"Potter!"
The blasted boy pretended not to hear him. Instead, he quickened his pace and continued down the corridor, his little cronies struggling to keep pace.
"POTTER!" Severus bellowed, this time enough to part the sea of adolescent bodies.
Granger tugged on the boy's arm—wise of her, Severus thought—and drew him to a halt. Potter shot her a murderous glare before turning to face Severus, his expression carefully bland.
Severus stalked over to him, seething, paying no mind to the wide-eyed students who pressed to the walls in attempt to stay out of his warpath.
He'd been trying to hunt the boy down all morning, and Potter had been carefully avoiding him. Not that he blamed the boy. He'd seen the flinty anger in the boy's eyes, and knew only too well how little control Potter had over his temper. His choice to stay away was likely an attempt at self-preservation.
"Having a hard time hearing, Potter?" Severus sneered in challenge. "Perhaps you should pay a visit to Madam Pomfrey."
The boy met his gaze unflinchingly. "Did you need something, sir?"
Severus could hear the barely-contained rage behind those syllables. "Your attitude leaves something to be desired."
Beside Potter, the Granger girl leveled a fierce glare at him, and Weasley looked positively homicidal.
The boy exhaled heavily. Then, through gritted teeth, he bit out, "I apologize, sir. I didn't sleep well."
Severus snorted in disbelief. "I didn't ask for excuses. And I did not run after you for half the morning to be glared at by three ill-tempered adolescents."
"Then why did you stalk after us?" Potter demanded impudently. "Sir?"
"Ten points from Gryffindor for that tone, Potter," Severus sneered. "And I will see you in my office tonight, 7pm sharp, for detention."
Granger let out a huffy, indignant breath and Weasley mouthed something unflattering. Severus ignored them, choosing instead to stare Potter down. The boy would learn respect if it was the last thing he did.
"Fine," Potter growled. "What did you need, sir?"
"That was all, Potter."
Potter's mouth opened and closed like a fish's. Then, without another word, he turned on heel and stalked off, followed by his two minions.
The Granger girl shot Severus such a nasty look that he was tempted to dock more points.
Severus sighed, then turned away. No, he wouldn't do that. Now that the mindless irritation was fading, he could fully appreciate how poorly he'd handled the whole situation. He'd originally intended to inform Potter that he would be allowed to make up his potion, and that he would expect him at seven that evening. He'd even tried to mentally prepare himself for the boy's attitude. After all, he was likely still prickly about the previous day's fiasco.
But all that had gone out the window the moment he'd been forced to chase after the boy. That Potter would have the gall to purposefully evade him, and to ignore his clear attempts to summon him over… well, it was enough to drive him to distraction.
Well, he thought, he'd accomplished what he'd set out to do. Perhaps it was not ideal that Potter would stew all day thinking that he had a detention for scarcely any reason at all. The boy would likely be a nightmare that evening, even after he learned the real reason for being ordered down to the dungeons. The boy would likely be so upset that he'd brew another batch of black sludge.
Well. That wasn't his concern. All he had to do was tell Lily that he'd tried, and that he couldn't in good conscience give the boy a passing grade for the assignment.
Who was he kidding? Even perfectly calm and content, Potter would barely be able to complete the assignment. The boy deserved to suffer the consequences for his laziness. He wouldn't feel guilty for seeing the boy in trouble with his mother.
Severus turned in the hallway, ignoring the stares he was getting from students. Well, let them talk, he thought. What did he care for what they thought of him?
Severus retreated back to his quarters. He had a preparation period that morning, and no classes until the afternoon. It would be good to spend the time away from the floods of insolent brats.
He hadn't liked the accusation he'd seen in many of their eyes, as if he'd done something truly heinous. What right did they have to judge him? They were just children, after all. Any dispensation of punishments likely looked like a gross miscarriage of justice to them. Never mind that they rarely looked that venomous when he was assigning detentions in class.
Well, what was he to expect? He'd reprimanded Famous Harry Potter, boy hero, in the middle of the halls and seemingly assigned an undeserved attention. Of course there would be righteous indignation on Potter's behalf.
Severus settled down in his study with a stack of essays. He needed to clear his mind and find something to distract him for a little while. His mind was still buzzing over that silly interaction with Potter, replaying it over and over.
He would not admit that he'd been wrong. After all, Potter had been childishly ignoring him. He was entitled to pour out a little of his ire onto the insupportable whelp, wasn't he? Perhaps he'd been a little harsh, but it wasn't as if Potter had been blameless.
Severus forced himself to take a deep breath and clear his mind. He wasn't going to dwell on this. He wasn't going to waste another ounce of energy brooding about Potter.
He was halfway through his stack, and almost out of red ink, when the fireplace behind him flared to life. Severus turned to find Albus' head staring up at him, his expression uncharacteristically grave.
"Severus, would you step through to my office please? There is a matter I would like to discuss."
Severus swallowed thickly. Why was he nervous? There were certainly many things the man might wish to go over. The location and state of the Dark Lord, for example. Or perhaps Potter had done something stupid and was, once again, in need of saving. Then again, maybe Albus had run out of lemon drops, which would explain his somber mood, and in actuality this was simply a routine meeting to go over preparations for N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s. There was no telling; it could be any number of things.
"I'll be right through, Headmaster."
When Severus stepped through the Floo to into the Headmaster's office, he was thrown slightly off balance by the number of students gathered before him. He scarcely recognized the gaggle of children that stood in the corner—two Second Year girls, it seemed, and an older boy. He had no idea what houses they were in.
And then there was Potter, lounging in a chair before the Headmaster's desk, his expression strangely impassive.
