Better Be Slytherin!

Harry ducked his head at her compliment, and used the motion to duck out from under Gaius' arm. From the smirk and wink Gaius gave him, Harry knew his method of getting away had not been subtle. Not particularly caring, Harry just hunched his shoulders and looked away.

The group chatted loudly, laughing and even chanting out Slytherin Team Quidditch slogans, for another quarter hour before Millicent rose from her seat at the table. 'Almost time for dinner, guys. Harry, I gotta show you something first, okay?'

As Harry got up to follow, Gaius made some other comment, under his breath so Harry could not hear, but the fifth year's friends collapsed into laughter.

Frowning and feeling his face warming, though he could not have said why, Harry trailed after Millicent and Teddy to the first year boys' dorm. The snickering continued on behind him, until he had the door shut to close out their voices.

'What's up, Millie?' he asked, noting that Teddy was scowling, too.

'Watch out for him, Harry,' she said.

'Why? What's . . . it he dangerous?'

'He could be,' said Teddy, who then bit his lip briefly before letting it go. 'His father was a supporter of You Know Who.'

'So . . . you think he's angry about that?' Harry didn't think Gaius looked angry, more . . . like a predator. The look in his eyes had made Harry very uncomfortable, and the spot when Gaius had squeezed his arm felt like he had been burned. He didn't like it when people touched him. All his life -- or all of it he could remember, anyway -- being touched by someone usually meant pain. Dudley and his gang only touched him with fists and kicks, and his aunt and uncle never touched him at all if they could help it. If they did, it was usually just to throw him into his cupboard or push him out the door. No one had ever hugged him or even just shaken his hand until he met Hagrid. Thus he felt well within his rights to be suspicious of anyone who was physically close to him. And besides, Gaius had just been creepy.

Teddy shook his head. 'I don't think so. But he might be looking for some means of revenge. I knew him, sort of, while we were growing up. He's friends with one of my cousins. He doesn't get mad, he gets even.'

Great, Harry thought as he scratched absently as his scar. Some crazy psychopath had tried to kill him when he was a baby, got himself destroyed instead, and Harry was made out to be the bad guy by the psycho's followers. He just didn't get it.

'Hey, it's all right,' Millie said and gave Harry a reassuring smile. He noted that she respected his space and almost never crowded him; certainly never touched him. He liked it much better that way. 'We'll keep a close eye out for ya, Harry.'

With a wry smile for his friend, Harry sighed. 'Looks like I've got all kinds of body guards, eh? Wish I could just figure out some way to protect myself so I didn't have to look over my shoulder all the time.'

'Yeah,' Teddy said, as a pensive look stole across his face. 'That would be helpful.'

Harry wondered what new project -- sneaky or not -- Teddy was coming up with now, and if it would involve anyone getting hexed.

The next day, Harry was in Snape's office again. After Harry admitted that his friends -- though he was careful not to name names -- had been the ones to stop Quirrell's broom cursing with a bit of well-placed fire, Snape was gracious enough to say they would not be punished for saving Harry's life, and in the same breath, he told Harry that he had been the one trying to counter the curse.

'What's the Headmaster going to do about Quirrell, sir?'

Snape swore -- softly -- then stomped around his office for the next ten minutes, in a very un-Snapelike manner, while glaring balefully at various potion ingredients.

Head down, and wondering why Snape was so upset, Harry remained still until Snape returned to his desk, whereupon he did not ask again about the Headmaster, but said, 'Can I see more pictures, sir?'

Peering at him through narrowed eyes and sneering, Snape nodded. 'But let us make an arrangement, Harry. One that will be mutually beneficial.'

Immediately suspicious, Harry cleared his expression so as to give nothing away. That was the best way to get the best deal. Millie often said he would be a great poker player. 'What kind of arrangement, Professor?'

Snape's thin lips turned up slightly at one corner. 'You want to see pictures of your mother.' He paused, and Harry realized he wanted confirmation.

'Yes, sir.' Desperately, like an itch he could not scratch, like an empty ache in his chest, a hole the size of his heart.

Snape nodded. 'And I want answers -- honest, complete answers -- to my questions. I suggest we agree on some sort of trade off. Therefore, I will show you one picture for every twelve questions you answer.'

Harry had almost been expecting that. One thing he had been learning from his Slytherin House mates was that very little in life came without a price attached, and he was willing to make some kind of trade, in truth. But a dozen questions for one picture! Completely mad. Keeping his face blank, Harry shook his head. 'How about one for one? That seems fair.'

Snape lifted an eyebrow, but Harry was almost certain he could detect a gleam of amusement in the dark depths of the professor's eyes. 'Alas for you, Mr. Potter, life is not fair.' Snape laid his hands on the desk in front of him and leaned back in his chair. 'Ten questions per photo.'

'Two.'

'Be reasonable, Mr. Potter. This is information I could simply delve in your mind to discover, or order you to give me.'

But he wouldn't, Harry knew, and then he wondered why. Maybe Snape didn't want to force Harry to spill his secrets. He worried his lip a bit, trying to figure Snape out.

'Six questions per photo,' Snape said into the silence, 'plus at least one hour, given within a week's time, assisting me in the preparation of ingredients for my lessons.'