was, yet...if he didn't show for breakfast the next morning, she just might have to start searching closets and unused classrooms for a bound and silenced boy.
She wasn't entirely certain what she'd do if she found him thus...that would have to depend on the boy's state of mind, she supposed. If he was set to be obstinately against Mr. Potter's plan, then she'd have to...take steps, to ensure the peace in Gryffindor Tower. Regretfully, a nightly Petrificus Totalus would probably not be allowable... The Professor sighed, half in vexation and half in anticipation of sleepless nights spent restraining herself from inappropriately hexing Mr. Black.
Still, she was pleasantly surprised that James Potter, of all people, had overcome his own childish self-delusions and prejudice enough that he actually wanted to help Mr. Snape. That young man was finally starting to grow up, Merlin bless! She'd begun to despair she'd ever see that day!
She decided there was one change she wished to make in James' plans for Mr. Snape, though. Amusing as the thought of James Potter and Severus Snape sharing the same house over the holidays was, even only the single week of the Easter holidays, she really did want them both to survive to return to Hogwarts afterwards--not to mention the stress on James' poor parents, both of whom she remembered quite clearly from their own Hogwarts days.
Yes, she even wanted the snarky, sullen Mr. Snape to come back in one piece. She was rather fond of the boy's acidic wit, and certainly appreciated his exemplary study habits. The practical demonstration of Transfiguration tended to give him trouble at times, about which she had her suspicions as to the cause--which might now be irrelevant, if he and the Marauders were getting along. Once he understood something, Mr. Snape knew it, most times well enough to actually improvise new uses for it. She expected him to start experimenting with wandless magic at any time. However difficult he found a lesson, that boy always tried--unlike most of his Quidditch-obsessed age-mates.
--Not to say that Quidditch was a bad thing, mind you. Not at all! Quidditch was a very important part of a child's school years! Why, just the experience of teamwork--
Shaking her head slightly as she gathered her scattering thoughts, still somewhat dazed from the sight of James Potter actually, voluntarily studying--she glanced once more at the work spread out across his bed, just to be certain she hadn't been imagining things--Professor McGonagall focused on the three sweating boys staring at her with big, nervous eyes. She had somehow managed to keep her face set in its usual stern lines in front of her students--mostly, anyway. Then she focused her attention fully on Mr. Snape, who was hiding his trepidation with a great deal more success--if you didn't know him well enough to realize that the tightly crossed arms with a seemingly absent tracing of one finger over his thin lips was a sign of near-paralyzing nerves. The white knuckles of the hand supporting that elbow was another giveaway. She was sure he would have bruises from his grip come morning.
"Mr. Snape. Has Mr. Potter persuaded you to stay with his family for the holidays yet?" She didn't bother to artificially gentle her tone, knowing that would actually make the poor boy even more uncomfortable and nervous. She kept to her usual sharp, no-nonsense manner, trusting it would soothe him more than any unfamiliar behavior.
Wary black eyes flicked to Potter, then back to her. "...No, Ma'am. I can't think that would be a good idea." He held her gaze steadily, and she realized by the almost fearful wariness in those black eyes that he must think she was going to nix Potter's whole plan, sending him back to the Slytherin dorm--and straight back to his father again, come the holidays.
She shook her head, holding back most of a small, sad smirk. The boy didn't know her very well at all, if he could think that! Minerva McGonagall most certainly did not share Albus Dumbledore's prejudice against all things Slytherin. She was equally strict with all of the four Houses, though she could easily see how the Slytherin students might miss noticing that when pretty much all of their other professors truly were harder on them than the other Houses, to at least some degree. Even Hufflepuff's forgiving Head of House tended to take points off Slytherin first, then find out what actually happened later. Many teachers never rescinded any points loss when it turned out they'd taken them from the wrong party, too.
What she'd heard that night told Professor McGonagall that she didn't know this pale, quiet young Slytherin nearly as well as she'd thought after four years of teaching him, even accounting for him not being in her House. Her estimation of him had risen a notch or three--especially as Mr. Potter's sometimes rather guilty recitation had included some quite strong hints that she'd not caught the half of what he and his friends had been doing with their pranking and picking on Slytherins; this Slytherin, especially. She'd foolishly trusted that the boys meant no true harm in their prank war with Mr. Snape, just as Albus had always insisted; in spite of the number of times Mr. Snape ended up in the Infirmary. She'd put that down to sloppy execution and general carelessness on her boys' part, along with a deplorable lack of thought towards any consequences to their pranks. That had fit well with their performance in class, after all.
