Better Be Slytherin!

drenched and shivering, from Quidditch practice in the rain.

All in all, Severus did not understand what was wrong with Harry Potter, and it frustrated him greatly. This frustration had finally led to his current situation, a little more than a week after his discussion with the Headmaster about Quirrell.

Severus was in his office, seated at his desk. Two Slytherin First Years occupied the seats opposite him. It was heading into late May . . . and Severus had just concluded a conversation with the Bloody Baron that made him wish the man were corporeal so Severus could blast him to smithereens.

The ghost was just so . . . frustrating! He would never divulge Harry Potter's secrets, the bloody Bloody Baron had pronounced, and he seemed to take a great deal of satisfaction in relaying the message, too.

With a shake of his head, Severus glared at the two children. He would not dwell on the Baron now. Not when he had fresh victims, er, students to question. First, to take them off guard and loosen their tongues. 'You know, of course, why I have called you into my office, correct?'

The two students exchanged a glance. 'No, sir,' they said together.

Right. The hard way, then.

'From my records,' he said, flipping through one of his grade books, the one which automatically updated First Years' grades after he finished marking one of their assignments, 'I see neither of you have failed to submit a single one of my assigned essays and yet, you, Miss Bulstrode, seem incapable of rendering your work in penmanship which does not cause my retinas to bleed, and as for you, Mr. Nott, your footnotes often rival your essays for length and relevant content.'

He paused, letting them work out what he had said before listening to their promises to do better. Mr. Nott's assurances were especially piquant, and Severus was hard pressed not to smile at the boy's wit even whilst wondering how he'd come by it; Nott Senior was not known for his stimulating repartee, after all.

And now to drop the boom: 'Alas, the third part of your little trio, if I may use the term, is not present to receive due criticism on his work for my class. This is most vexing. I trust you understand.'

Another exchanged glance between them. Another, 'No, sir.'

Severus drew himself up and slapped his palm on his desk top. 'Where is Harry Potter?'

The children jumped.

'I don't know, sir,' said Bulstrode, the first to recover. 'Have you checked the pitch? He's often there.'

'I have, and he was not, and that is not the point at all. Mr. Potter has been absent in more ways than one of late, and I wish to know why. Since you two seem his closest . . . comrades, I find it prudent to put you to the question.' He smiled, a quick baring of teeth. The girl visibly recoiled.

'He's indisposed,' Nott said a moment later. He had the same rat face as his father, but it seemed that was the only thing he possessed of the man, if he was truly chums with Potter.

'For three months?' Severus growled.

The brats exchanged another look. One would think they were Legilimens, or at the very least, plotting something. Something of a rules-breaking nature. He would have none of it. He gestured to Bulstrode with his wand. 'Tell me what you know.'

After a quick glance at her co-conspirator, Bulstrode said, 'Well . . . you remember how it was at the beginning of the year?' Her face was pinched, as if she had been the focus of his derision and contempt at the time.

'Go on,' Severus said instead of answering.

'Well, erm . . .'

'Oh, spit it out, Millicent!' Nott interrupted. 'Maybe he can help. Professor, Harry overheard you and Professor Quirrell talking together after our last Quidditch match, and he's sure you're planning to steal the Sorcerer's Stone, either for yourself or on orders from You-Know-Who, who he's also sure is going to try and kill him again.'

'Teddy!' Bulstrode gasped. 'That's Harry's business! You know he--'

'It's this business which is like to get him killed, too, right?' Nott turned to Severus and glared. 'He's been all kinds of out of sorts ever since then, and it's your fault, really.'

Severus jumped to his feet, still reeling from the explanation. 'My fault!'

Bulstrode nodded. 'You've been treating him dreadfully in class, sir. You've ignored Rule One, and made it harder than ever for him to trust you. If he ever can again,' she finished softly.

'It's true,' said Nott. 'He used to enjoy spending time with you, he told me, and playing chess or talking. But now he's just angry.'

'Not just angry,' Bulstrode said. 'He thinks you betrayed him.'

Severus stared at the two children. Harry felt betrayed. Over an understandable misunderstanding. Assuming, of course, that these two Slytherins were not lying through their teeth. There were several ways to ascertain their veracity, and Severus made use of one of the easiest and least detectable ways available to him.

With a wordless Legilimens, Severus explored the surface of the Nott boy's thoughts, touching no deeper than the edges. Underneath his adamant expression, the boy was calm, collected, and had quite an organized little head on his shoulders. From the memory Severus saw first thing, he recognized the day that Harry bloody Potter decided that Severus Snape was The Bad Guy. The evening of the game against Hufflepuff, when every Slytherin had been flying high on the five-minute win Harry had given them . . . and he recalled his conversation with Quirrell in the woods, or enough of it to understand the boy's reaction anyway. And now, too, he knew what Dumbledore had been alluding to, as if the Old Coot could not have just told him out right and spared the two of them a lot of pain and angst. Damn him.

And damn his own pride, for thinking the worst of Harry automatically, even if it was natural for him to think ill of Potters in general. No wonder Harry did not want to spend the summer with him, if he thought Snape was a thief or worse, out to murder him. He should have known, after months spent in Harry's company, that the Boy