Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)

Chapter 5

Severus knows it's a mistake the moment he does it. Potter is a mangy stray dog pawing at his door; he'll never leave if he's given even a smidge of attention. Best to just ignore him until he goes away. Ha, ignore him until he goes away. Isn't that what Slughorn always used to say? And when has that ever worked? And true to form, Potter returned every few days, howling from the other side of the door. And because he is Severus and he has never been very good at ignoring this particular Gryffindor, he finally caved and let him in.

Severus's eyes fly open at the sound of tapping. This is the third night in a row. Merlin, what has he done?

Severus throws his blankets off because Potter is not stopping. He moves the chair out of the way and flings open the door to see Potter's disembodied head floating mid-air in front of him. Oh, yes. That little thing. His fucking invisibility cloak. So many pieces of the puzzle have fallen into place: how Potter is able to sneak around without anyone noticing, how he always seems to get the drop on Severus. The sight of it is enough to make Severus want to scream for an orderlie.

Two hands pop into existence, each one clutching a bottle of Firewhiskey. "I brought alcohol," he offers.

Severus thinks for a moment, decides he can bust Potter later, and lets him inside– not without grabbing a bottle first.

"A single bottle of Firewhiskey is not going to make me forgive you," Severus says as he takes a pull.

"What makes you think I just brought you one?" James asks as he gets comfortable and swallows a mouthful from his own bottle. He's wearing that patented Potter grin, the one that makes girls swoon, and Severus shifts uncomfortably. He's not used to that expression being turned on him. Usually, if Potter smiles at him, it's an ugly, twisted version of the bright look he's now wearing, a promise of pain and humiliation.

"I also got you something else–" he shifts around inside his robes, pulls out a letter, and unfolds it with all the pomp of a royal decree. "I have here in my hand a letter from Damocles Belby himself, famous potioneer and very good friend of my father's, expressing interest in one Severus Snape. Apparently, someone told him you were a genius at potions, and he's offering you a summer internship. From what I hear he's working on a top secret potion commissioned by the Minister of Magic himself." Potter waggled his eyebrows at him. "Eh? Sounds pretty good right? Almost makes you want to change out of those slippers and put on some real shoes. Maybe even step outside? Get some sun, a little Vitamin D."

"I have potions that can provide me with all the nutrients I need." He sits on his bed and pulls out The Bell Jar, flipping to the page he had stopped on yesterday.

"Merlin's ballsack, Snape! You're killing me here! This is everything you could possibly want!" Potter throws the letter on the ground and points a finger at him. "You know what you are? A coward! A sniveling coward just like we always said you were!"

"Says the man who needed three people to back him up just to bully one person!"

"Deflection! A classic Snape response! Instead of confronting your own issues, you try to pull others down into the mud!"

"Oh, deflection, huh? Did you read an introductory psychology book?"

"That's... not important. What is important is the fact that you are throwing away your life!"

"Wasn't much of a life, now was it?" Severus bitterly notes. "The outside world has nothing to offer me."

"You have to take it! You can't sit around and wait for it to fall in your lap!"

"And what would you know about that? Everything has just fallen into your lap. Money, prestige, good looks. What your obscenely rich, doting parents couldn't provide you, your genetics supplied. When have you ever had to struggle?"