Better Be Slytherin!

Snape gave him a thin smile. 'It seems you can learn, after all, Mr. Potter. We shall see about changing the times. If I am satisfied with your other work, perhaps.'

Making himself nod again, Harry wanted to yell at the man, but he knew better than that, even if he hated being condescended to, especially in that sneering tone. But he knew from years of experience that yelling at the ones who had power over him very rarely earned him anything good. 'Yes, sir. Thank you.'

'The toads await, Mr. Potter.'

'Yes, sir.' Harry sighed heavily and went to work, cursing Snape with every cut and slice and bit of toad gut or liver or heart that squished through his fingers. The man was a bastard. A complete and utter bastard. How in the hell was he ever going to catch up in his classes, when his every evening was spent in this godforsaken classroom, cutting up godforsaken creatures and being glared at by a godforsaken, goddamned git of a professor?

Unaccountably, he felt the hot pinprick of tears in his eyes, and he hurriedly blinked them back. He would not cry. Not because of Snape, and not for his missed bloody homework or more detentions or any of it. He breathed through his mouth for a few minutes, the better to control his emotions. He hadn't cried for years, not since he was like four or five, so why would he start now, anyway? The Dursleys were much worse than this. Here, at least, he got to play Quidditch, and he could eat whenever he wanted, really, and no one -- except some murderous Parselmouth freak in the dungeon -- was hurting him, certainly not beating him up every day or chasing him up trees. He had friends. People who seemed to actually like him. And no one called him freak all the time or ever locked him in a cupboard.

So what if he had to stay up late to do his homework? He'd always had to do his homework twice or more at the Dursleys, since Dudley would often swipe his and either try and turn it in as his own, or else destroy it by flushing it down the toilet or something. And so what if Snape hated him? It wasn't like he wanted the man to like him or anything, especially not after he'd tried to rifle through Harry's memories the other night. He certainly didn't expect the man to care about him or anything, not even after he'd said he believed Harry about the Dursleys and their stupid, stupid rules.

'A little less pique,' came a smooth voice behind him, making his jump slightly. 'The hearts are meant to remain intact.'

'Sorry, sir,' Harry muttered, and loosened his grip on the offending organ, dropping it whole into the bowl that was a quarter full of them now. The liver and spleen followed, into their respective bowls. Then he made three quick slices with the sharp knife to expose the rear leg bones, and removed them with minimal effort, dropping them in the pile of waste to the right. The skull cracked open with a double tap of the knife handle, and Harry removed the brain, dropping it in its own bowl. He continued working, the knife almost moving of its own accord, as he wondered why the Potions Master felt the need to watch every little stupid thing he did.

'Your scar is inflamed.'

Harry jumped again, and the knife skittered across the chest muscles of the toad, but missed his fingers, fortunately. Though Snape's words weren't a question, he seemed to waiting for a reply. Well, what he want? A medal for noticing? Setting his jaw, Harry said, 'Yes, sir.'

'Why?'

Almost wishing the man would move to the other side of the table, so Harry could see his expression, Harry shrugged. 'It was hurting.'

There was a long pause before Snape said, 'Have you had another nightmare then?'

Harry wanted to say, 'Only when I get a chance to sleep, which isn't often, you great git!' but didn't, as it would hardly be productive. He dropped another toad liver in the bowl. And there was no sense in lying about it, not really, especially since he had considered telling Snape about it anyway, except for him being such a memory stealing, mind-looking into, detention giving arse. Besides, it was stupid to try and hide this information when it might help to find the one who'd tried to murder him. He knew that, but he was just so angry at the professor lately. With a small sigh, he said, 'No, sir. It started hurting in Defense class, yesterday.'

Another long pause. 'Why did you not inform me immediately?'

Oh, yeah, right, Harry thought. 'Cause you're so bloody approachable. 'It stopped hurting right after I left class. Teddy went with me to see Madam Pomfrey,' he left off the part about needing to be convinced to go, 'and she gave me a pain reliever for it. So it was fine.'

'It ceased bothering you right after you left class?' Snape asked, and he finally moved into Harry line of sight. His face was paler than usual, if that were possible.

'Yeah. Sorry. I mean, yes, sir. But I wasn't trying to get out of class or anything. It really did stop. Like the only reason it was hurting was because of Quirrell's stuttering.'

Snape's head came up sharply and his dark eyes were piercing. 'Has your scar ever hurt while in Professor Quirrell's presence previously?'

'I, er . . .' Harry had to think about it for a minute, while he continued sectioning a toad and disposed of the leg bones. Finally, he nodded. 'I think so, sir. I mean, I don't know if it's his presence, actually, or just when he stares at me sometimes. It happened at breakfast once.'

Snape nodded thoughtfully, lips pursed again as he watched Harry work.

Harry hesitated, knife slowing, then, 'Do you think he's the one who tried to kill me?'

'It is . . . possible, Mr. Potter. But I will determine what threat he poses. And I will ask you to be very cautious to never be alone with him, do you understand me? '

'Yes, sir.' He looked down at the worktable again, and finished the last few cuts on that toad, tossing the waste into one pile, the organs and skin into their own piles.

As he reached for the next toad, Snape said, 'That will be all, Mr. Potter. You are dismissed.'

Knowing better than to argue -- the last time he'd tried, he'd almost been slapped with more detention -- Harry quickly said, 'Yes, sir. Thank you,' and cleaned up after his work, putting the tools away when he was done.

Snape watched him the whole time, not angrily anymore, but with that blank face that meant he was