A snipit from my fanfic-in-progress.
This one's from Michael's POV (it's basically a flashback within a flashback, I just haven't written the present-time bit of the snipit). It's him thinking about Snape's and Harry's relationship and his discovery of it. One of my more longer snipits so far written for this.
The =='s you find surrounding words or phrases are bits I'm iffy about and are gonna most likely change when I think of something better to replace it with. Remember this is a work in progress!!! So you'll find some blanks too.
Thanks for reading and again critiques welcome!!!!
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Silently, I packed up by potions ingredients, glad that this period was finally over with. Looking around quickly, I saw the relief on everyone else’s faces as well, even the Slytherins. I sighed as I placed the last vial in the kit, snapping it closed a moment later. This class had been the worst by far, and that was saying quite a bit. I shook my head as Ron and Hermione stood, they also having finished packing away all their things. I stood with them, following them silently as we left the classroom. At the doorway I paused, looking over my shoulder a brief moment to study the Potions’ professor before shaking my head and continuing on. The absolute worst class to date…
We three silently walked through the halls even as our classmates chatted around us noisily, all of them eager to talk after spending two hours completely silent. I looked at all their smiling faces and for the briefest moments felt an immense rage fill me. How dare they! How dare they stand there and—and be… happy…
And as soon as I thought it the rage slipped away, transforming itself into shame. How could I be angry at them for being happy? How awful had I become that I would hate people for that? Especially when it was the only thing I wanted to be again…
I snuck a glance at Ron and felt my shame increase. He was watching as Seamus and Dean shared a joke, laughing uproariously as they ran to go repeat it the Lavender and Pavarti who were walking in front of them. I knew he wanted to join them, wanted to talk and laugh things off. I knew he held himself back, continued walking =silently= beside us for mine and Hermione’s sake.
I guess he felt me staring at him as he turned his head to me. My shame grew as Ron flushed, guilt clearly written on his face, and I knew he was thinking he had betrayed us somehow. I shook my head, the action causing Ron to look at me again. I gave him a small smile, hoping it didn’t look as forced as it felt, and nodded my head towards the other Gryffindors, telling him it was fine for him to go. Something entered his eyes, something I couldn’t quite name, and he shook his head fiercely, determination slipping across his face. And so he kept walking beside us, silently and resolutely, and part of my was touched by his loyalty.
I felt bad. I wanted to joke with Ron, to talk and laugh with him and Hermione, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it… Everything thing seemed to take too much energy anymore. It was all I could do to get out of bed in the morning, but to then go and act is if everything were fine… I didn’t have that strength within me.
It had already been three weeks since that day—and I felt the air leave me as I thought back to it. I felt a little pathetic that I couldn’t move past this more, or at least act like I had moved past it more, at least for the sake of Ron… and Hermione.
At the thought of the bushy-haired girl, I looked over at her. She walked, her head pointed slightly downwards so that her hair slipped forward to shield most of her face from view. As I looked at her, I tried to remember the last time I had heard her speak, the last time she had said something that wasn’t an answer to a question some teacher had asked her (and even those were become less and less frequent). And then I remembered—it hadn’t been since that day… And my chest clenched at the memory of it.
I missed it, the sound of her bossy tone as she scolded me and Ron for not doing our homework, the way she would chatter on endlessly about some interesting book she had found in the library, her dry voice as she made some unexpected joke that would send me and Ron into uncontrollable laughter, the site of her hand whipping into the air at every question the professors posed. I missed all of it, the way everything used to be. Merlin, I even missed the old Potions classes… Now, ever since that day, the class just felt wrong…
I shook my head, dispelling the thoughts. After another quick glance at Ron and Hermione I faced forward, trudging onto Transfiguration, hoping—but knowing otherwise—that the class would keep me from dwelling on thoughts like those, distract me from thinking about that day… The day Harry had died.
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I yawned as we walked through the dungeons, inside thinking of how much I absolutely hated Mondays and cursing whoever had invented them. Once again, silence stretched between the three of us. It always did nowadays.
As we walked, a conversation of two Slytherins walking slightly ahead of us caught my attention—my mind supplied me with the names after a moment, Zabini and Nott.
“I wish we didn’t have Potions today,” Nott complained softly.
His companion shook his head. “No, you wish you didn’t have Potions period,” he corrected.
“Well, can you blame me?” he asked, tone defensive. “Class has been horrible lately!” he hissed.
Again, Zabini shook his head. “I wasn’t saying I disagreed with you. Merlin, I think everyone in the school would rather Potions be canceled permanently.”
They were quiet for a moment as they thought on that statement. “I wonder what happened?” Nott mused softly.
“What? What happened to make Professor Snape go soft?” Zabini asked, something strange in his voice.
Nott shook his head. “You know this isn’t him going soft. It’s something else,” he corrected, his voice and gaze sharp.
Zabini sighed. “I know it’s not, and whatever it is that’s making him act like this… Well, I don’t think I want to know.”
Nott nodded his head, humming in agreement. Then he sighed, it sounding wistful. “Remember the good ol’ days?”
