you raise me up || harry potter

chapter 24

»»————-　song:　————-««

dress me like a clown

★ by margot and the
nuclear so and so's★

❝ you are an asp
a snake in the grass
vanity seeps from out your pores ❞

♢ ♢ ♢

When Harry awoke, it took him a full three seconds to recall that he was not in his room anymore, and that Aunt Marge was far, far away, much too far to torment him.

It took another three seconds for him to recall that Snape was in the same house as him.

The full realization of this almost crushed Harry into the bed. Three weeks constantly within close proximity with Snape. And what he meant by close proximity with Snape was approximately anything around a ten mile radius. Here, he was lucky if it was ten feet.

Harry looked around for a clock, remembering what Snape has said about breakfast. He already took points when Harry arrived to class a second late—he hated to think what he'd do if Harry showed up for breakfast late in his own house. There was no clock, but the sunlight streaming through his windows looked about right, so Harry reluctantly pulled himself out of the bed.

Ick. He had forgotten he had slept in his clothes, he had been so tired. His jeans had dug into his hips as he slept, and his shirt felt grimy. He'd have to take a shower today, as well.

The thought of taking a shower in Snape's house was an unbelievably peculiar one. Once again, the circumstances of the moment suddenly seemed very daunting—this whole thing was simply too strange. And the whole interrogation the night before, and the Bruisewort Balm...

Harry shook away the fears that had begun to creep into his mind. Better to just get it over with than risk the man's anger by being late. Cautiously poking his head out of his room, he tread softly down the stairs—or tried, anyway. The stairs were loud enough to alert Snape to any kind of movement. Hmm, maybe that was done on purpose.

Snape was sat at the kitchen table with only a coffee mug and the Daily Prophet in his hands. He didn't look up when Harry entered, but he did say from behind his newspaper, "I said 8 AM, Potter."

It was honestly a vast improvement from Vernon Dursley's morning greeting: "Comb your hair!"

"I know," Harry said. "What time is it?"

"7 AM."

"Oh. I couldn't find a clock. Figured I'd just... come down anyway."

Snape wordlessly turned the page.

Harry realized for the first time that Snape was wearing Muggle clothes; dark, loose jeans, and a black long-sleeved t-shirt. He looked no less formidable, but he looked... well, comfortable. Less rigid. It was his own home, after all. And to see the usually reserved, secretive man simply reading the newspaper like any other normal person made it all the more awkward. Like seeing a private part of Snape's life that Harry wasn't meant to see. 

"Don't just dawdle there, then," Snape said. "Make yourself some toast if you wish." He waved vaguely behind him in the general direction of the toaster and a bag of bread.

"Er... okay," Harry said. He sidled past Snape and pulled out a slice, then hesitated before turning back after a thought occurred to him. "Do you, er... want me to make you some, too?"

"I am perfectly capable of preparing my own toast, Potter," came the incredulous reply.

"Just asking," Harry mumbled.