"Sir..."
"Stop following me, Potter!" Snape almost howled. "There are already rumors about our tender... friendship!"
"Oh my God!" Harry gasped in horror. "I was just coming for advice!"
"Fine, come in..." The professor allowed Harry into his office and locked both the door and the fireplace. "What is it this time?"
"Professor Lockhart is starting a Duelling Club."
"I'm aware."
"Sir, I'm not supposed to hit my head on anything for at least a month," Harry said grimly. "I shouldn't be diving, fighting, or anything like that... Haven't you noticed?"
"Yes, the hospital wing has been suspiciously empty."
"Exactly. And Weasley might clobber me. Our lot knows, Malfoy does too, and I'm sure he told his own, but the others... Please, you need to be there!"
"As if I could ever get rid of you..." Snape smirked, but a sudden unpleasant feeling swept over him. "Potter, tell me, have you ever spoken to snakes?"
"No, I think I'm still sane," Harry replied cautiously. "Besides, what's the point if they can't hear me?"
"Can't hear you?"
"They don't have ears; they sense vibrations... I don't remember what exactly."
"I see..."
"I mean, when Terry and I were catching grass snakes, I'd say things like, 'Come here, nice snake, we won't hurt you, just scare some girls...'" Harry scratched his head. "But Terry muttered the same stuff and caught way more than me!"
The uneasy feeling deepened.
"Potter, I'm going to conjure a snake now. Don't flinch—it's harmless."
A beautiful speckled snake landed on the table and hissed like a punctured tire.
"Don't be afraid; it's not venomous," Snape said, steadying Harry by the shoulders when he flinched. "Can you understand it?"
"Sir, are you serious?" Harry looked up at him.
"Yes," Snape replied firmly, extending his hand. The snake hesitated but slithered toward him.
"What a beauty!" Harry said involuntarily.
"Beauty? Thank you..." the snake hissed, flicking its forked tongue.
"Sir! It's talking?!"
"Of course," Snape replied wearily.
"And you can talk to them?"
"I can only understand them, not really talk. It's a rare skill. So, Potter, you've never spoken to snakes?"
"Not so sure anymore," Harry admitted, cautiously extending a hand to stroke the snake. "You're so vibrant—you must not fear anything. Looks like you're venomous after all..."
"Very. Bite—die..." the snake said smugly. Snape involuntarily flinched.
"Don't bite me; I haven't done anything to you!" Harry said. "Wow, what beautiful patterns!"
"Don't tickle..."
"Take her," Snape said, unwinding the snake from his arm and handing it to Harry.
"She's venomous!"
"And you're a Parselmouth. However," Snape paused, "you may leave her with me. Your dormmates clearly wouldn't understand. But never—ever—mention that you can talk to snakes!"
"Humans..." the snake hissed.
"You're very beautiful," Harry said sincerely. "I'd walk into the Great Hall with you around my neck—everyone would scatter in fright, idiots! How about you stay with the professor, and I visit you every day? Then we'll figure something out!"
"Okay... I like you..." the snake replied.
"Every day!" Snape thought in horror.
"Meanwhile, catch some rats," Harry added instinctively. "There are plenty around here!"
"Rats... Tasty rats!"
The snake slithered off his hand and disappeared into a dark corner.
"Sir, what kind of creature is that? I've never seen anything like it in any encyclopedia!"
"I don't know," Snape said faintly. "I don't know such snakes—I just... Potter, the Firewhisky, left cabinet..."
"Feeling better?" Harry asked after Snape had his second glass. "You'll drink yourself into a stupor, sir!"
"Not likely with shocks like this," Snape said through clenched teeth. "Potter! Never, under any circumstances, speak to snakes publicly! Or they'll brand you the next Dark Lord..."
"He could do it too?"
"Oh, very much so," Snape shuddered, instinctively pulling his legs up as a long shadow slid from the corner. "Take care of your... pet."
