"And he complains about us being late," Harry murmured nervously, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and back again. He'd been standing in front of the Headmaster's office, where Snape had told him to meet him, for nearly twenty minutes, and with each passing second he grew more agitated. What if the Potions Master had decided he didn't really want to help after all?
Finally, the tell-tale click of heels on cobblestone echoed down the corridor, followed by the familiar whoosh of the man's robes as he came around the corner. Harry bit his tongue to keep from saying anything as the man drew closer.
"Potter, you're here," Snape said, seeming surprised.
Harry looked at his watch in sudden confusion. "Of course, sir, I…What time is it, sir?"
"It is half-past eleven, Potter, what are you on about?" The Potions Master answered impatiently.
Harry glared at the device on his wrist as if it were the cause of all the troubles in the world. He began to move the dial, but decided to leave it alone, and instead looked up at his Potions Professor. "I think Hermione fiddled with my watch and set it ten minutes early."
The former spy smirked. "Smart girl, to make sure you're never late. The more I hear about Granger, the more I wonder if she wasn't truly meant to be in my House. Ton-Tongue Toffees."
The Gargoyle slid aside and Harry followed Snape onto the revolving staircase. "To be honest, sir, I think she was, and the Hat only put her in Gryffindor to keep the rest of us cheeky rogues in line." He looked up at the man on the stair above in time to catch a glimpse of what might have been a half-smile.
"Indeed," The man said smugly, "Though I wouldn't describe your lot as 'rogues'."
"No?" Harry asked curiously.
"Not in the least, Potter," He turned as they reached the door, giving Harry the full-benefit of what was, indeed, a half-smile. "Rogues have far too much charm to be Gryffindors." He opened the door before Harry could respond, and the younger wizard was forced to smother a snort of laughter as they stepped into the brightly lit Headmaster's office.
SSHP
The look on the Headmaster's face as they entered and the door closed behind them was one of sunny displeasure. Harry wasn't entirely sure how the old wizard was managing such a contradiction of emotions on his bearded face, but there it was. Idly, Harry wondered what could make the man give such a disapproving stare. Blue eyes looked between the unlikely pair as they came to a stop just short of the mismatched armchairs in front of the large desk.
"What has happened now, Severus?" Albus asked with a touch of weariness in his tone.
Harry frowned, then realized how this must look. Two people who have spent the better part of nearly seven years bumping heads suddenly appear in the office of the Headmaster, of course he might think something had gone wrong. He might even think this was another of the Potions Master's attempts to have Harry expelled for some infraction or other. But then, Snape had been almost smiling when they'd walked in, so surely…Harry glanced at the former Death Eater out of the corner of his eye and saw that the small half-smile had transformed into a truly grave sneer.
"Headmaster, I am here to address a matter of discrepancy in the way Mister Potter's Head of House has chosen to address her pupils on a personal matter," The man said coldly. Harry could hear some of the prideful anger he had heard the day before when Snape had explained that teaching was not the waste of time so many believed it to be.
Albus frowned. "Minerva? Surely, you must be-"
"A few days ago," Snape interrupted impatiently. "Mister Potter approached Minerva with his desire to teach." His voice deepened into a harsh growl as Harry could feel the tension of Snape's anger draw taut as a bow. "Albus, she deliberately misled him! In Potter's words, she led him to believe that teaching was a chore, and then encouraged him to pursue any other career path besides the one he desires!"
The Headmaster's frowned deepened. "Oh my," The old man murmured, leaning forward to steeple his hands on his desk. Blue eyes flashed to Harry. "Is this true, my boy?"
Harry blushed at being the center of such scrutiny. "Er, well, yeah, Professor." He answered quietly. "She didn't come right out and tell me not to pursue teaching, but she did tell me that she wouldn't assist me if I did. Said it would be a waste of her time and mine, and that I shouldn't 'waste my talents' as it were."
