This chapter and on contains spoilers for OotP. Major spoilers. You've been warned. I'm sorry about this, but I write as I go.
You probably wont like this chapter.
---
Harry walked back to his dorm slowly. He had a lot to think about. He realized how a few weeks ago, him and Snape wouldn't be having that conversation. He knew that a few weeks ago, Snape would have given him a detention and taken points when he caught him running out of that passage. There was also the subject of his father. His father, and Sirius, were really that cruel? To Snape? What bothered him even more was that Snape *wanted* to be hexed. He doesn't know how, but for some odd reason, it seems he and Snape have more of a relationship than a teacher and student should. It was as if they were becoming friendly.
Severus watched the student leave his office. Potter. Who would have thought that he and the Boy-Who-Lived would have talked about something other than schoolwork. He had made the decision to be there for the boy. He knew his plan had worked. He and Potter had close enough to talk about things, even if something's did anger Harry when he asked him. Harry. Was it okay to call Potter Harry? Yes, yes, I suppose it is, After all, it appeared they were on friendly terms. He wouldn't have told Harry that he wanted to be hexed, or why, if they hadn't. He'd have given the boy a detention, deducted points from him, and threw him out of the classroom in a rage. He still had to get Harry talking. He knew Harry had to talk to someone. He knew who that someone is, and that is him. He still couldn't explain his reasoning for worrying about the boy, except for the fact he feels he went through the same thing. And that was enough for him. He didn't have someone to lean on at the time, but whatever he hated in Harry he put aside, so Harry could lean on him if the need arose.
Harry reached his dorm and changed into his PJs, brushed his teeth, then climbed into bed. Snape was worried about him. He knew it. It wasn't pity he saw in Snape's expression that day. It was worry. When Harry feel asleep that night, he knew that when he woke up in the morning, even if Ron and Hermione didn't want him any longer, he'd still have a friend.
That was the night Hary had his dream. Voldemort casting "Crucio" on Sirius. Harry woke with the start at about 11 that night. That's when he was caught in Umbridge's office trying to contact Sirius, that's when he warned Snape. That's when He and his friends trick Umbridge, and left for the department of Mysteries. That's when he lost the person he loved the most, the person who was like a father to him - Sirius. It all seemed like a blur to him.
A few days later Harry sat in a corridor alone, staring at his hands. He knew it was no ones fault, but he couldn't help feeling it was his fault. If only he tried harder in Occlumency. How else would he react, though? He felt a few hot tears roll down his cheek and he wiped them away. He'll never see Sirius again. His friends didn't understand how he felt, and Remus was too busy; doing stuff for the ministry. He heard a voice.
"It's past curfew, Potter." It was Snape. It was the first time Severus talked to him since that night. Snape's voice was ... gentle ... soothing. Harry never heard Snape speak like that before. He looked up at Snape.
"I'm sorry, professor..." He said quietly, but made no attempt to move. Snape stood, watching him.
"What are you doing out of bed?" Snape asked softly.
"Getting alone time." Harry said.
Snape raised his eyebrows, "You're telling me that you don't have alone time in your dorm?"
"Ron, Dean, Seamus, Hermione, Ginny ... everyone hangs all over me. It's like a pity party. I can't stand it." Harry said, after a pause, his voice cracked a little, his eyes filling with tears, "It's not like I haven't though about Sirius's death enough, whenever I try to push it out of my mind, they bring him up. Hell, they don't even have to bring him up ... they ask me if I'm all right, and they stare at me all worried like... Ron and Hermione get nervous when it comes to talk to me. No one understands they're just making it worse. I can't even mourn properly with them around, whenever I try they start talking, all of them."
Snape breathed in deeply. *So I wont be comforting him about Ron and Hermione. Ill be comforting him about Sirius. *
"Why don't you come to my private quarters, Harry? We can have a nice chat, or you could sit and watch the fire, whatever, Ill leave you alone or something. But you can't stay in the corridor. If another teacher catches you, I'm afraid they'll let you off the hook. That's right, Potter, I'm taking 20 points from Gryffindor for you being out of bed. 5 points for swearing. Now, come to my quarters, or go to your dorm. I dare say you'll get more privacy in my quarters."
Harry stared at him, somewhat stunned, then moved to his feet. "I'd like to go to your quarters, Sir."
As they walked to Severus's quarters, he told him about how he lost his mother when he was 15. How his friend, Damien, didn't understand because he never lost anyone. How his father wasn't there to talk to, even if he wanted to talk to his father -- which he didn't.
Harry took a seat on a black leather couch. The quarters were decked out in Slytherin colors -- no surprise. Snape told him, without being invited, how he had eventually got over his mothers death.
It helped Harry, in a way, knowing that he had a friend who shares the type of experiences he has. He stared deep into the fire. Snape got him a pillow and blanket. Apparently, Harry was to sleep on the couch that night.
Harry didn't mind at all.
"Goodnight, Professor."
"'Night, Potter."
----
Ah, how I love changing things to suit me. But you guys don't mind, do you? I hope not. I know that's not how the events happened or anything, But its fanfiction, anything can happen!
Well, that's the end. Yes, yes, I don't care if you want more, there's nothing left to put. Snape reached his goal on comforting Harry. I can't think of anything else. I mean, the goal of my fic was to make them friends, and they are!
Lets see you compliment this chapter.
There soothing to complement about it.
So you wont.
