Better Be Slytherin!

Severus nodded, a small sigh escaping him as he sat down again. Whoever attacked the boy wanted his blood. And the 'having returned' part was especially troubling, although if he were to be perfectly honest, he already knew who the Parselmouth was, and he knew who it was that had returned. He just . . . didn't want to. He really didn't. It had been ten good years since the Dark Lord's last stand. Ten long, fulfilling and almost-entirely- free-from-Death Eaters years.

He was going to miss it.

Despite that, he wasn't going to let the Dark Lord take another of his Slytherins away from him, not by recruitment, and especially not by death. So . . . 'Yes, I am worried about him.' He ran a hand over his face, pausing to pinch the bridge of his nose before gazing up at the Baron again. 'Will you tell me where he is?'

The Bloody Baron's eyes narrowed, and he considered Severus for a long moment before he nodded. 'I believe the first Slytherin Quidditch practice is this evening. By your own words, he was to be the Seeker.'

'Why, that little—'

'I tend to think,' the Baron interrupted, as Severus made for the door, 'that given your last interaction, yelling will not put you in good stead with the boy.'

'He has yet to see me yell!' The door slammed against the wall.

'Indeed,' the Baron agreed as he floated faster to keep up with Severus' long strides. 'But calling him out in front of his peers will not endear you to him.'

'I should care about that?'

'You should . . . but only if you want him to trust you with his secrets.'

Once more brought up short by the Baron's words, Severus halted in his tracks. Still fuming, he clenched his hands into fists several times before he was calm enough to speak without shouting. But what the Baron said made sense, Slytherin sense, if nothing else. And Severus was self-aware enough that he could recognize the root of much of his wrath was pure relief that the boy was not bleeding in a corner somewhere, beyond help. That he had worried for nothing.

'What's this about secrets? You know something else, don't you?' he asked the ghost, once his anger was under control.

'I know very little, actually,' the ghost said, and if he had corporeal form, Severus might have hexed him for his droll response. 'Except this: the boy's scar was inflamed last evening, looking as though it was newly cut.'

'Did he say why?'

For some reason, this amused the Bloody Baron, who chuckled softly before saying, 'No, he did not.'

'He was a little snot about it, wasn't he.' It wasn't a question, and the Baron did not reply, but Severus could just imagine the conversation about the scar, given how much trouble the boy had been over just going to the Infirmary. Severus sighed, thinking about the night he had startled the boy in his bed and seen the inflamed scar after the boy had suffered nightmares, and he adjusted his steps to bring him to the Slytherin Common Room instead. 'Very well. But for this infraction, he will need to make up not only tonight's detention, but may be awarded many, many more.'

He would leave a note to that effect where the boy would be sure to find it. And this way, with many of the Brat's evenings accounted for, Severus could not only keep a close eye on him and his connection to the Dark Lord, but also make sure he was both well protected and that his penchant for rules breaking was thwarted.

The Baron gave him a sly sidelong look. 'Of course, Severus Snape, this will put you in his company far more often.'

'A regrettable side effect,' Severus sighed. Very regrettable indeed.

TBC . . .

A/N: Thank you, everyone, for your wonderful reviews! Sorry this chapter was delayed, but my other story, 'Walk the Shadows' hit a climactic bit, and I needed to get through it while the muse was hot. Snarky Snape Smirks for everyone!

*Chapter 21*: Chapter 21

Better Be Slytherin! – Chapter 21

By jharad17

Disclaimer: Not mine. I imagine I'll get over it.

Warning: for language

Summary: As a first year, Harry is sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor, and no one is more surprised than his new Head of House.

Previously:

Harry looked away. He didn't want to talk to Snape, at all. And particularly not to ask if he could skip detention, 'cause he knew what the answer would be. Better to do the thing and beg forgiveness later. Not to mention, Snape must know when practices for Quidditch were; he was the Head of Slytherin, after all. And he wanted Harry on the team. Didn't he? 'It'll be fine,' Harry said. 'He won't mind.'

'I see.'

'Yeah, so, see you later,' Harry said, and slipped in through the portrait door. It was a long time before he fell asleep that night.

Quidditch practice was amazing. Absolutely, mind-blowingly amazing. It didn't hurt that a great deal of it involved flying about on broomsticks and Harry loved the feeling of that, the sensation of wind tearing through his hair, reddening his cheeks and numbing his fingers as they clutched at the broomstick between his knees. Flying