Third Place - Romance

Severus had managed to spoil every potion he attempted that day through distraction and inattentiveness. He added the wrong ingredients, he stirred the wrong way, he let the mixture boil too long due to the fact that he was glaring into the distance. Or at the door to the living room.

Harry Potter was sitting on his sofa. Breathing his air. When he'd agreed to this with Albus he hadn't realised how difficult it would be to have someone invading his space. These rooms had always been a sanctuary for him when the outside world became too much, now they were likely to provide more stress than he would find elsewhere. And he was forced to stay near the source of his displeasure, unable to leave it, entrusted to protect it.

He had been rather surprised at the lack of noise coming from the main room all day. When he had returned to it, he'd been relieved to find that Potter preferred doing nothing to destroying Snape's property.

Finally finishing cleaning up the lab, he could not think of any other ways he could put off entering the other room. He steeled himself. After all, they were his chambers. He would not be driven out.

Snape cautiously seated himself on the free end of the sofa. He really did prefer the boy asleep. He was so much less aggravating. Though it was harder to think of Potter with such hatred when the boy wasn't conscious.

He picked up a book on experimental techniques for preparing rare potions components, and asked for a plate of biscuits from the house elves. As he ate them, he glanced suspiciously over at the boy. If the brat should wake and see him eating cookies he would undoubtedly be ridiculed. Not that he cared.

Severus became so engrossed in his book that a couple of hours passed before he looked up again. He had completely forgotten that Potter was there. He thought that maybe it wasn't so bad having him around, if he stayed as unobtrusive as he had so far. When the boy was silent he wasn't bad company at all. It was almost nice having someone there, keeping the other end of the couch warm, evidence that he wasn't alone in the universe.

As though Snape's thoughts had provoked some malicious sense of timing in the other occupant of the room, Potter stirred.

Snape looked down at him in horror. He had just been starting to relax, and now the boy would wake up and harass him. A frown settled over his face. He'd have to see about that. Severus began to compose several sarcastic witticisms which would cut the boy down to size.

Harry's restless movements increased.

Snape's imagined remarks grew more harsh.

Every demeaning comment about the boy's parentage flew right out of his head when Harry screamed. Severus jumped to his feet. It was a piercing, agonised sound which could be caused only by the worst kind of pain imaginable.

Convinced that the boy was experiencing the Cruciatus curse, Snape quickly kneeled on the floor beside him and grabbed his shoulders. He looked about the room frantically, but no one else was there, and he could detect no invisibility charms. But how could they cast the curse from a distance, it was impossible.

Harry was writhing now and digging his own fingernails into his palms so hard that blood trickled over his hands.

Severus shook him frantically, knowing that external stimuli could sometimes help the victim to deal with the pain.

Harry opened his eyes and stopped screaming.

He immediately lurched backwards and tumbled off the arm of the sofa, then crawled backwards to the corner of the room, where he huddled into a shivering ball. Snape slowly approached and crouched beside him, touching a shoulder gently. The boy's head rose jerkily. His eyes appeared to be having trouble focusing and he looked straight through Snape. He was displaying all of the aftershocks caused by Cruciatus.

Severus left the boy, hurrying to the stores in his lab and grabbing two bottles, then returned.

Harry was still in the same position, though the shuddering did seem to be lessening slowly. Snape tried to get him to take the calming potion, but Harry wouldn't unfurl. So the professor sat down next to him with his back against the wall and hauled the boy's head and shoulders round till they rested in his lap. The eyes still wouldn't look at him, flickering randomly. He held Harry's chin firmly in one hand, then poured the potion down his throat quickly. Next was a relaxation potion. Before the tremors calmed fully and Harry's eyes became clear once more, he heard the boy muttering to himself.

"Swore that I wouldn't scream. So weak. Couldn't even stop that. Shouldn't have screamed. So stupid," in soft, slurred voice.

Then Harry finally looked at him in recognition. Scooting backwards till his back was also against the wall he developed a look of trepidation.

"Sir?"

"What just happened, Potter?" Snape asked, not fully understanding the events of the past few minutes.

"I had a nightmare?" Harry's tone was one that invited Snape to make up another explanation.

"It sounded like..." Snape bit off what he had been about to say. He forced himself to sound considerate. "What was it about?"

Shrug.

That really pissed Severus off. There he was, making an effort, trying to be nice to the boy, and he got a shrug. The brat had no manners at all.

"Was it a nightmare about how tiring your perfect life is, about being buried under mountains of fanmail, about being idolised and adored. I'm sure it must be so hard for you." Snape couldn't help it, the words just came. Potter brought out the worst in him.

"That's all you think about isn't it, you're just like Ron," said the boy sadly. Then, "If you must know, it was a dream about this war. I have them quite often."

