Snape's lips firmed into a thin, straight line. "You don't think we might have a few things to discuss?"
Harry shook his head. "No, sir."
Snape took a seat on the chair nearest Harry, and settled into it, a look of profound contemplation on his face. Almost on cue, the staring began again. "Really," he drawled.
"No, sir," Harry repeated.
"You're willing to have me adopt you, just like that," Snape prompted.
"Yes, sir."
"Stop this yes, sir... no, sir nonsense at once," Snape snapped, his fingers curling into claws. "I'd appreciate knowing what you actually think of the idea."
Harry's headache roared back in full force. The truth was, he didn't know what he thought of the idea. He wasn't even sure what the idea was. Adopt him, sure. That made sense. Just for the spell though, right? Just until Voldemort was defeated? And it would just be pretend, right? Oh sure, legal and all that, but not the slightest bit real... Right?
"Um, well... I think it's a pretty good plan," Harry finally managed to say.
"Plan," Snape slowly repeated, sounding almost as though he'd never heard the word before.
Harry nodded, not knowing why he was suddenly short on breath. He sucked in a couple of draughts of air, but somehow ended up feeling even more breathless. Go figure. His headache was pounding in his temples now, the pain so severe it was beginning to make him queasy.
"It wasn't so much a plan as a paradigm shift," his teacher clarified.
Like Harry knew what that meant. "Whatever," he glossed that over. "Dumbledore, though, he thought it would work? I mean, to trick the spell?"
"I think you're missing the point," Snape announced, resting his wrists on his knees as he leaned forward to peer closely at Harry. "I have no interest in adopting you in name only."
"You mean I have to change my name?" Harry gasped. "Um, Harry Snape?"
"That wouldn't suit you," Snape said with a small smile which vanished as quickly as it had come. "Are you being deliberately obtuse? I'm not talking about anything as shallow as names."
Harry tried another deep breath. It didn't make his temples throb any less, but at least it took the edge off his nausea. "Well, good," he shortly retorted, then warmed to the topic. "'Cause I like my name. And whatever my father did to you, he was my father and even you said that in the end he came out all right. I think Potter's a fine name. Besides, as much as I hate being famous for something stupid like managing to live even though I got my parents killed, the name's kind of stuck to the war effort now. You know, how's it going to look if Harry Potter isn't Harry Potter any longer?"
"No one is remotely suggesting you change your name," Snape patiently repeated.
"Well, good," Harry said again, his tone rather defiant by then. "'Cause I won't. Now, if you don't mind, could you spell off the lights? I think my headache would go away if I could just sleep."
"Why didn't you say you needed a potion?" Snape asked with surprise.
"Because I don't! I just need to be left alone to sleep!"
"Not until we settle things," Snape decreed, standing up and crooking a beckoning finger. "Come into my office where we can speak in private."
Harry followed, feeling like he was dragging himself down the hall. The noise of Snape closing the door made him sort of jump. When the man offered him a small vial of Headache Calming Draught, he downed it in one gulp, then waited. And waited.
"Didn't work," he finally announced, frowning. "Can't I please sleep?"
Snape narrowed his eyes. "No. Sit down." When Harry didn't, his teacher took him by the shoulders and gently shoved him down into a chair, then stood behind him and began to knead and massage his shoulders. "It's a tension headache," he determined. "Did the draught not help at all?"
"Well, all right, some," Harry admitted. Actually, the potion had worked fairly well; it just hadn't cleared his headache entirely.
"Stop trying to avoid this conversation," Snape growled, his fingers digging into muscle with more force. Not too much, though. He did know how to ease the tightness in Harry's neck and shoulders. "Just relax, you idiot child."
Minute by minute, Harry began to. It probably helped that Snape stopped talking. It also helped that the light in the office was far less bright. Definitely, those hands helped. Fingers against his vertebrae, working out every kink.
"You're good at this," Harry finally said, the words emerging a bit sluggishly.
"Enough?"
"No."
Snape lightly chuckled and kept it up for a good while longer, then said, "I know your headache must be gone by now."
"It is," Harry admitted.
"All right then. Time to talk." Snape took the seat facing Harry, and looked him straight in the eyes. "I meant what I said, Harry. Quite sincerely."
"Well, I figured that out," Harry murmured. "I mean, you wouldn't suggest it unless you thought it would work."
"You're still thinking of the warding spells," Snape sighed. "That isn't the central issue--"
"Will it work?" Harry interrupted. "Did the headmaster think so?"
"We think your cousin is right about why the spells failed, yes."
"Well, that's it, then," Harry said, nodding to himself.
"That is not it," Snape disagreed, lacing his fingers together.
"Sure it is."
Harry shifted in his chair, only to hear Snape tersely order, "Sit down! We aren't through!" He saw Snape take a deep breath, and then another... just as if he were a little bit nervous. That struck him as strange.
"Harry." Snape said finally, his head inclined to study the boy. "Dudley's epiphany, while valuable in of itself, has managed to... confuse one thing with another. The truth is, I'd been thinking along the lines he suggested well before the warding spells failed to lock themselves in place."
Harry twisted a lip, and drawled, "Right. You were going to adopt me anyway. Sure you were."
"I admit, I hadn't gotten quite that far in my thinking." Snape shot him a smile. Brief and strained, it didn't reach his black eyes. "Long before Samhain, I'd realized that we got on surprisingly well. And after your uncle was killed, it came to me that you had no guardian left... Actually, that you'd never had any adult caretaker truly looking out for your interests. Not since James and Lily."
"Professor..." Harry swallowed, realizing that Snape actually was nervous. It wasn't like him to ramble. "Why do you think I never let on to anyone about the cupboard and all that? Ron and Hermione don't even know; not the worst of it. You went on in class for years about how pampered and spoiled I was, and I never said a word to refute you, did I? Why do you suppose that was?"
"That's another conversation--"
"No, it's this one," Harry insisted. "Go on, think about it. Why didn't I tell people I'd been mistreated and unloved almost my entire life?"
Snape twisted his lips. "I suppose you were embarrassed. Possibly you were even ashamed."
"Possibly," Harry admitted, thinking back to when he was eleven. It was hard to remember all he'd felt then, when it was so overshadowed by how he felt about things, now. "But the main reason, way more important than those, was that I didn't want people feeling sorry for me. You see?"
Snape took a moment to consider the question. "You think I pity you, then."
"Well, you did just say I'd never had anyone... a grown-up, I mean, who really took care of me. Me, not the child-of-prophecy or the warrior-in-training. Sirius could have, I think... but Azkaban left him... I don't know. He loved me, but he was... damaged. It's like fate's conspired to snatch away from me anybody I get, one way or another. I know how pitiful that is."
"The fact that people look at you and see something other than your true self is unfortunate," Snape agreed, his gaze steady. "I myself have been guilty of this, as you well know. I see you now, Harry, or at least as much of you as you will permit me to see. But when I think of the wasteland that has been your entire childhood, it isn't pity I feel."