The Master Plan

Chapter 8: Snarkiness and Mind Games

Harry stared for a long time, unsure what to do, or think, or feel. On the one hand, it made the Potions Master more human, and that was rather pleasant, but still, Harry knew he was the one being laughed at. He sighed. He always knew one day he would do something that would cause Snape to simply lose it. He just didn't know it would involve falling over a trashcan.

Snape was finally starting to calm down, still muttering, "...Unrelenting...unmitigated...interminable...mind-boggling...inimitable... gracelessness," as he wiped tears from his eyes with the back of his hand.

Harry slid into a seat near the man, face, as often, glowing red. "Well," he said, sounding as bitter as he probably felt. "I certainly hope you've got that out of your system, because we need to have a little chat. Oh, and I'm terribly glad that you're so dreadfully amused by my shortcomings, I truly am. Oh, thank you so much, Severus Snape. Are you quite finished, yet?"

"Unless you'd like to further practice your dazzling feats of agility and acrobatics," the man responded, eyes glittering with wry amusement. "Although I'm uncertain if it should be risked. Just think how devastated the wizarding world would be, sobbing at the words on your tombstone, 'The Boy Who Lived Through Many an Attack by Voldemorte, But Not the One by the Rubbish Bin.' How utterly tragic it would be."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, God. You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"How long do you think you'll live anyway, with iniquitous trash receptacles dogging your steps?"

"Oh, for--look. Enough already. Yes, yes, Harry the Immeasurably Clumsy, I think we've established that already. Very funny. Yes. Ah ha ha ha ha ha. Get over it, already!" He glared as the Potions Master continued to snicker. He sighed. "I want to talk about defense!" he insisted. "I wasn't joking when I said I needed your help, you know."

"I don't know what you expect me to be able to do for you," the man replied. "I've little enough experience against office furnishings of any kind. Oh, very well, Mister Potter. I can't imagine why you're being so incredibly ill tempered about the incident. You're supposed to be so self-effacing, after all." He smirked and stretched his legs out in front of himself and leaning languidly back in the chair.

"Hmph," Harry responded. "I haven't gotten enough sleep, all right? But seriously, Snape, you said you'd help me."

"I said I would discuss it with you. I have decided it would be unwise. Discussion terminated. And don't you dare call me 'Snape' in that familiar tone, you wretched, impudent whelp." He glared at Harry, but it lacked a certain gravity considering preceding events.

"I could have called you any number of worse things," Harry responded dryly. "And why won't you discuss it? Because you'll enjoy watching me die?" he challenged, eyes hard and penetrating.

Snape didn't look at him. "If you didn't get yourself into such ridiculous circumstances, the issue would not arise," he responded evasively.

"Oh, I like that!" Harry replied heatedly. "You know perfectly well that he's out to get me, I don't go after him! Well, yes, that last time, but I never meant to, and I'm extremely sorry about what I did, and you don't have to keep on rubbing it in!" To his horror, Harry found his voice growing hoarse, and wobbling just a little. He couldn't actually start to cry, could he? Here, and now, in front of Snape? He looked away quickly, biting his lip. "And it's not as though hiding is going to guarantee any sort of safety. He's still going to come after me, you know."

"Undoubtedly," Snape replied quietly. He was silent a long time, and Harry wondered what he was thinking. With a huge sigh, the man said, "I can go back to teaching you Occlumency, I suppose, but that's really it. And I don't see why I should unless you actually expend a little effort this time. I don't see why I should waste my life trying to save yours."

Harry nodded, grateful that Snape hadn't kept the discussion going in the direction it had been. That was unusually tactful of him. "I will make an effort," he promised quietly. "I absolutely will. But I want to learn more than just that. There has to be something more you could teach me. Why can't you teach me all the Defense Against the Dark Arts stuff you would have if you'd gotten the job?" Harry bit his lip, knowing it was a tactless thing to say.

"Albus obviously does not want me teaching you Defense Against the Dark Arts, and so I shall not teach you Defense Against the Dark Arts," Snape replied in a low, resentful voice. "And you ought to be grateful I've even offered the Occlumency, considering the hell you got up to during the last session."