Snape stared, still smarting from being compared to anyone as insufferable as the Weasley, but beginning to think that now the truth would come out.

Harry continued. "And there was this sheep, right, and he had this umbrella. And he was shaking it, and then the coconut shells started falling. And the other sheep had cannons, and lasers, and paper aeroplanes. It was so scary I couldn't take it. And then you woke me, and I thought you were one of them. Sorry sir," he said with utter seriousness. Then he laughed wildly.

Snape trembled with rage. Potter dared to mock him. Lie to him.

"Get out of my sight Potter," he yelled.

"Aye, Aye sir, happy to oblige," came the forced chirpy reply.

The boy tried to get up. He moved slowly, as though very stiff, but he shouldn't be if he had used Pomfrey's salve, thought Severus. He supported himself on the wall for a second, and then started to walk away. He didn't get very far.

Snape, watching Potter's retreat with a scathing glare which he regretted the boy couldn't see, noticed the boy seemed unstable on his feet. Harry wavered, swayed, then fell. Much as he would have enjoyed watching James' son crack his head open on the floor tiles, it wouldn't do anyone any good, and so he lunged forward and caught him. The boy appeared to have fainted.

He carried the prone body to the couch, and summoned a glass of water to throw over his head. Just as he was about to do so, he spotted something which the boy's fringe had previously concealed. The famous scar. It was bleeding. Severus reached out and ran his index finger over it, looking at the blood in shock. He remembered something that Albus had once told him, that through his scar Potter was linked to Voldemort, and felt his presence and magic. He looked down at the boy's hands again, and saw where the blood trailed from self inflicted wounds.

Sheep indeed, he thought to himself. It was Cruciatus. The satisfaction of knowing that he had been right was significantly diminished by what he had been right about. What had Potter whispered as he woke? That he had sworn not to scream. And he said he had the dreams often, though that may have also been a lie, Snape suddenly didn't think so.

He had nightmares himself, fairly often, and usually on the same subject, but he never actually felt the pain. He had never woken screaming like that. For the first time, Snape looked upon Harry Potter with not hatred, but pity.

He had lost his place in his book.

The spell Severus had set to inform him of when Potter woke up was the only indication he had that the boy had done so. He watched as the form next to him remained perfectly still, and breathed with the regularity usually only found in unconsciousness. It was a masterful act. He took a sip of his coffee and turned the page. As he looked seemingly intently at his book, he saw Harry's eyes open from the corner of his own. No further movement. Finally he put the book down and turned to face the boy. Harry was staring at him, and seemed to be trying to work up the courage to say something. Snape lifted an eyebrow. It was enough.

"Sir, I'd like to apologise for my behaviour earlier; I'm sorry for all that I said and did."

Now that caught Severus off his guard. Potter apologising to him! He spluttered for a movement then collected himself.

"It was no trouble." Somehow he managed to make it sound like there was no possible way Potter would ever be significant enough to cause him trouble yet at the same time that he had been so much trouble that he shouldn't be apologising but shooting himself. He congratulated himself on the effect; the boy went quite pale before he remembered that he didn't want to crush the boy's attempts at politeness. Humility should be encouraged. And Potter had enough troubles on his plate anyway. So he did not follow up with the other cutting remark he had held in reserve. He turned back to his book.

A few minutes later. "Were you planning on eating tonight, Mr. Potter? It is past eight you know."

"Ummm," came the reply, "I'll have whatever you're having."

Snape rolled his eyes. "What if I told you I was planning on giraffe eyes stuffed with eel guts served with a pepper and shredded porcupine tail garnish?"

Harry stared at him disbelievingly.

Snape sighed, "I am not, however, planning on eating anything. So you order whatever you want and don't be too loud."

At the lack of action from beside him, Severus turned. The boy was half sitting, wrapped in the blanket laid over him, with his hands in his lap. He was gazing fixedly at them.

Probably wondering if the cuts he made will leave scars, thought Snape. As though he felt the weight of the professor's unspoken question, Harry said, "I'm not hungry thanks."

Snape doubted that. Boys were always hungry. And Pomfrey had said that this one was very underweight. So he levelled one of his inescapable stares, which had never yet failed to produce results, at Potter. Harry seemed to be holding out for a minute, but then he caved.

"I haven't got my wand," he muttered.

The stare continued, though now it was also one of shock.

"What did you do for lunch?" Why hadn't the boy told anyone it wasn't with him, they could have gone back and fetched it.

"I wasn't hungry then either." Now Snape was getting suspicious.

"We can go and get it..."

"No," said Harry, obviously in get distress, "It's broken anyway."

Snape looked at him sharply.

"I sat on it," he explained. The look stayed trained on him, not even Potter could be that clumsy. Longbottom might have managed it. "When the Death Eaters were there, I fell on it and it snapped." That sounded far too much like an excuse.