Hmmm.
Maybe I'm too critical of my writing.
You probably wont like this chapter.
---
Harry walked back to his dorm slowly. He had a lot to think about. He realized how a few weeks ago, him and Snape wouldn't be having that conversation. He knew that a few weeks ago, Snape would have given him a detention and taken points when he caught him running out of that passage. There was also the subject of his father. His father, and Sirius, were really that cruel? To Snape? What bothered him even more was that Snape *wanted* to be hexed. He doesn't know how, but for some odd reason, it seems he and Snape have more of a relationship than a teacher and student should. It was as if they were becoming friendly.
Severus watched the student leave his office. Potter. Who would have thought that he and the Boy-Who-Lived would have talked about something other than schoolwork. He had made the decision to be there for the boy. He knew his plan had worked. He and Potter had close enough to talk about things, even if something's did anger Harry when he asked him. Harry. Was it okay to call Potter Harry? Yes, yes, I suppose it is, After all, it appeared they were on friendly terms. He wouldn't have told Harry that he wanted to be hexed, or why, if they hadn't. He'd have given the boy a detention, deducted points from him, and threw him out of the classroom in a rage. He still had to get Harry talking. He knew Harry had to talk to someone. He knew who that someone is, and that is him. He still couldn't explain his reasoning for worrying about the boy, except for the fact he feels he went through the same thing. And that was enough for him. He didn't have someone to lean on at the time, but whatever he hated in Harry he put aside, so Harry could lean on him if the need arose.
Harry reached his dorm and changed into his PJs, brushed his teeth, then climbed into bed. Snape was worried about him. He knew it. It wasn't pity he saw in Snape's expression that day. It was worry. When Harry feel asleep that night, he knew that when he woke up in the morning, even if Ron and Hermione didn't want him any longer, he'd still have a friend.
That was the night Hary had his dream. Voldemort casting "Crucio" on Sirius. Harry woke with the start at about 11 that night. That's when he was caught in Umbridge's office trying to contact Sirius, that's when he warned Snape. That's when He and his friends trick Umbridge, and left for the department of Mysteries. That's when he lost the person he loved the most, the person who was like a father to him - Sirius. It all seemed like a blur to him.
A few days later Harry sat in a corridor alone, staring at his hands. He knew it was no ones fault, but he couldn't help feeling it was his fault. If only he tried harder in Occlumency. How else would he react, though? He felt a few hot tears roll down his cheek and he wiped them away. He'll never see Sirius again. His friends didn't understand how he felt, and Remus was too busy; doing stuff for the ministry. He heard a voice.
"It's past curfew, Potter." It was Snape. It was the first time Severus talked to him since that night. Snape's voice was ... gentle ... soothing. Harry never heard Snape speak like that before. He looked up at Snape.
"I'm sorry, professor..." He said quietly, but made no attempt to move. Snape stood, watching him.
"What are you doing out of bed?" Snape asked softly.
"Getting alone time." Harry said.
Snape raised his eyebrows, "You're telling me that you don't have alone time in your dorm?"
"Ron, Dean, Seamus, Hermione, Ginny ... everyone hangs all over me. It's like a pity party. I can't stand it." Harry said, after a pause, his voice cracked a little, his eyes filling with tears, "It's not like I haven't though about Sirius's death enough, whenever I try to push it out of my mind, they bring him up. Hell, they don't even have to bring him up ... they ask me if I'm all right, and they stare at me all worried like... Ron and Hermione get nervous when it comes to talk to me. No one understands they're just making it worse. I can't even mourn properly with them around, whenever I try they start talking, all of them."
Snape breathed in deeply. *So I wont be comforting him about Ron and Hermione. Ill be comforting him about Sirius. *
"Why don't you come to my private quarters, Harry? We can have a nice chat, or you could sit and watch the fire, whatever, Ill leave you alone or something. But you can't stay in the corridor. If another teacher catches you, I'm afraid they'll let you off the hook. That's right, Potter, I'm taking 20 points from Gryffindor for you being out of bed. 5 points for swearing. Now, come to my quarters, or go to your dorm. I dare say you'll get more privacy in my quarters."
Harry stared at him, somewhat stunned, then moved to his feet. "I'd like to go to your quarters, Sir."
As they walked to Severus's quarters, he told him about how he lost his mother when he was 15. How his friend, Damien, didn't understand because he never lost anyone. How his father wasn't there to talk to, even if he wanted to talk to his father -- which he didn't.
Harry took a seat on a black leather couch. The quarters were decked out in Slytherin colors -- no surprise. Snape told him, without being invited, how he had eventually got over his mothers death.
It helped Harry, in a way, knowing that he had a friend who shares the type of experiences he has. He stared deep into the fire. Snape got him a pillow and blanket. Apparently, Harry was to sleep on the couch that night.
Harry didn't mind at all.
"Goodnight, Professor."
"'Night, Potter."
----
Ah, how I love changing things to suit me. But you guys don't mind, do you? I hope not. I know that's not how the events happened or anything, But its fanfiction, anything can happen!
Well, that's the end. Yes, yes, I don't care if you want more, there's nothing left to put. Snape reached his goal on comforting Harry. I can't think of anything else. I mean, the goal of my fic was to make them friends, and they are!
Lets see you compliment this chapter.
There soothing to complement about it.
So you wont.
Hmmm.
Maybe I'm too critical of my writing.