Two hours ago, Snape had loomed out of a dark corner near the Slytherin common room, and courteously (if abruptly) asked Drusilla Rosier to his office. Ten minutes and one book was all it had taken to send Miss Rosier off in a determined huff - her frustration properly directed at herself. She had been in the wrong, and was all the more determined not to fail in the future. Snape was certain it had not been an intentional powerplay - even if Potter had no doubt taken it as one. Well and good, there were few things less harmful to a near adolescent than imagined enemies.*
In the past hour and forty-five minutes, Severus Snape had counted every person who entered the Slytherin Common Room.
There was only one person left, At Large, ten minutes before curfew. It was perhaps fortunate for the lad that Snape was a man with an infamously short temper - which would hopefully ensure that he scarpered along to the Common Room before it was actually curfew. The lad, one Harry Potter, was more fortunate than the lone man left undecimated in the crowd, for Snape's temper was purely a conjuration of his intellect. As a Master Occlumens, Snape's actual temperment was more melancholic than choleric - which did not mean that he could not be roused to anger, but that it tended to run moon-cold and not sun-hot.
Still, it would not end well for the boy. Harry Potter.
He was already in worlds of trouble, and that was aside from Snape needing to apologize to the Refugee from the Lollipop Guild.**
Oh, but Snape was already looking forward to the First Staff Meeting of the Year! The tales he could tell - he just had to pick which one! Would he tell them how Potter had been initiated into the Dark Arts by Draco Malfoy? Or how Potter was just like his father, including the distressing tendency to make fun of Snape's own nose? Perhaps Harry Potter was creating a cult of personality and had nearly swayed Flint and Goyle and Flint, and together they were plotting a takeover of Slytherin, starting from the Quidditch team?
More to the point - would any of them believe it? Spouting the last one was particularly dangerous, as Minerva McGonagall tended to lose her ever-loving mind when it came to The Game.
There's Potter now, Snape was interested to note, striding with light feet on tiptoe - quite a trick that. Perhaps more interestingly, he did not look left or right - nor seem in the least bit concerned about being followed. He was not lost, nor interested in being found.
Snape let Potter approach the door, and hiss the password. At that moment, Snape stepped out of the shadows behind Potter, and put his hand on the boy's shoulder.
Snape had been expecting a flinch, a startle, perhaps for Potter to leap in the air.
Instead, Potter ducked, flung himself back-first at the door, fumbled pulling a wand that he did not know how to use. And then fell flat on his back in front of the entire common room. When Potter at last saw who had touched him, he opened his eyes wide, paled with an unwarranted fear, and simply said, "oh."
Miss Rosier led the laughter, inspired by her own run-in with her Head of House earlier.
Harry Potter stood - as gracefully as an adolescent might, which wasn't very, and bowed slightly, "Professor Snape, how can I help you?"
Snape studied Potter for a moment, noting that the boy's ears didn't even turn red at the tips. A Potter with better control than a Malfoy? Will wonders never cease?
"You have been found alone, outside the Slytherin quarters. You will come with me, and we will discuss your punishment." Snape said curtly. No need for the brat to know that Snape had spent over an hour waiting for him.
Snape said not a word while he walked Potter back to his office. It was a deliberate ploy, that Snape had used countless times to good effect. When a transgressor didn't know their crime, it would bring others to the fore - and when they were allowed to mull over well-understood crimes, they were always a bit more respectful about their deserved punishment. It never did to punish a student who didn't recognize they deserved it - that way led to defiance. Always.
Snape entered his office, with Potter at his heels. He strolled around to behind his desk (taking care to scuff his shoes a bit), and then sat, lacing his hands in front of himself. Potter stood, in a parade rest - head up, but not stiff.
"Sit," Snape advanced, and waited as Potter did so - finally betraying his nervousness by sitting at the edge of the seat. Were Potter a bit smaller his feet would be swinging...***
"Was it worth it?" Snape asked in a low voice.
Harry Potter blinked, then looked thoughtful. "Yes, sir. Personal protection is always of value, regardless of methods used."
Snape frowned at this, "Was it worth endangering your life, by walking friendless through a castle with known malevolent beings inside it? You, a child unable to cast more than the weakest of spells?"
Harry Potter frowned at this, and then looked pensive. Then he swung his feet, tipping up his toes to do it. Harry said, at last, "I made an error of time management."
Snape pushed, because that was what he did. Besides, the impudent child was in trouble. He deserved a reflection, first and foremost. "Of Time Management?" Snape mocked, his mouth twisting into a half smile.
Harry nodded, then responded without pausing, "I'd expected the Slytherins who'd been so kind as to see me to the Library to remain longer than they did."
A matter of personal protection, in the Library? Hopefully the miserable wretch isn't hiring Gryffindors as bodyguards. "No doubt they expected you to simply return with a different group." Snape said absently, his mind still caught on what Potter had been doing in the library.
"No doubt," Harry Potter returned with a trace of a rueful smile.
And he left it there. No closer to spilling his guts than when we started.
"Do you mean for this to be the start of a trend?" Snape hissed at Potter, who looked back at him with satisfyingly large green eyes. "Harry Potter: The Breaker of Rules?"
"No! No, sir!" Harry Potter said, the need to correct his first response sending his second no so quickly after the first that they came across as "nono." It was not funny, it was gratifying.
"Explain to me, then, why you feel like you are above the rules?" Snape said sternly, with a quirk to the end of his question.
"I don't!" Harry Potter proclaimed, his high voice ringing like a bell - and there was true anger in his voice.
