Better Be Slytherin!

*Chapter 44*: Chapter 44

Better Be Slytherin! – Chapter 44

By jharad17

--HPHPHPHPHPHPHP--

Previously on Better Be Slytherin:

"Maybe it just shows what you really, really want, more than anything. Even if you can never have it."

A moment later, another person joined the crowd near Harry, and he could never mistake Severus Snape for anyone else. His Mum and Dad greeted Snape, and shook his hand, and as his Mum and Dad both put a hand on Harry's shoulder, the Potions Professor gazed down at him with a smile, then ruffled the hair on his head, and it was so real he almost felt it. It was as if they were all there with him, as if they were all his family, even Snape, and he felt so warm and sad and happy all at once he thought he might burst.

"Yeah," Ron said, sounding sad. "I guess you're right."

--HPSSHPSSHPSS--

Severus Snape spent his Christmas Break that year in a way completely unlike any other year since he began teaching, ten years ago. That is, he socialized. He spent a lively afternoon or two with Minerva, ostensibly going over ways they could improve OWL scores in their subjects, but in fact regaling each other with the best pranks they had seen and been caught by, the past ten years, as well as past students who had gone on to make names for themselves. On several afternoons, he joined Filius Flitwick in a cuppa, to discuss the possibility of forming a Dueling Club. They decided to give it a try next year. Finally, one night he even stayed up late with Dumbledore, discussing matters other than the Worst Dark Wizard Ever, topics such as how they were enjoying the holiday, memories of holidays past, and familial topics.

The last, especially, surprised Severus the most. He had very rarely shared any details of his home life with anyone, even Lily Potter, and here he was with the man he had once wished would permanently rescue him from his father's temper, both of them drinking tea, with a "little splash of something to warm us," discussing Tobias' fondness for snooker and a dark beer.

Severus had been otherwise unoccupied for the evening, once Occlumency training was done for the evening, because Harry had begged off chess or photographs for the first time since the holidays began. The boy had presumably gone to bed early or put the finishing touches on his work for his classes, which were due to resume on Monday.

That was the other major difference of this holiday: Harry.

Severus had been teaching Occlumency to the Brat Who Wouldn't Let Him Be Alone almost every evening after dinner for the last two weeks, and the oddness of it was, Severus had not minded. Normally, a school holiday was a good chance for Severus to close up shop and retreat to his favorite place -- his quarters and his private lab -- where he would see neither hide nor hair of anyone else for the duration. This year, however . . . The Brat had drawn him out. The two of them had perused photographs of Lily, played chess, both wizarding and Muggle, and discussed magical theory, mostly about Occlumency, but also about Elemental Magic. For some reason, Harry seemed interested in the subject, and it was always a good feeling to have a willing and eager student.

And Harry was not only willing, he was . . . bright and amusing, and he had a charming way about him, especially when he was trying to redirect conversation away from a troublesome topic. Severus was . . . glad, yes glad that he had finally seen past the shortcomings of the boy's heritage to see him as a pupil driven to learn, and with the faculties to do so.

He had noticed, however, an odd melancholy about the boy the last couple days, and had come to Dumbledore tonight to see if the old man -- with his innumerable "insights" into people (Read: means of spying) -- might help him suss out the problem.

Somehow or other, they had come around to speaking of snooker, a game Severus had never cared for, but which Albus apparently did. "It started amongst wizards, your father would be overjoyed to know," Albus said with a snort.

"Overjoyed, yes, I'm sure that's the word," Severus rejoined.

"When the Muggles started playing, of course, the balls were kept on a billiards table, no longer flying about like bludgers, of course."

Severus smiled wryly. "Of course."

Albus chatted for a few more minutes about the game, then added suddenly, "Do you recall seeing the Mirror of Erised?"

"Do I . . ." Severus' eyes narrowed, recalling that magical artifact. He swallowed. "Yes. I thought it lost after . . ."

