Unpredictable Life

~ Chapter 2: Dumbledore's Command & Harry's Sketches ~

Harry wondered if the professor was still standing outside the house. He sprinkled some white and black pepper into the soup before scattering the chopped spring onions. Truthfully, he was glad that he had seen Snape. It reminded him that there was a world beyond the concrete home he was confined to. He scooped some of the soup into a bowl and took out his leftover mocha drink. As he dragged a chair out from under the table, he thought he heard a series of impatient knocks. The raven-haired Gryffindor strode quickly and opened the door, examining the Potions Master's face impassively. Something out of the ordinary -- something that was strangely out of place on the front porch -- captured his attention.

Is that a trunk?! Harry's eyes widened in horror. Bloody hell! What is he -- what is Dumbledore up to? Oh great! He's the guardian they were talking about!

Snape seemed to notice that his eyes were on the sleek black trunk. "In case you were wondering Potter, the Headmaster made me come here so that I could resume teaching you Occlumency," the wizard spoke, curling his lips in disdain.

Dumbledore still wants me to be tutored by him? Harry shook his head slightly in disbelief. Here? Isn't he afraid that I might blow up the house with my temper or something? A small voice spoke inside his head, And the last time I lost my temper was when? The day I shattered Sirius's mirror in my trunk?

"Fine..." Harry let the door remain open and went back to the kitchen to eat his dinner. He didn't see the shocked expression on the Potions Master's face as the older wizard stepped into the living room and summoned his trunk inside before quietly closing the door.

The Gryffindor took a slow sip of his drink. Although his eyes looked blank, he was actually paying careful attention to the sounds Snape was making in the hall. He could barely hear the silky voice softly muttering an incantation and the back of his neck suddenly prickled. There was a sudden surge of energy but it quickly dissipated. What on earth is he doing? The boy was suspicious but did not investigate what the Potions Master was up to. The kitchen door opened and Snape entered the tiny -- and neat -- area.

The Potions Master stood within Harry's line of sight. The Gryffindor didn't expect the professor to do anything and was terribly caught off-guard when the greasy-haired wizard barked a sharp command, "Legilimens!"

Harry's scar erupted in fire and the boy blacked out.

~*~

Blessed Merlin... Snape breathed easier when he found that the boy still had a pulse. Harry had merely fainted. The Potions Master felt like he had almost done the same. What he saw in the boy's mind was unexpected... truly unexpected. He sank to the floor and tried to stop his body from trembling. Potter was staring up at him -- at his wand.

When he was convinced that his legs wouldn't give out on him, he stood and went over to Harry, slumped in his chair. Snape looked at the boy's dinner thoughtfully and decided it wasn't a worthy enough meal for him to charm the contents to prevent spoilage. He cleared the pot and bowl quickly with magic. That done, he scooped the young boy up into his arms and carried Harry to the living room. After he had set the boy down onto the couch, he went and checked every room in the house. He didn't miss the closet beneath the stairs and wondered why he felt appalled at the thought of Harry living in there. He saw several childrens' toys strewn over the bed and quietly closed the door.

The pale-looking wizard went up the stairs and entered the first room he saw on his right. He was a little relieved when he saw the dim outline of Harry's textbooks piled on top of a chest situated below the window. The boy's owl hissed loudly at the intrusion but the Potions Master ignored her. He carelessly summoned a light and his heart jumped in his ribcage when a familiar pair of taunting, brilliant blue eyes confronted him. Heart in mouth, he looked around for the switch and turned it on when he found it.

Snape stood in the middle of the bedroom, slightly dazed as the room brightened slowly. All about him, covering the walls, the wardrobe and any even surface, were numerous sketches. Some of them clearly showed that the drawer was a novice. However, there were some, like the colored sketch of Sirius on the wardrobe, that proved Harry to be a boy with excellent skills when he cared to exercise them.