"Erm. Dumbledore doesn't want you teaching it? Why? And--and I am grateful, really, about the Occlumency. It's fantastic of you to offer that." Snape gave him a disgusted look. "But I'm sure that if you asked Dumbledore--"

"Don't be obtuse, Potter!" Snape snapped at him. "How many times do you think I've applied for the Defense position? Do you think Dumbledore would have turned me down without reason?"

"What...reason did he give?" Harry inquired timidly.

"He didn't," Snape replied shortly. "He doesn't really need to, does he." It was not a question. "He, of course, must have a reason, despite the fact that I, myself, am not privy to it. You don't doubt our illustrious leader, do you Potter?" He smirked when Harry shook his head. "I thought not. So you'll just have to trust him, won't you, when he refuses to let me teach the Dark Arts class."

Harry squirmed in his seat for a moment, earning him a scowl from the Potions Master. "But...he didn't specifically say that you couldn't teach me, did he? I mean, he just didn't give you the Defense position so..."

"So? I fail to see the distinction," Severus replied, huffing and blowing a few lanky strands of hair out of his face. His voice dripped with scorn, and Harry was quite sure that if it hadn't been so mellifluous, as well, it could have withered plants.

"So maybe he's just worried about you teaching people like Neville Longbottom," Harry said hurriedly. "Because you scare him stupid, and then he can't learn anything from you. And it would be really bad if he never learned any Defense Against the Dark Arts at all, because that could be really dangerous. And you'd be having to teach Malfoy and the others, and they would learn something, and probably demand to know more, and how could you refuse them, knowing they'd tell their parents about it? Come on, Sna--I mean, Sir. Please at least consider teaching me. I promise I'll work as hard as I can, harder even than I would in my real classes, and you'd be totally in charge of the curriculum, so you wouldn't have to worry about me learning something dangerous. Please? There must be something you think I ought to know."

Snape's eyebrows rose up high at that, and he turned to face the boy, who was giving him a look that could, nauseatingly, be described as puppy dog eyes. He shut his mouth with a grimace. "Do you honestly think you would survive subjecting yourself to my tutelage for the rest of the year, actually making an attempt to follow the instructions given you and obeying my injunctions to the letter, no matter how unpleasant, no matter how demeaning? Do you think you could, in fact, show me the respect I deserve and make an attempt to be less than thoroughly irritating? Would you keep your temper firmly in check, whatever abuse I choose to rain down upon your tender ears? Will you take it seriously? Give up control to me; trust, to me? Hmm? Do you think you are, in fact, capable of any of that?" Snape turned, smirking, to Harry.

"Yes, sir. Absolutely, sir," Harry responded immediately with as much conviction as he could muster. Part of him wanted to know just exactly how much abuse was being suggested, but he refrained from asking. Knowing wouldn't make it any better, and besides, the whole point of saying, 'I'd do anything you said to do,' meant giving up the right to chafe when told to do something you didn't like. Which didn't mean you had to like it. Snape sniffed and gave Harry a skeptical look. "I really will, sir, honest. And I don't mind; I trust you."

Snape seemed to freeze up at that, for a moment. "That's because you're sickeningly naïve, Potter," the man told him in a strange voice. He stared at the blackboard for a long time, avoiding Harry's gaze. Finally he gave Harry a long, inscrutable sideways look. Harry met the man's eyes, willing himself not to back down. He wondered what Snape saw there--the truth? Harry's willingness, stubbornness, desperation, eagerness? That strange, fluttery hope that had awakened in his stomach? Harry's inexplicable yearning to spend time in the man's company? Harry felt any number of images that suited the emotions swirling around in his head, and contemplated each one for a time before suddenly realizing: Oh, hell! The man can do Legilimency! He's in my head! Harry lashed out, wand in hand before he even realized what he was doing. Suddenly, the classroom swam back into focus and he saw Snape, shaking his head, clearing away the last wisps of the Bumbuzling Charm Harry had hit him with. "Sloppy, Potter, very sloppy. You only actually noticed after I'd been in there for about five minutes." Harry didn't say anything, fist clenched tight around his wand. "Oh, very well," Snape finally said, "You seem sincere enough in your desire to do this. But I'm warning you, Potter, you had better not expect to go through this with your usual brezy, slipshod style. If you're going to learn from me, than you had better be prepared to labor at it. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied quietly, still angry from the assault on his mind. "But there's one other thing I also want from you." His voice was so intense that Severus could not help but look at him, raising his eyebrows just a little.