With a kind smile, Dumbledore shook his head. "No, no, dear boy. It is here again, at Hogwarts. I have been meaning to move it down into the Pit, but have been too slow--"

"Has someone gotten the Stone!?" Severus interrupted.

"No, nothing like that . . . just, I'm afraid the mirror has been discovered in its current location by two of our First Years."

Since there were only two Firsties in the school at present, that meant only one thing. He sucked in a breath. "Potter and the Weasley boy."

"None other. I'm afraid Harry Potter in particular has become quite enamored of what the mirror can show him."

Considering his conversations -- and innumerable hours looking over pictures of his mother -- with the boy, he could guess fairly closely what that was. "Yes, I'm sure."

"I'd like you to take care of it, Severus."

Once upon a time, he had become enamored of the mirror himself, and he understood what Albus was asking. "Of course. Tell me where he is."

--HPSSHPSSHPSSHPSS--

Watching the boy in the upstairs classroom the next afternoon, Severus eased himself onto the edge of a nearby desk top, a heavy feeling in his chest. Rather than say anything immediately, he observed the boy for some little while, trying to decide how best to approach the issue. Somehow -- probably with that damnable invisibility cloak -- Harry had managed to elude his usual watcher, the Bloody Baron, and thus Severus had thought all this time he was in his dorm, studying, in the afternoons. Severus would need to speak with the Baron, too, and discover why he had not been following his charge.

Towards the front of the dusty room, Harry was crouched in front of the mirror, looking hungrily into its depths. Severus could just imagine what members of his family he saw within. This is probably where he had scampered off to the night before, too, rather than play chess or look at non-interactive pictures of people he would never know personally.

It made Severus ache with sorrow, just to see. Finally, he could take no more of watching. "Harry. Come away from there now."

The boy's head snapped around as if he had seen a boggart. His eyes were very wide, but were ringed with dark circles. Had he been sneaking out at night, too? No . . . none of his alarms had sounded. "Sir? I didn't see you."

"No, I imagine not. Your eyes are all for that mirror."

"I . . . er, yes. Yes, sir." Harry climbed quickly to his feet and darted a guilty look at the artifact, even as he sidled away.

Severus slid off the desk and approached the boy, trying not to scowl. He didn't want to frighten the boy, after all. "So. You've discovered the Mirror of Erised."

"Erised? What's . . ." The boy trailed off and peered at the mirror again, specifically at the runic-style lettering around the frame: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. "Erised," he repeated softly, and his face crumpled. "Desire."

"Yes," Severus agreed softly. "You know what the mirror does, I assume."

Harry nodded, looking at the floor. "Shows you what you really, really want but can never have."

The boy's words were like a kick in the stomach. How true they were, and yet . . . "In a way, Harry. As it was explained to me, when I was a boy, the mirror shows us nothing more than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts." He paused and kept from looking at the mirror himself. Nothing good would come of it. As gently as he could, he said, "I imagine you see your family standing around you when you look in."

The boy gave the mirror another guilty look, then turned back to Severus, tears glittering on his lashes, which he hastily blinked away before they fell. Severus could understand, intimately, how he must feel. For his own part, he had seen family, too, when he found the mirror in his fourth year, but they gathered around him in a way which had never happened in true life. His father had clapped him proudly on the back and his mother kissed his brow . . . and then, Lily stood close by his side, their hands clasped tightly together, even when they kissed. . . .

"Yes," Harry breathed.

"I know," Severus said. And he truly did. "But a wise man once told me, this mirror will give neither truth nor knowledge. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible."

"Is it possible?" Harry whispered. "Can it happen ever? What I see?"

Wondering what the boy could see in the mirror besides his dead family gathered around him, Severus shook his head. "No, Harry. There is no way to bring back the dead. Not even with magic."

The boy's face fell, and Severus took a step closer to him, not sure what he could do, but feeling like he should try to ease the boy's pain somehow. But all he could say was, "Professor Dumbledore will move the mirror tomorrow, and he asks that you do not try and seek it out again."

"The Headmaster?" Harry looked up at him, green eyes shining. "What does he care?"