The drawings were obviously of the people Harry had met in his life. In one corner, Snape saw a sketch of the Malfoy family. May Merlin help the Gryffindor if Draco ever found out that Harry had been experimenting with their faces. Lucius's face was terribly oblong and Draco looked like what the Muggles called an alien. Snape wasn't sure if the boy was making fun of the Slytherin or not. Harry also drew several pictures of Dumbledore in various circumstances -- there was one when the old wizard stood to proclaim the start of a school year, another one that looked as if the wizard was attending court and another showing the wizard reading serenely. Snape's expression softened as he scrutinized the last sketch of Dumbledore. Truth be told, the Potions Master was extremely grateful to the wizard for saving his soul. It was probably the reason why Snape never truly had the heart to disappoint the old wizard when he'd been given orders despite the fact that he disliked being ordered about.

I've attended the Dark Lord's meetings as bidden, surely I can handle tutoring a lad for two months. Snape smiled crookedly. The most I will suffer in the presence of the boy will be a severe lack of anger management. There is no telling what would happen to me in one of those blasted gatherings.

The Potions Master walked around the bedroom, quickly inspecting a sketch of Ron riding a Firebolt that had been laying on Harry's desk. The wizard paused at a sketch of what was probably the Chamber of Secrets, basilisk included. Just as well he didn't sketch a picture of him. Hedwig hissed loudly and he snapped.

"Shut up bird! You're waking the neighbors!" Hedwig immediately became silent.

Snape's fingers traced the outline of the small desk as his eyes scanned its surface. He is at least putting some effort into his Transfiguration homework. Which reminds me -- I'll have to tell the boy he will be receiving his results in eleven days. He scowled suddenly. And what do I do with the boy? Carry him up here or let him sleep on the couch? For that matter, where am I going to sleep?

Snape dueled with his conscience for a few minutes. If he took the pillow and blanket from Harry's bed, the boy would think that the greasy-haired Potions Master might be less of a malicious man than everyone thought him to be. If he didn't, it would probably amplify the boy's fury against him. And why does that bother me? Snape fretted at his own reaction while unconsciously pulling up the blanket. A distant part of his mind noted that he hadn't seen sketches of Wormtail or himself. He tucked his wand into his pocket and picked up a pillow. A flash of color made him look down. Hidden underneath the pillow was a bag containing crayons, color pencils, several lead pencils, and a stick of charcoal. The contents had most likely spilled onto the bed when he had pulled the pillow. Beneath those boxes was a drawing block. There was something drawn on it. Curious, he dropped the pillow back onto the bed and slowly pulled at the block.

What he saw was enough to make the blood rise to his cheeks and dozens of thoughts and speculations brew inside his mind. How dare he! But that thought was more because of embarrassment than anger. It was a completed sketch -- well, Snape thought it was. It was him, although the nose on the paper looked terribly prominent. He got the scowl right, Snape thought in amusement. The sketch was of him throwing the doors open -- probably those of his private chambers -- dressed in nothing more than a silky black robe and exposed completely until below his navel. Luckily, the drawing ended right there but Snape was wondering if he was wearing his trousers. Absolutely not boxer shorts and the boy couldn't possibly have thought of drawing me with my bits exposed, he thought indignantly.

The Potions Master remained rooted to the spot and stared at the sketch. I can't bring his pillow out or he'll know that I've entered his domain. He immediately charmed the blanket, pillow and anything else that might have been moved accidentally to return to their original positions. He went back to the living room and conjured several small pillows and two light blankets for the boy and himself.

He studied the boy -- Harry hadn't moved since he'd fainted. He lifted the boy's head gently -- he was quite appalled when he realized it -- and slipped the conjured pillow underneath. He carefully laid the blanket on the boy and removed the Gryffindor's glasses. Snape set them down on the coffee table.

The professor took his time removing his wizard's robes and he draped them over his trunk. Finally he sank down on an armchair and gave a long sigh. His eyes began to shut but he fought it. He turned the lights off, magically blocked all entrances to the house and chanted the final spell of the night; something that would wake him once Harry's heartbeat changed from the steady breathing of sleep. That completed, he fell asleep, still holding his wand in his right hand.

~*~