"And just what is that, Mister Potter? Are we already making demands? I'm not going to bother with this charade of an arrangement if you are already finding ways to circumvent the parameters I put forth. Perhaps I ought to give up this absurd notion right now."

"I'm not making any demands," Harry insisted. "I'm only asking for something. You can say no if you want. I certainly couldn't force you to say yes. I just thought that if you felt something was safe for me to learn, it might be safe for others."

"Ah. It all becomes clear now. You want to use what I tell you in your silly little D.A. meetings I've heard so much about. Running out of lessons for the needy brats?" He sneered cynically at Harry.

"No, not that," Harry responded, feeling aggravated. "I don't need to teach anybody anything; I want you to teach them. And I don't need you to teach the whole school. Just Ron and Hermione." He held a hand up at Snape's inarticulate growl. "No, hear me out. They get into almost as much trouble as I do, and they're my best friends, so they're extremely likely to be around if he shows up, wanting me dead. Plus, it's my fault they got detention at all; I was the one who wanted to talk to you so badly I was willing to go to extremes and get you completely enraged over it. Please. Just think about it. I don't want anyone else to die because of me." Harry looked so sad and tired at this, even Snape couldn't bring himself to say anything that could make it worse.

"Oh, very well," Snape repeated acerbically. "Though, dear God, even having one of you around is a hellish punishment. I can't even imagine how bad it could be with all three of you." He pinched the bridge of his nose, and Harry hid a grin.

"That Bumbuzling Charm, that worked pretty well, didn't it?" he said, hoping to leave the subject while the man was still agreeable. "Could we try that again?"

Severus let a hiss of air out through his teeth. "I already regret agreeing to this," he muttered balefully. Standing quickly, he turned to Harry. "Well? You were the one who wanted to do this! Stand up. Wand out." He was glaring just as blackly as he'd ever done when he shouted, "Legilimens!"

Harry felt a dozen memories crowd toward the front of his brain, and he heard himself yelp something. Snape's mind retreated. Harry shook his head, muzzily, as Snape continued to gaze coolly at him. "Only a minor curse this time? The Dark Lord would have eaten you for breakfast," he told him scornfully. "Ready yourself again. Legilimens!" he cried out once more, and Harry suddenly saw himself with Snape, in the same room as they were right now. It was what had happened just last night, wasn't it? Dimly, he saw the events of the evening, saw himself laugh, and the professor's strange expression again. "Expelliarmus!" he heard himself shout out, and the occurances of the previous day receded. When his head was finally clear again, he found Snape looking at him with an enigmatic expression.

"Too slow, Potter. Far too slow. Try it again."

So they practiced, again and again, and Harry was sure he was only getting clumsier as the night wore on and he became even groggier. And Snape was still in such a tetchy mood! Harry still didn't understand why he'd started off so cold, then allowed himself that odd bit of laughing, then went back to being such a miserable, stroppy sod again! It was hot and cold with him tonight. And mostly cold. Why they hell was that? Harry just couldn't seem to get a handle on the man.

Finally, Snape delved into his mind, seeing Harry's memory of Snape just after he'd been mauled by Fluffy, and whatever spell Harry managed knocked them both back a couple of feet. Professor Snape, of course, recovered almost immediately, but Harry tripped over his robes and sat down hard. Wincing (he'd already landed there once tonight, people were going to think Snape was spanking him or something), Harry gave Snape a petulant look.

Snape heaved a great sigh, looking irritated. "Fine, Mister Potter. If you do not have the stamina or fortitude to continue this any longer tonight, I will expect you at the same time tomorrow. You may tell Miss Granger and Mister Weasley to accompany you. I'm sure we'll all enjoy ourselves immensely." He looked sick at the very thought. Harry made his way to the door, grateful to be headed, at long last, to bed. He was just dragging himself away from the class when Snape's frosty, taunting voice floated out to him. "And Mister Potter? Next time, if you insist on wearing your boyfriend's clothes, at least attempt to hem them up. That is, if you don't wish to break your neck."

Harry knew he was brick red once again. He'd been getting giggles and looks and innuendo from people in every house, all day long, and it had all been extremely irksome, but...Harry tried to ignore that it was somehow much worse when it was Snape thinking that Dean Thomas was his boyfriend.