It looked more and more like they truly had meant the harm they'd done at those times, and a good deal more besides.
She was more than merely disappointed in her lions.
She was also rather disappointed in Poppy Pomfrey. Poppy and Minerva had been good friends for years; the Medi-Witch should have come to Minerva with concerns for Mr. Snape's well-being, if he was deposited in her care so often! Though if Poppy had gone straight to Albus and been unsatisfied with the results, she might not think there was anything the Deputy Head could actually do. She probably hadn't wanted to bother her friend with worrying over a boy not even of Minerva's own House.
Professor McGonagall's face flashed a flinty expression for a moment as she mentally scheduled a little chat with the school's Medi-Witch, to remind her that Minerva really and truly wanted to be "bothered" with cases such as this!! If the two of them working together couldn't figure out ways around Albus Dumbledore and his petty prejudices and too-lenient ideals, they ought to retire, because their wits were obviously going! If nothing else, they could take turns haranguing the old fool to within an inch of his life, until he took what they felt to be appropriate action.
Reigning in her increasingly angry thoughts and concentrating on the important matter to hand, Professor McGonagall held Mr. Snape's eyes as she calmly said, "No...it would not be a good idea at all, Mr. Snape. However--since you are not committed, I have an alternative for you." Those wary black eyes widened in surprise, especially as the boy noticed the distinct and quite unexpected twinkle lurking in the Deputy Head's direct gaze. "For the upcoming Easter holiday, I would like to invite you to come and stay with me, in my home. I can certainly protect you from that--that--so-called father of yours!"
The sheer venom in her voice as she spoke of that--that--monstrous, so-called "man", had all of the boys' eyes saucer-sized.
"For the Ministry's sake, we'll say I'm considering offering you an Apprenticeship. I've no doubt you will receive numerous Outstandings on your O.W.L.s; likely more than any other student this year. The Ministry will think I want to get the jump on the other Professors and claim you for my field of expertise. The holiday would be a perfect occasion to see how well we get on together outside of regular student interactions, especially as you are not in my own House.
"If things go as well as I expect they will, then we can see about making the arrangement--permanent." She finished her offer with a firm, decisive nod, knowing the boy was quick enough to figure out in short order that she wasn't talking about actually merely apprenticing him; but something much more legally binding, to protect him from that man.
Professor McGonagall had a hard time fighting the grin that wanted to come over her face, in spite of the righteous anger that had begun to surge through her at first hearing what had been happening to Mr. Snape, at the utterly dumbfounded look the Slytherin boy suddenly wore. He appeared to have lost all control over his expression. Her protective instincts were rising in full force now, centering on the pale, slender slip of a boy who looked so deceptively fragile, though she knew very well that he was not. After all, he had survived his so-called father'sabuse, and held his own against her four most troublesome lions for four years now...and, if Mr. Potter were to be believed, against his own House-mates in Slytherin, as well.
Mr. Snape hadn't spoken a single denial as he'd listened to Mr. Potter's recitation with a stony face, though his eyes had flickered with surprise at a couple of James' admissions. She had a feeling that Slytherin House had been the harder task, as he'd had to live with his House-mates.
That could easily account for Mr. Snape's reputation for knowledge of Dark curses. If he'd used his head to protect himself in his own dorm, then his reputation was probably carefully and quite deliberately crafted to keep as many of his fellow Slytherins as scared as possible of crossing him. He needn't actually have cast even a quarter of what was attributed to him; simply refusing to speak of it while wearing a disdainful expression at the right moments would send the student rumor-mill wild with speculation, until no one could remember what they'd truly seen--or not seen. The children would naturally believe the worst, as that was the most exciting thing to believe.
It would be a quintessentially Slytherin way to deal with the matter.
Her lips tightened as she felt suddenly drenched by a hefty dollop of cold self-recrimination. Things had gone well beyond acceptable school limits years ago, and she was mortified that she'd never even suspected much of it. Not even the paternal abuse! That should have been obvious during his first term at Hogwarts!
How in Merlin's name had Horace missed that?! Did the man never speak with half of his own House!?
