Better Be Slytherin!

the professor, for reasons he couldn't really describe, and had more to do with memories of his uncle and aunt's treatment of him -- despite being their nephew -- than anything else. 'It's okay.'

'It isn't,' Snape said. 'But it is kind of you to say so.' He rose abruptly. 'Come with me.'

Harry followed the professor into his private rooms, where he had been just yesterday, and given him the picture he'd drawn. In a quick glance around, he couldn't see the drawing out anywhere obvious; maybe Snape had thrown it away. Harry wouldn't have blamed him.

'I want to show you something,' the professor was saying, and waved at the brown sofa where Harry had sat yesterday morning. 'Have a seat.'

'Thank you, sir.'

Snape made a non-committal noise and disappeared through another door for a minute, and when he returned, he had a drawing in his hand of about the same size as the one Harry had done, but this one was in pencil. Snape sat next to him on the sofa and held the picture so they could both look at it. Sure enough, this was a sketch of Snape, but much younger, Harry thought, looking at him. Whoever had done it had done a great job with shading and proportion, he thought.

'It's good,' Harry said, wondering why they were looking at it. A sudden thought occurred to him. 'I can take mine back, if you don't need it,' he said quickly. 'I didn't know you had one already.'

Snape gave him a puzzled look, as if he had no idea what Harry meant, and then something seemed to click and he shook his head, hard enough to send the greasy strands of his hair whipping about his face. 'No! I want the one you drew, too, Harry.' His lips twisted in a smirking smile. 'You drew me very well. I have it on the desk in my study.'

'Oh!' Snape's words warmed something inside him, but Harry still didn't understand. 'Then why . . .'

'Am I showing you this picture?' At Harry's nod, Snape actually smiled, for like the second time ever. 'Your mother drew this one for me.'

Harry's 'Oh,' this time was not much more than a soft expulsion of breath.

'Lily enjoyed drawing, too, Harry. I believe we were about ten years old when she did this one, and I've kept it all these years.'

Harry was staring at the drawing, memorizing the lines and shading and the shape of the professor's eyes, the cant of his head . . . everything about the drawing that he could. His Mum had done this. She'd touched this paper, and brought the face of her friend to life, in pencil. She liked the same things he did, and had similar skills, too. It was nothing short of amazing.

'I thought you might like seeing this.'

'Yes, sir. Thank you.'

'You're welcome.'

They talked together a bit longer, about other sketches Harry's Mum had done, and the mediums she'd used as she got older, and then it was nearly curfew and time for Harry to go back to the dorm. For some reason, he didn't want to leave, however, and he had to force himself to stand and put his trainers back on. When he realized he was dragging his heels, he almost laughed at himself. Stupid Harry, do you think you're his real family, that you get to stay with him like you're his son? He hurried to the door, then.

Snape calling his name brought him up short.

'Yes, sir?'

'Would you . . .' The professor hesitated uncharacteristically, then continued, 'Would you like for me to teach you wizard chess some time?'

Though he wasn't sure what he'd expected Snape to say, that was not it. Still, it was a kind offer. He smiled. 'Yeah, that'd be great, sir.'

'Perhaps after your lesson tomorrow.'

'Okay. Thank you.'

'Good night, Harry.'

'Good night, Professor.'

Outside in the corridor, the Bloody Baron was waiting to escort him back to his dormitory, as patiently as if he had just arrived. Harry walked, and the Baron floated in silence, and after he reached his room, Harry performed his ablutions, flopped onto his four-poster, and ran through the exercise that he hoped would help keep dreams of Voldemort out of his head.

At least this once, it worked.

--HPSSHPSSHPSS--

The next day was filled with reading and writing essays until mid afternoon when Harry could not take the dull quiet anymore. He grabbed the Invisibility Cloak out of his trunk, flung it over his head and escaped his dormitory to walk in entire anonymity through the halls of Hogwarts.

It was glorious.

The first thing he noted was that even the Bloody Baron could not sense him, not even with Phantasma- whatever, and so, once Harry crept past him, he was really and truly alone in the halls of Hogwarts for the first time in months. The portraits on the first floor didn't notice him either, and Harry liked that very much. He'd caught them talking about him lately, especially since he was in the company of the Bloody Baron so often, and no one could hear the Baron except him -- and Snape. The portraits all thought he was a bit touched, but now he could glide right past them and they kept quiet.

For the rest of the afternoon, Harry explored Hogwarts, finding staircases he had never seen before, and passageways that took him to rooms that were new to him, too. He had a great time, and almost hated to end his 'adventure' and go to dinner. Afterwards, he had another lesson with Snape, and this one was much less difficult to deal with, as Snape kept doing the dream-barrier exercises, and did not enter his mind again.