Miss Granger,
Your sedulous concern for Harry's welfare aside, you should be more chary of asserting as truisms your own puerile suppositions. Harry's rapport with me is not in any sense pathological. It is based on a confluence of several factors and was established well in advance of the infelicitous events of Samhain.
Moreover, I take personal affront at the allegation, implicit throughout your prolix missive, that I do not regard him as my son.
Psychology, Miss Granger, does not appear to be your mÈtier.
Professor Severus Snape
Harry couldn't help but gawk by the time he had gotten through the letter. Without a word to Draco, Harry marched straight through into Snape's office and challenged, "What is this, a dictionary challenge? I only understood one word in three!"
Snape looked up from the ink-spattered parchment before him. "A bit recondite, was it?"
"What!"
Smirking slightly, the man set down his quill. "It used too many big words?"
"You know it did! What are you trying to do, prove you're smarter than Hermione? She knows that, all right? If you ask me, it's pretty mean-spirited of you to rub it in like this!"
Snape pushed his hair off his face. "In actual fact, I was paying Miss Granger a compliment."
"Prolix, for Merlin's sake? You think she knows a word like prolix? Get real!"
"That one was perhaps a bit much," Snape admitted.
Harry narrowed his eyes. "You let me win at Wizard's Scrabble, didn't you? Why bother letting me use slang if you weren't going to play your best, anyway?"
Snape smiled. "I couldn't miss out learning a fascinating word like ronk, could I?"
"This letter ronks," Harry retorted, though he couldn't help but smile, too. "Could you just tell me what it means, more or less?"
Snape grasped the letter in both hands as Harry held it out and translated, "I can tell you're worried about Harry but you're completely wrong about everything. He's fine and we liked each other before Samhain. How dare you suggest he's not really my son. You don't know a thing. Sincerely, etc."
Harry bit his lip. "Um... I guess maybe the educated-sounding version is a bit more... er, appropriate for Hermione."
"I thought so, yes," Snape murmured, rolling the parchment up and addressing it. "I'll take this to the Owlery now so that she can peruse it with her morning oatmeal."
Harry nodded. "I have some post too; can you take that as well?" He went and fetched it, checking if Draco had anything to send. When he was back with Snape again, he took a deep breath and did the mature thing, admitting, "It bothers me that you wouldn't listen to me about Sals, sir."
"It bothers me that you believe I should endanger my students at your convenience."
"I didn't say you should!"
Coming around the desk, Snape took the letters Harry held clutched. "You thought I should. And it can't be like that, Harry. You aren't my only responsibility. Nothing takes precedence over you, but you must understand that the principle simply can't apply to your pet."
"I just wanted you to listen for a second," Harry objected. "If you hadn't vanished in a huff I'd've explained about the accident and asked if there was an antidote to Camouflage Potion."
"Which would have opened up a whole conversation about the brewing thereof, at a time when Cumberbund's hand was almost down to bone, already!"
"I see your point," Harry sighed, and looked down at his shoes. "But you were so mad that you didn't even care I got the Floo to work. I mean, you weren't even happy for me."
Snape placed a finger under the boy's chin and nudged his face back up. "I would not lead you to to believe that my pride or pleasure in you rests in your powers, Harry."
Harry blinked. Wasn't that the equivalent of I'll care about you, magic or no? He'd known, of course, that Snape hadn't adopted him because he was supposed to kill Voldemort or anything like that, but now, it seemed more like something he could reach out and hold.
"That's all right, I guess," Harry admitted, shooting Snape a sidelong glance. He sort of wanted to hug the man, but wasn't quite sure how to go about it. Even the idea felt awkward. "About the Floo, though. What do you think it means?"
"You wanted very much to speak with me," Snape observed, stepping away. "Perhaps a sense of desperation helps unlock your powers. It is urgency that impels your wild magic, and yesterday, urgency that caused you to exercise control over it."
"So you're saying Draco's right, and the problem all along has been that I don't want to get better, since that'll mean I'll have to face Voldemort someday?"
"I fear you will face him again, regardless."
"Me too, but that doesn't answer my question."
Snape lifted his shoulders. "Perhaps volition may be part of the issue. Either way, I think you need to worry about it less. Your magic will be there when you are ready for it to be, and no amount of anxiety will rouse it any faster."
"But... what if I never really do get it back? I mean, using the Floo's not worth much if I can't cast spells. I have to be able to duel if I'm going to defend myself."
"If it never comes back, then it never comes back," Snape softly vowed, a sentiment which made little sense to Harry until he went on, "It won't make you any less my son, if that's what troubles you."
Harry felt touched, but for all that, he groaned, "It'll make me less me," he complained. "You don't understand. I wasn't anything before I knew I had magic. And now, all anybody sees when they look at me is Harry Potter, wizard extraordinaire. They think I won the blasted Tri-Wizard Tournament! I'd like to take out an ad in the Prophet announcing that Crouch cheated me right up to the top, but of course I can't, because people need a hero, don't they?"
"You're rather fond of exaggeration. All anybody sees is Harry Potter, wizard?"
"Well, not you or my friends," Harry admitted.
"Or anyone who actually knows you," Snape amended that. "I could just as easily make the same complaint. Only those who truly know me have the slightest idea of who I really am, Harry. My very appearance all but shrieks dark wizard, does it not?"
"Yeah, but you cultivate that image," Harry retorted. "You dress all in black like walking death. And um... well... er... you sort of let your, er, appearance seem kind of off-putting, don't you?" He thought of mentioning the hair directly and decided he'd better not. "And that's not even counting the nasty attitude you deliberately project."
"The point is that I'm judged on that basis. As Draco is judged by his money and his name, and you by your scar."
"And Hermione by her reputation for brains, and Ron by his brothers. All right, I get it. I still think I have it worse than any of you lot, though."
"You do," Snape agreed. "But the difference is one of degree, not nature. You aren't as alone as you think, in how you feel. As for your magic, Harry, give it time. Your dark powers are maturing, that much is clear. First you could control them to the extent of dragging them back in. Now you can manipulate the Floo, at least when you become desperate to do so."
Harry was saved from answering by Draco clearing his throat at the office door. "There are some people here to see Harry."
"People?" Snape sharply questioned.
"Gryffindors."
"Ron and Hermione?"
"More like Hermione and a pack," Draco grumbled. "Don't ask me who. You think I know all your housemates' names? Oh, well, I did spot Longbottom in the throng. And that Patil girl again, or the other one."