Severus eyed the boy critically. So he had complained to Albus. Well, the boy would learn soon enough that Dumbledore wasn't the type to intervene and manage these kinds of situations. He might offer a few words of admonishment for Severus, but there would be no bite behind them. No, until Severus crossed a real line and did something truly reproachable, Dumbledore would leave Potter to fight his own battles.
Albus cleared his throat lightly from behind his desk. "Severus, thank you for coming so quickly. I just had a few concerned students come to me regarding your treatment of Harry this morning. Now, Harry insists that everything is fine, but—"
"If Potter has no complaints, I fail to see why you have called me here," Severus cut the man off, instantly regretting his impulsiveness. Why was he so defensive? He was rarely this on edge, so keyed up that he would forego all sense of decorum and interrupt Albus, of all people.
Albus raised a brow at Severus, a quiet admonishment.
Severus cursed himself again. "My apologies, Headmaster," he murmured swiftly. He cast a hard glance over at the complainants, who cowered back from the intensity of his stare. "If there are questions I can answer, I would be happy to do so."
Albus smiled slightly, an expression Severus knew meant he was forgiven for his imprudence. "Now, young Mr. Prewett, Ms. Mire, and Ms. Tennyson have claimed that you hunted Harry down this morning for the express purpose of harassing him and assigning him a detention when he dared to respond. As I find that version of events rather incomplete, I was hoping you could expound upon what happened."
Severus spared a perplexed glance for the dark-haired boy who was studiously avoiding his gaze. He shook his head softly to himself. He would never understand Potter. The boy was erratic and unpredictable.
"I did seek out Potter this morning," Severus affirmed, "and I did assign him a detention. The reason is between myself and Mr. Potter, and I assure you that it is quite legitimate." Not that the boy knows that, he thought.
Albus swung his gaze back to Potter. "Harry, is this true?"
Severus stared at the boy, daring him to complain.
Harry met Severus' gaze fearlessly. "Yeah. I, uh… I said something pretty unflattering about him this morning, and he heard. I figured I'd high-tail it and get off the hook, but Sn—Professor Snape caught up to me."
Severus couldn't help but arch an eyebrow at the boy. Was Potter thinking to blackmail him or something equally insidious? Because that was the only explanation he could produce for Potter defending him like this, going so far as to invent an elaborate lie. Well, not so elaborate, but certainly extremely believable. In fact, the finesse the boy displayed while lying to the headmaster was unnerving.
"Hmm." Dumbledore sounded unconvinced. "I see. Well…." He turned his attention back to the three students huddled in the corner, most of them quailing back from Severus. "I thank you three for bringing this matter to our attention. I'm certain Professor Snape appreciates the opportunity to set your minds at ease."
Severus fought back a derisive snort. His students seemed to realize that they had just accused him of injustice, and that he did not take kindly to such accusations. He made a small bow to them, though, for the Headmaster's sake. "Yes, I'm glad we've cleared this matter up. Though in the future, you are welcome to bring your concerns directly to me."
The three of them kept their gazes firmly on their shoes. The smallest girl even shook, as if she were desperately trying to keep from bursting into sobs.
"I think you should all get back to class now. But, let us see… twenty points to Hufflepuff and ten points to Ravenclaw for taking initiative and checking on a student's welfare." Albus smiled benignly at them.
But even the points and the Headmaster's kind expression did not seem to ease the students' discomfort. All three of them cast anxious glances back at Severus before scurrying from the room.
Severus made an impatient sound. "Headmaster, if there was nothing else, I do have classes to prepare for."
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, surveying Severus with a neutral expression. "I actually called you and Harry here because I received two other complaints about your recent treatment of Harry. It seems that some of your classmates, Harry, believe that you have been singled out for ridicule and sabotage in your potions class—"
Severus wanted to snort at this, but yet again he held himself back.
Potter, however, actually did snort. "Let me guess, Ron and Hermione? That would account for the 'complaints'. Oh, and maybe Neville. Listen, Professor, I know my friends are concerned, but…." He cleared his throat and stole a furtive glance back at Severus. "Look, it's just a little familial discord that's kind of spilled over into the classroom. We're all still adjusting to things. And to be fair, they are my friends, so I can only guess that they painted a pretty one-sided picture."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at Potter. "Are you certain? It seems to me that you are being rather magnanimous here, when before you would have jumped at the chance to criticize Severus."
Potter cast his head down, as if in shame. Severus still could not believe how brazen the boy was in lying—and to Albus Dumbledore, no less. Surely the boy knew that he didn't have a prayer.
"I'm trying to be more mature, sir. Like my mum asked. Really, he's not making me say any of this." Potter exhaled heavily. "Look, I'm not proud of it, but I may have been… ah, less than judicious when talking about the Professor with my friends. Honestly, sir, you don't have to worry."
And then, after humiliating himself before the Headmaster, the Potter brat did something truly spectacular.
The boy turned back to Severus, his eyes fierce. "I'm sorry, sir," he said in what sounded like a genuinely contrite voice. "I'm sorry you were dragged in here like this. I'll take more care to be discreet in the future."
The slight narrowing of the boy's eyes was all the hint Severus needed to understand the real message the boy was trying to convey. In the future, take care that you are more discreet.
Severus pursed his lips sourly, not wavering an inch. It was not his fault if Potter's overly-sensitive adolescent fan club sought to defend him like a pack of loyal puppies. He would scold the boy in public if he felt the need, regardless of their opinions.
"See that you are." There. Let the boy make what he would of that.