Professor McGonagall had stopped being concerned about the self-styled "Marauders" and their prank war with Mr. Snape, except for the fallout trouble with bystanders--and the inevitable property damage--halfway through their first year. She'd never even considered what went on within the privacy of Slytherin House's dormitories, as that was Horace's responsibility. It seemed she'd been a bit...premature in assuming things were as they seemed; with all of the boys.
It was high time she took her own miscreants to task for their misbehavior, before they did something unforgivable--and possibly irreversible. Though their apparent change of heart must go a long way to mitigate anything she would do to them...perhaps simply keeping them too busy to even think up pranks might help. Especially if they were kept busy in her own presence, as much as possible. With James behaving as he now was, her only real concern was the absent Mr. Black.
A nasty feeling coiled about in her gut at the thought that a nice, long, confidential chat with Poppy Pomfrey officially in her role of Deputy Head might leave her kicking herself for her blindness...and quite possibly with more students than Mr. Snape. She needed to be certain Poppy always came to her, first in any of these cases, from now on. They simply would not bother Albus with details until things were already settled to their satisfaction. Albus was too prone to overlook suspicions of abuse, preferring to idealistically believe that parents just would not do that sort of thing to their own children. When he did reluctantly act, it was usually in too-subtle, sometimes ineffective ways that did more to salve adult egos, than give true aid to the child involved.
Another sudden thought sent a cold shiver of fear up her back. She knew James, Sirius, and Peter had gotten the secret of Remus' lycanthropy out of him by their second year, and had embarked upon an ambitious plan to all three become Animagi in order to keep him company on full moon nights. Albus, lost in his usual fog of twinkling insanity, had fondly thought to indulge their initiative, asking Professor McGonagall to keep a close eye on their progress to be sure they didn't harm themselves--without letting the little hellions know anyone on staff knew what they were doing, of course. (She'd very nearly done Albus physical violence when he first brought up that hare-brained scheme!) Luckily, the boys never paid any attention to stray tabby cats in odd corners or shadowy spots, or thought to consider how convenient it was that certain Restricted books came to their attention as they progressed through their self-training.
But--sweet Merlin...what if one of the boys had decided to put a true scare into Mr. Snape, and had lured him out to the Shrieking Shack during the full moon?! Oh, but there could have been a pretty tragedy--! Mr. Snape could have been either killed or infected with lycanthropy! Not to mention that if Albus had handled such a tragedy in his usual highly prejudicial manner, if the Slytherin had survived he'd have most certainly been inclined away from Dumbledore and the Light, and headed straight for You-Know-Who's camp! And she'd not have been able to blame the boy for it at all.
As Severus Snape had been Sorted into Slytherin, it had been Horace Slughorn's direct responsibility as his Head of House to protect and care for the boy while he was at Hogwarts, as a surrogate parent. Even if Mr. Snape hadn't felt comfortable going to Horace with his problems, Horace should certainly have known all about the boy's too-frequent visits to the Hospital Wing! The man had obviously failed his responsibility, and dismally; at least in this one student's case. She wondered just how many more innocents in Slytherin were falling through the cracks opened by the man's narrow-focused, sycophantic behavior to only those he thought could give him some sort of advantage.
As Deputy Head of Hogwarts, it was certainly within her rights and her duty to take up Horace's slack as her subordinate; and besides, she knew what sort of trouble involving the inept Ministry interest he matter would bring down upon Mr. Snape's head. The boy had more than enough troubles as it was, without that kind of circus going on. They'd no doubt bounce him around between extremely poor foster home choices, possibly even an orphanage, until they decided to hand him right back to his abusive father as a "lost cause--the boy's a Slytherin, after all; and you know how they are!"
Besides, she was rather fond of Mr. Snape's sharp, acidic wit. She'd had to restrain more than a few appreciative smirks in her class, as it would have been quite improper for a teacher to show approval of any sort to a student denigrating another in such a manner--even when it was more than provoked, and subtle enough that generally, the other students completely missed exactly what the insult was. If Mr. Snape had perfected his delivery with a smiling, cheerful expression, they'd never even guess they'd been insulted at all! And such well-earned insults they were, too... She rather looked forward to crossing words with him, truth be told, if she could get him comfortable enough with her to trust she'd not unduly discipline him for it. Not outside of class, anyway. She'd wager the boy was practically starved for intelligent conversation that did not revolve around girls and Quidditch.
