Chapter 11: Fights
Nathan was still upset when the next morning arrived. The way Professor Snape had used the fact that he didn't know who his father was had hurt him deeply. He had trusted Snape because of his mother. All the things she had said about the Potions master had been enough for him; he had trusted Snape, only to have his trust used. Yes, he was really disappointed with Professor Snape. He was also mad at himself for letting his guard down.
That was how he felt when he entered the Potions classroom for yet another detention. He didn't greet the man by the desk, as he usually did. He didn't advance across the room to talk to him. He simply went to the workbench at the end of the room, determined to wait for Professor Snape to make the first move. It never came, though, because resting there on the workbench was a parchment with instructions for the evening's task.
One hour had passed by the time he finished another hundred inches of lines. Nathan hadn't said a word since he had arrived and neither had Professor Snape. He rolled the parchment and left it on the table where he had been working, rose from his seat and gathered his things. Without a look to the professor, who was reading at his desk across the room, Nathan left.
The same thing happened the following day. He entered, sat by the last workbench and found a parchment with instructions to write yet more lines. Nathan read the task and rolled his eyes, but didn't express his contempt in any other way. He completed the task and left the dungeons after spending more than an hour in silent company with the Potions master, who had been grading essays.
Snape looked up from the sixth-year essays as soon as the door snapped closed, and he sighed in relief. Another detention had passed in absolute silence; not a word exchanged between Nathan and himself. Leaving his desk, he went to the workbench the boy had just vacated and retrieved the rolled parchment. He opened the scroll and confirmed its contents; again, only a repetition of the line he had assigned. What was I expecting, more notes at the end of the parchment? He snorted at the thought. The boy knew better.
Taking the roll with him back to his desk, Snape went back to grading. At least he tried. He had been thinking about the confrontation with Nathan ever since the event. At first, he had been glad to put the boy on his place, to show him he wasn't the nice, honorable man they claimed him to be. But now, after two silent evenings, he was wondering what the boy was thinking. He remembered the hurt look on Nathan's face and his accusations of using his weakness against him, and that bothered Snape. The moment he had asked Nathan to tell him his father's name, he had expected the boy to admit his knowledge and his manipulating game. But he was wrong. Nathan didn't know anything and had been hurt. By him.
Snape dropped the quill and raised his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose. He didn't want to be bothered by what the boy thought of him. He didn't want to think of the boy. He was fighting it, but he knew he was losing, and he didn't like it one bit.
The following day was Friday, the day of the Halloween feast. Nathan was brought out of his melancholy mood, captivated by the excitement around him. He was determined to forget about Snape and have a good time with his friends. It was Halloween!
It was just after lunch and the first-years didn't have classes on Friday afternoons. The common room was buzzing when Nathan and the others arrived back from lunch in the Great Hall. They found a free table and started a game of Exploding Snap, and even Nathan, who hardly had time to play because of the homework and, of course, the detentions, had joined this time. They were in the middle of the fun when a boy ran into the common room, panting as if he had run a marathon.
"It's starting!" he shouted, and added after he had taken some much-needed breaths, "They're out by the Quidditch pitch."
There was a ripple of excitement through the room and everybody was suddenly rushing to leave. The first-years were looking at each other in confusion.
"Aren't you coming?" a third-year asked.
"Where are you going?" Kevin retorted.
"To the Quidditch pitch. Didn't you hear? The duel is starting!" the third-year said, as if it was the most natural reaction to what was happening.
"A duel?" asked a wide-eyed Andy.
"Yeah! Let's go, or we'll miss it," the boy answered and headed for the exit.
Andy was on his feet in the moment, and Kevin was following suit, but Nathan was still confused. "Wait a minute, who's dueling?" he asked.
"I don't know, but if a real duel is happening down there, I'm not missing it!" Andy said, already at the Fat Lady's portrait.
Nathan's curiosity wouldn't let him stay behind. He rose and followed the other Gryffindors out to the castle grounds. He caught up with his friends by the magical stairs; it looked like the whole school was heading for the same place.