"Hmmm." He summoned a house elf to get food for the boy.

Severus retired to his bedroom so that Harry could sleep. The boy wasn't quite as obnoxious as he had imagined, he decided. Certainly, he had more problems than Snape had thought. Perhaps the boy's life was not as perfect as he had believed it.

He knew that Albus would want him to go and get the pieces of Potter's wand tomorrow so that it could be mended. Expertly, not like the awful and hazardous case of the Weasley boy in his second year. He wondered what the headmaster would do to occupy the boy during the day. Then he dismissed the thought.

He fell asleep trying to clear the vision of Potter's bleeding scar from his mind.

Harry buried his head under the covers as the lights in the room automatically grew brighter. The luxury of staying in bed for once, of having a bed at all, even if it was borrowed and made from a lemon drop, was one he intended to take advantage of fully. There had been no sign of Snape so far, though Harry had never thought of him as the kind of man who would sleep in late.

He heaved himself out of bed with a sigh, wincing as his back became the most painful reminder of what had happened, though everywhere else hurt too. He had forgotten to use the salve last night since he had fallen asleep. God, he was so stiff.

He limped his way to the bathroom and grabbed the jar. Stripping, he turned around and craned his head over his shoulder, which of course hurt, to take a look at his back. It looked awful. Black, blue and purple with some green providing highlights. Everywhere else on his body was starting to fade to a yellow-green colour but his back wasn't healing at all. He still couldn't reach it though, so he would just have to live with it until it went away.

Having spread the goo over most of himself, he headed back out to the couch. He cringed as he recalled what had passed the night before. Snape had found out. Two of the things he had wanted to hide, although admittedly the wand could not stay secret long, he had spilled in less than a day. It was the worst sort of luck. Harry didn't think that his attempt to keep Snape from prying into his nightmares had been very successful, but he really hadn't been thinking coherently at the time.

Aside from one or two poignant insults the day before though, Snape hadn't been that bad. Not worse than usual anyway, and he seemed to improve gradually as it had got later. Maybe he had adjusted to having Harry there. Maybe Dumbledore had ordered him to be nice. The thought of how Snape would take the last command made Harry laugh out loud. That of course was the moment that Snape chose to enter the room.

A sardonic eyebrow was raised, and Harry fell silent immediately. He was fascinated by the way that the man employed his eyebrows as intimidation tactics, did Snape know he was doing it? He must.

"Mister Potter, I am glad you find me so amusing." the Potions Master's voice dripped with disdain.

While the subject of Harry's mirth had indeed been the professor, he wasn't about to tell him that.

"No Sir, I was just coughing," he coughed a few times into his hand for effect, then gave an innocent smile.

Snape gave him a look which promised a fiery death, but when his next words came out the were entirely civil. "How did you sleep?" with no inflection at all.

"Fine, thank you Sir." There had of course been more nightmares, but none so bad. Just Cedric taking Uncle Vernon's smeltings stick and pounding him with it, giving with each blow a reason why he deserved it. Fun! Harry really, really wished that he didn't remember his dreams. He never got any good ones to compensate for all the others.

They ate breakfast- toast and cereal. Harry could only manage a few bites of each before he was so full that he felt sick. He pushed the rest around a bit, but stopped when he felt Snape watching him.

"The Headmaster will be arriving soon to take you for the day, I am going to be very busy," said Snape when he had finished.

Harry nodded obediently, and wished today might be more interesting than yesterday.

Dumbledore collected Harry, and bestowed a special smile on Snape which seemed to irritate him exceedingly. Harry supposed it must have been a private joke.

"We are working in the library today Harry; I hope that you will not mind accompanying me there?"

"No, that's fine. I wanted to get some books anyway."

"Ah yes, of course. I don't suppose there is much entertainment for a boy of your age in Professor Snape's chambers, hmmm?"

"Or any at all!" mumbled Harry to himself. Dumbledore of course heard. And smiled.

The library had been rearranged to accommodate the many aurors now working inside it. The tables had been taken away, or shrunk down, or something, and the aurors formed a huge crowd in the centre of the room, sitting, standing and some even hovering a couple of feet off the floor. Several of them stared at him and whispered as Harry entered, and he began to feel uncomfortable.

"I'll leave you to your own devices for the day then Harry, but please don't interrupt us unless it is urgent," said Dumbledore, before moving to join the others.

Harry moved back into the stacks until he was no longer within the view of all the people, and then began scanning the shelves for books. His main problem was that he couldn't actually practise the magic. He hoped that Mr. Ollivandar would give him another wand. But what if he wouldn't, what if Harry had blown his only chance at being a wizard? He should never have taken his wand from out of it's hiding place. And to carry it downstairs! He was such a fool. It really was all his own fault.

