Summer 7:   Part C

Severus Snape was not the kind of man who spent a great of time worrying about people.  Occasionally he concerned himself with Draco, but never so much so that he could not concentrate on his work, so why, in the name of everything that he held dear (which wasn’t much), was he concerned for Potter?

 Discreetly, he glanced over at the sofa, where the bane of his existence sat, staring blankly at an open book.   This was Harry Potter, the child who had been a thorn in the bottom of his foot for the past seven years; the same nosy little child who had, just this year, taken the liberty of viewing his most private thoughts without his consent; the same reckless boy who consistently got himself into danger and required rescuing of one sort or another.

Snape sighed, pinching his nose between his fingers.  This was also the child who had been staring at the same page of a book for over an hour without so much as moving his eyes; the same child who’d had nightmares since he was eight years old about demons that Snape could, unfortunately, sympathise with; the same child who consistently tried to please everyone around him, even Snape, no matter how much they disliked him.

James Potter had made Snape’s life a living hell.  The tricks they played on him always got back to his father and while his father may only rarely have hit him, he did often turn his temper on Snape’s mother.  The number of times that Snape had had nightmares about waking up late at night to find his mother dead and his father standing over her body… it still chilled him to even think about it.   He had tried very diligently not to associate his childhood with Harry Potter’s.  The boy was famous, he was loved by everyone around him, pampered by Dumbledore and McGonagall and every other bloody professor in the school.  A few years of abuse didn’t begin to equate with an entire childhood and yet…

He turned in his chair and looked at the boy’s pale profile.  When was the last time the boy had eaten?  He didn’t remember Potter actually taking a bite of anything at dinner and he hadn’t seen him at lunch or breakfast. 

“Potter!”

The boy started and looked over, “Yes, sir?”

“Go to kitchens and eat something.”

Potter gaped for a moment, “But… sir, I’m not hungry and it’s only half an hour till I’m supposed to be in bed…”

Snape glared and Potter stammered to a halt.  “I am well aware of what time it is and I did not ask if you were hungry, I told you to go to the kitchens and eat something.  I will not have you starving yourself on my watch.”

Potter’s face flushed red with embarrassment and anger.  “I’m not starving myself.”

Snape turned back to his books, pretending to be distracted.   “When was the last time you ate?”   There was silence.  “As I thought.  Do as I say, or I will be forced to ground you.”

The book slammed onto the coffee table and the couch rustled with movement.  “Doesn’t matter, I don’t want to leave my room, anyway.”

Snape turned around just in time to see Potter’s door slam shut behind him.  The impudent little brat!  Well, Snape would be damned before he sat there and took that.  Standing up, he stormed over to the boy’s room and threw open the door.  Potter was sitting on the bed, looking at his knees with the same vacant expression he had been wearing the past two weeks.  When he saw Snape standing in his doorway, however, the vacancy quickly gave way to rage.  “Get out!”

“If you wish to pine over your dogfather, you may do so in other parts of the castle, but I will not watch you waste away in my quarters.”

Potter stood up, his hands clenched defensively at his sides.   “I’ll do whatever I bloody well want, you wanker.  It’s my room and my quarters too and I don’t bloody well care what you think!  You can just…”

Without even knowing what he was doing, Snape lunged forward and grabbed Potter, throwing him over his shoulder.

“Put me down!”

He ignored the shouted protests and the slightly painful beating of fists on his back as he walked across the room and into the bathroom.

“I hate you, you fucking…”

Snape bent down, depositing Potter onto the floor of the tub and flicked his wand towards the showerhead.  Icy cold water shot down on top of the boy as Potter scrambled to get out of the shower, only to find his way blocked by Snape.  “Let me out, it’s cold!”

“That is the point.”  Snape grabbed him by his upper arms and forced him to remain in the stream.

After several seconds, Harry stilled and glared at Snape defiantly.  “You hated him.   You’re probably bloody thrilled that he’s gone.  That’s why you’re so pissed to see me upset - I’m ruining your bloody good mood!”

“Potter, I do not have good moods.  I do not revel in death, even when the loss is as inconsequential as Black.   He was a member of the Order of the Phoenix and with him gone, we have lost our headquarters for the time being.”  Harry flew at him again and Snape pushed him back. 

“I hate you!  I wish you had died instead of him!”

Snape resisted the urge to slap the boy, one of his greater accomplishments.  “No doubt that would have been the better outcome Potter, but as it is, I am here and he is not.”

With a wordless cry that sounded more like a sob that a scream, Harry sat down and buried his head in his knees.  Snape stared down at him in confusion.  He hadn’t been sure what his intentions were at the start of this and in truth, he still didn’t know now, but whatever they were, he had started this and he might as well finish it.

Kneeling down, he lifted Potter’s chin and met the angry glare behind tear bright eyes.  “You can stay in here until you’re ready to eat something.”

“Why do you care?”