Anger flared in Potter's eyes for a moment before the boy managed to smother it. He stood, turning away from Severus and back to Dumbledore.
"Well," Dumbledore sighed, clearly not happy but unwilling to press the issue. "If you're certain, Harry, then I will let you get back to class."
"Thank you, Professor."
"My door is always open, Harry, should you feel the need to talk."
Potter mumbled something unintelligible before turning and striding out the door, not sparing so much as a backwards glance for Severus.
"I should be going as well, Albus," Severus began.
Dumbledore cleared his throat and fixed Severus with his piercing blue stare. "Forgive an old man for prying, Severus," the Headmaster said, no hint of apology in his expression, "but I cannot help but wonder why young Harry has been so evasive with me on this topic. It is rather remarkable, wouldn't you agree, that he has both accepted all responsibility for this… misunderstanding… and apologized to you as well? Such an unprecedented show of maturity from such a young boy. Perhaps you could reconsider this troublesome detention—"
"I will do no such thing," Severus snapped. "Forgive me, Albus, but I will not have my authority disparaged, not even by Lily's son. It is within my rights to discipline the boy at my discretion, and that is precisely what I will do. I have not been excessively cruel or gone beyond what is stipulated as acceptable for a teacher in my position in the charter. So I will beg you not to interfere."
Dumbledore looked so saddened and disappointed by those words that Severus had to drop the Headmaster's gaze.
"Of course not, my boy. I wouldn't dream of it."
Severus sighed. "I neglected to mention to Potter that he will be making up an assignment this evening. So no, I am not simply reveling in the delight of watching the boy scrub cauldrons."
"Ah. But you are allowing him to believe that he is being punished for… making an unflattering remark about you. I see." But again, it was all too clear that the Headmaster did not buy one word of Potter's story.
"It will do him no harm, and it might incentivize him to guard his tongue in the future." Severus did not know why he was attempting to keep up this pitiful charade. All he was accomplishing was making an ass of himself in front of Dumbledore.
"Perhaps," Dumbledore offered noncommittally. "Well, I should not keep you any longer. Though if you would permit me one more liberty, I should like to offer a bit of unsolicited advice."
Severus waited patiently, knowing that there was no combination of words in existence that could dissuade Dumbledore from sharing his opinion on the matter.
"It is rare to see an olive branch extended so far… one might say young Harry is nearly beating you over the head with it. Perhaps you could consider accepting it and mending this rift between you, if not for your sake then for Lily's."
Severus ground his teeth together as his hands automatically balled into fists at his sides. "I would beg you not to meddle in my personal affairs, Albus, particularly not my marriage—"
"That was certainly not my intention," Albus interrupted, his blue eyes sharp. "And I will say nothing more on the matter, save this: your personal life may not be my affair, but student-staff relations certainly fall within my purview. And I shall not be pleased, Severus, if I learn that you have abused your position in any way."
Severus' spine straightened at those words. Rarely was Albus so direct, and the fact that he was now made his words all the more heavy. The chastisement hung in the air and rang in Severus' ears for several seconds.
Severus swallowed thickly. "Of course, Headmaster," he murmured, sounding very much like a scolded schoolboy. "I… I will…."
"Good." And with that Albus' good humor was seemingly restored. "I only ask that you think on my words, nothing more. I trust you will act admirably in this."
Severus left, cursing the man mentally for those words. Oh, Dumbledore was as Gryffindor as Salazaar himself at times. He could talk black off a cauldron if he wanted. And as he'd proven time and time again with Severus, he had a true gift for inducing the most horrible guilt and regret with just a few well-chosen words.
Act admirably. Severus had never done that, nor would he ever, and Albus knew it. But now falling short of that seemed like such a mortifying prospect, as did disappointing his mentor.
Well, he had the rest of the day to wrestle that guilt back into its proper place. He would not be in this same torn state when he met Potter that night, that was certain.
Yes, Severus had far too much experience locking away and ignoring his guilt.
XXXXX
"We had to!" Ron protested, slamming his fist down on the table. He was starting to go red in the face, and looked to be just seconds away from leaping up and jabbing Harry in the chest. "For Merlin's sake, Harry, he's your"—a glare from Hermione was enough for Ron to catch himself before blurting out sensitive information. "Well, you know. And he treats you worse than dragon dung! If you won't stand up for yourself, we will!"
"You don't understand," Harry hissed, glowering at Ron and Hermione each in turn. "You can't go complaining about him like that, never again, okay?"
"But Harry—" Hermione began, her voice trembling with emotion.
Harry cut her off, though, his tone cool and resolute. "I appreciate what you did. I love you both, and it means the world to me that you care about me so much. But… listen. I love my mum more than anything. She's all I had for nearly eleven years, you understand? And Dad's death was so hard on her. She was… she just withdrew from everyone, some days even from me." Harry lowered his voice, and kept furtively glancing around the Gryffindor table to make sure there were no eavesdroppers.
This was not the ideal place for this conversation, but Harry didn't feel like dragging them both to some hidden alcove just so they could hash this all out.
So he continued in a near-whisper, with Ron and Hermione leaning in extremely close so that they would not miss a single word from him.
"When I was younger, Mum was in a real bad way. And you can't tell anyone this, especially not Mum, you understand? She's… she's touchy about it." Harry took a moment to breathe, to gather himself. He'd sworn he would never talk about this to anyone, but he just had to now. He had to make them understand that, awful and unbearable as Snape might be, taking it all in stride was a small price to pay for the support the man offered to his mum.
"She stopped eating for a while. They… Remus came by, and he saw how bad it was, and… and she had to be checked into St. Mungo's."