"Come here..." Harry seemed completely at ease with the snake now. "What's your name? Oh, sorry, I can't pronounce it... Shenandoah? Or just Shen? You're so sweet, Shen... Listen, just in case: there's a gray cat here, Mrs. Norris, don't touch her. As for the rest, who cares? But better stick to catching rats... And don't hurt anyone unless I say so... Where will you live? I doubt you'd like a terrarium... Oh! Wow! Sir!" He turned to Snape. "There's a basilisk sleeping somewhere in the dungeons! Unbelievable! She wants to sleep next to it—it's like a great honor for her. Can she?"
"Mm-hmm," Snape mumbled. A basilisk was all he needed!
"Alright, sweetheart, I'll call you if I need you," Harry said to the snake, and it slithered away.
"Never create random creatures from whatever's on hand, especially when not sober," Snape thought miserably. "I wanted a simple grass snake, and I got... whatever this is, venomous on top of it..."
"Now that's what I call a pet snake!" Harry exclaimed.
"The Dark Lord also has a pet snake," Snape said disdainfully. "About five times larger than yours."
"Shen will grow," Harry grinned. "Just hope my aunt doesn't see her—she'd scream the house down!... I'll leave her here for the holidays, alright?"
"You came to talk about the Duelling Club," Snape reminded him to change the subject.
"Yes, but you brought up snakes. Still... Lockhart is pushing me to the front lines, and I can't, sir. And I can't say why..."
"I'll pair you with Malfoy," Snape promised. "You won't get hurt, and he has some skill."
"Awesome!" Harry jumped. "Thanks!"
*
Unfortunately, the first meeting of the Duel Club went completely differently than many had expected. As a result of Lockhart's enthusiastic efforts, Malfoy ended up paired with Weasley (thankfully for that!), while Potter, with great difficulty, was able to push Longbottom aside: Longbottom might have accidentally revealed something that Weasley wouldn't have been able to do even deliberately. In the end, Potter was paired with Nott, with whom they started working very carefully, almost expertly, and it was a pleasure to watch. It was clear that Potter had studied the books; he had learned the rules of dueling, but, naturally, lacked experience. Nott, trained since childhood, slowed down significantly, waiting for his partner's reaction — not the opponent's! — patiently repeating gestures over and over. Potter followed the instructions, but...
"Go to hell!" Snape mentally wished Lockhart as he jumped towards the boys and moved closer.
"Well, what are you doing!" he exclaimed, dramatically waving his lilac sleeves. "Where is the beauty of the battle, where is the flair?"
"Sorry, sir," Theodore said with surprising calmness. "I thought we were having a practice session, not a general brawl. May we continue?"
Malfoy would have simply been rude, whether junior or senior, as they were too busy showing off. But Nott didn't say anything like that, though Lockhart retreated, unfortunately not for good. Yes, Slytherins were a completely unsuitable company for Harry, but...
"Not like that," Theodore quietly said. "Elbow higher. Half-spiral right — and thrust."
"Got it," Harry exhaled. "Thanks."
"You're on defense duty this Wednesday," Nott reminded him and smiled.
Snape was just watching as Malfoy rapidly fired off rather simple spells at Weasley: well done, he had bet on pace rather than skill, correctly assuming that Weasley had none of the latter...
"Serpensortia!" someone shouted, and a large snake, possibly a viper, fell between Malfoy and Weasley.
"I'll take care of it!" Lockhart cheerfully said, but his spell threw the snake into the air, and it landed back down, much angrier than before.
The girls screamed, Weasley backed away, Malfoy froze in place, and rightly so.
"Has everyone gone mad?" Potter said, taking off his robe. Snape's heart sank: if he spoke to this creature now...
With a sharp movement, the irritated snake lunged toward the swing of the robe, only to be quickly grabbed by the neck.
"So, what should I do with it now, sir?" Harry asked darkly, struggling to hold the large snake with both hands. It couldn't strike, but it thrashed so violently that it seemed ready to break free at any moment.
Snape eagerly destroyed the slippery creature, and only then did the girls start crying.
