People are Strange

It was dawn. Light shone through the window as one Harry Potter awoke. It was early. Too early. Harry knew that he would be unable to go back to sleep. Morbid dreams of dark specters and shrill screams haunted him while he slept so he tried to avoid sleeping as much as was possible. All of his dorm mates were still slumbering. Ron was scratching his head in his sleep, a bewildered look on his face. Harry suppressed the urge to laugh. Neville was snoring loudly. Dean was muttering something about West Ham football and Seamus was drooling all over his pillow.

Harry arose from his bed, gathered his shower things and made his way to the loo. The marble titled floor felt cold on his feet as he walked to his usual shower stall. He turned on the shower and regulated the temperature of the water. He stripped off his pajamas and got into the shower. Harry hissed in pleasure as the hot water poured over his body. He got his hair nice and wet. He picked up a very familiar looking bright pink bottle of shampoo, opened it and poured a small amount onto his palm. It smelled wonderful. He massaged it into his long hair, his senses aroused at the striking smell of roses in full bloom. Harry had made sure that he snatched back his bottle of shampoo before Snape took it somewhere and set it on fire in a rage. Harry giggled at the thought of Snape actually shampooing his hair. But shampooing meant that he was in the shower, which meant that he was having stray thoughts about a naked Snape.

Grabbing a bar so of soap Harry began to move the soap over his body getting a nice lather going, trying to block indecent thoughts from his mind. He had of course wondered before what lay under Snape’s black robes. His head, a bit of his neck, and his hands were the only visible part of Snape. Well, Harry had seen a bit of Snape’s leg back in 1st year but he didn’t want to think on that grisly sight. The rest of the man was covering in who knows how many layers of black attire. Though the fashion of the white cuffs Snape sported were a bit stylish. Wait, Harry thought, why am I thinking about Snape?! Was hell freezing over? Harry mentally berated himself remembering the previous day’s events quite clearly down to the tingling feeling that spread over Harry when Snape had breathed on his neck.

Harry furiously rinsed the shampoo out of his hair and the soap off his body. Walking out of the stall Harry grabbed a clean, crisp white towel from the rack and began drying his soaking hair. He stood in front of the mirror busying himself with grooming his hair. He did a Drying and Straightening Charm on his hair, brushed his teeth, dressed and found his way to the Gryffindor Common Room. He sat in his favorite armchair by the ever crackling fire and hummed a little something to himself wondering exactly what time it was. The heat from the shower and the fact that he had been out late last night caught up with him. He drowsily closed his eyes. Before he knew it he was asleep. He was awoken by Ron saying, “Harry, it’s time for breakfast mate. Wake up.”

Harry murmured, “Oh, must have fallen asleep. What time is it?” Harry cracked his bleary eyes open and saw Ron’s face looking irritated and sleepy.

Ron replied, “Quarter till 8. I wish we didn’t have bloody Potions first thing in the godforsaken morning. Snape probably had something to do with the schedule. I bet he decided that the best time to torture Gryffindors was the ass crack of dawn. I brought your bag down.” Ron gave him his school bag. Hermione came down the girl’s staircase looking not a bit tired.

“I’m famished. Let’s go down to breakfast.” Hermione said. She was obviously not mad at Ron anymore. Thank God, thought Harry. He had had enough of their bickering to last him a lifetime.

They filed out the portrait hole along with the other Gryffindors and down to the Great Hall for their morning meal. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat in their usual seats at the Gryffindor table and began to eat. Harry looked around the Great Hall at the sea of people chewing their food sleepily as usual. Harry’s eyes raked over the Hufflepuff table and sure enough he caught sight of Miss. Harper who looked at him straight in the face and...winked! Harry looked down quickly at his plate of half eaten food. When he looked back up Miss. Harper was talking to Justin Flinch-Fletchley as if nothing had even happened. Maybe Harry was delirious.

Harry looked up at the staff table and saw Snape’s dark personage. He was talking to Professor Flitwick. Harry was worried. Terribly worried. What if Snape had told this Sarah person that he was sleeping with Malfoy? What if she was just now telling it to Justin who then tells it to this person and so on? It would be the Grapevine from Hell.

“Harry, why aren’t you eating?” Hermione asked. Harry’s appetite had vanished and he pushed his plate away from him. Even the sight of the food made him feel sick.

“I’m not hungry anymore. Anyway, Ron’s eaten enough for the both of us.” Harry smiled, trying to look convincing. Hermione didn’t say anything but looked disbelieving. The bell rang just then and their conversation was ended abruptly. He dreaded going to Potions. Harry walked with Ron, Hermione, and Neville down to the dungeons. To Hell. Neville looked as though he was going to be sick; Snape had that effect on the poor boy. Right then, Harry was sure he was looking every bit as sick as Neville.

When the trio entered the classroom they noticed that Snape was nowhere to be seen. Harry let out a sigh of relief. Maybe he was sick! But remember last time Snape possibly being sick was brought up? Not a particularly tasteful memory. They took their seats at the back of the classroom. Far back. The rest of the class was talking. Harry overheard Seamus say to Dean, “Maybe ol’ Snape’s having a bad hair day and refuses to be seen in public.” Harry suppressed a giggle and Ron burst out in laughter. Hermione remained impassive.

Unexpectedly Snape banged open the door and strode through it with a, “Silence!” The class immediately stopped talking. Snape commanded that type of reaction. Harry shivered. Snape began writing on the blackboard. The class inaudibly groaned. Notes. Snape loved notes. Naturally, the class hated them.

“Every potion has several steps in its making. To remind yourself of these steps and ingrain them into your thick skulls you must copy instructions for their brewing and keep them for future reference.” Snape said to the class in Harry’s first Potions class at Hogwarts.

