Better Be Slytherin!

understand, Harry Potter. But consider, you have had too few opportunities to relax with your friends, and this feast would give you that.'

Another one shoulder shrug. 'Yeah. Maybe. I dunno.' And he went back to his essay.

Severus watched him, giving up on pretending to grade. He was having another of those weird moments when his thoughts had been running counter to reality, and when the dichotomy caught up to him, he felt a bit lightheaded. Harry really had no knowledge of his parents. No memory at all of his mother and her sacrifice. Lily . . . the thought of her smile and bright green eyes gave Severus a fleeting, but no less real, physical pain in his chest.

Harry had needed to learn about their deaths from a book.

It was . . . unconscionable.

It was infuriating.

Severus would save his wrath for those who deserved it: Albus, for placing Potter with those Muggles, the Muggles themselves, and the Dark Lord, for murdering the boy's parents in the first place.

It was not until he heard the Bloody Baron clearing his throat that Severus jerked himself out of the reverie he had fallen into, to find Harry was clearing up his books and parchment and tucking them in his bag. He had almost been caught out staring, so he gave the Baron a small nod of appreciation for the warning, as Harry turned toward his desk and said, 'Good night, sir.'

'Anything to report, Potter?' Severus kept his voice cool and professional.

'Nope. Er . . . I mean, no, sir. Qu-- Professor Quirrell hasn't so much as called on me in over a week. And, no pain in my scar at night.'

'Nightmares?'

A little shrug. 'Just regular ones. Nothing with Him in.' They both knew who the boy referred to.

'Very well.' As the boy reached the door, Severus added, 'If you need to see me, during the day tomorrow, I will be available after lunch.'

Harry swallowed, but nodded quickly and avoided his eyes. 'Thank you, sir.

He watched the boy leave, wondering why he'd felt the need to offer what was essentially -- he assumed -- a shoulder for the boy to cry on. He did not do shoulders upon which students cried. Suppressing a sigh, he took a trick from Harry's book and avoided the Bloody Baron's gaze as the ghost hesitated just inside the door.

'I'm surprised, Severus Snape,' the ghost intoned. 'But heartened by your offer.'

'Oh, get out,' Severus said irritably. Maybe now he could get some work done.

Nothing went well on Halloween.

In the morning, two of his Third Years got into a pissing match with the Weasley twins and came out of it with Gryffindor red skin with gold spots, a problem which proved rather more difficult to rectify than Severus would have hoped.

Minerva, of course, found the whole thing to be terribly amusing. Not as much so, once Severus lobbed a week's detention at all four boys, but that went without saying. She could be such a sour puss when she wanted.

In the afternoon, Severus made himself available for the Potter Brat, who never showed up, and who even skipped his regular study session. At least Severus got a good deal of potion ingredients prepared for next week's lessons, but he disliked the sensation that Potter was avoiding him.

And then there was the cock up of the Halloween Feast.

He should have known Quirrell would try something, but he had honestly not considered the possibility of the man letting a troll into the school. It was dangerous and foolhardy, and no one who knew the man at all could fail to realize who exactly amongst those with access to the school wards, also had an affinity for working with trolls.

That was neither here nor there. When Quirrell had announced the troll's arrival and then 'fainted' dead away, Severus had known that either the Philosopher's Stone was in danger of being stolen, or Harry was in danger of being attacked.

Since the Brat Who Lived to Annoy Him was not present at the ball, and neither was the Baron, he had to assume the ghost was watching over the boy and would protect him. So it fell to Severus to go protect the stone.

He hated Fluffy.

A lot.

And who in their right mind named a hellhound 'Fluffy,' anyway??

Hurrying up the stairs, he cast a quick Disillusionment spell on himself. Would never do for some child who had not bothered to listen to their Prefects to see him tearing down the halls well away from the dungeons. When he reached the door on the third floor, it did not seem to have been tampered with, but he opened it, just to be sure. 'Alohomora,' he said quietly.

Beyond, the hellhound sat, crouched over the trap door. All three heads regarded him hungrily. Deep throated growls from three throats made the hairs stand up on Severus' neck. Long teeth dripped saliva in large splotches on the floor, and Severus thought he might be ill.

He kept his back to the door. He knew he had only seconds to cast the revealing spell, to see if anyone else had been here, before the hellhound launched itself at him. He got through the spells as fast as he can. Everything seemed secure, and his wand hand did not shake at all. It didn't!

As he grasped for the door handle, the growls grew louder and the scrabble of claws on the stone floor matched the scrabbling of his fingers against the latch. He was almost out the door when the closest of the three heads lunged at him, and sank its sharp fangs into his leg. The beast wrenched him back and forth, and it was all Severus could do to keep his balance as pain radiated from where the hellhound was latched onto him.