The Fallen

Chapter 2: The Fallen

They sat in a cold, uncomfortable silence as Harry surveyed Snape’s personal chambers with a morbid interest. It was surprisingly more welcoming than the rest of Snape’s dungeon haven, but still not cozy by any means. No wonder this guy was so stiff all the time! The couch in the sitting area was a dark red leather, which surprised Harry, for he thought it would be green to honor Slytherin. Yet, as he looked around the room, there were hardly any colors, excepting the well-shined wood and some books. The couch sat before a large wooden table and crackling fireplace that seemed to radiate almost no warmth in the cold space. The two sat on opposite sides of the couch, trying desperately to stay as far apart as possible.

Harry was frankly quite surprised that Snape had let him in so quickly. He was expecting the pissy professor to leave him out there at the mercy of the Slytherins all night. Why had he let him in like that? It was almost, not really, but almost a nice thing to do; in a way.

Snape, who was brooding on the other end of the couch, looked around grumpily and his eyes settled on a large bottle of dragon’s blood. He was wondering the exact same thing as Harry. Why had he let the brat in? He could have just left him to fend for himself all night.

“Professor?” Harry asked.

Snape scowled. “What is it Potter?”

“It doesn’t exactly work if we just sit here, you know,” Harry said, “The getting along thing.”

“I never said I wanted to do this, Potter!” Snape spat. Harry didn’t waver. “If it were up to me, you wouldn’t even be at this bloody school! But as it is, the Headmaster always seems to be on your side.” He bit the inside of his cheek to stop from saying something bad about the Dumbledore.

“Yeah, well that’s not the point!” Harry said, starting to get heated up, “The point is, this is going to last forever if we don’t just get along. I’m sick of all this crap! I’m sick of being humiliated. I will keep on coming back here until that doesn’t happen anymore. Even if it takes forever.”

“You’re not coming to my chambers every night Potter,” Snape replied dangerously, “Not only do I have work to do, but you have schoolwork and your little friends as well. I’m sure you don’t want to be down here any more than I want you to be down here.”

“Well what do you suggest we do then? Give up? I’m not giving up, I won’t!” Harry’s fists were clenched.

“Fine, Potter,” Snape growled acrimoniously through gritted teeth, “But unless you want to be eaten alive by my House, I suggest you come up with a more preferable method, although none of this is very preferable.”

Harry sat back and crossed his arms indignantly, looking into the fire thoughtfully. “Yeah, I guess…”

Snape’s eyebrows rose slightly. Had Potter just agreed with him? Well, there was a first time for everything.

“I dunno,” Harry mumbled, “I’ll think of something. But right now I have a Charms essay to write, so I guess…. I’ll see you later then.” He didn’t look at Snape as he left. It was almost as if he was trying to avoid eye contact.

Snape frowned and did not reply. So Potter was really serious about this? Strange. After all these years, had he finally just snapped? All the fame must have gone to his head. He probably thought that he could move the moon with a wave of his wand. But then again, maybe he could.

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Harry had spent the entire night thinking of a way to pull through with his plan. He refused to give up, that just wouldn’t do. He didn’t want to be made a fool of any longer. It ended now, even if he had to befriend the greasy git potions professor; and this time he had a better, subtler idea.

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Snape sat pensively in his chair, watching as the students loudly congregated in the dungeons. Potter and his two tumors, Granger and Weasley, were one of the last to join them, but that was no different than any other day.

The students took their seats and were silent as soon as Snape stood. He smirked, liking the feel of power over the teens. “Today,” he said smoothly, “You will take you mid-term written exam.” The class groaned. “Yes, yes,” Snape continued, “It has two-hundred questions, so you best get started. It is due at the end of the period, and-- no, Miss Granger, there is no physical activity. This is a written exam, not a demonstrative one.” Hermoine lowered her hand bashfully. “So,” He waved his wand and the papers flew across the room, landing on each table. “You may begin.”

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Snape had presumed that Harry would stay after class and divulge to him his next ingenious idea for ‘bonding’, or at least amends, but he turned in his test with all the rest of the students and left for lunch, not even looking at the bemused Professor.

Snape thought for a moment. Perhaps the boy had not yet figured out new means of acquiescence.

Then it hit him. Of course.

He sifted through the pile of tests, and, sure enough, a folded piece of parchment was attached to Potter’s. Snape sighed grimly and unfolded the parchment, reading its contents slowly.

Dear Professor,

I’ve figured out a way to do this. It’s easy enough, really, and no one else would know about it, so Slytherins wouldn’t try to kill me and stuff like that. We could just write letters. I know it sound stupid, but I could hand them in with my assignments, and you could write back when you return our work after you grade it.

Don’t automatically say no or anything. I think it’s a good idea. That way you don’t even have to see me. It’s perfect. You don’t have to write a lot. Just… I don’t know, whatever you want, I guess. So there’s my idea. Do it or don’t, I just think it would work.

Sincerely,

Harry Potter

Snape sighed, laying the letter down on his desk and leaning back, stretching slightly. Damn, those robes were uncomfortable! He rubbed his forehead lightly, contemplating the situation. Well, they had to do something, right? He supposed writing letters wasn’t all that bad; but if Potter expected him to write long ones, he had something else coming. There was no way in HELL he was going to write long, heartfelt letter to the brat. Wait… why did that comment sound so familiar?

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“Here are your tests back,” Snape muttered lethargically to the class. He had gotten little sleep, as he had stayed up to replenish the potions stock for the infirmary.