"Why do you think I require even seventh years to accompany each other in the halls?" Snape asked, in a low deadly tone.
"You believe we're in danger whenever we're outside the Slytherin areas?" Harry asked.
Snape was obscurely glad that it was a question. "Think harder. What help does a first year give a seventh year, by accompanying him in the halls."
Harry Potter laughed dryly, "Target practice? Bait?"
Snape snorted, "Gryffindor answers. Try again." The insult was quick, and sharp, but Potter's words were more. From a child with decent combat instincts, these responses showed the potential for a strategic mind. And they were not words often heard out of an eleven-year-old's mouth, no matter his circumstances.
Harry seemed to reflect on the question, for a while. Eventually, he stiffened, "You want them as witnesses!"
Snape nodded, "You will not find true enemies within Hogwarts, one hopes. Trusting that hope is folly, of course, but it would be inconceivable for you to make a true enemy in your first year of Hogwarts."
Harry Potter looked doubtful at this, as well he should. Snape was repeating the party line, while knowing that Potter's parents had already made him enemies that he would have to share bread with, as equals and perhaps pretended friends.
"However," Snape said in a low lilt, "there is many a spell with unforeseen consequences. Someone might intend minor mischief, and instead provoke an entire house. Slytherin will look after its own. That extends to quelling the most violent impulses, and the best way to ensure that is with witnesses."
Harry Potter raised level green eyes to Snape's own. "Thank you for explaining your rationale. In the future, I will make certain that I am with a credible witness whenever I am outside Slytherin walls."
"In this case," Snape asked, "What should you have done?"
Harry Potter sighed, and answered something Snape had not expected to hear, "I should stop being so self-involved. I could have shared elements of my plan without compromising its core, and returned with Slytherins who waited for me to complete it." Harry quirked a half-smile that reeked of amusement, "Or, if not, I could have brought the complaint to you, about their waywardness."
"Indeed," Snape said, lacing his fingers together once more. He then responded with the response that he'd anticipated Potter would give. "If you ever find yourself in a public place and are in need of an escort, I assure you a teacher will do just fine. You are not the first child to lose track of time, and you will not be the last."
Harry Potter's body seemed to relax at this.
Now is the time to strike.
"As for your punishment," Snape said, "We will start with a detention. I am in dire need of a cauldron-scrubber." Snape's eyes mocked Potter's sad mien. "And," Snape tapped his two fingers against his chin. "You will spend the next week in the Common Room, accompanying anyone who leaves."
Harry Potter seemed strangely unsquelched by this part of the 'punishment.'
"You will learn more of the castle, and of your fellow Slytherins - and remember how vital it is that someone, anyone, accompanies you at all times."
Harry nodded, "Thank you, sir." His eyes were bright, and sharp - they were the eyes of someone who knew what a just punishment looked like, and assessed this as being just that. Despite hating cauldron-cleaning.
Snape could see Potter's energy swirling - the need to speak rising. Snape chose to wait, wondering what the boy wanted to say.
"Sir, you are an accomplished Potions Master." Harry began, the words mercifully devoid of smarm.
"That I am," Snape responded, as if they were discussing facts about the Potion of Endless Death.
"Could you obtain some poison for me? It's just that I have this duel coming up..." Harry said, his green eyes glittering gormlessly.
"I could." Snape said coldly.
"But - you won't?" Harry advanced, paused, and took Snape's absence of a response as an answer in of itself. That, naturally, was just as Snape liked it.
Harry sighed, "Better stick with Plans A and B."
Snape quirked his mouth, twisting it at the rightmost side, "Plans always seem better with a backup."
Harry asked, "Why did you decide not to help me?"
Snape leaned forward, and intoned gravely and intensely, "My reasons are my own. You should learn this about Slytherins - everyone is pursuing their own plans. Mine, in particular, are intended to benefit our House as a whole. I will not explain my plans to a first year, even assuming you had the time and patience to understand."
Harry nodded, satisfied.
Snape spoke next, "It seems I owe you an apology." This, of all things, got such a look of bewildered surprise from Harry Potter, that Snape was tempted to stop just to look at it. "My orders were not meant to see you in the bathroom vomiting up your supper." Harry Potter looked up at Snape, his eyes opening wider. He said nothing, however. "You may take your pick of the nutritional potions I have in stock. Consume one per week, and eat as much meat as you can safely stomach."
Harry Potter looked down at his feet, a moment, "Thank you, sir. No one's... no one's ever noticed before."
Snape walked Harry Potter back to the Common Room. Friday next should be a decent time for Potter to scrub cauldrons. Dempsey was sure to have wrecked one by then, and the Erisian Trio was sure to have Snape ready to commit homicide from their irresponsible flirting in class.
*This Snape has never met "Harry Potter: Gryffindor", so he has No Idea. Snape's own childhood paranoia was, in his eyes, improving to both his mind and body.
**Snape is distinctly displeased with having to deal with first years problems. That's why he has prefects. He's also making fun of Potter's height.
*** Yes, it's a petitioner's stool. Most teens have their knees a good half foot off it, and wind up squatting to 'sit.' This is deliberate. Potter (and first year girls) are the only ones who might find it comfortable, and Snape doesn't expect to see them.
[a/n: Yes. Snape finds Potter in his house a Vast Source of Entertainment. Everyone else should be scared.
This chapter got long. Snape keeps on trying to fit Potter into the mould of "Eleven Year Old" - and he keeps not wanting to fit.
Leave a review?
The title's just a musing of mine.]