Hermione gasped.
"Yeah. She just couldn't cope with the fact that Dad had sacrificed himself to protect both of us. She was dead set that it should have been her, and that it was somehow all her fault that Voldemort targeted us."
"Survivor's guilt," Hermione murmured. When Ron looked at her questioningly, she explained, "Muggle psychology term."
Ron nodded, though his eyes were still befuddled.
Harry sighed. "They helped her, counseled her through it and all, but even then… it was like she wasn't all there some days. Like a piece of her died when Dad did. And then he showed up, and at first I thought it was the worst thing ever. I barely saw him, you know, and when I did he'd always glare daggers at me. I mean, he was polite enough when Mum was around, but as soon as she left the room I was suddenly a loathsome potions ingredient. Actually, I think he would have preferred to be in the room with some pickled rat brains.
"Anyway, I was all prepared to talk Mum out of seeing him at all, and I was ready to tell her all about how nasty he was to me… but the more he came around, the happier she was. The more there she was. And I could tell he was really good with her. Like, he's a completely different person whenever she's in the same room as him."
"But if he can treat you so awful—," Ron began, but Harry held up a hand before he could finish.
"He's good for her. But they had a bad falling out when they were younger, when he got into some bad stuff. And it took a lot for her to even let him back into her life. I mean, for years she would burn letters from him without even reading them. And then she'd wash her hands afterwards. What they have… it's really delicate. And if she ever caught wind of this, it would be over. She'd choose me over him, and she'd try to hide it, but she'd be miserable again. And I can't live with that."
"Well, if he could just grow up and stop acting like such a git, you wouldn't have to worry about putting up with him," Ron pointed out angrily.
Harry barked a small laugh. "Yeah, that's likely. Even if Mum didn't break it off straight away, I don't think he's capable of growing up and acting like a decent human being. If Mum knew and somehow gave him a second chance—a third chance, really—she'd watch him like a hawk, and he'd screw up and treat me awful at some point. So he'd blow his chance, and then we'd be back to Mum being miserable and feeling bad for letting him into her life just so he could be awful to me. And she'd probably never trust anyone again, because it was a big leap of faith for her to let Snape in. I don't think for a second that Snape'll step up and be a better person, so I'm just going to keep my mouth shut and hope that he eventually gets bored with tormenting me."
"Oh God, Harry," Hermione moaned. "I… I actually think you're right. Snape's already betrayed your mother's trust by acting so terribly. I don't blame you for wanting to protect her, but there has to be something you can do. I mean, can't you issue an ultimatum? Tell him that you'll go to Lily if he doesn't stop being so vicious?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Snape's going to respond really well to threats. He's the Head of Slytherin; he's got cunning in spades. All I'll achieve is nudging him into plotting circles around me, and then he'll really humiliate me or get me into big trouble, and I'll just come out looking like a terrible student or a bad son. No thanks. My only real option here is to roll with the punches and hope that he eventually tones it down a bit when he sees I'm not going to fight back."
"If the three of us put our heads together, we might—"
"No, Hermione. Things are bad enough. I don't want to see them get any worse. I'm not cocky enough to think that we can outsmart him."
Ron shook his head slowly to himself in dejection. "Basically, you're going to play dead."
Harry sighed. "Yeah, that's the plan."
"But Dumbledore—"
"If I involve Dumbledore, there's no guarantee he'll believe me. You know how he is when it comes to Snape. And even if he does, there's no way he won't say something to my Mum. And I'm not ready to risk that. I think he's willing to stay out of it for now, but it was clear that he was suspicious as hell today. And he didn't seem too happy with Snape either."
"Well," Ron put in optimistically, "maybe Dumbledore set him straight after you left."
Harry barked a humorless laugh. "Yeah, because that's another thing Snape takes real well, criticism. If anything, he'll just be more subtle about torturing me so that I don't even have the option of reporting him."
Hermione and Ron both looked disheartened by that thought.
"Remus," Hermione volunteered, but there was no hope in her voice. They'd already worked out this possibility too, and concluded that there was nothing the werewolf could do. He was too apt to assuage his own guilt by supporting Snape blindly, and even if not, he, too would go to Lily. Not to mention that any direct action against Snape risked the Potions Master "accidentally" letting slip to the student body the truth about Remus' condition.
Harry just glowered at her lightly.
Hermione bit her lip, then closed her eyes lightly in defeat. "If there's anything we can do, Harry, anything at all…."
Harry offered Hermione a sad smile. "Just don't let him get to you. And hold me back if I start to lose my temper. Tonight's going to be bad enough."
"Git chases you over half the castle just to give you detention when you demand to know why," Ron muttered. "He has some nerve. I bet Fred and George—"
"No," Harry told him firmly. "No pranks, no retribution, nothing. Actually, if you both could just completely ignore whatever he does, that would be great. The more you glare at him and needle him, the worse he's going to be on me."
Ron grunted unhappily, and Hermione pursed her lips.
"It's just two classes a week," Harry pointed out. "And detentions."
"And weekends home, and Holidays, and the summer," Ron scathed.
"He has to be civil when Mum's around. Really, it's not so bad. Like I said, it's a small price to pay. Now," he sighed, deciding it was time for a change of topic, "Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw next Saturday….."
XXXXX
Severus tapped a nervous finger against his desk. It was nearly seven, and Potter was destined to show up at any moment.
He did not want to see the brat. Why had he agreed to this? Why had he not sighed and told Lily that regrettably he could do nothing to help the boy?