"Enjoy, Potter," he said smugly. "It will be yours for a couple of weeks!"
"No!" Harry exclaimed in horror and whispered, "Sir, I want detention with you! Let me insult you, so there's a reason!"
"Potter!" Snape raised his voice. "Twenty points to Hufflepuff for neutralizing the snake! Minus forty points from Hufflepuff for unjustified risk! And detention with me!"
"You know, sir, I love you," Harry said, trailing behind. "I would never have survived the ceremony... But you managed to rescue me so deftly!"
"Back to your place. Read," Snape commanded shortly. After a moment of catching his breath, he asked, "Potter, why didn't you order it to calm down?"
"Well, you did warn me," Harry looked at him surprised. "So I wouldn't reveal the snake language. It was easier to catch her this way before she bit anyone. I told you we used to catch grass snakes; this is the same thing, just bigger. And even if she bit me, doesn't this place have an antidote?"
"No," Snape muttered. "And I'm not sure I would have been able to prepare the antidote in time. Especially because this isn't just any viper, but something like your Shen..."
"Hmm... Good thing I didn't know that," Harry snorted, though he involuntarily shuddered. "Otherwise, I definitely wouldn't have gone for it and wouldn't have been the hero of the day... Let Weasley catch it!"
"By the way, where is Shen?" Snape furrowed his brow. Recently, Harry had developed a habit of sitting with the snake — it either coiled around his neck, gently tickling his ear with its forked tongue, or curled up on his lap.
"She ate too much and is sleeping in the dungeons," Harry answered carelessly. "Want me to call her?"
"No, it's fine... I was just curious."
"Sir, may I sit on your couch?" Harry suddenly asked bashfully. "It's brighter over there, and you understand..."
"Is it hard to light up your own corner?" Snape bristled, but quickly softened. "Sit down, what can I do with you?"
"Thanks!"
Harry moved over to the couch with his book.
"By the way, is it true that you're seeing Lavender?" Snape casually asked.
"True. Why?"
"Isn't it a bit early for you?"
"As Terry says, it's better to keep an eye out early," Harry said. "Otherwise, by third year, everyone will have been snatched up, and only the clumsy fools will be left."
"So Lavender's not a fool?"
"Sir!" Harry glanced at him. "She's one of the best students in Ravenclaw. How could she be a fool? And if she looks a bit strange, that's not scary. Look at me, I'm a beauty myself..."
"And her... hmmm... imaginary creatures?" Snape asked with interest.
"Let her have them," Harry waved his hand. "She notices and says a lot of interesting things, you just have to listen carefully and pick up on the metaphors. All those brain teasers, trinkets, baubles... nonsense."
"An interesting approach," the professor said after a pause and changed the subject. "Potter, Halloween is coming up."
"Yeah..."
"The celebration," Snape reminded him.
"Ah, damn!" Harry grabbed his head. "We'll need money, right?"
"Well, at least that's the least of it..."
"But aren't we ready, sir?" Harry asked.
"We?" Snape smirked crookedly. "Maybe you are ready..."
"Didn't you miss it, sir? Did you forget?"
"Such things are hard to forget..." muttered Snape and fell silent, though he kept glancing at Harry from time to time.
He looked, as usual, terrible. A perfect match for Lovegood with her homemade jewelry and such: his robe was too short, sleeves rolled up as always, and his sneakers were stained with who knows what.
By the way, just yesterday Snape had the dubious pleasure of overhearing a most amusing conversation between Potter and Malfoy.
"You look like a beggar in those rags," the latter remarked offhandedly.
"And you look like a peacock," Harry shot back without hesitation. "And honestly, Malfoy, a piece of advice: stop slicking your hair back so much, or people will think you're… well, you know."
"A what?!" Malfoy's eyes widened. Crabbe leaned in to whisper something quickly in his ear. "You're...!"
Nott, passing by, stopped to listen.
"Potter, you've lost your mind!" Malfoy tried to jab Harry in the chest, but only seemed to hurt his hand.