Zabini snorted. “You mean remember when he actually used to tell the Gryffindors and the rest of this sooding school how bloody stupid they were?” he asked, tone dry. Nott nodded his head shallowly. “Yes I remember,” Zabini said after giving a small sigh.
Another moment of silence passed between them, and in the distance I caught sight of the Potion’s classroom door. “I swear to Merlin, class better not be like it was last time,” Nott muttered softly.
Zabini groaned, “Morgana that was awful,” he agreed, before all conversation stopped, having entered the dreaded classroom.
Immediately I noticed the air was different than last time, if only better by a little, but all the same I was grateful—and I could tell by the slight sag of the two boy’s shoulders that they were as well.
Quietly, I took my seat next to Ron, Hermione sitting next to him and to her Neville—just like it always was. I glanced at the board, reading the instructions for today, getting up along with everyone else when Snape’s =quiet= voice told us to get to work. I placed all the ingredients I would need carefully on the table, mulling over the conversation I had just overheard—in the back of my mind wondering if I had been the only one listening in as I snuck a glance at Ron and Hermione. I shook my head, lighting the fire under my cauldron as the instructions bade me to do and began to prepare the necessary ingredients.
What had happened to force the Potions’ Professor’s attitude to change so drastically? I thought back to the first class I had after Harry’s death—it had been Potions. I couldn’t recall the potion we’d been making that day, but I remember the odd tenseness that filled the classroom then. Something had just seemed off, though I couldn’t place my finger on it at the time. Then, Neville’s cauldron had exploded, coating him (as well as half the Gryffindors) in a disgusting mess. I remember tensing, closing my eyes while I prepared myself for the onslaught of insults and point deductions that would ensue in Snape’s wrath. Instead, shock filled me (along with everyone else in the classroom) as Snape did nothing more than magic the mess away, telling the rest of the class continue on.
I remember no one moved for a time after that, no one believing what had just happened. Neville’s cauldron had exploded in the most fantastic fashion since the marvelous mishap of the _______’s Incident, and not a single point was taken off? Not one insult was thrown anyone’s way?… That was just wrong…
Things hadn’t improved after that, if anything they’d gotten worse. For three weeks now the same behavior continued on with everyone half-hoping half-dreading that the professor would snap out of it and go back to his usual snarky, greasy, intolerable Slytherin self. But so far nothing.
In my head I snorted at the thought. For five years now, everyone’s wish (besides the Slytherins that is) was for Snape to =mellow= out and stop being such a biased, insufferable git. But now that we had that, all anyone could think of was how horrible it all was. And again I wondered what it was that caused the sudden change in behavior.
… Then a thought occurred to me…
And I shook my head a moment later, thinking how ridiculous the notion was. That couldn’t possibly be it.
But as I continued on with my potion, my mind kept traveling back to that idea, and every time it made just a little bit more sense. Finally I sighed, placing down my knife as I thought. I had never seen any indication that they had liked each other that much. True, Harry had never particularly liked it when Ron and I (and our father and Sirius) would complain about the Potion’s Professor, but I’d just assumed Harry didn’t like people speaking ill of teachers—just like Hermione didn’t. To think all this would be because of that…
I shook my head. No, it couldn’t be that…
Then I thought about it once more, feeling some nagging sensation in the back of my head, like I had forgotten something important. I tried to think of what I could be missing, and as my thinking led to that day I shook my head, firmly pushing the thoughts away and working on my potion once more. It did no good to think about that day.
But as the minutes ticked on and the nagging feeling increased I realized I couldn’t avoid it for long. Lowering the flame under my cauldron as the board instructed, I rested my chin in my palm, deciding I just needed to know.
So I poured over the memory of that day once more, looking for something specific. For the most part, I had tried avoiding thinking about that at all cost, but now it was necessary to remember…
I thought back to how confused everyone had looked, having all been called into the Great Hall at such a late hour. How everyone’s confusion had swiftly shifted to worry and panic as we were being told that Hogsmede was under attack. I remember searching around for Harry, my worry having grown when I didn’t see him there, correctly guessing that he was with my parents and the other members of the Order fighting at Hogsmede. I remember how tense that hour was as we waited desperately for news to come, all of us wishing and hoping beyond anything that the news would be good. And it seemed it would be as we finally got the okay to return to our dorms. With the shortage of staff, and everyone wanting to be as safe as possible, the houses were escorted one at a time back to their dormitories. First to go had been Hufflepuff followed by Slytherin—Ravenclaw then preparing themselves to leave.
And then everything was shattered. Suddenly the doors were pushed open, streams of wounded people filing in, and I recognized some of them as people who lived in the small wizarding village—my stomach twisting as I realized not all of them were breathing anymore. I took no heed of their grim expressions at first, even those of the professors—how could they look anything but grim after coming from a battle? And then I saw it.
I watched as Hagrid walked in, his face uncharacteristically smeared with tears. At first I wondered what on earth could’ve made the half-giant react in such a way.