He did not know what to expect from Potter tonight. Sullenness and hateful glares, more than likely a few angry outbursts. Because Merlin forbid someone impinge upon the Golden Boy's spare time to do work. No, likely he would still be all too embroiled in the sheer injustice of being made to serve a detention with so little justification.
The boy lied to cover for you, a small voice reminded him.
Severus did his best to shut that voice out. He had no idea what Potter hoped to gain by playing the martyr here, but he would certainly not allow himself to feel indebted to the boy for it. After all, he reasoned, Potter could have very sensibly appealed to the Headmaster to intervene and arbitrate. And knowing Albus' weakness for the boy, Severus likely would have found himself being forced to admit that he had been in the wrong and that he should have been more forthcoming with the boy. In all likelihood, the old codger would have dug down to the previous day's incidents and had him admit fault there, too.
If Potter was too noble to seek help, that was his fault. It was stupidity at best, and Severus would not endorse it.
Ah, but couldn't you have simply acted decently to begin with? That obnoxious little voice demanded.
Once again, Severus ignored it. The boy was arrogant and insufferable, not to mention the apple of every other professor's eye. A little extra scrutiny and strictness in his potions class would do him no harm.
There was a tentative knock at the classroom door.
"Enter," Severus commanded brusquely, not bothering to rise from behind his desk.
Potter slunk in, his eyes down, his posture stiff.
"Ah, if it isn't our resident martyr," Severus commented snidely. The words seemed to tumble out of their own accord.
Angry green eyes flashed up to meet his, and for a moment he could only think of Lily. But her face left his mind the instant the boy opened his mouth to speak.
"I'm here for my detention, sir."
Just a hint of surliness, but nothing too pronounced. Severus had to admit that he was slightly surprised. "Yes. I'm surprised you didn't try to plead your case to the Headmaster today. He seemed more than willing to lend a sympathetic ear, if I recall." He was hoping that, in a fit of pique, Potter might lay out whatever slipshod reasoning had led him to act as he had that morning.
Those green eyes continued to bore into his relentlessly. "As I said, sir, I'm trying to be mature about this."
Severus felt his lips curl involuntarily into a snarl. He could hear the implication behind those words, the unspoken unlike you. "Rather bold, lying to Professor Dumbledore. Wouldn't you agree? One wonders what you hope to gain."
Potter heaved an exasperated sigh. "Nothing. I just wanted him to understand that he doesn't need to step in and that things are handled."
Potter's ambiguity was maddening. Why couldn't the boy just come out and say what the hell he thought he was doing? He was a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake! He was supposed to be bold and direct, and to have a complete lack of tact! His enigmatic replies were all too… Slytherin.
"And just how are things 'handled'?" Severus pressed.
Potter's nostrils flared. "Can I just get on with my detention, sir?"
Severus tore his gaze away from Potter and stood. He stalked over to the store closet, his robes flagging behind him, and he tapped his wand against the handle to unlock it. He needed the time to gather his thoughts on how to explain to the boy.
He would not make concessions. He would not even hint that he had been at fault in any way, shape, or form. Nor would he give the impression that the boy's crock of lies and refusal to involve the Headmaster had in any way softened him.
He turned back to Potter and scowled at the boy. "While I think it would be more appropriate for you to be scrubbing cauldrons or preparing ingredients," he began with a sneer, "I cannot help but note that you currently do not have a passing grade in my class. Your mother was most distressed, in fact, about the prospect of her son failing such an essential course. And because I will not be held accountable for your ineptitude, you will be using your time tonight to re-brew the assignment that you failed to turn in yesterday. I, of course, have no expectation that you will even come close to succeeding, but at least this way I will be able to absolve myself of responsibility."
Severus could see the boy clenching his jaw, and noted the way his fists curled at his sides. Go ahead, he thought, try to deny it. You're a mediocre student. You can't blame that on your hated Potions Master.
But Potter said nothing. He merely moved to an empty work station and set his bag down.
Severus pressed his lips together tightly. "Should you manage to produce an acceptable draught, you will receive a half credit. If, by some miracle, you produce an exceptional draught—exceptional by my standards, of course—you will receive full marks. Ingredients are in the store room and you may borrow a text from the cupboard if you have need. Begin."
Severus tried to return to his marking. Really, he had no desire to supervise the boy too closely. If he melted his hand off or singed his eyebrows, all the better. Then he could simply explain to Lily that the boy was accident-prone and careless, and unlikely to succeed in such a rigorous discipline.
But he found himself too curious to be entirely distracted. So he watched furtively as the boy prepared his work station, arranging his ingredients fastidiously. He'd laid his text on his right, and before he began anything he appeared to consult it quite closely. Severus watched as Potter's eyes flickered back and forth over the words.
At last the boy straightened and lit a fire beneath his cauldron. He fiddled with the flames for a moment, adjusting them rather meticulously. Finally satisfied, he started to busy himself with ingredient prep.
Severus forced himself to return to the insipid essay he'd been marking then. Fourth years, however, were far from scintillating writers, and had no groundbreaking insights on the properties of ingredients harvested from dragons. So he found his gaze wandering back to Potter.
The boy was being careful. As he well should, Severus thought bitterly. He was, after all, wasting the Potions Master's evening rectifying his own carelessness. But still, Severus could not help but feel a bit shocked as he watched Potter mince eel tail and de-petal his moonflowers.
Really, he hadn't thought the boy capable of such attentiveness.
Potter seemed to be in a habit of consulting the text regularly, almost more than necessary. Before and after adding each ingredient, before and after completing a round of stirring. And during intervals of rest, the boy's finger trailed over the page as he continued to study the instructions.