Snape stopped.  Was he… caring?  Was that what all this was?  It couldn’t be, because Snape hadn’t cared about anyone in a very long time and he’d had no intentions of starting ever again.  “I don’t.”

This time, caught off guard, Potter succeeded in his escape attempt.  He threw out his hands and shoved Snape back, launching himself out of the bathroom and sliding over the slick floor with his wet feet as he ran to his room and slammed the door shut.  Snape heard the sounds of spells being cast, no doubt wards against Snape entering.  Did the little brat think Snape couldn’t break past the wards of a half-trained wizard?  Getting to his feet, Snape looked down at his wet robes and sighed heavily.  He’d have to change and then he would have a talk with Dumbledore.  The last thing he needed was to get blamed for the boy starving himself.

____________________

“Harry.”

“Is Snape still out there?”

“Professor Snape is here, yes.”

“Then I’m not opening the door.”

Snape crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall, scowling.  “This is ridiculous.  I don’t see why we don’t just go in there and…”

Dumbledore sighed, “Severus, if you do not feel like helping the situation, then perhaps you should leave.”

“It’s my quarters and I will not be kicked out simply because the impertinent brat refuses to act his age.”

“Severus!”

The door flew open and Harry ignored Dumbledore’s presence altogether, instead looking past him at Snape.  “I’ll act my age when he does, the great greasy git!”

“Harry!”

“No, if he can hold some inexplicable grudge against Sirius for over ten years…”

Snape pushed off the wall, “My grudge against that flea-ridden mongrel is hardly inexplicable.  He nearly killed me in an immature bought of recklessness…”

“When you were what?  Fifteen?  That’s hardly…”

“Boys!”

Harry whirled around, fully intent on telling Dumbledore to mind his own bloody business, but stopped when he saw the look of anger that marred the headmaster’s usually pensive face.  For a moment, Harry was afraid that the anger was directed at him and he felt the blood drain from his face, but Dumbledore wasn’t looking at him.

“Severus, up until now I have trusted you to the utmost where Harry is concerned.  However, I am beginning to believe that trust may have been misplaced.”

Snape’s scowl deepened, but Harry could see the paler of his skin tinge just the slightest shade of red.

“The boy is grieving, Severus.  It pleases me that you are concerned for him, but now is not the time to pick on petty grudges, especially ones that he was never involved in.”

The tint of red in the Potion Masters face had spread down his neck and up to his ears and Harry felt very suddenly torn between guilt and indignation – guilt, because he hadn’t meant to create this much of a problem for Snape, he just hadn’t felt like eating; and indignation, because he couldn’t fathom why he felt guilty, it was Snape’s fault for ordering him around and then shoving him in a cold shower when he didn’t do what he was told.

Snape carefully avoided Harry’s gaze, “His grieving is misplaced.  The entire staff of this school bends over backwards for him and has done so since he was eight-years-old, he hardly knew Sirius Black.”

The only thing that stopped Harry from rushing Snape was the hand still on his shoulder, lightly squeezing his tense muscles.  However, not even the hand could stop Harry from speaking.  “I love everyone here, but they aren’t family.  Sirius was the closest thing I’ve ever had to that.”

“Black was your godfather and related to you in no way.”

“He was all I had left, you…”

“Harry,” Dumbledore’s quite voice cut through his anger and Harry felt his lip trembling.  Oh god, he was not going to cry in front of Snape.  Turning around, he stormed out of the room.  Half way down the hall, he realised that Dumbledore had not followed him and he sat against the wall, looking at his knees while he tried to collect himself.

He knew that his being sad wasn’t helping anything.   There were more important things to worry about.  There was Voldemort right outside of Hogwarts somewhere, terrorising the wizarding world and Harry was on the inside, feeling sorry for himself.  Knowing didn’t make it any easier, though, especially not with Snape breathing down his neck and sticking his abnormally large nose into Harry’s business.  The man had spent countless years ignoring Harry during the summer, why couldn’t he just do it this year, as well?

Footsteps sounded down the hall and he looked up to see Dumbledore walking towards him, concern wrinkling his brow.  They hadn’t talked really since Harry had trashed his office and he suddenly felt very awkward.  What was he going to say?  Sorry felt a bit understated.  He had no clue as to how many priceless objects he’d broken in his peak of rage, but he didn’t doubt it was more than one and while he no longer feared that Dumbledore would lash out at him as his Uncle had, that somehow made it worse.

“Sir?”  Dumbledore looked down at him, and Harry found himself looking sheepishly at the ground again.  “I… um, I’m sorry… about your office, I mean.  I just…”

“Those were mere objects.  My concerns lie with your well being, whether physical or emotional.  Besides,” the familiar twinkle lit the headmaster’s eyes, “I am not a wizard for nothing, Harry.  You broke nothing that could not be fixed with a little time and effort.”

Harry felt himself smile against his will.  He didn’t really think he deserved to smile.  Of all the times he had ever been punished, he would have really and truly deserved it this time.  Lifting himself off the ground, he dusted off the back of his pants and followed Dumbledore down the hall.