By the time he arrived at the Quidditch pitch, a great number of students were already there, mostly Slytherins. They were cheering while the Gryffindors were looking apprehensive. That wasn't very reassuring, but it was nothing compared with the scene Nathan found when he finally broke through the crowd. Professor Snape and Harry Potter were aiming their wands at each other. Nathan paled.
A bright blue light was coming from Harry's wand, but it was intercepted by an invisible barrier before reaching its target. Snape's wand was moving with amazing speed and a red light burst from its tip, heading for Harry, who flicked his own wand, screaming, "Protego!" and the red light dissipated with a bang.
Both wizards were too intent on watching each other to see Nathan standing nearby, becoming more distressed with each hex. "Someone has to stop it!" he said looking around. No one seemed to care, though. "Why aren't you doing anything?" he asked the other students around him in exasperation.
"There's nothing to be done. They do it every year," an older girl answered.
Nathan gasped, "Every year?" but he got no answer this time. Every eye was on the dueling wizards.
Another flash of bright light caught Nathan's eyes, bringing his attention back to the duel, too.
"Stupefy!" he heard Harry cry. With a wave of his wand, Snape deflected the stunning hex. Harry flicked his wand then, saying, "Inanimatus Conjurus!" and rocks were suddenly appearing from thin air in front of him. As soon as they were fully formed he cried, "Oppugno!" and the rocks hurtled towards Snape. He was apparently expecting this, though, and with a single wave of his wand and a bored expression on his face, made the rocks disintegrate before they reached him.
"Are you done with these children's hexes?" Snape said with a smirk.
Harry's only answers were the narrowing of his eyes and another hex, which Snape once more deflected with ease, still smirking.
Snape didn't wait for another attack and flicked his wand saying, "Serpensortia!"
The snake slithered lazily in Harry's direction, who seemed more irritated than worried about it, even though Snape was still smirking. "If you want to play with those first-year's hexes, I may as well join you," Snape mocked.
Nathan seemed worried, but Harry just hissed at the conjured snake, probably asking it to go back to Snape, who then blasted the animal with a flick of his wand. The whole school seemed to be watching now, there was a big circle of people around the dueling wizards and yet more people up in the stands. Nathan could even see some of his professors, but they didn't seem keen to stop the fight, either; that made Nathan uncomfortable.
A couple more hexes were exchanged and things were getting worse. They seemed to be having more trouble deflecting each other's attacks, especially Harry. The Slytherins were particularly pleased. Nathan could see the satisfaction on their faces; Malfoy looked like he was having the time of his life.
The blasting sounds and intensity of the lights were increasing. Harry seemed to have got a hex past Snape's protection, but it wasn't enough to take the older wizard out of the duel. Snape's expression seemed more determined than ever. His eyes were fixed on Harry's when he flicked his wand without uttering a word. A line of light escaped his wand's tip in the direction of Harry, who seemed confident until the movement he made with his own wand failed to stop the light advancing. Nathan could see the expression of surprise on Harry's face, and his heart skipped a beat. Ropes appeared from thin air, restraining Harry's body and immobilizing him on the spot. He fell to the ground, bound.
Nathan opened his eyes wide, and then looked at the sneering Professor Snape, who was approaching Harry. Slytherins were cheering, Gryffindors and the other students were looking disappointed, but none seemed worried by Harry's position on the ground. Nathan ran to his godfather and heard Professor Snape says, "You still don't get it, Potter."
"That one was tricky," Harry admitted. "A modified Incarcerous that looked like a Levicorpus when cast; very Slytherin."
Snape raised an eyebrow at that. "Maybe you are learning something after all," and then added with another smirk, "but it's still apparently not enough."
Harry narrowed his eyes and fought the ropes that bound him. Nathan, seeing that, said in a commanding tone, "Release Uncle Harry."
Both older wizards suddenly noticed Nathan standing there. Harry spoke first, "Stay out of it, Nathan."
But he didn't care what Harry had to say. He was staring at Professor Snape in a commanding way, waiting to be obeyed. Snape was staring back, first with surprise and irritation, but now he seemed… amused. He didn't say anything though.
Harry seemed worried. "Leave him alone, Snape," he said.
That caught Snape's attention. He looked at Harry and retorted, "Or what?"