Turning around sharply Snape said, “Today you will be brewing a variation of the basic Sleeping Potion. It is more complex than the simple one you’ve done before. Follow the directions exactly. I don’t want any explosions or other nonsense. If you have any skill whatsoever at Potion making you will have little difficulty with this. You have the rest of the period. Work with those at your tables. Begin.”

Neville gulped. When Snape had said the word ‘explosions’ a piercing gaze was sent his way adding to Neville’s already evident nervousness. There was no need to worry however because Neville was seated beside Hermione. Harry and Ron began working on the Potion. Harry was determined not to look at Snape and started dutifully chopping up snake intestines with his eyes dead set on the task at hand. Ron hated Potions which was evident by his less than noteworthy grades but it seemed that this term that he was attempting to do well. Harry thought that it had something to do with Hermione. Her incessant chatter about how Ron should “apply himself” had obviously worn the boy down. It had certainly worn Harry down long ago.

Harry stirred the softly simmering potion counterclockwise while Ron shredded fresh chamomile into the cauldron. As the class came to a close Snape walked around the room accessing how each pair had done. Like he always did; Snape was a man of tendency. Never changing. Harry’s breath hitched when he heard Snape approach he and Ron’s desk. Harry looked up and saw Snape looking at their potion, checking for consistency, hue, smell and other things. Snape appraised the potion for awhile and then looked at the pair; his eyes lingered on Harry. Harry could have sworn that Snape gave him a little smile before the bell rung. The potion was perfect. Harry couldn’t remember feeling so proud of his self.

The bell rang without further ado. Harry got his things together and assisted Ron in cleaning up their area. Before walking out the door he gazed at Snape who had his wand out and was vanishing the potions. Harry couldn’t help but smile when he saw that Snape’s wand was never directed at his and Ron’s cauldron. The dream team then made their way up to dinner leaving the cold dungeons behind.

Severus Snape couldn’t believe it. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley produced a faultless potion! It had to be some sort of conspiracy. Snape bottled it and took it up to the hospital wing. It saved him the inconvenience of brewing another batch himself. Madame Pomphrey was delighted. Her stores of the potion were getting rather low.

On his way back to the dungeons Snape decided that he would not go to dinner that night. No one would miss him. He stalked along the corridors of the dungeon finally ending at his office where Professor S. Snape glinted in silver letters on the door. Opening the door with a flick of his wand he strolled in and sat down heavily in his desk chair. It had been a long day. Some 2nd year Hufflepuffs had put the rat tails in before the newt eyes while creating a Shrinking Solution; it wasn’t pretty. Then a 3rd year Gryffindor sent a piece of balled paper flying into the back of his head. On said paper was a crude, moving wizarding drawing of Snape running from a bottle of shampoo. Everyone had obviously heard about Potter’s little joke. After threatening and questioning the students about who drew the hideous thing Snape was in a foul mood indeed. He had not found the culprit.

After all that Snape had been late for his last period of the day which contained Potter because he had needed to take a piss. Bloody hell. What a day; it was sad because it was just a day like any other in the life of Severus Snape. The Potions master sighed. Potter was now too timid to look at him. If this turn of events had been under any other circumstances Snape would have been delighted. A knock at the door stirred him out of his reverie.

“Enter.” He said cryptically.

Sarah entered his office. She wasted no time in directing her wand at the fireplace, igniting a blaze. She studied her Professor’s face.

“You look like hell.” She stated. Snape snorted a laugh and told her all about his day minus the Potter situation, of course.

“Well, my day was not quite as impressive. Justin still seems to be under the delusion that I want to have his children. Following me around all day trying to make pretty conversation.” She said disgustedly. Snape listened to all this while sipping at a glass of fine scotch and playing with his silver cufflinks. They were a birthday gift from Sarah. They were quite beautiful, pieces of the most delicate sliver twisted into snakes. And in the hollows of the snake’s eyes were emeralds that shone now in the firelight. He wore them everyday; they were the best present he had ever received.

“Severus, may I ask you a question?” Sarah ventured. Snape nodded.

“Have you ever had a lover?” She asked in a rush of breath. It was as though she had been meaning to ask this for ages but couldn’t find the tact.

Snape was taken aback by the question. After a moment’s slience he answered, “Yes, once.” There was a hint of wavering pain in his voice.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” Said Sarah hurriedly, walking closer to the seated man.

“We met here at Hogwarts. I admired him. I gave him my virginity, my soul. I loved him and he led me down a path of darkness which I willingly followed. He betrayed me. I suppose his love for me didn’t go so far as to guarantee loyalty.” Severus sighed. Sarah knew about loyalty, being a Hufflepuff. Her eyes flashed.

“Malfoy?” Sarah said the name like a curse. Snape nodded again. This little conversation had stirred up something else he had been thinking about since he found out about Draco and Harry. Draco was using Harry just as Lucius had used him. Like father, like son. In the Malfoy family there was no exception to this rule.

Maybe that was why Snape had tried to seduce Harry? Some strange impulse to have someone who could emphasize with him; someone with whom to share his age-old pain? Somehow it made sense. A creak signaled the opening of the door. Sarah was leaving.

“Professor, it does.” She said, standing just outside the door.

“It does what?” asked Snape bemused.

“It does make sense.” She replied. With that she walked away.


A/N: This fic was originally supposed to be PWP but I got so involved in the relationship between Sarah and Snape that it became riddled with plot. I am not quite satisfied with this chapter; I've been debating on whether to post it or not. So, here it is. Let me know what you think; I think it's gotten a bit out of hand but I'd still like to finish it.