--Not that there was anything wrong with Quidditch!! Hmph.
The poor boy was still staring at her with his jaw agape, black eyes large as saucers, nearly falling over in his shock. He quite obviously couldn't string two thoughts together coherently just then. Professor McGonagall kept her face straight and her posture stiff only through sheer willpower--the temptation to break down in hysterical laugher was quite strong, she actually had to discreetly bite down on the tip of her tongue to quell it. As soon as she was certain she wouldn't embarrass herself by snickering, she let him off the hook--for a while, anyway.
With an unavoidable slight upturning of the corners of her lips, Professor McGonagall gently told him, "You don't have to decide right this minute, Mr. Snape. There are three weeks until the holiday, after all. Please do be sure to let me know your answer at least three days before the Hogwarts Express is scheduled to take the students home."
She'd simply make arrangements in the hope he'd accept her offer--if not this time, then perhaps over the summer. With a determined nod and a lingering, almost warm glance at the poor shocked boy, the professor spun about with an impressive flaring of her forest-green robes and regally strode from the dorm, leaving four dumbfounded boys behind her.
-.-.-.-
Over the next two weeks, Severus Snape and the Marauders were all on remarkably good behavior--for them, especially. James kept a tight rein on Sirius' baser impulses, nipping pranks in the bud before they could go from idea to practice. It also helped, immensely, that Snape carefully kept a civil tongue with them. Lack of provocation made Sirius look like an idiot for trying to attack him in any way, and Sirius loathed looking like an idiot. As opposed to being called an idiot, which was something entirely different in his book...all of which just barely kept him from being resentful enough of his best mate to start a prank war on James.
Professor McGonagall's inspired, fifteen-minute speech when she caught up with Sirius definitely gave him some personal consequences to think about.
The other Gryffindors were rather spooked by Snape's good behavior--not to mention that of the Marauders! They didn't know what to make of it all. Everyone was on tenterhooks, waiting for the other shoe to drop. A non-insulting Snape? Prank-less Marauders?! What was the world coming to!!?!
--Well, not entirely prank-less. The rest of House Slytherin wasn't suddenly off-limits, after all. Just their new, still mostly unwilling room-mate, who'd been the previous favorite target; a boy whom James was now forever dragging back from the Library just before curfew, even as he brought Lupin in.
Snape had actually found himself indulging in halfway pleasant conversation with the mild-mannered Lupin, who was the "brain" of Gryffindor much as Snape was in Slytherin. Of the Marauders, Lupin had been the least...offensive...towards him throughout their Hogwarts years. Snape's main complaint about the usually sad-eyed boy was his tendency to sit back and just watch, doing nothing to rein his friends in from their worst excesses, even when Lupin knew very well that he should at least try.
When Lupin actually master-minded a prank, it was a lot less likely to be utterly humiliating; not to mention it was guaranteed to be a lot less painful. Lupin's idea of a prank had never sent anyone to the Hospital Wing.
The wistful thought crossed Snape's mind that it was a shame they'd not both been Sorted into Ravenclaw. It was almost certain they'd have been fast friends within a week, both practically living in the Library... Potter's uncharacteristic change of heart might end up granting Severus an actual, real friend other than Lily.
The very idea of owing Potter yet another debt of gratitude curdled Snape's stomach and soured his disposition even more than usual, putting him off his food for two whole days until he reconciled it with the realization that if it hadn't been for Potter (and Black) in the first place, he and Lupin might have become fast friends through shared Library time despite their Houses. It was really only Lupin's reluctance to lose the friendship of those three prats that had kept him from really sticking up for Snape, or even being overtly friendly with the Slytherin.
It didn't help anything that Professor McGonagall had quite thoroughly freaked Severus out with her completely out-of-the-blue offer of--of-- What exactly was it that she was offering him, anyway? A hideaway? Safe haven? ...To be his guardian? Severus didn't know what to make of it--didn't want to risk trusting what he thought she'd offered. There'd been enough suppressed laughter about the Gryffindor Head of House to make him suspicious of her motives, though her humor really had seemed to be more aimed at his reaction, than an indication her offer had been some sort of trick.