Harry picked up his test leisurely, not really caring what his grade was. He already knew he had failed. A small piece of parchment caught his eye.

Could it be? Had Snape actually written back?

Harry couldn’t stop his heart from beating a little more quickly as he open the letter. He hadn’t thought Snape would actually do it.

Dear Mr. Potter,

I find your idea to be suitable, and will commence to reply as long as you write me; but do not expect long letters, or you will be sadly disappointed. I believe I shall let you choose the topic of discussion, if you so wish.

Regards,
Professor Snape

Harry frowned. The letter was short, but it’s not as if he really cared anyway. Snape had agreed to write, and that was something. Maybe they could actually be civil to each other after all. So he had to choose the topic of discussion, huh? Okay. Harry pondered for a moment. What should they talk about? Something light, probably. Quidditch? He wasn’t sure if Snape was into that, but he might as well find out. He took out a scrap of parchment and scribbled down his note.

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I’m glad you accepted. So I have to choose what to talk about? Fine, how about Quidditch? I’m not sure if you like it or anything. If you don’t, just tell me and I’ll think of something else.

-Potter

Snape studied the note for a moment. It was certainly much less formal than the previous ones, but he supposed Potter was not one to upkeep formalities, so he shrugged it off and picked up a quill, scratching down his reply.

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Potter,

I do not dislike Quidditch. In fact, I’m rather fond of it. What is your favorite team?

-Snape

Harry stiffened slightly. Not only had Snape signed the note almost casually, but he had actually asked Harry a question about what he liked. That was… odd. Harry shivered a little and took out his quill.

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I like the Wasps, but Ron seems to fancy the Cannons. Personally, I think the team is raving mad. They can’t even fly straight! But to each his own, I guess. What about you?

-Potter

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Potter,

I would expect Weasley to like a team such as that. They’re about as clumsy as he is, or perhaps even Longbottom. I too prefer the Wasps. They are more precise and direct in their game. They also employ fair play, which I rather admire in a Quidditch team.

-Snape

Harry raised his eyebrows. Snape into fair play? Now that was something no one would ever believe.

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I don’t think anyone’s as clumsy as Neville, Professor, but that team’s pretty bloody close. I’m surprised that you support fairness in Quidditch, yet the Slytherin team plays anything but a fair game. You have to admit that. Everyone knows it.

-Potter

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I’m afraid you’ve got me there. If you ever tell anyone this, I’ll rip your tongue out and use it in a potion, but I know perfectly well that Slytherin cheats constantly. If you haven’t noticed, Slytherins aren’t the most virtuous of the houses. If anything, we are the most conniving.

-Snape

That was strange. Snape hadn’t started this letter off with ‘Potter’. Harry shook his head and smiled at the fact that Snape had just admitted that Slytherins cheated. That was something that he never thought Snape would have confessed to even if his life depended on it. Chuckling softly, he picked up his quill and wrote down his reply. This wasn’t enjoyable, per se, but the writing of notes was becoming… familiar, somehow. It was a comfortable routine. So comfortable, in fact, that Harry didn’t even notice when he signed his first name at the end of the letter.

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Snape sighed heavily, walked stiffly into his chambers, and strode over to his desk, falling down in a agitated heap onto his chair. The day had been a long one, and he was ready to relax, if you can call grading relaxing.

He saw Harry’s assignment on top and felt a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he opened the note that was, once again, attached. Realizing he had been smiling, however slightly, Snape recomposed himself and set his mouth back into the usual thin line. It wasn’t that he enjoyed Potter’s letters, not at all. It was merely that it was something different. It was someone actually talking to him, asking him questions and casually chatting with him. He had never had anyone like that, and although he would never admit it, he always seemed to get a little more relaxed and comfortable when he read Potter’s notes.

He leaned back and stretched his legs out, reading the note quietly.

That’s true, but I don’t think that is Slytherin’s only trait. They’re also cunning and somewhat devious.

Did I tell you that I was almost sorted into Slytherin? It’s true. The sorting hat wanted to put me there, but I asked not to be, so he put me in Gryffindor.

I suppose that if I had been in Slytherin, I probably would have done quite well. If it wasn’t for Malfoy. He seems to genuinely hate me. I don’t hate him, but I can’t stand how he treats Hermoine and Ron. I don’t care how anyone treats me, but when they insult my friends, they cross a line.

Those two were the first people who were ever there for me, besides Hagrid, and so I feel like I owe it to them to protect them. That, and I guess I have some hero complex because of the whole “Boy Who Lived” thing, but I never really wanted that title.

How is it that I’m so famous for something I don’t even remember?

Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to ramble. I’ll shut up now.

-Harry

Snape’s eyes narrowed in confusion. Thoughts were racing haphazardly through his head. Har--Potter had almost been a Slytherin? And the part about how he only cared about his friends, not himself; was Potter really that selfless? Did he truly not want the fame of being The Boy Who Lived? That was ridiculous. He watched for years as the boy was surrounded by friends and followers. He couldn’t possibly dislike that! Snape grabbed his quill and incredulously wrote down his answer.

And wait a moment, had Potter just signed his first name?

The funny thing was, Snape was so surprised by Harry’s open letter, that he didn’t realize when he, himself signed not as ‘Snape’, but ‘Severus’.

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Oh my! It seems our boys are beginning to get more comfortable with each other! But don’t be fooled. Even though this chapter has gone over the span of a week or more, they’ll take much longer to get closer. Tee hee hee! I’m so evil.