The frown turned vaguely apologetic. "I am sorry, my boy, I had no idea. I will have to have a talk with Professor McGonagall about the specifics of her role as a Head of House."
Harry blushed. He had never intended to get his transfiguration professor in trouble, but a part of him was glad that she'd be less likely to steer students astray of their dreams and goals in the future.
"Thank you, Headmaster."
The old wizard gave a reassuring smile, and slight nod of acknowledgment.
"Quite," Snape sneered distastefully, obviously thinking that this was not enough. "As it is, I have taken it upon myself to assist Mister Potter, thanks to his own Head of House's refusal. In regards to this, I would like to request to have Potter assist me in my First and Second Year classes."
Harry gasped as he turned to the man, his brain stuttering to a halt. What just happened?
Snape continued. "I realize he has had a dismal track record for brewing in my class, but as he will not be assisting in any such way, I feel confident that he would do well as my assistant."
Albus looked as flabbergasted as Harry felt. "But, Severus, if Mister Potter will not be helping your students with their brewing, what would his duties be?"
"At first," Snape began stoically, "His position would be one of observation. He would attend me while I carry out my duties as a Professor, my shadow of sorts, so that he might get a feel for how to run a classroom, and what being a professor requires. After a time, I would begin delegating tasks to him, such as being my eyes in the classroom, or helping me to grade student quizzes. I feel that being in a position of authority over the students might help him in deciding what he feels the best method of running his own classroom is."
"Won't that just confuse the students, though?" Harry challenged. "What if the way I prefer to run a classroom differs from yours?"
Snape turned to look at him, smirking. "I am almost certain it will, Potter," He said simply. "However, you will only be allowed to implement your preferences where they do not disrupt my standards. After nearly seven years, I should think you are well aware of what I expect from my students. Should you deviate too far from what I think is appropriate, or I begin to see a prejudice in you, then we will renegotiate your role in my classroom. The same will hold true if I hear from your other professor's that your grades have begun to slip."
Harry grinned at being offered such an opportunity. Despite the man's own prejudice, he was obviously willing to overcome it to help him, so it shouldn't be that hard for Harry to set aside his own. If, that was, the Headmaster agreed to the proposal. Harry turned to the old wizard, who was busily hunched over two timetables.
After a moment, Dumbledore looked up at them, his sparkling blue eyes serious. "Whilst I feel that your idea is a fine one, Severus, I'm afraid Mister Potter has two classes that interfere with yours. His Care of Magical Creatures course coincides with your Second Year Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw course, and Defense Against the Dark Arts with your First Year Gryffindor/Slytherin class."
Snape smirked. "I have already taken the liberty of speaking to Hagrid and Rogers this morning, Headmaster. Hagrid has agreed to allow Harry to either drop his course or attend the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw class instead, and Rogers has agreed to alter his Saturdays to give Mister Potter private tutoring, so long as he can keep up with the weekly homework assignments. Apparently, Professor Rogers feels that Mister Potter has shown enough merit in Defense to warrant a little leniency."
The Headmaster turned his steely gaze on Harry. "It's your choice, my boy. I doubt you will receive such an offer again. What would you like to do?"
Harry thought about it. He loved Hagrid, and having time to spend with his friends, but this would give him the opportunity to really explore whether or not he really wanted to teach. Finally, he looked between the two men, his mentors. "I would like to accept, Sir. I'll drop Care of Magical Creatures, since I don't really need it as much as everything else, and work with Professor Rogers on the weekend."
Albus smiled, the twinkle returning to his eyes. "Very well, Harry, I will finalize this decision with your professor's and the Board of Governors." He turned the smile on his Potions Master. "Was there anything else, Severus? I find I am quite at my leisure, now."
The Potions Master smirked. "Are you ever not?" He inquired, no malice to his words. "Thank you, Headmaster, that was all I wished to address with you." He turned towards the door, his robes billowing. "Come, Potter, we have matters to discuss regarding your new position as my assistant."
