His love for Potions II

Chapter 6: Occlumeny is a funny little thing

Professor Snape swept directly past Harry's silver-misted Draught of Peace, quite as if Harry didn't exist. Harry didn't look up at him. He had Defense to get through before he could come by and talk to his professor at their regular time on Tuesday. He wasn't stupid enough to think that Professor Snape would say anything honest with witnesses.

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Being assigned a dream diary by Professor Trelawney was a nasty shock. Harry considered it all the way to Defense, at which point he decided he was going to copy down one of his month of dreams from a few years ago, when his nightmares were at least a little less predictable. His graveyard dreams could stay where they were, safely in the privacy of his head and his real dream diary.

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"I do not have time to hold your hand this year, Potter," Professor Snape said when Harry turned Monday evening after dinner. It wasn't their usual night, which was Tuesday, but apparently Harry had detention tomorrow. Professor Snape was minding four cauldrons. "Be concise."

"I have detention tomorrow, so I thought I'd come by tonight instead. Well, every night this week. But tomorrow night I was going to come by to talk to you."

"Your capacity for misdemeanor continues to astound me."

"Professor Umbridge is a-" Harry cut himself off. "We had a disagreement about current events."

"If you started preaching about current events in my class, Potter, you would have more problems than a week's detention."

Harry thought this was very unfair. He was still seething about this when Professor Snape continued.

"There's grading to do on the front desk. Have at it, if you please."

"Sometimes I think you'll manage to drain the art and majesty right out of studying potions," Harry commented, taking a seat and sharpening his quill, trying to make his shoulders unclench.

"Do you."

"Then I get back to work, sir."

"Get back to work, Potter."

Harry got on with the grading, which was exactly the same as last year except this year he had piles from grades one through four of the summer homework, instead of grades one through three. Harry's notes weren't as pithy as Professor Snape's, but he could at least tell who hadn't done the reading, whose paper was too long or too short, and one group of three that had committed blatant plagiarism. He set those aside for Professor Snape, since he knew it'd cheer him up to tear them into tiny shreds.

He watched the potion Professor Snape was working on. He'd read about this one, he realized. Not that many potions used soot and pine needles and puffballs. This was liquid darkness. Professor Snape was toasting the sphinx oil over a small green flame, expression intent as its color slowly darkened from pale gold to tawny brown.

Harry felt a surge of affection, watching Professor Snape work, and spoke without thinking, "You always were a clever one, Severus."

Both Harry and Snape froze, before Snape's hands began moving again, salvaging his work with short, jerky motions.

"Thank you," Snape said evenly, face averted and hidden behind dark hair. "On a different note, Potter... how goes your study of Occlumency?"

Poorly, whispered the amused voice in Harry's mind.

"Professor," Harry said very quietly.

"Perhaps you should go, Potter," Snape continued in a near whisper. "I'm sure you have studying to do."

Harry felt another surge of affection, and realized with dawning horror that it wasn't his. It was possessive, dark, amused, Voldemort.

Pink elephants, pink elephants, pink elephants-