Entitled

Chapter 116*

The first day of classes dawned with an air of anticipation and tension, a mix that seemed to hang in the corridors as students made their way to their respective lessons. You walked alongside Severus toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, your presence garnering a few curious glances from students who hadn't yet adjusted to the idea of having you as an assistant.

When you entered the classroom, it was already filling up with students, their hushed conversations coming to an abrupt halt as they noticed Severus's imposing figure entering the room. You moved to your place at the side of the classroom, ready to assist as needed, while Severus took his position at the front, his presence commanding immediate attention.

As the students settled into their seats, your eyes scanned the room, landing on Harry, who had taken a seat toward the back. His gaze was firmly fixed on his desk, his shoulders tense. It was clear that he was deliberately avoiding your eyes, refusing to look up even as you moved about the room, preparing materials for the lesson.

You could sense the unease radiating from him, a stark contrast to the confidence he usually exuded. It wasn't hard to guess what was on his mind—the events at the Ministry, the revelation of your true identity, and the questions that still lingered despite Dumbledore's public reassurances. Harry, it seemed, was still wrestling with what he had witnessed, and the trust he had once placed in you had been shaken.

Severus began the lesson with his usual authoritative tone, quickly capturing the attention of the students. The subject matter was advanced, focusing on defensive spells and counter-curses, designed to challenge even the brightest students. But as Severus lectured, you couldn't help but glance at Harry now and then, watching the way his brow furrowed in concentration, though his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere.

At one point, Severus called on Harry to demonstrate a defensive maneuver, his tone clipped but not unkind. Harry stood, his movements stiff and mechanical, and as he performed the spell, his gaze briefly flickered toward you, his expression guarded. The moment passed quickly, but it was enough to confirm what you already knew—Harry was still troubled, and despite Dumbledore's assurances, he remained skeptical of you.

You continued to assist as needed, your focus on the task at hand, but a part of you couldn't help but feel the weight of Harry's unease. It was a reminder that the path ahead would not be easy, that the trust you once had from those around you might need to be rebuilt, and that even with Dumbledore's support, there were still doubts to be overcome.

As the lesson drew to a close, Severus assigned homework with his usual stern efficiency, and the students began to file out, their chatter resuming as they left the classroom. Harry lingered for a moment, his hand gripping the strap of his bag tightly, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't quite bring himself to do it.

You didn't push him, knowing that whatever thoughts were running through his mind, he would need to come to terms with them in his own time. Instead, you offered him a small, understanding nod, hoping that it conveyed the message that you were willing to talk if and when he was ready.

Harry hesitated, his eyes meeting yours for the briefest of moments before he quickly looked away and walked out of the room, leaving you with the lingering sense of unresolved tension. You sighed softly, turning back to help Severus organize the classroom for the next lesson, knowing that the road to earning Harry's trust again would be a long one.

Later that afternoon, you made your way to Professor Slughorn's office, the soft click of your heels echoing in the quiet corridors. The corridors were emptier now, with most students occupied in their afternoon classes, which made the walk to Slughorn's office feel almost serene.