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"The Malfoys have nothing to do with the wards around my aunt's house. They don't even know where I live!"
"Did they never offer to bring you home, Harry?"
Well… yes. But Harry had not accepted.
"They never went anywhere near my aunt's house."
Already Harry could feel his grip on his temper beginning to fray. Abruptly, Harry got to his feet.
"Professor, if there's anything wrong with my mother's wards, the Malfoy family has nothing to do with it. They've only done what I've asked them to do for me."
"When dealing with Slytherins such aid always comes with a price, Harry."
'They aren't the only ones. I'm probably not the first Slytherin to Sort himself into Gryffindor.'
"May I go, Professor? I have a lot of homework."
"Of course Harry. But my door is always open, should you wish to talk."
Harry nodded and hurried from the room. Angry and restless, Harry did not immediately head back to the tower. Instead, he wandered through the hallways until he found himself standing in front of Snape's – Professor Snape's – office door.
Harry gulped a few deep breaths.
There were things that he wanted to say to his Snape – I'm sorry I was such a brat. I'm sorry we were all such brats to you. It wasn't your fault and you didn't deserve it. My mother wouldn't have blamed you for that night. I blame Wormtail. You made mistakes but you tried to fix them. Dumbledore used you, is using you now, and he'll use you up – but no longer could.
There were things that he should say to this Snape – I'm sorry about the spell last night. I didn't mean to hurt you. Please, let's be friends – but thought that maybe this Snape would not want to hear them.
And over it all he remembered that cloying miserable feeling of worthlessness and guilt and hopelessness that he associated with his Professor Snape's memory. It had been an act of sheer determination for Professor Snape to get out of bed in the morning. Harry did not know what to call that feeling but whatever it was, Professor Snape felt a lot of it over Harry's mother. Or seemed to feel more of it after she died. Whatever the cause, he did not deserve to be treated so cruelly by… well, any of them.
But what did Professor Snape need Harry to say?
Harry rapped on the door.
"Enter!"
When Harry walked, Snape's lips curled into a sneer.
"Mr. Potter your lesson is not until Friday."
"I'm sorry!" Harry blurted. "I didn't mean to hit you so hard!"
Snape stilled. "But you do not regret assaulting school personnel?"
Harry shuffled his feet. He recognized that pleasant, silky drawl. Nothing good ever came of it in Harry's experience.
"I regret hurting you" Harry said carefully. "But I don't regret holding onto my wand."
"I was not hurt! And you have no right to that wand! If you truly believe that wand is owed to you then you are as arrogant and self-important as your father!"
Harry winced.
Not good. He had somehow still managed to insult Professor Snape. And how could he have missed how much Professor Snape trusted Dumbledore? It was obvious! Aside from anything else, Professor Snape allowed Dumbledore to hold him together and direct the course of Snape's life! Of course he would have more regard for Dumbledore than James Potter's son. He really was an arrogant little fool.
"Did you know my father?" Harry asked, hoping that his tone was innocent and curious enough.
"I knew him much to my own misfortune" Snape sneered. "I have yet to meet a more arrogant or less deserving human being in my life."
Harry winced again. The old impulse to fight and shout and argue with the vicious professor surged. It was an effort to push it down enough to think even semi-clearly.
"Then you must have known my mother" Snape's sallow skin became chalky. He actually looked physically ill. "Did you like her better?"
"Get out!" Snape roared. "I have no more time for you to waste with your idle questions!"
Harry bolted from the room.
So much for winning friends and influencing Snape.
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(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)
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