"He cares for all the students here," Severus replied, even though he was not completely sure of the truth of the statement, given how shabbily his snakes were often treated, in comparison to his favored Gryffindors. "But more importantly, I care, Harry, and I do not want you to waste your life chasing after dreams. As I was told, when I found the mirror, it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

He waited until the boy nodded slowly and gathered up his cloak before speaking again. "I shall expect you to stay after Occlumency tonight, to discuss this with me some more. But for now, you'd best go and work on your holiday essays, hm?"

Without meeting Severus' eyes, the boy shook his head. "I've finished those, sir."

"Then perhaps you'd like to come and have a game of chess."

The boy gave a tiny shrug, then said, "All right. Thank you, sir."

"Come along, Harry." He gestured to the door and followed the boy out.

Later that evening, as Severus had assumed he would, Harry said, "Sir, may I ask you a question?"

"You just did," he pointed out. "But you may ask another."

Harry gave him a lopsided smile, the first Severus had seen in days. "Can I ask, what do you, er, I mean, what did you see in the mirror?"

Severus graced him with a small smile of his own, even as he looked away and took a long sip of the glass of wine he often enjoyed on winter evenings. He did not want to answer. Nor did he want to lie. In the end, he said, "Can you not guess?" and was gratified when the boy nodded, blushing slightly. Even if Harry could never know the whole truth, he could probably guess a portion of it.

--HPSSHPSSHPSSHPSS--

After the holidays, Severus' schedule was once more filled with preparation for his classes and teaching during the days, then correcting assignments and exams and holding frequent detentions for Gryffindors -- especially Weasleys -- at night. Whenever possible, he squeezed in extra hours with his five Seventh Year NEWT students to prepare them for their upcoming exams. He still met with Harry two nights a week for Occlumency lessons, and once a week or so for chess, but all of their meetings were after Slytherin Quidditch practices, as Marcus had the team out on the pitch almost every evening.

The weather had turned rainy, wet and cold. Fortunately, wizarding children were less likely to take sick than their Muggle counterparts, and thus Madame Pomfrey required no more Pepper-up Potions than usual, even when various Quidditch teams re-entered the castle from practice looking more like drowned kneazles than school children. If not for Filch's determined whinging about the state of the Entry Hall, Severus might have found the sight tremendously amusing . . . bollocks to that; he did find the sight amusing. Not that any of the little brats would ever know; Severus always made sure of his sneer before they saw him.

He noticed, however, during their various meetings, that Harry seemed quieter than he had been before the boy went up against the Mirror of Erised. Occasionally, he appeared embarrassed. Severus brought up the issue once or twice, but Harry refused outright to say what was bothering him, and Severus refused to abuse his trust by discerning the truth during their Occlumency lessons.

Still, they were not as comfortable together as they had been at the beginning of the holidays, and Severus, for one, felt the loss keenly.

He refused to consider why.

A few weeks after Gryffindor beat Hufflepuff in their late-February Quidditch match, Severus insisted on refereeing the upcoming bout between Slytherin and Hufflepuff, over Minerva's objections of favoritism.

"Favoritism!" he shouted, incensed as much as he had ever been before at the insinuation. They stood nose to nose in Dumbledore's office. "This has nothing to do with Slytherin's chances! If you believe you can protect the boy in the air better than I, then do so!"

McGonagall drew herself up. "I'm not much of a flier anymore, Severus. You know that."

"Of course," he agreed. "That's why it is left to me to make sure no one tries to kill him this time."

"I'm sure you're over-reacting--" the elderly professor started.

"I had to chant counter curses for a quarter hour during his last game," he said stiffly, "without pause. You saw what his broom was doing. He was lucky he didn't get bucked off. If I had been in the air, I could have aided him far better."

Minerva glared daggers, arms crossed over her chest. You'd think he was trying to steal the Quidditch Cup from her! It wasn't as if Gryffindor had a chance of it anymore, not without Charlie Weasley. Finally, she gave a sharp nod. "If Pomona agrees, then I'll go along. But I still think Rolanda should be present as well."