Apparently satisfied with Harry's lack of response, Snape walked away, passing by Nathan as if he wasn't even there.
Nathan didn't seem the least worried with what Professor Snape could do to him. "I said, release my godfather," he called to Snape's retreating back.
That made Snape stop in his tracks. He stood still for a moment, not turning to look at Nathan and then, without a word, retrieved his wand and in a movement the ropes binding Harry were gone. Without a glance back, Snape strode quickly across the grounds and down to the dungeons.
Harry was on his feet as soon as he was released, rubbing at his left arm. Nathan turned to him, "Are you all right, Uncle Harry?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Harry answered, visibly irritated. "I remember asking you to stay out of it."
"Yeah, you did," Nathan agreed, "But you were also lying on the ground, bound," he added with a shrug.
"As much as I appreciate your concern, Nathan, I don't want Snape to have reasons to be nasty to you, and I really don't need you between the two of us," Harry said in a very serious tone.
"Why were you dueling?" Nathan asked.
"We duel every year," Harry answered vaguely.
"So I've heard, but why?" Nathan didn't give up.
"It has to do with the war, Nathan. It's not something you should be concerned about," Harry finished.
Nathan shook his head. "One day, someone will have to tell me what really happened during this war. As much as you say it doesn't concern me, it's like I'm part of it somehow, and I'm the only one who doesn't understand why," he protested. He felt left out sometimes.
They took the path to the castle. Some students were still lingering about, but most of them were back inside. A Gryffindor, probably a sixth-year, approached them. "You'll get him next year, Mr. Potter."
"Yeah, of course," Harry answered nonchalantly.
Other students made similar comments and Harry responded the same way. McGonagall approached them. "When is this going to stop?" she asked, visibly annoyed. Harry ignored her, and she added, "This is getting more dangerous every year. You should know better, Mr. Potter."
"You know it would be even worse if we didn't know better than to really hurt each other," Harry answered. "And I'll get him next year. Maybe when I win, he'll learn his place and stop being the bastard he is."
"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall chastised.
Nathan had a surprised expression on his face, not for the swearing, but at learning Harry never won before. "You're saying you never beaten Professor Snape in a duel?"
Harry didn't answer right away. He seemed a little uncomfortable with the situation, even ashamed. "I'll win next year," he said firmly.
The Headmistress narrowed her eyes.
Nathan was gaping, he knew, but knowing that his godfather, who was said to be the greatest wizard of his age, had been losing duels to Professor Snape for years, was too much. He couldn't avoid his admiration for the Potions master growing even more, despite the actual thoughts of his dubious character. Professor Snape was really a great wizard, he admitted.
They reached the Entrance Hall. Professor McGonagall and Harry went to her office. Nathan found his friends there and they went back to the common room. There was still some time until the Halloween feast.
Severus Snape was back in his office after winning another duel against Harry Potter. Normally, it was enough to make his week, but not this year. This year he had Granger to turn every moment that would otherwise be great into something miserable. Particularly in this case, Nathan was the responsible for his distress. He couldn't erase a word from his mind: godfather.
"Harry bloody Potter," he muttered. "It could have been any other person, but no. It had to be Potter!" He couldn't stay still, even though his body needed some rest after the exertion of the duel. He started pacing the room. His son's godfather was Harry Potter.
He tried to calm down. He didn't have to bother with any of this, right? He didn't have anything to do with the boy. If his godfather is Harry Potter or Neville Longbottom, I couldn't care less, he forced himself to think, but he couldn't force himself to mean it. He cared, and it was consuming him.
His mind was so used to analyzing the various sides of a situation that he couldn't refrain from wondering. If Harry Potter was Nathan's godfather, and he - Severus Snape - the father of the boy, wasn't playing his intended role, then it meant that Potter was filling his space in Nathan's life, his space by right. It didn't matter if he didn't want to actually be the boy's father; it was all about Potter being the one substituting for him. That wouldn't do!
He paced some more, and then sighed. He had to calm himself. Potter has been his son's godfather for more than eleven years. That was nothing a couple of hours would change. He forced himself to sit down. Why do I care? he mused, trying once again to deny he cared, but failing. He growled in annoyance.
