Better Be Slytherin!

This particular night, Severus was especially glad of the quiet, since the Fifth Years had been particularly dense on their exams, and he knew he would have his work cut out for him to get them ready for OWLS. But he still looked up inquiringly when Potter said, 'Sir?'

Severus raised an eyebrow, and Potter bit his lip then looked down at his desk. Severus waited; he had an infinite amount of experience waiting. Finally, the boy looked back at him. 'Sir, you said before that you meet with the, um, the families of all the First Years.'

It didn't sound like a question, and so Severus did not answer it except to briefly incline his head. As he had discovered over the last couple weeks, Potter would get to his point soon enough, if he was given enough time, and little pressure to perform. But he thought he saw where this was going, and he wasn't sure what he would do at that time.

Another minute passed, and Potter drew a deep breath, and gazed at his hands. 'Did you see the Dursleys yet?'

'I did.'

Potter's head shot up. 'Did they . . . were they awful, sir?'

Severus considered what to say. The visit had been awful. It would have been even if he had not Legilimized the Muggles and been inundated by memories of their loathsome treatment of the boy in front of him. But he did not want Potter to feel worse for all that. Severus did not want him to be humiliated, as he knew he would have been in Potter's shoes, by his dirty laundry being aired by a professor. And what a revelation that was! Finally, however, all he said was, 'It was not pleasant.'

A corner of Potter's mouth twitched up. 'Yeah, they're not real pleasant people.'

'No,' Severus agreed. They had not discussed Potter's home life before, except in very oblique terms, but Severus had known it only a matter of time before they did, as all his Snakes from less than perfect homes would, eventually, when given the opportunity to do so. He was, frankly, surprised that the boy was opening up this quickly. He debated with himself for a few more moments on how to open the topic further, and then, 'They truly tried to pretend you did not exist, for ten years.'

Potter nodded, his gaze back on his hands, where he twirled a thin quill between his fingers. Over the last two weeks, Severus had seen a marked improvement in the boy's penmanship, once he learned the correct way to handle his writing tools. Just as his behavior, once he understood the reasoning behind various rules, had improved, too. 'Yes, sir. That way they could pretend magic didn't exist either. I never knew why I wasn't allowed to even say the word 'magic' until after I met Hagrid and he told me I was a wizard. It was weird, really.'

'I imagine.' And Severus could, in a way. There were many things about Potter that he did not understand. He could not fathom how the boy could have been shunted aside and neglected so continuously in his life, and still been able to make friends among his classmates so easily. And he did not understand why, exactly, Potter was giving him a second – or third? – chance to be the Head of House he was meant to be, when the boy obviously had no reason in the world to trust the word of adults.

But he could well understand the . . . disdain many Muggle relatives had for magic when they were confronted with the fact of their Wizarding children, or (as in Potter's case) their wards. At any rate, he could remember the revulsion his own father had for him. He had seen that same disgust in the eyes of the Dursley couple, and their son, as they 'discussed' their nephew. He wondered again how Potter had survived ten years of living with them, with no one to mitigate their utterly unconscionable behavior.

'Do you . . .' The boy swallowed, then seemed to gather his courage from somewhere and looked him in the eye. Severus did not blink, just waited, his expression blank. 'Do you think they hated me just for the magic, Professor? Or . . .' Another lip gnaw, and then Potter's voice was much softer when he continued, as if he was actually afraid of what he was saying. Afraid of Severus' reaction. 'Or maybe 'cause my father was a bully?'

The breath froze in Severus' chest. For several long, agonizing moments, he was sure he would never breathe again. Severus clenched his hand into a fist and heard the quill he had been using on the exams snap in half. The ends dug into his skin. Potter's eyes had widened, a spark of terror barely concealed in their depths.

'Where did you get that idea?' Severus asked in a low, dangerous voice.

Potter flinched at his tone, but answered his question regardless. 'Um, some-someone t-told me he w-was in a gang, sir, like my cousin D-dudley has. And that he used to p-pick on p-people, Slytherins mostly, they said, and, and I thought may-maybe he did it to them, too. Picked on the Dursleys, I mean. And maybe, um, maybe that's why they . . . why they hated me. 'Cause he was mean to them, too?'

Well. This was unexpected. Potter had apparently chosen the most roundabout way of asking if his own father's bullying was the reason his Head of House had treated him shabbily. Severus slowly uncurled his fist, not surprised to see blood well on his palm when he dropped the broken quill.

Forcing himself to take several breaths before he cursed the boy and threw him out of the classroom for such a breach of decorum, Severus shook his head. He placed his wand carefully on the desk in front of him, as it had somehow appeared in his hand without his thinking about it.

He, Severus, was not that bully, and would not be. He had promises to keep. Once he had his breathing under control, he gave the boy a sharp look. The green eyes -- Lily's eyes -- tracked his every movement, as if he were a snake about to strike. Severus could not blame him.

The cut on his palm stung, so Severus took out a handkerchief and pressed it to the wound to staunch the blood, though there was not much of it anyway. Then he sighed. How had he come to this? Explaining his motives and his mistakes to an eleven year old? The eleven year old son of James Potter, no less, the tormentor of his youth. And Lily's son, a tiny voice inside reminded him. Yes, and Lily's. He sighed again.

'I cannot pretend to know whether your father's . . . interactions with the Dursleys impacted them negatively with regards to you.' Severus passed a hand over his eyes. 'It may just be as you said, that they disliked magic enough to dislike its practitioners.' His gaze sought Harry's again, and he watched the boy sitting almost unnaturally still, waiting. Severus did not want to say more, but he knew he should.

At last, he continued, 'As for . . . others who may have had . . . less than stellar interactions with your father. It is possible those interactions caused a certain amount of . . . resentment towards anyone connected to him.'

'Like his son,' Harry said quietly, still holding Severus' gaze.