Harry gave the Headmaster a final grin and a wave before following Snape out of the room, back to the winding staircase. He caught up with him halfway down, almost tripping over the man in his excitement. He couldn't believe his luck at Snape's sudden and unusual generosity.
As the gargoyle moved back in place behind them, Snape stopped and turned to look down his nose at Harry. The young Gryffindor swallowed thickly. Now would come the question of recompense, the price for the Potions Master's strange goodwill.
"We will meet every Saturday afternoon, Mister Potter, to discuss the other career paths you might take should teaching prove less fitting than you hope," The man said severely.
Harry fought the urge to sigh with relief. "Thank you, sir. I cannot express my gratitude for your helping me."
Snape sniffed indignantly. "It is a trifle, Potter, one you need not concern yourself over, except to prove to me that I have not wasted my time here today. I expect you to overcome your typical Gryffindor barbarism and use the opportunities you've been granted to their fullest extent. I am not an idle man, and I abhor wasting time spent on less-than-adequate pursuits, even in the service of my students. Be sure, I will not do so for you if you do not do your utmost."
Harry nodded quickly. "Of course," He answered. "I wouldn't dream of wasting your time, Professor Snape."
Snape sneered. "Indeed." He raised an eyebrow and Harry flinched, suddenly recalling his every failed attempt to succeed in the man's classroom. Those had been a waste of both their time, even if Harry couldn't have helped it.
He tried again. "What I mean, is that I will do everything within my power to do as you said, and use this opportunity to its fullest, including you helping me with other career ideas. I can't guarantee I won't be a rubbish assistant, but I can guarantee that it won't be from lack of trying. I am completely willing to give this job my everything."
Snape seemed to consider him for a moment before giving a sharp nod. This time, Harry did sigh with relief.
"Very well, Mister Potter." Snape said at last. "Merlin knows why, but I believe you. Just be certain to leave something for your classes; I won't be used as an excuse for failure."
Harry nodded again, and Snape relaxed his scrutinizing gaze. He turned to go.
"4 'o' clock every Saturday, in my office, Mister Potter. I will contact you as soon as I get the approval from the governors as to when you will start your new job," The man said as he started to walk away.
Harry was prepared to let the man go, but realized he had to know the answer to his one burning question. "But wait," He said, stopping the man with a gentle hand on the black-clad arm.
Snape turned and sneered down at him, glancing to the hand on his arm in distaste. The Gryffindor removed the offending appendage immediately and couldn't help a small blush.
"Sorry…" He murmured. "I just- I need to know; what's all this for? I understand that you said last night that you feel you owe a debt of service to your students, and I suppose I still technically am one even if I'm not in your class…but why the sudden niceties? You almost smiled at me before, and I don't think we've ever actually spoken civilly to one another until last night. So why are you doing all of this for me?"
Snape scoffed in that jeering way he had of doing things; the same way he had done to make Harry feel about three inches tall in his first ever Potions class. It worked now the same as it had done then as the man scowled down at him.
"Do not think yourself so singularly important, Potter," The Potions Master sneered. "What I do is not only for your own benefit."
With those confounding words, the man was gone, stalking down the Seventh Floor corridor like a bat without wings, the younger students jumping out of his way in fright, before the question of who else could possibly benefit could pass Harry's lips. The Boy Who Lived stood dumbfounded as a myriad of students rushed past him, the final tide from Breakfast returning to the Gryffindor dorms before they would all diverge to enjoy their Saturday.
When his faculties returned with the slow grind of ungreased gears, Harry decided he would speak to Professor Rogers. He was confident the Board would sign off on what they would likely assume was another of Dumbledore's crazed ideas, and it was best to get his scheduling planned out now, before the vise of time closed around him. The rest of the day, he hoped, would be spent in leisure with his friends, except the hour or so before dinner that Snape had already laid claim to. Decision made, he started off in the direction of the Third Floor.