Hermione Granger knew I would never accept it, he thought. Why did she do it? His hands were in fists, like every time he thought of Hermione these days. "She'll be lucky to live the next time I meet her," he hissed between gritted teeth, then closed his eyes trying to regain his control. How many more surprises does she have for me? he mused.
He wanted to stop thinking about that. He opened a book, read the same paragraph three times and closed it, annoyed. He reached for a stack of parchments on the left side of his desk – essays. He started grading them, and that seemed to divert his attention for a while.
One hour had passed and he was almost finished with the stack of essays when he heard someone at his door. He took a deep breath and said, "Enter."
Harry Potter entered his office. Just the man I wanted to meet, he thought sarcastically. He was preparing to dismiss him, but Potter was quicker.
"Before you start your lecture on how I don't know anything, and how you're so much better than me, you should know that I'm not here to talk about myself or the duel. I'm here to talk about Nathan," Harry said, sitting in the chair across from Snape, even without an invitation, and giving the other man a look that dared Snape to disagree.
Snape reclined in his chair and crossed his arms in front of him. Inside, he was wondering how worse his evening could possibly become. Out loud, he merely said, "Be brief, I'm a busy man, Potter."
Harry snorted. "Okay, to the point, then. Leave Nathan alone," he said with a pointed look.
Snape looked at Potter for a moment, in silence. He was trying to suppress the urge to tell him that he had no right to ask that of the boy's father. "I don't think I understand what you mean, Potter," he said instead, wishing his son's godfather would give him a legitimate excuse to hex him.
"I meant exactly what I said, Snape. Don't give him detentions for nothing, don't take points from him because he breathed at the wrong time, and don't give him grades below the Slytherins who did worse work, just because he's Hermione's son or my godson," Harry said. "Leave him alone."
Snape narrowed his eyes. "Are you insinuating that I'm being unfair with him because he's your godson?" he said.
"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying," Harry confirmed.
"I didn't even know he was your damned godson until this afternoon, and if he had detentions and points taken from precious Gryffindor, it's because he's as careless and mischievous as you were," Snape said, leaning to stare at Potter's green eyes from across the desk. "Don't try to teach me how to discipline my students, Potter."
"Well, you've been warned," Harry said dismissively and left the chair he had been sitting in. "If I have to talk to you about this again, you won't like it. Try to remember that Nathan has someone to look out for him, unlike myself," he pointed out and left the room.
Snape growled. The nerve! he thought. He took a deep breath and left his office with long strides towards his quarters. He still had the stupid Halloween feast to attend and another detention with his little nemesis before this day would be over.
Nathan entered the Great Hall with his friends and was amazed at what he saw. Headmistress McGonagall had maintained Dumbledore's tradition of decorating the room with live bats, candles and carved pumpkins. It was really impressive.
Most of the teachers were already at the Head Table, including Professor Snape. Harry had left Hogwarts before the feast; Nathan knew that because his godfather had come to say goodbye in the common room, causing something of a furor. It seemed that Harry's defeat at the duel earlier hadn't changed his hero image.
He glanced at the Slytherins, then. Their humor seemed to have improved after the duel. They were much more animated than normal, and from time to time they looked in Professor Snape's direction and commented on something.
Nathan sat at the table across from Kevin; Andy took the spot to his left. They were really excited about the feast.
"It's great, don't you think?" Kevin asked, looking in astonishment at the enchanted ceiling covered with bats.
"Yeah, it is," Nathan agreed. "Even though I've heard of it before, I didn't imagine it would look like this."
"Look at the size of that pumpkin!" Andy said, pointing at a particularly gigantic one.
"It's really big," Kevin agreed.
Their attention focused on the table when dinner was served. They ate a little of everything and drank a lot of pumpkin juice. When they were waiting for pudding, Nathan saw Kevin narrow his eyes at something behind him. He turned and found Devon Malfoy's smirking face. He rolled his eyes and said, "Why I am not surprised?"
"Nice duel today, didn't you think, Granger?" Malfoy asked.
"Yeah, it was," he answered.