He picked up a book on the history of dark curses. Another on the theory behind transfiguration. He couldn't be bothered with divination as he always received top marks for his imaginative death scenes anyway. Not that they were totally fabricated. Most of them were things that he had seen Voldemort doing in his visions and dreams.

He found a book on potions which he had started reading before the end of term; it explained what each ingredient would do to a potion and how they reacted with each other. Harry doubted that Snape would let him use the lab but he took out a copy of that years potions textbook as well. Even if he wasn't allowed to practise he could still reference it to the other book to try and understand the experiments better.

A book on werewolves- Snape would have a fit if he saw that. He passed over a book on animagi, but it made him think of his godfather. Sirius hadn't communicated with him in anyway since about a month before Christmas. That wasn't like him, though Harry was almost glad that he hadn't sent a present this year considering what the results would have been.

Charms to use on yourself would be very useful. Maybe he could find a charm to stop people hearing his screams. Not that he could do it without a wand. He had already been using a mild silencing charm before Christmas so as not to disturb his dorm mates, but it wouldn't stop screaming. He hadn't screamed since the summer. Now it had started again.

He thought resentfully of the Dursleys. It was all their fault he was having nightmares. How are you supposed to sleep peacefully locked in a cupboard? Though he wouldn't be having nightmares at all if it wasn't for the things he had done and seen. So it wasn't their fault but his.

He found some comfy chairs in a corner and started to read. He wasn't aware of time passing until a house elf popped up in front of him. Amidst the usual chatter he managed to ascertain that Dumbledore had sent it to get him lunch. He asked for some fruit. Then, realising how dangerous that was, visions of mountains of apples filling the library, asked much more specifically. For a banana.

The house elf brought back a banana. And an orange. And a pear. And a bowl of cherries. It had obviously decided he needed more to eat.

He did actually end up eating most of the food, nibbling on it as he read and the windows gradually became darker.

Finally, the headmaster came to take him back.

"A good days work that was, Harry. I see you got some reading done, too," Dumbledore enthused.

They wound their way down through the dungeons. Harry was glad that he had someone to guide him or he would have become completely lost. Snape's rooms had to be located in the deepest and least accessible part of the castle. They arrived in front of the entrance to them, and Dumbledore lowered the books that he had been levitating for Harry.

"There you got then. Have a nice evening Harry, and I'll see you tomorrow." The Headmaster left.

Harry didn't know the password.

"Professor Dumbledore?" he called, but Dumbledore had vanished. He knocked timidly, then more loudly on the portrait, but it did not open. Snape was probably in his lab.

He attempted the password. Badly.

Then one of the snake heads laughed at him. It didn't move but he could hear it laughing, a low hissing noise.

"Well I'm so pleased you think it's funny," he snapped. It came out in parseltongue.

Slowly the picture came to life. The coils slithered over each other and gradually untangled itself. It was only one snake after all, but Harry could have sworn that he had seen more than one head to start with. Maybe the others had hidden. Maybe he was delusional

"What do we have here then?" hissed the snake. "A little human who talks like one of us. Most interesting. I have not seen one of your kind for centuries."

Harry waited with baited breath, was it talking about Slytherin himself?

"The last was a kind man. He stayed here, in these rooms. He used to talk to me for hours, and tell me everything he did. His name was Darion. I liked him." Her gaze came back to Harry again. "I have had no one to talk to in so long, these idiots," she motioned with her head at the rest of the painting but Harry could see no one there, "think nothing worth hearing. But you, you will talk to me, won't you? What is your name?"

"Yes, of course," said Harry, his mind whirling, "It will be nice to talk to someone for me as well. I'm Harry."

She, for he now was positive that it was a she, nodded her head sagely. "The man who lives here is quiet is he not? Like a snake, which is good. But sometimes too quiet. And then sometimes too loud. He is confusing, which a snake should not be. I would not like him in my den until he is of a better temper."

Harry smiled. "I don't suppose you could let me in, could you; I can't remember the password but I have to get inside. I can't sleep outside."

She laughed again. Snake laughter, while very understated, was quite a soothing sound to hear. If you were a parselmouth anyway. "Ah yes, that dreadful sounding phrase he came up with, I cannot understand it."

"Neither can I." said Harry glumly.

"I wanted to tell him quite what I thought of it. But he could not hear me, and I was frozen. You have unfrozen me, and for that I thank you."

Harry was about to reply when the portrait suddenly swung inwards. Snape stood behind the door. He looked like he was about to say something, then he saw the snake moving. She hissed at the professor, and this time it was Harry who laughed.

"Goodbye, little snake," she hissed, "Do not concern yourself with learning the stupid words, in case you crack your tongue and you can no longer talk to me. I will always let you in. Come and speak to me soon."

"I will," said Harry, then carried the books inside past Snape.

Flawed Lines - Chapter 5

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