Severus knew the boy was nearly finished when he began adding the pine needle. He did so steadily but cautiously, one at a time, his head hung almost dangerously low over his cauldron. After the tenth pine needle, the boy stopped, seemingly holding his breath. And then, with a tiny, almost imperceptible nod to himself, he picked up his stirring rod and began moving it through the simmering solution in a smooth, even pattern.
Ah, Severus thought. So the boy was trying to show him up, to prove his Potions Master wrong. As if one instance of success was enough to make up for two, going on three years of inadequacy.
Even with all of Potter's care, it was unlikely that he would produce a draught that was up to snuff. The Solution of Clarity was notoriously finicky, particularly in its final stages. Just a touch too much of the pine and the brew would skew acidic, and without a deft hand to manage the last bit of stirring, it would congeal slightly. Minor changes, but they would have a definite impact on the solution's potency and efficacy.
The boy's only prayer was for a passable draught.
At last the boy was done. He removed his stirring rod, banished the flames from beneath his cauldron, and set to bottling a sample. Setting the vial aside with great care, he began to clean his work station.
Severus was close to snapping at the stupid boy to leave it all and get out. He was sick of the boy's calm façade, and he wanted to be left to enjoy the rest of his evening in peace. It was as if the boy was moving slowly on purpose, just to irk him.
Finally, with the station clear, the cauldron empty, and the remaining ingredients replaced in the store room, Potter approached Severus' desk, vial in hand.
Severus snatched it from him unceremoniously and began inspecting it. The color and viscosity alone would be enough to determine the quality.
Severus turned it over and over in his hands. He held it up to the light, searching for impurity and inconsistency. He tipped it to the side and examined the streak left on the glass, much like one might at a wine tasting to assess color and alcoholic content. He even uncorked it and sniffed it.
And then he scowled.
Potter cleared his throat lightly. "Sir?"
"Dismissed."
Potter continued to stare at Severus though. "Is it—"
"I said dismissed! Out, now!"
A slow smirk curved over Potter's lips.
Damn the boy.
And then he left without another word. The door thudded heavily behind him.
Severus had to fight the urge to throw the vial against the wall. Really, it was absurd that he should be overcome by such an impulse. What was it to him whether Potter failed or succeeded?
Now you know that you did sabotage him, that nuisance of a voice informed him. Now you know that he is a capable student. Now you have no justification for your actions.
With an unhappy growl, Severus drew his wand and, touching it to his grading ledger, summoned forth the bit of magic that would award one Harry James Potter full marks for the previous day's potion.
XXXXX
The whole weekend. Harry was going to have to spend the whole weekend with Snape. And this after he'd presumably enraged the bastard by… what, exactly? Brewing a potion correctly? Not rising to the bait and involving himself in a shouting match?
At least his mum would be there to offset some of the nastiness, he thought. Though really, that was not much of a comfort. After all, her presence only gave Snape more incentive to try to get Harry into trouble and out of her good graces.
And part of him was certain that was what Snape would be doing. The man had been livid after Harry's detention the other night. And if there was one thing Harry knew about Severus Snape, it was that the man did not simply bank his anger and move on with his life. No, he nursed grudges, and for whatever reason Harry had made himself the subject of one of those grudges.
The man was absolutely impossible. Fighting back made things worse. Not fighting back made things way worse. So what could he possibly do? Ask the man directly how he wanted Harry to act? Beg the man to be nicer? Apologize for having the audacity to even exist?
Harry sighed and stared down at his trunk miserably. Maybe if he brought all of his textbooks home, he could hide in his room under the pretext of being swamped with homework. He could only hope that Snape would be all too happy to be rid of his presence and wouldn't try to discredit his story.
The real problem was that he desperately wanted to spend time with his mum. Snape-free time. Time with just the two of them. But it seemed like that was about to become a rarity, if not a thing of the past. As if Harry needed yet another reason to resent Snape.
Severus, he reminded himself. Though the man would likely keep a tally of the number of times Harry used that informal address and pay him back for it in class. Even though it was Lily who insisted he call his "stepfather" by his given name.
Coming to a decision, Harry stuffed all his books into his bag. At least he did have essays to complete, he thought. That should keep him distracted for a while. Though he had a feeling that, by the end of the weekend, he was going to be ahead in all of his classes.
After a quick Featherlight Charm, Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and trudged back down the stairs to the common room.
Ron and Hermione were both sitting in front of the fire, waiting to see him off for the weekend.
"You look like you're about to be shipped off to Azkaban," Ron informed him.
Harry sighed. "I wish that was an option."
Hermione slapped him lightly. "Harry, don't even joke about that," she scolded him. "That place is nearly inhumane. I read—"
"Blimey, 'Mione, he's about to spend two days with Snape. Don't lecture him on what's inhumane."
Hermione sniffed indignantly but dropped the topic. Harry offered Ron a weak grin.
"You can write us every day," Hermione reminded Harry for what had to be the seventh time since dinner. "Multiple times a day if you want. We'll get you through the weekend."
Harry sighed. "I have to go. I'm supposed to floo out of Snape's quarter at eight sharp, and I really don't want to put him in an even worse mood if I can avoid it."
A hug from Hermione and a firm handshake from Ron later and Harry was headed out the portrait hole and down through the castle toward the dungeons.
He could do this, he told himself. He'd survived worse. He'd fought a basilisk, for Merlin's sake! He could make it through one measly weekend with his insufferable Potions Master.
Stepfather. That word rose in his mind, unbidden, causing a wave of nausea to roil through him. No, he would never think of the man that way. He was just an unwelcome intruder, tolerated for Lily's sake.
