Harry nodded and started for the door, but he had not gone more than a step or two before he turned back. His eyes were clear and bright. Lily's emerald eyes. "Sir? Thank you, for taking me to . . . to see them."
Severus inclined his head. "You're welcome."
Harry licked his lips, almost avariciously. "About those pictures . . ."
Severus raised an eyebrow, mouth curled in a semblance of a sneer. "I will show them to you when I have received your essay, Potter," he said. When the boy's expression grew crafty, he hastened to add, "But mind this: I will know if you rush through it in order to get your reward, and if you rush . . . then you will have no reward."
Harry's face fell, but he nodded. "I'll do it right," he promised.
"I know you will, Harry." And he did. His previous essay was proof of that. "Go on now. Your nutritional supplement will be awaiting you at lunch, as you did not see fit to eat breakfast."
Harry's eyes grew wide, thinking, no doubt, that Severus had read his mind. But this time, he had not needed to; hearing the boy's stomach rumble hungrily all morning had been quite enough of a clue.
He smiled, giving nothing away. "Go on," he said again, and Harry fled.
Shaking his head slightly, he returned to his quarters and the hidden drawer in his desk where he kept his photographs of Lily. As he went through the small stack, he alternately cursed himself for making the offer to Harry, and cursed the Dark Lord for taking his Lily away. It had been years since he went through these pictures, and each one held a memory, for good or ill.
After an hour or so, he could take the trip through the memories no more, and went to work on his potions, the one thing guaranteed to make him lose himself. Some days, he wished he could lose himself forever.
TBC . . .
A/N: Thank you to everyone who continues to read and give support on this story! Happy Holidays, and Snapey hugs for all . . . I think he needs them.
*Chapter 31*: Chapter 31
Better Be Slytherin! – Chapter 31
By jharad17
Disclaimer: Not mine. I imagine I'll get over it.
Previously:
Harry's eyes grew wide, thinking, no doubt, that Severus had read his mind. But this time, he had not needed to; hearing the boy's stomach rumble hungrily all morning had been quite enough of a clue.
He smiled, giving nothing away. "Go on," he said again, and Harry fled.
In the Slytherin Common Room the next evening, Harry sat at the table with his study group mates as they worked on a project for Transfiguration. They were supposed to be turning a thistle into a whistle, and since they had to make sure the whistle worked, it was immediately apparent if the transfiguration had been complete or not. Fortunately, Harry recalled, from one of the books he and Teddy had perused, a counter for stinging curses which came in handy against nettles. Everyone was using the spell liberally on lips, tongues and fingers.
Rather than work on the project, however, Harry was scribbling madly on a long sheet of parchment, trying to finish the essay due the following day. He had only about a foot and a half so far, meaning he was only half way done. It was miserable work, but he was not fool enough not to finish.
Realizing suddenly that the group around him was quiet, he looked up. Millie gave him a pointed stare. "It's your turn, Harry."
"Oh. Sorry." He lifted his wand, focused on the reedy plant into front of him and waved his wand just so . . . "Factus Barba!" Now a thin tin whistle lay on the table. He gingerly picked it up -- no stinging yet -- and held to his lips -- still no stinging -- and blew. No stinging, but no sound, either.
Or so he thought.
From the nearest dormitory came the cacophony of several owls hooting at once, and a Third Year girl's shout of, "What the hell?!"
"Nice going there, Potter," Zabini said with a smirk. "You made a bird call."
"Better than you did," Millie countered, sneering. "Or was that incantation you yammered on about supposed to shred the thistle?"
"Shut it, Bulstrode."
She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. You did good, Harry," she said.
"Thanks." Harry grinned. "Your turn."
"Here goes nothing," she said with a sigh. When she got no better results than the last time she tried, even when Harry gave her a pointer on the wand motion, she sat back with a huff and watched as Draco took his turn. Then she leaned over to Harry and said quietly, "What are you working on?"
He jerked the scroll out of her view and put his hand over it for good measure. "Nothing."
"Oh, right. Sorry. I didn't realize you thought I was stupid."
"I don't!" He bit his lip and flicked a quick glance at Zabini. He didn't want to lie to his friend, but he didn't want to tell her about his essay for Snape, either. It was really embarrassing. "But it's, erm . . . it's personal."
"Uh huh." She scrunched her nose up and scowled at him. "Anything to do with you ruining the cover story we had planned for the Professor?"
"Umm, yeah." He sighed. "Kind of. I have to do this for punishment, anyway. It's got to be done by tomorrow night, and I'm barely half way there."
She jutted her chin out. "If you'd stuck to the plan--"
"I couldn't lie to him, all right?" Nor could he explain how much he hated that he had disappointed Snape, or how much it meant to him that Snape took him to see his parents' graves. It was all too bloody personal. Harry forced his hands to unclench and took a slow breath. "I . . . I just couldn't."
"Well fine," she said with a huff of annoyance. "Next time, just say so, and I won't waste my time coming up with a brilliant plan to save your hide."
"Your plan was brill, Millie. Honest." He chewed on his thumbnail nervously, just thinking about that confrontation with Snape. "I dunno why I couldn't play along."
"Your head got knocked about by the troll, I guess."
Harry glanced at her sideways, not sure if she was having him on. He caught the sparkle of humor in her eyes, though, and allowed himself a small smile in return. "No doubt." He sighed. "The Bloody Baron said I should tell the Professor about the spell I used, too."
He had her full attention now. "Harry . . . are you sure about that?"
"Yeah. I mean, he said so, right after I told Snape what really happened."
"But . . ." She glanced at Draco and Zabini, but neither seemed to be listening in; in fact, Draco was currently trying to convince Zabini that there was no "R" in Factus, to no avail. She turned back to Harry, eyes narrowed. "But you know you're the only one he talks to, right? The only one who can even hear him?"
Harry frowned. "Um, no? I mean, you were there when he warned us about the dangerous thing in the halls the other night. And when I told him Hermione was in the girls' lav."
Millicent looked uncomfortable but she held his gaze. "Well, Teddy and I saw him float in and come over to you. And we heard you telling him about that Gryffindor girl, but we couldn't hear him."
Harry's mouth dropped open. He felt it fall. How was it he hadn't realized this? The Baron spoke to Professor Snape, he knew; he'd heard enough of their conversations. But had he truly never heard the Baron speak to another student? Thinking back over the last two months, he realized Millie was right. Weird.
"Weird," he said.
"Yeah."
"I didn't know."
"I guessed that."
Sighing loudly, Harry dropped his face into his hands. He was such a freak.
Harry stayed up late that night, using a bit of wand light under the covers to continue to work on his essay. The lines on the parchment were a bit crooked, but at least he didn't spill any ink on his bed sheets. On Monday, he worked on the essay some more during lunch and through his free period afterwards, and finally finished just before dinner. It had been a monster to write. Just thinking about the topic, for one thing, was enough to make his chest feel all tight. And coming up with examples of how and when he had been rather free with his own safety or even his life, was more eye-opening than he would have guessed.