"What's the big deal?" Harry ignored the jab entirely, grabbed Draco by the shoulders, and began turning him this way and that. "You're short, slim, not bad-looking, hair all slicked down, kind of prissy, nasal voice, always hanging around with two muscle-bound oafs…"
Nott let out a distinct snort but quickly covered it by pretending to cough. Goyle's lips twitched, and Crabbe was visibly struggling to keep a straight face.
"And where… where did you see that?" Draco finally managed.
"In London, where else?" Harry shrugged. "They've got entire clubs for that."
"And… what should I do?" Malfoy asked in a defeated tone.
"For starters, stop smearing your hair with all that junk. Either grow it out long enough to tie back or cut it shorter."
"My mother will be horrified," Malfoy muttered.
"She'll survive. My Aunt Petunia's been horrified ever since she first laid eyes on me, but she's still kicking," Harry reassured him. "Women are resilient. Oh, and quit with the nasally drawl! When you talk like thaaat," Harry mimicked him fairly well, "it makes me want to punch you. But some people might feel inclined to... do something else," he added, leaning in to whisper something to Draco, whose eyes grew even rounder.
"You're serious?!"
"Swear on my life," Harry replied with conviction.
"And… and the clothes? I'm not wearing rags like yours!"
"You don't have to," Harry assured him. "It's just my style—it wouldn't suit you anyway."
"But my father…" Draco tried again.
"I've met your father, even spoken with him," Harry grimaced. "He can get away with… er… dressing like that because he's a big guy with status and all that. Plus, it actually suits him! You just look like a chick in peacock feathers."
"I'm going to shower!" Draco declared and bolted, not waiting for his entourage's reaction or even thinking to respond to the insult.
Nott nodded approvingly at Harry before they went their separate ways.
At the very next class, Snape had the pleasure of observing Draco's newly trimmed platinum blond hair as he bent over his desk. The boy had taken Harry's advice to heart and even stopped elongating his vowels in that affected manner, though he occasionally slipped up…
It was only then, lost in his memories, that Snape became aware of a weight on his shoulder—it was Potter's messy-haired head. The boy had dropped his book onto his lap and, apparently, had simply dozed off.
"Just what I needed…" Snape muttered. The boy was heavy, and his arm was starting to go numb. He shifted, but Potter didn't wake up. Resigned, Snape carefully freed his arm and awkwardly placed it around the boy's shoulders. Potter sighed contentedly and nestled closer.
"Merlin, what did I do to deserve this punishment?!"
Truth be told, Harry hadn't meant to fall asleep on Snape's shoulder. It was just that the day had been hectic and exhausting, the book difficult, and his head was pounding… He'd decided to close his eyes for a moment to rest them, as the doctor had advised. He'd also thought that Snape always smelled strongly of herbs—not unpleasantly so—and then… he'd blacked out.
When he came to, he realized that the dark fabric in front of him could only be a robe, judging by the smell—Snape's robe—and that the hand on his shoulder likely belonged to the professor as well. He cautiously glanced upward. Yep, it was him.
Snape was reading something, holding the book in one hand and skillfully turning the pages.
"Awake, Potter?" Snape asked with noticeable sarcasm, sensing movement and glancing at Harry. "How was your nap?"
"Great," Harry admitted, adjusting his glasses and trying to smooth down his hair. "Sorry, sir. I guess I've gotten out of practice over the summer. In the dormitory, one guy snores, another… well… let's just say his socks aren't the freshest. But it's so quiet here, and it smells nice, so I just conked out. Sorry."
"Stop apologizing," Snape said, withdrawing his hand, stretching, and standing. "You've certainly put on weight, Potter! My shoulder's numb!"
"Well…" Harry smirked, stretching as well. His robe audibly strained. "There's no point in being a lightweight when fighting dark lords! By the way, sir, you promised to tell me about the Room of Requirement…"
"It's late, Potter," the professor replied hopelessly.
"Just a quick summary, for idiots like me!" Harry insisted.