"Are you now sufficiently composed that you can wash and dress and return to the Gryffindor tower? I must take Mr Weasley to obtain a new wand, and you will recall that you are to be in your dormitory or common room when you are not supervised by a professor."
Harry blushed. "Y'sir. I'm okay now. Sorry for тАУ for all that."
Snape rose. "Such emotional lability is not unexpected for someone in your situation, Mr Potter. You are recovering from an extended period of mistreatment, and adapting to appropriate standards of discipline and care will beтАж challenging at times."
He paused, recalling what he had promised Minerva. Oh fine, now the brat will think I'm doing this to be - he shuddered тАУ nice. "Potter, while you are not to participate in this afternoon's match, you will attend it."
Harry blinked incredulously. "I will?"
"Yes. You are to escort Miss Granger тАУ she or Professor McGonagall will explain further тАУ but when the match is over, you are to return immediately to your Tower. Do you understand?"
And just as he had predicted, the little monster was smiling mistily at him. "Y'sir. Thank you, sir!"
Snape huffed. "Enough of that. Get washed and dressed!"
And that annoying little body shot out and wrapped itself around him. "I love you too, Pr'fessor," Harry whispered into the folds of his professor's robes, then fled to the bathroom before the man could react.
Oh, no. No no no. This was not supposed to happen. The brat was NOT supposed to get attached like this. All of these emotions were supposed to be lavished on the Weasleys, not him. What was he supposed to do or say after a revelation like that? He was a spy, a Death Eater, a Potions Master, an Evil Bat, a greasy git! Not someone to love.
But wait! What had the Weasley boy said? Something about how children often said things they didn't really mean. That must be it. Yes, of course. That was all. The boy was so emotionally confused that he didn't know if he were coming or going. It was impossible to take anything he said seriously, and he probably wouldn't even remember it. Yes. He was hysterical and everyone knew that hysterical people babbled. That was it. Just some hysterical babbling. Nothing to take seriously. Nothing to count on. Nothing to believe in. Nothing to dream of. Nothing at all.
TBCтАж
*Chapter 26*: Chapter 26
By the time he had come out of the bathroom, Harry had been overcome by mortification. Why had he been foolish enough to say that? Surely it wasn't the sort of thing any self-respecting male over the age of three said out loud. The fact that his professor hadn't exclaimed in disgust or shoved him away тАУ as the Dursleys would have тАУ was sufficient indication of how his professor felt, along with the man's earlier, tacit confession. Harry really needed to learn not to blurt things out. He was so embarrassed that he only mumbled a quick goodbye to both Snape and Ron before fleeing the chambers.
Well. That was that. Snape looked after the little brat with an odd mixture of relief and hurt. Obviously he had been right. The child had been confused and had simply blurted words out without any concept of what he was saying. No meaning should be attached to them, as witnessed by the boy's speedy exit at the prospect of being able to rejoin his classmates. Clearly the brat was all too happy to escape his presence and felt neither desire nor obligation to linger.
Good. That was very good. The last thing Snape needed was another complication. The boy would naturally reserve his softer feelings for Molly тАУ and that mutt of a godfather, once the two met. Snape was the Evil Bat, the disciplinarian, the horrible bastard who had just barred the boy from his first-ever Quidditch match. Snape snorted. How could he have ever imagined the boy to have been sincere? He was probably just relieved that Snape hadn't given him a worse punishment for his tantrum, the way those despicable Muggles would have done. The words were motivated by sheer relief, nothing more.
Snape nodded firmly, oblivious to Ron's odd look. He was pleased. Yes. That was what he felt. Pleasure and relief. That was it. There was no disappointment, let alone pain. After all, he knew himself to be unlovable. How absurd it would be to feel upset when a just-punished brat's outburst was proven to be hysterical babble. He didn't get upset when the boy was shouting abuse; why get angry when the child тАУ in a very Slytherin fashion тАУ tried the opposite tack?
He shook himself. No more introspection. He was Pleased and Relieved. He would pretend the boy had never spoken. Nothing had changed, and it never would. "Come along, Weasley," he snapped, as if the redhead hadn't been waiting patiently for ten minutes while the professor was lost in thought. "Do not dawdle."
On his way up to the Tower, Harry's embarrassment dwindled in inverse proportion to his distance from his professor. By the time he had reached the Fat Lady, he had a rather goofy smile on his face. His professor loved him. Not just tolerated. Not just accepted. Not even just liked. His professor loved him. He'd practically admitted it, and when Harry had said the words, he had hugged him back.
Right. This meant Harry really had to try to behave himself. Not so much out of worry that Professor Snape would send him back, but more because Harry didn't want to do anything to jeopardize that love.
Although, Harry realized, if getting chased by a troll, keeping the man up all night telling stories about one person he liked and several he didn't (for several of the tales about James involved his friends, even if they weren't engaged in any Severus-related activities), and then having a huge tantrum at the breakfast table didn't make the man's affection wane, it was hard to imagine that merely blowing a test or being cheeky would.
And besides, Professor Snape didn't really seem like the kind of person who changed his mind all that easily. Harry's lips twitched. Like with his punishment. He really could see the man striding out onto the Quidditch pitch and spelling him off his broom right there in front of everybody.
Harry sighed. He suspected that once the initial incredulous joy of having someone who really, really cared about him wore off, he'd begin to understand why the other kids always seemed to be complaining about their parents, but that was okay. Harry wasn't stupid enough to think that he didn't need any help тАУ in learning about this new world, let alone dealing with all the Death Eater and Lord Volauvent stuff тАУ and Professor Snape seemed to take his duties towards Harry very seriously. Harry was willing to put up with some rules and even some punishments if it meant that, for the first time, he had someone looking out for him.
"Well, dear, you're looking very happy for someone who was so naughty last night," the portrait said reprovingly. "We were all very worried when we couldn't find you!"
"Yes'm. I'm sorry," Harry said penitently, recalling how the various portraits had done their best to help. "I got in awful trouble for it," he offered, hoping to mollify the normally good tempered witch.
"And you deserved it," she sniffed. But a moment later, she bent forward, a look of concern crossing her features. "Was Professor Snape very hard on you?"
Harry hadn't seen Dudley manipulate his aunt without learning a few things. He put a woebegone look on his face and sighed, letting his lower lip protrude.
"Oh, dear!" the portrait bought it instantly. "He was, wasn't he?"
Harry sniffled and rubbed his backside. Just because it didn't hurt now тАУ and hadn't within about five minutes of the smacks тАУ didn't negate the fact that he'd been swatted and could therefore take full advantage of any sympathy he could milk from it. That was a clear Kid Rule, just like the one that said that unless a note was sent home, no mischief at school тАУ or its consequences тАУ needed to be reported at home or the one that said that the first three parental warnings could be disregarded, and no attention paid until actual counting began.