All too soon Harry found himself standing to the side of the familiar brazier, the only one in the dungeons wrought to look like a nest of snakes writhing at the bottom of the flames. The only marker of the Head of Slytherin's private quarters. Taking a bracing breath, Harry laid his hand flush against the stone and waited.
The stone wall dissolved and the heavy wooden door behind it flew back violently, revealing a scowling Severus Snape.
"You're late."
Harry chanced a glance at his watch. Two minutes, he thought bitterly, but he did not voice that. "I'm sorry. Can I come in?"
The man's lips twisted and his nose wrinkled slightly, as if he scented something unpleasant. "You may," he stressed, before turning on heel and stalking back in.
Harry tightened his grip on the strap of his bag and forced himself to take several more deep breaths as he crossed the threshold. He would not lose his temper. He would not give Snape the satisfaction.
He didn't let himself look around the chamber at all. Snape was a private man and the best way to avoid provoking him would be to get the hell out of his rooms as soon as he could. So Harry strode directly over to the fireplace and waited, keeping his eyes on his shoes.
"We're going to have a little chat before we leave, so you might as well sit," Snape informed him, sneering the words.
Harry bit his tongue—hard—and slumped down on the sofa with perhaps a little too much force.
"I suggest you leave that attitude behind when we floo," Snape commanded softly, rounding the edge of the sofa and coming to tower directly over Harry. "I will not have my weekend spoiled by an adolescent fit of temper."
Harry wanted to shoot back, And I won't have my weekend spoiled by a greasy arsehole with a god complex. But he knew that would only cause more problems than he was equipped to deal with, so he merely bobbed his head in affirmation that he'd heard.
"I know how your mind works, Potter," Snape continued in that same silky tone. His lip was curled enough that Harry could make out a few of the man's crooked yellow teeth. "I know that you're plotting some kind of retribution for my perceived slights against you. And I want you to know that I. Will. Not. Have. It."
Harry cocked a brow at the man. Snape was mental. Positively paranoid. "I'm sorry, sir?" he inquired, his tone innocent and confused.
"Don't play stupid with me," the man snarled, his black eyes flashing. "I don't buy for a second this kowtowed, contrite act you've been putting on. You're planning something for this weekend, and I don't know what it is, but I suggest you abandon it this instant. Because if you do try something, you will be very sorry. Do I make myself clear?"
Harry met the man's eyes and tried to convey as much sincerity as he could. "I am not plotting anything. I just want to get through this weekend. Sir."
Snape looked unconvinced. "As do I."
"I don't know what you think I'd do!" Harry burst out angrily. "I'm really not stupid, you know. I really meant it when I told my mum you both had my blessing. I'm not plotting or scheming or… or anything!"
"Don't give me that tripe," Snape hissed, folding his arms tightly over his chest. "You'd love to turn her against me—"
"Oh, yeah, and you'd do the same. You'll take every opportunity you can to paint me as the thoughtless, ungrateful son—"
"That's hardly work, Potter."
Harry clamped his mouth shut and closed his eyes. No, he was letting himself get drawn into this. And he couldn't win. There was no arguing with the man, no proving anything to him. Severus Snape hated him, and would always hate him. He would never see anything in Harry but a thorn in his side, a carbon copy of his childhood tormentor and romantic rival.
The only way to win this fight was to walk away. So that was what he did.
"Sir, my mum is waiting for us."
Harry opened his eyes and met Snape's heavy glare.
"You've been warned. If you try to poison Lily against me, you will regret it."
Harry nodded wearily. "Yes, sir. I understand. Can we—shall we leave?"
Snape studied him for a moment longer, as if he could figure Harry out if he just looked hard enough. "Very well. I hope your acting is up to par—"
"Of course, Severus," Harry said cheerily, forcing himself into the role of the contented stepson.
Snape turned toward the fireplace with a growl. "You first, Potter. I won't have you alone in my rooms."
Harry didn't wait for further invitation. A pinch of floo powder and shout later and he was stepping through into safer territory, the cozy sitting room of their London flat.
Lily was waiting for him, curled up in her usual place before the fire. She extracted herself from beneath her green afghan and rose to greet him, a wide smile on her lips. "Fawn," she sighed.
Harry dropped his bag and stepped into her embrace. He found himself hugging her just a little too hard, and clinging to her for just a few seconds too long.
"Long week?" she asked him softly, concern lacing her melodic tone.
"Yeah," he mumbled, pulling back. "You?"
"Not too bad." The smile grew again, but her eyes were still full of concern. "I'd tell you all about it, but… you know the job description."
"The joke never gets old," Snape's dry voice remarked from behind them.
"Sev!" Lily exclaimed happily, practically throwing herself into the man's arms.
Harry fixed his gaze on the sofa's faded floral pattern. Idly, he wondered if he could live the rest of his life pretending Snape wasn't married to his mother. Maybe he could induce—what was it Hermione had jokingly suggested—some kind of dissociative psychosis? Yeah, that would be good.
Lily and Snape murmured to each other for a few minutes, their voices too soft for Harry to hear. He probably didn't want to know what was said anyway, he thought. Not until he could Obliviate himself after with enough skill to avoid permanent brain damage. He tried to block out his mother's delighted little giggle, and worse, Snape's throaty chuckle.
After a moment, Harry picked up his bag and wandered back to his bedroom. He felt a certain tension leave his shoulders as he crossed into the private space—his space. He took his time laying his books out on his small desk, relishing the sense of finally being free. Even if freedom meant locking himself away in an overcrowded space and studying for two days. In between these four walls, there was no one he needed to hide from, no reason to put on a brave face.