…And then I noticed that he was carrying something in his arms. It took me a moment to realize what exactly it was I was seeing, but when I did… I can’t describe the feeling that filled me then…
In his arms was the limp form of my brother, his wand arm folded across his chest as the other hung uselessly, his entire form seeming to be covered in red. In the back of my mind I saw the pathetic figures of my parents and Sirius, my mother barely being able to walk as she cried hysterically, my father trying to help her move forward while his face remained completely devoid of all emotion and I wondered if he was even there at that moment.
I remember crying out Harry’s name, calling almost every one’s attention to me as I ran forward to him. I remember screaming at Hagrid and my family to tell me that Harry was fine, remember someone grabbing me, holding me back before I could get to him—in the back of my mind realizing that it was Remus. I struggled vainly against him, trying desperately to reach my brother, my twin, yelling at him to wake up, that this prank wasn’t funny. Somewhere in the back of my mind I remember Sirius coming up to me, trying to calm me down, but it was of no use and then I heard Hermione.
I remember looking over to her, Hagrid having just placed Harry on one of the tables in the room. She too was trying to get to him, the look in her eyes desperate, her face already covered in tears, but Ron held her firmly back. The sound was horrible, and I felt sick at the memory of it, of Hermione yelling for my brother… I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything so awful, nor do I think I ever will. And something snapped in me then and I stopped struggling and just watched. After that everything becomes a blur, but there was one thing I needed to remember, needed to know for all this to make sense.
I recall the doors opening again, Professor Snape returning from escorting the Slytherins to their dorms. I remember seeing confusion on his face for a moment before his eyes were inevitably drawn to the centre of all the commotion—my brother’s body. He seemed to stand there for a moment, frozen as he tried to process what he was seeing. And then there it was—the thing I was trying desperately to remember.
All of the sudden his eyes widened as a look of— something— passed over his features. He began to back away slightly, almost unconsciously, eventually coming into contact with the Great Hall doorway where he slumped against it, his eyes never leaving my brother’s form.
And then everything made sense.
His quietness, his sudden =placid= attitude in class and outside of it. How for weeks he hadn’t taken off a single point or berated a single student, even when their cauldrons would explode or they would make some cacophonous uproar. It all made sense now when I remembered the look on his face when he had seen…
I looked up from the potion I was brewing then, studying the unnaturally taciturn professor—and as I looked at him, I felt all the animosity I used to hold for him slip away, replaced by something that was not bad in the least.
This time I took my time packing up my things, glancing once again at Snape (as I had been doing all class period). Suddenly I felt Ron shake my shoulder, asking me if I wanted help putting away my things. I shook my head and told them to go on without me. He and Hermione gave me an odd look, asking why. Again I just shook my head and told them I’d meet up with them. After another questioning glance at me they looked at each other and dutifully left, Ron pausing long enough to say he’d save me some food from the Great Hall just in case. I nodded my head in thanks at him, though inside I hoped it wouldn’t take that long.
As the rest of the students spilled out—some of them giving me odd glances that I steadfastly ignored—I took a deep breath, hoping my Gryffindor courage would see me through this. I stood as the final one left, watching as Snape seemed to breathe a sigh of relief—that was until he caught sight of me standing in the isle of the desks watching him.
“What do you want Potter?” he asked me, and something odd and painful squirmed in my chest at his attempt to sound venomous. I kept silent for a moment, tilting my head as I watched him a moment longer. “Well?” he asked impatiently.
“I suppose… I suppose I just wanted to thank you sir,” I said quietly, watching his reaction closely.
There was a moment of silence—I suppose Snape was waiting for me to say more, but I kept quiet—before he finally asked, “And what for Potter?”
“For missing him as much as you do.”
The reaction was instant. I watched as his body tensed for the longest moment, the silence having grown thick before he raised his head to look at me, something unnamable lurking in his expression. He studied me for a long moment and I him, until I felt the need to say more.
“I keep walking around here, and even though everything feels different to me, when I look at other people… It seems like no one really cares at all, not even his own house,” and here anger slipped into my voice. I took a deep breath before I started some kind of angry tirade—I didn’t want this conversation to be like that. I looked to the ground as I continued, “No one else seems to really have taken notice. And I just wanted to thank you for caring enough about him to… well to miss him. Sir,” I finished, looking back to him at the end.
Again he remained silent, and I try as I might I couldn’t place whatever emotion was playing across his face—bloody Slytherins and their bloody annoying masks… Finally he sat back in his chair, some of the strength leaving his body as he looked off to the wall on his left, and gave me a slight, almost imperceptible nod of his head.
I felt my lips twitch, though I doubt he saw it, nodded my head in return and turned to leave. As I was almost out the door I heard him call back to me. “You are welcome, Mr. Potter,” he replied softly. I looked back over my shoulder at him for a brief moment, but he wasn’t looking at me, instead he seemed to be looking at some far distant place. I nodded my head again, even though I knew he wouldn’t catch it, and left, feeling that some new understanding had formed between us in this conversation.
I think Harry would’ve been happy with that.
HIKIT.^^ Community Member 
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