Professor McGonagall was always so prim and proper, not letting even her lions get away with anything in her classroom, and quick to correct them in the halls when they got out-of-hand in her presence...even if she was rather lacking in enforcing a curfew and study hours in her own House. He truly didn't think she had it in her to trick any student so cruelly. She was strict, not cruel.
Lily, of course, was overjoyed at the mere thought of Professor McGonagall taking her best friend under her wing. The girl's exuberant hug when Severus told her of the offer in hopes Lily could help him figure out the Professor's motivations, didn't help him think of what to say in answer to her questions--his brain short-circuited with some rather stunning internal fireworks for about five minutes afterwards. Once Lily had let him go and he'd been able to breathe again, it took the rest of the day for the silly grin to completely fade from his face. The Marauders were the only ones not completely freaked out by the unexpected expression on the normally sullen boy's face--and that was including the teaching staff! Poor Professor Sprout nearly dropped a potted magical snapping-dragon when she caught sight of it, and couldn't help herself from staring at him every few minutes through the rest of that class. She nearly lost the thread of her lecture--twice!
The only one not to even notice a difference was Lily. Then again, she regularly coaxed smiles from Severus, and so never realized how rare they actually were.
Lily obviously thought he should accept McGonagall's offer; but Severus wasn't so certain the Professor wouldn't regret it in short order. He was under no illusions about how most people thought of him; he was a snarly, snarky, surly, sharp-tongued, anti-social git, with no talent nor inclination towards friendliness and even less patience for the foolishness most of his age-mates indulged in. McGonagall might consider it The Right Thing To Do, but that didn't mean she in any way liked, or even vaguely approved of him. He didn't know if he'd be able to perpetually hide in whatever room she gave him for the entire holidays; and if she regretted taking him in, she might feel she had no choice but to return him to his father. Pity was hardly a sturdy enough foundation for a personal bond strong enough to withstand his father's efforts to destroy it.
After all, he was "just a Slytherin". It was...socially acceptable, to write Slytherins off as irreversibly Dark by nature. Albus Dumbledore thought so, and he was The Most Powerful Wizard in the world! Who would argue with him?
Though Severus was absolutely certain that going with Potter would be magnitudes worse! Things were hard enough in Gryffindor Tower, when Severus could escape to the Library for extended periods to stay away from James--and especially Sirius!--and where Lily was nearby to remind everyone to behave or be hexed. Severus had never laid eyes on Potter's parents; he had no clue what they were really like regarding discipline, other than knowing they loved their son enough to spoil him rotten.
Severus also didn't want Professor McGonagall to have to fend off attacks from his father--be they physical, magical, financial, or to her reputation. Tobias Snape was capable of all sorts of nastiness when he was thwarted, and Professor McGonagall was one of the very few adults that Severus actually respected, if only for her skill and knowledge in magic. He didn't really know her standing in greater Wizarding society, and her financial status had never been any of his business; but he was well aware that the Potters were one of the most wealthy and highly respected families in the Wizarding world--they'd have no trouble fending off any kind of ill-advised attack from Tobias Snape.
Besides, from his newly-fifteen-year-old viewpoint, Professor McGonagall seemed nearly as ancient as Dumbledore!
Luckily for him, Minerva McGonagall never caught wind of that opinion. She was only in her late seventies; that was the prime of her life, considering wizard-kind regularly lived well into their second century. Just look at Albus; one hundred and sixty-some-odd years of age, and still spry as any sixty-year-old!
The young Slytherin was quickly coming to appreciate the Gryffindor Head's stern demeanor and surprisingly even-handed lack of tolerance for childishness. From his new perspective living amongst her lions, somewhat of an honorary lion himself, Severus had come to realize that Minerva McGonagall was the one professor who truly did not discriminate against Slytherins in her discipline of students. It took him a while to consciously notice, but without the constant Marauder Distraction in her class, he could see that she was just as quick to take points from her own as from Slytherin. And he could see, when they weren't being taken from him by what felt like the bucket-full, that her points deductions were always earned.
Witnessing her taking points in her own House Common Room for destructive misbehavior was also illuminating.
His sullenness about the change in quarters didn't last long as he soaked in all the things about Gryffindors in their natural environment that he'd never before had opportunity to learn. Their "jump in feet-first, question later" approach to life was actually the same impulse that led Lily to eternally defend him from everyone, no matter what anyone said against him. A Gryffindor's friendship was impossibly hard to get rid of, once given.
