60 Days Of Summer (Severitus)

Chapter 8 - 'The Illustrious Harry Potter'

Snape found himself inexplicably vexed by the situation at hand. Why Potter, of all people, had suddenly decided to spend his free time as close to him as possible was a mystery he couldn't unravel. It was as if the boy had some unfathomable compulsion to disrupt Snape's peace, as though seeking out an argument or some other juvenile confrontation. But strangely enough, Snape wasn't exactly bothered by Potter's presence. No, what truly irked him was the fact that he couldn't figure out why the boy was there. Snape was someone who thrived on control, on understanding every variable in his surroundings. Potter's thoughts and actions, normally as transparent as a first-year's lies, had always been so childishly predictable that he could read him like a book. But this time, it was different. And that, more than anything, was what unsettled him.

Still, with all that in mind, Snape tried to concentrate on his book. But try as he might, the words on the page began to blur together, his mind wandering back to the boy sitting a few feet away. It was infuriating.

Snape's irritation finally reached its breaking point, and he snapped, his voice slicing through the quiet like a blade.

"Is the illustrious Harry Potter perhaps bored? Are the usual trifles of wizarding life no longer sufficient to entertain the Boy Who Lived?" he said.

He was mocking him, of course. Snape knew that tone well, the one that usually sent Potter's temper flaring. 

But this time, instead of the expected irritation, Potter, who was still laying looking at the sky, nearly laughed. The sound caught in his throat, a half-choked chuckle that neither of them seemed prepared for. Snape blinked, momentarily shocked, and Potter quickly stifled whatever amusement had bubbled up. They both acted as if it hadn't happened, the strange moment hanging between them like a ghost.

"Perhaps..." Harry said, the word hanging in the air.

Was that it? Was he bored? Was that why his body had unconsciously moved closer to Snape, maybe in search of a fight or something to alleviate the monotony? Harry wasn't sure, and the uncertainty gnawed at him.

Snape stayed silent after that, his eyes seemingly fixed on the book in front of him.

"In the house, beside the bookshelf, there is a wizard's chess set." he spoke again, without looking up.

Harry was momentarily confused. Was Snape suggesting that he could actually touch one of his belongings? It was almost...friendly. The idea was so out of place that it left Harry speechless for a moment. Was Snape, Severus Snape, suggesting they play a game together?

The idea seemed so bizarre that he couldn't help but blurt out, "Are you suggesting we play together?"

Snape's eyes flicked up from his book, his expression a mixture of annoyance and disbelief, as if Harry had asked something utterly idiotic. With a dramatic roll of his eyes, he closed the book and set it aside.

"Unless, of course, you ejoy playing chess alone." he drawled mockingly.

For a moment, Harry was at a loss for how to respond. The offer, if it could even be called that, hung awkwardly between them. His first instinct was to dismiss it, to let the tension simmer down and return to the uneasy silence that had settled over them. But something deeper, a strange compulsion that he couldn't quite name, drove him to act before his mind could catch up.

Without a word, and almost as if guided by some unseen force, Harry got to his feet. He hesitated only briefly before heading towards the house, feeling Snape's eyes boring into his back.

As he crossed the threshold, the cool air inside was a stark contrast to the warmth outside, and it momentarily cleared his head. He found the chess set easily, nestled beside the bookshelf as Snape had said. The pieces, carved from dark and light wood, were already arranged on the board as if waiting for him. Harry picked it up, the weight of the board grounding him in the reality of the situation.