He flopped down on the bed for just a moment, deciding to allow himself some time to recover before he headed back out into the fray. He must have closed his eyes for just a little too long, though, because before he knew it he heard the telltale creak of his door hinges.
His eyes flew open, startled. "Mum," he began, "what—"
Of course it wasn't his mum. She would have knocked, as she always did, as a courtesy to him. As a sign of respect.
Snape stood in the doorway, brow furrowed, lip curled once again in disgust. "Sulking already?" he hissed softly, low enough that Lily had no chance of overhearing.
Harry glared right back at him. He pushed himself to his feet and folded his arms over his chest. "No. I was putting my things away. And giving you two a bit of privacy."
Snape scoffed. "You were hiding like a petulant child. Now get out here before your mother suspects something is wrong—"
Right on cue, Lily poked her head around the doorframe. "Everything all right?" she asked to no one in particular.
Snape, who was behind Lily and positioned so that Lily could not see his face, shot Harry a look that clearly said now you've done it.
Harry forced his expression to relax. "Yeah. I was just getting settled back in when Severus popped by to check on me. I was explaining to him that one of our house rules is to knock before entering into private rooms—you know, like your study. Or my bedroom."
Snape's face darkened, and he opened his mouth to deliver what was no doubt a scathing reply, but Lily beat him to the punch.
"Oh, I'm sure I mentioned that. Didn't I, Sev? It's just an agreement between Harry and myself. You know, we both enjoy our privacy." She turned her eyes to Snape.
Harry couldn't help it. As soon as her eyes were off him, he smirked at Snape. Small victories, he thought.
"Ah, must have slipped my mind," Snape murmured apologetically. "In the future I'll endeavor to be more… mindful."
Lily turned back to Harry, who had schooled his face once more by the time her eyes met his. "Well, enough of that. Let's have dinner, shall we? You both must be famished."
Harry's eyes flickered to Snape. He sensed that something was amiss here. "Oh—I, uh, I didn't realize you'd cooked. I ate in the Great Hall already."
Lily frowned, her brown crumpling in slight consternation. "Didn't Sev tell you?"
Snape's nostrils flared in warning.
Harry fought not to roll his eyes. Of all the petty, childish things…. "Oh yeah…." He tried to look abashed. "Now I remember. Sorry, Mum, it totally slipped my mind. We had Quidditch tonight, see, and I got caught up in a scrimmage afterward. And by the time I got back to the castle I was starving, and Ron and Hermione were already there…. Forgive me?"
Lily did look disappointed. Harry hated that. But with her characteristic grace she murmured, "Of course. It's fine. Maybe we can plan something else out for tomorrow."
"I could probably eat a little," Harry hedged. "What did you make?"
Lily's face brightened just slightly. "Your favorite. Shepherd's pie with—"
"Treacle tart for dessert," Harry finished for her, his face splitting in a wide grin. "Well, I'll definitely have room for that. I'm really sorry I spoiled my appetite, though—"
Lily waved away his apology. "Just try to be more aware next time. I know you have a lot going on, but I believe I did get you a lovely charmed planner for your birthday, didn't I? Is that sitting in your trunk gathering dust?"
Well, here was something he could actually feel bad about. "Maybe…."
"I ought to write to Hermione," Lily threatened lightly. "I'm certain she'd set you straight."
"Sorry, Mum," Harry mumbled.
Lily heaved a theatrical sigh. "Go get washed up. We'll meet you in the dining room. Sev, will you help me set the table?"
Snape smirked at Lily. "More menial labor, hm? Ah, the trials of married life."
"Quit your whining or I'll have you scrubbing floors tomorrow."
With that they both strolled off toward the kitchen.
Harry stared after Snape for just a moment, allowing himself to indulge in the little fantasy of the man on his knees, brush and bucket in hand. If only his mother would carry through on that threat. Not likely, he knew, but a boy could dream.
Dinner was a quiet affair, an alternation of small talk between Lily and Harry and Snape and Lily. Harry exchanged a few small remarks with Snape, but for the most part they ignored each other.
After a second helping of dessert (Harry hadn't eaten much before leaving Hogwarts, thankfully), Harry helped to clear the table and do the washing up. When Lily suggested they all settle in together in front of the fire, though, Harry excused himself.
"I really am beat," he protested. "We were in the air for hours tonight. I think I'm going to call it early tonight, if you and Severus don't mind. Otherwise I'll sleep the morning away."
Lily laughed at that. "I don't think Sev would let you. I never hear the end of it when I sleep past nine."
"Obscenely late," Snape growled, shaking his head in mock disapproval.
"Why everyone needs to be up to appreciate the 'peacefulness of the early morning' with you, I'll never understand…."
Harry could tell that things were fast devolving into the light bantering that set his teeth on edge, mostly because the sight of Snape on such familiar, pleasant terms with his mother was still such an unsettling thing. So he quickly decided to formulate an exit plan.
"Night, Mum." He wrapped her in a quick hug. Then, swallowing back bile, he turned to Snape and said as pleasantly as possible, "Night, Severus."
The man's face remained expressionless. He dipped his head in a curt nod of acknowledgment.
"Goodnight, Harry," Lily bade him warmly. "Don't let the Nifflers bite."
Harry retreated hastily to his bedroom to hide the embarrassed blush that had stolen over his face. Merlin, Snape was going to witness all these private moments now. He was going to taint them.
Harry closed his door lightly behind him and flopped, face-first, onto the bed. Why in the name of all that was sweet and good did his mother have to love Severus Snape?