That seemed to throw Malfoy at bit. He recovered, though. "I always knew your dear godfather wasn't all he claimed to be," he said.
"I don't remember him claiming to be anything. But then, you don't even know him," Nathan said evenly.
"I know Professor Snape, though, and he could beat Harry Potter with his eyes closed anytime he wanted," Malfoy said then, apparently not used to losing an argument.
Before Nathan could come up with a retort, the very object of their discussion - Professor Snape - interrupted them.
"I thank you, Mr. Malfoy. Now back to your seat," Snape said with a smirk, and then, looking at Nathan, he said, "Mr. Granger, we still have a detention after dinner, with or without Halloween."
Nathan left right after dessert, walking down to the dungeons. He entered the classroom as he had done for the last two detentions, heading straight to the last workbench of the room. There it was – a parchment with instructions. He took the piece of paper and read it. "More lines?" he whined in a low voice.
"What did you say, Mr. Granger?" Snape asked, not expecting the boy to respond.
Nathan was tired of these boring detentions, so, feeling bold enough, he repeated, "More lines, sir?"
Snape let go of his quill and clasped his hands in front of him, resting them on the table top. "Are you complaining, Mr. Granger?" he asked and arched an eyebrow, daring him to answer yes.
"Well yes, sir. I thought we could use this time for something more productive than lines." That was it; he had said it.
"I have some rather dirty cauldrons around here; would you prefer to clean them instead?" Snape asked with a smirk.
"In fact I would, sir," Nathan answered simply.
If Snape was surprised, he didn't show it. He retrieved his wand and flicked it, saying, "Accio cauldrons." Two filthy cauldrons floated from the shelf and landed on the workbench in front of Snape's desk. "There you go, Mr. Granger," he said, smirking.
Nathan didn't say anything, just went to the cauldrons and started to scrub them. Snape observed the boy from time to time with curiosity. The boy had the talent to intrigue him, he had to admit.
Tired of fighting against his curiosity, and sick of pretending he was grading essays, Snape rose from his chair and walked to the front of his desk, leaning there with his arms crossed over his chest, facing Nathan.
The boy looked up, startled by the sudden movement. He stopped scrubbing for a moment but, as Professor Snape didn't say anything, he went back to his task.
A few minutes later, though, Professor Snape broke the silence. "Tell me, Mr. Granger. Why did you confront me today at the Quidditch pitch?"
Nathan stopped scrubbing but didn't look up. "I didn't mean to confront you, sir. I just wanted you to free my godfather."
"I see," Snape said and moved from his reclined position to pace in front of his desk. "So, the great Harry Potter is your godfather. That should make things easier for you, I'm sure."
"I grew up in the Muggle world, sir. It didn't make any difference then, and nothing has changed now," Nathan said, now looking at Snape.
Snape eyed the boy for a moment. "I'm sure things have changed, you must be quite respected in Gryffindor Tower for your association with heroes like him," he pushed.
Nathan didn't know where Professor Snape was going with the conversation. "People knew me before I knew them, but that's all. I don't know how it changes anything," he said in response, and shrugged before going back to scrubbing the cauldron.
Snape moved closer to the boy. "You must be really fond of him to disrespect me like that."
Nathan stopped his task again. "I never meant to disrespect you, sir. I'm sorry if you felt that I did." He was starting to fell uneasy with Professor Snape's unusual behavior.
"Would you like Mr. Potter to be your father?" Snape asked, unable to hold his tongue and berating himself the moment the words left his mouth.
Nathan looked up sharply. Professor Snape had turned his back to him, he watched that back for a long time. "He isn't," Nathan said quietly, looking back down. He is not, is he? he thought uncertainly.
Snape could barely hear him. "No, he isn't, but that was not my question." He turned to face the boy, again. "Any boy would want to have a hero like Harry Potter for a father, and I don't think you're any different."
Nathan was getting ever so confused with this crazy conversation. Why is he telling me this? What does he mean? he thought. Does he know who my father is? He must know, else why would he have been so clear in his affirmation that Harry isn't my father?
