It was a hollow book containing Harry's invisibility cloak.
Snape pulled it out and unfurled it, then settled it across Harry's lap. When Harry looked down, he was sitting there without legs. He couldn't help but smile a little.
"You didn't have to show me," he said, picking the fine fabric up and letting it slide between his fingers. "I trust you. I knew you were taking good care of it.
Snape shook his head. "I am not skilled at making gestures, obviously. Harry... I am attempting to give it back."
Stunned, Harry dropped the cloak, then hurriedly bent down to gather it up. "Really?"
"Yes."
Laughing then, Harry hugged the cloak to himself. "I... I thought you couldn't trust me not to... you know, go sneaking around at all hours?"
"I cannot claim to be unconcerned," Snape admitted. "And as you know, I never did approve of Albus allowing you to have this. But when I took it, I was in fact far more concerned that Draco would help himself to it again and get into even worse difficulties."
"The funeral." Harry nodded.
"Yes. And now I fear he may borrow it again in order to play some prank on Slytherin. So I would ask that you keep it in the Tower rather than here."
"He can't even leave the rooms now," Harry reminded his father. "It takes a spell to open the door."
"Ah. You, of course, would be aware of the limitations. However, I would prefer not to underestimate Draco's ingenuity."
Probably for the best, Harry thought. "All right, I'll be sure to keep it in the Tower. And Dad? Thank you."
Snape inclined his head. "Do not abuse my trust."
"I won't."
"I believe that," Snape said, surprising Harry.
"Why?"
"You wrote quite a coherent essay on magical risks, just recently." Snape summoned a bottle of wine and began to pour it into the glasses that blinked into existence. "There were perhaps a few too many Quidditch analogies, but on the whole... yes. It was well done."
He passed Harry a half-filled glass of something dark and fruity, and raised his own glass in a toast. "To Slytherin."
The common room, Harry thought, dread beginning to knot his stomach. "I think I'd rather have a courage draught..."
"No, none of that," Snape chided, clinking his glass against Harry's when Harry sat there frozen. "Draco was correct, earlier. You are courageous enough on your own. The lion on your crest is there for good reason."
Harry thought of his snake-and-lion crest, and nodded.
Then he tilted his wine into his mouth and drank down every drop.
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Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other
Chapter Eighty-Two: Draco's Revenge
Comments very welcome,
Aspen
Chapter 82: Draco's Revenge
http://archive.skyehawke.com/story.php?no=5036&chapter=82
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A Year Like None Other
by Aspen in the Sunlight
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Chapter Eighty-Two: Draco's Revenge
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Now or never, Harry told himself as Snape stopped in front of a portrait of a dark-haired, rather forbidding looking wizard. Salazar Slytherin himself, Harry presumed.
"We could have Flooed in," Snape said, "but I thought you should know the passwords."
"Have you any plan to mention one?" asked the portrait in a bored tone.
Snape looked a bit irritated at that. "Brasilia." He shot a glance at Harry. "I wanted Albus to know I was serious about going abroad."
The painted wizard made a rather sarcastic gesture as the door he was covering swung silently open.
Three tunnels and two additional portraits later--Harry understood that Slytherins were paranoid but this was ridiculous--they found themselves walking into the Slytherin common room. It definitely hadn't been that complicated to reach it years before when Harry and Ron had quizzed Draco about the Heir of Slytherin. But then again, Draco had said that the hallways changed themselves around at times.
Well, it was no wonder Snape had mentioned Flooing in. Who would want to go through all that each time they had to check on their House? Besides, Harry reasoned, with Slytherins, any delay might be lethal.
Though he had to admit, things in the common room didn't look as forbidding as he had expected. Probably that had a lot to do with the day in Hogsmeade. Candy wrappers were everywhere, thrown on the floor for the house-elves to tidy up, and several of the students lazing about on the couches were quite obviously drunk. Belladonna had her shirt half-unbuttoned and was snogging a tall, brown-haired boy as she sat on his lap.
Snape cleared his throat, but it had little effect since someone had charmed an odd-shaped rock to be putting out... well, rock music actually, though Harry didn't recognise the song. That was no wonder. He didn't listen to music where every third word was something you couldn't say in polite company.
The Potions Master pointed his wand and sent a stream of bluish lightning its way. It crackled for a second, sounding like popcorn, then fell silent.
Everyone slowly turned to stare at Snape in the doorway, Harry hovering slightly behind him.
"I wish to conduct a full meeting of the House at once," Snape announced, wand still in hand. "You will each summon those within your respective dormitories. Mr. Torquay, I suggest you remove the lipstick from your earlobe."
And possibly the lips still wearing the lipstick, Harry thought as Belladonna untangled herself from the boy. He knew it was wrong to still be angry with her about the expulsion hearing; she'd been memory-charmed and thought she'd been telling the truth about Draco.
But Harry was angry anyway.
The moment Snape stopped speaking, the students scurried away to do his bidding. Really, it looked like they were pretty much in awe of him, which made some sense, Harry supposed. His father was an extremely powerful wizard, and he wasn't exactly known as the soul of patience. And too, Harry still remembered that claim from second year, that if Ron and Harry had been in Snape's house, he'd have sent them back home on the train. So Heads of Houses could evidently eject--if not expel--students exactly as they pleased.
Still though, Harry had expected to see a little more backbone...
But they're Slytherins, he reminded himself. It's like Nott said. Challenging Snape to his face is just stupid. They're going to pay lip service to whatever he says, then turn around and stab him--or more likely, me--in the back, first chance they get...
"No wonder Draco doesn't clean his room," Harry muttered when he and Snape were alone.
"Ah, well the elves clear away the mess daily."
"My point exactly. And what's this about your complaining we have lax supervision in the Tower? I've never seen anybody undressed like that in my common room!"
"She's a seventh-year," said Snape as though that explained everything.
Harry fell silent then, because Slytherins were starting to arrive. They fell into a semi-circle in front of Snape and Harry, the movement so unhesitating that Harry surmised his father must hold House meetings on a regular basis. That was an odd idea for him.
The students in front were first-years, judging from their height, not to mention the fact that their eyes were filled with a sort of awe when they looked at him. Harry wasn't sure if that was from hero-worship--though why he should be any Slytherin's hero was a good question--or if they were merely impressed that he could claim the fearsome Potions Master for a father.