"Agreed," Severus said, glad to be done with this argument. He disliked, intensely, needing to raise his voice whilst in Dumbledore's presence. He had done so perhaps a handful of times over the last dozen years. Almost every time, he realized with a start, it was to do with one Potter or another.

"Agreed," McGonagall echoed. She strode out of the office, her head high, likely on her way to make her case against him with Pomona Sprout.

"How are you faring, my boy?"

Severus turned from where he had been watching the Gryffindor head retreat, and faced the Headmaster. "I am well, Albus. Thank you."

The man smiled into his beard. "Good, good. I was . . . concerned, a short while ago, that you were in over your head, with regard to Harry Potter."

"Over my head?"

Dumbledore nodded, gesturing lightly with his left hand. "He is an engaging child, to be sure. I admit as much. But when you were troubled about teaching him Occlumency, when we needed to keep Voldemort from his mind, I thought perhaps you had become too close to him. Too close to do what was needful."

Severus carefully kept the scowl that wanted to surface from his expression. "I do not follow," he said, although he was almost certain he did.

"Harry Potter is not just a student at this school, Severus," Albus said slowly, as if speaking to a rather stupid child. It was a tone he tended to reserve for special occasions, and Severus detested it, and every occasion on which it had been used. "He is also the one prophesied to defeat Voldemort forever."

"He is a child, Albus."

"He is the Boy Who Lived. He will require even more training if he is to survive into adulthood."

"I see."

Dumbledore smiled again. "I am sure you do, my boy. As his Head of House, and one of my most trusted, you will be in charge of much of his training. He will need to be challenged as only you can do."

Severus pursed his lips. "Do recall, Albus, what I requested the last time you pressed me into training the boy. Occlumency is not like Charms. I cannot force talent in the art. In the weeks I have worked with him, I have done little more than help him block his dreaming mind, as he is not ready for more. But if I am to train him further as you wish, I will want full custody of the boy during the summer holidays, as well as unfettered access to him during the school year."

"Agreed. He will be yours."

A surge of feeling rose up in Severus' chest. He could hardly wait to tell the boy that he need not return to his relatives--

"After a minimum of fourteen days in the custody of his aunt and uncle, of course."

Severus stared at the barmy old coot. "I beg your pardon?"

"Harry must return to their home for two weeks each summer, to renew the blood wards against Voldemort and his Death Eaters." Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled, as if he could hear Severus' heart plummet. "At least while he is a student here, the boy must always have that place of safety to retreat to if necessary. The only place he will be completely safe is at the Dursleys' residence."

"He will be safe from Dark Wizards there."

"Yes, of course."

"But only safe from them. Not from his Muggle relatives."

"Not this again, Severus. A few sharp words in the boy's direction will not kill him. He may not have come to us as well fed and healthy as I might have hoped, but he is alive, and he is cared for--"

"Not as well as they would care for a dog!"

Dumbledore was on his feet, his voice thunderous. "SEVERUS! Harry Potter MUST return to the Dursleys for two weeks each year! You may either accept it as necessary, or you leave me with little choice. I will find someone else I can trust to train him."

Feeling the blood drain from his face, Severus shook his head quickly. "No, no, you're right, Headmaster. It will be as you say. He'll go to them for two weeks." He would just need to be nearby during that time, in case anything more than a few sharp words passed from the Muggles to the boy.

"Excellent. I'm pleased you agree." Dumbledore resumed his seat and gestured in dismissal. "Good luck at Saturday's match, Severus."

"Thank you, Headmaster." Severus nodded on his way out, not so keen on sharing this news with Harry, after all.

TBC . . .

A/N:

Thanks to everyone who reads and/or reviews! I heart you lots and lots.

This story won an award and scored Runner-Up for another at The Quibbler! Check the site out via my profile. Oh, and "Whelp II" is Runner up for some stuff, too, and I am Runner Up for Best Writer.

It's so exciting, I can hardly write . . . hm. Nah, that's never going to happen. :-D