Snape was back at his desk when Nathan decided to look up. Whatever he wanted to say wouldn't come out. He finished cleaning the cauldrons in silence. Professor Snape knew who his father was. Nathan now knew it for sure.
When he turned from the workbench to approach the Potions master's desk to say he was finished, Professor Snape spoke, "If you finished, just leave."
And so he did.
Hermione Granger was back home from a day of work. Later on, she was to attend a Halloween party hosted by one of the professors at the university. He and his wife hosted this party every year, and every year she refused their invitation with the excuse of taking Nathan trick-or-treating or to a party at a friend's house. This year, though, Nathan was at Hogwarts and she had no excuse to avoid the event.
William had offered to pick her up so they could go together. She couldn't come up with an excuse to refuse him, so she was now waiting for him to arrive. She had dressed up as Juliet, since William was going as Romeo. At first, she had rolled her eyes at the clichéd idea, but he had seemed happy with it, so she had agreed. She didn't want to have to come up with something else, anyway. So, there she sat, dressed up in her transfigured dress, waiting and thinking.
Since her visit to Hogwarts, Severus Snape had been invading her dreams again. This time, though, they weren't nightmares from the night she had been captured by the Death Eaters; they were dreams of those skillful hands touching her face, her hair. It was… troubling her. She respected him, yes. She admired him, of course. But this was different. This was new.
Severus Snape had always been part of her life, since her first day at Hogwarts. First, she had respected him for his knowledge and skills as a Potions master; later, she had admired him for his vision and power as a spy for the Order, then for his honor and courage in fulfilling his promise to Albus; finally, she had admired him for saving her life that night. Since then, he had been part of her life through Nathan, even if not physically present. And now…
Now, she didn't know. She had met him again and suddenly he was appearing in her dreams. Not as her personal hero, either, but as something else, something more. What did that mean? she thought to herself. Was she having fantasies of her ideal man in the form of the father of her son? Was it about the figure Severus represented, or was it the man Severus really was? Maybe she was overanalyzing those dreams and they represented nothing. After all, interpreting dreams was something Trelawney would do, not me, she mentally chastised herself.
Trying not to analyze those dreams, though, was proving to be very difficult. She tried to think about other things, like her work, and her friends. But try as she might, she always came back to Severus' hands in her dreams. Until a more solid distraction arrived; William was at the door.
She met him downstairs. He was gaping at the sight of her, and she blushed in embarrassment. He seemed to recover enough to bow theatrically and say, "For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. My Juliet, you're as beautiful as the most brilliant star in the sky." He smiled.
She couldn't refrain from rolling her eyes at the silly courtship, but blushed nonetheless. "Well, thank you, Romeo. You look rather handsome yourself," she said then, and accepted his outstretched hand. He guided her to his car and they left for the party.
Arriving at the appointed location, they were greeted by the hosts of the night. The house was cautiously decorated with carved pumpkins, fake cobwebs, and cauldrons filled with smoke from dry ice. She sighed, irritated with the memories they brought.
The house was full. She knew most of the people from the university. The music filled the rooms and there were couples dancing animatedly. William offered her a drink, which she accepted. It was a nice party, and a nice distraction for her mind.
The night went well. She chatted with some colleagues, she laughed at some pranks and she had danced with William, who was being really nice to her. He was a good distraction.
It was getting late and she was feeling tired. She called on William to take her home, and he promptly abided. They said their goodbyes and he drove her home. He stopped the car near the door to the building. "I enjoyed the evening immensely," he said.
"I had a good time, too. Thank you for convincing me to go," Hermione answered.
"My pleasure, dear Juliet," he said, reaching for her hand and placing a light kiss on the back of it. He held her hand a little longer, while staring into her brown eyes.
An awkward silence fell upon them. Hermione broke the eye contact first, and looked at their united hands, withdrawing hers. "I'll see you on Monday," she said then.
He seemed a little disappointed when he answered, "Of course, Hermione."
"Good night, then," she offered and entered her building.
"Good night," he answered to her back, and left.
Hermione closed the door behind her and sighed. She had lost the fight with her mind the moment she had shifted her eyes to the hand holding hers. It wasn't his - it wasn't Severus' - and it felt wrong.