Gryffindors also apologized much quicker than any Slytherin would. They just did it, and got it out of the way so friendly relations could resume. A Slytherin was more likely to wait until there was some sort of advantage to apologizing, even if only by having it witnessed by an impressionable third party. Most of their apologies were subtle, understood things. That was why Severus had always been careful to display exquisite manners as much as possible while at Hogwarts, in an effort to encourage somebody to eventually either be impressed or guilty enough to help him out when the Marauders would persecute him. It had at least kept most of the rest of the student body from despising him as just a Slytherin version of the Marauders; they'd simply disliked him for his ugly face and unfriendly manner, instead.
And his unfortunate House sorting, of course.
Professor McGonagall helped Severus to further change his view of her by arranging tutoring sessions in Transfiguration with him, on Wednesday nights and Saturday afternoons--after Quidditch, of course. The woman was an absolute fanatic about the sport! If a game or practice had been exceptional in some way, she would inevitably be excited enough to try to draw Severus into her love of the sport. She did manage to engender a solid understanding of the rules of the game in him, out of sheer self-defense on his part; but he just couldn't do more than pretend to true interest. His only real interest in the sport was the benefit of having Professor McGonagall taking an active interest in his wellbeing. He could actually recognize an adult trying to "bond" with him, and appreciated the thought, if not the chosen method.
The second Saturday evening, when she finally cajoled him out onto the Pitch and into a private game of one-on-one Quidditch, was when the Professor learned to her utterly horrified chagrin that Severus Snape had never been taught to properly handle a broom. He could get from point "A" to point "B" without falling off; but it was a rather shaky, tentative flight--and walking would have been faster! The boy spent more time trying to look in all directions about himself than he did trying to stay on his broom, for Merlin's sake!
It was no wonder he'd never developed an interest in Quidditch! He'd never been taught the skills needed to play, let alone experience the thrill of a good game!
McGonagall promptly appropriated his Sunday afternoons to teach him to "Bond" with the new broom she'd immediately stormed down to Hogsmeade to buy for him, muttering to herself about inexcusable laxity and unforgivable oversights in teaching the whole while he stared after her in bewilderment. The quality of the broom she brought back for him--not the top of the line, but only because the Quidditch shop had been sold out of Star-Sweep 500s and she simply was not willing to wait two entire months on a special order!--made Snape go pale and shaky for three days. He had such a look of stunned bewilderment lingering on his face that Lily kept trying to get him to go and see Madam Pomfrey.
No one had ever gotten him such an expensive gift before! Especially not when there were perfectly adequate school brooms available for him to use! What in Merlin's name was the Professor getting out of helping him, to warrant such efforts and expense?!
AN: And I don't know the length of the different holiday vacations in British schools, and I'm feeling too lazy to research it extensively. So I'm defaulting to my native American system. (I'm on dial-up, and I've gotta sleep sometime! =] If I could get paid for this, I'd go whole-hog on the researching of all the little bitty details--but it's really not an important point to the story, anyway.)
Author's Venting, feel free to skip: I never, ever want to have to switch types of phone again! ::sweat-drop:: My Palm Treo's power port died, after warranty of course. I ended up switching companies--and AT&T apparently doesn't do Palm phones. ::twitch:: I ended up with a Blackberry Curve 8310--that had to be replaced the very next day due to a glitch that stumped the tech help! (Obligatory whinge about not getting the pretty deep red one after all; they only had charcoal grey left...::sniffle!:: ) It took me five days to get the bloody things configured right--to get Documents To Go on it & search out how to access the bleepin' directory on my laptop so I can get my files transferred and synching properly, to get a Palm e-book reader loaded and then my e-books (which don't bloody well sort alphabetically in the phone directory, Merlin hex 'em!!), I couldn't find my favorite Meow Mix jingle for a ring tone for Mumsie's calls and had to go back to the A-Team theme song, etc...AAGH! At least I found a way to get my address book off my Palm and onto the Blackberry; the power held out just long enough.
I want one of those I-pads due out this summer!! ::drools at the mere idea:: I figure by February 2011, the first set of bugs should be dealt with enough, and the price should have dropped enough for me to chance one! =]