After a quick glance at her co-conspirator, Bulstrode said, "Well . . . you remember how it was at the beginning of the year?" Her face was pinched, as if she had been the focus of his derision and contempt at the time.
"Go on," Severus said instead of answering.
"Well, erm . . ."
"Oh, spit it out, Millicent!" Nott interrupted. "Maybe he can help. Professor, Harry overheard you and Professor Quirrell talking together after our last Quidditch match, and he's sure you're planning to steal the Sorcerer's Stone, either for yourself or on orders from You-Know-Who, who he's also sure is going to try and kill him again."
"Teddy!" Bulstrode gasped. "That's Harry's business! You know he--"
"It's this business which is like to get him killed, too, right?" Nott turned to Severus and glared. "He's been all kinds of out of sorts ever since then, and it's your fault, really."
Severus jumped to his feet, still reeling from the explanation. "My fault!"
Bulstrode nodded. "You've been treating him dreadfully in class, sir. You've ignored Rule One, and made it harder than ever for him to trust you. If he ever can again," she finished softly.
"It's true," said Nott. "He used to enjoy spending time with you, he told me, and playing chess or talking. But now he's just angry."
"Not just angry," Bulstrode said. "He thinks you betrayed him."
Severus stared at the two children. Harry felt betrayed. Over an understandable misunderstanding. Assuming, of course, that these two Slytherins were not lying through their teeth. There were several ways to ascertain their veracity, and Severus made use of one of the easiest and least detectable ways available to him.
With a wordless Legilimens, Severus explored the surface of the Nott boy's thoughts, touching no deeper than the edges. Underneath his adamant expression, the boy was calm, collected, and had quite an organized little head on his shoulders. From the memory Severus saw first thing, he recognized the day that Harry bloody Potter decided that Severus Snape was The Bad Guy. The evening of the game against Hufflepuff, when every Slytherin had been flying high on the five-minute win Harry had given them . . . and he recalled his conversation with Quirrell in the woods, or enough of it to understand the boy's reaction anyway. And now, too, he knew what Dumbledore had been alluding to, as if the Old Coot could not have just told him out right and spared the two of them a lot of pain and angst. Damn him.
And damn his own pride, for thinking the worst of Harry automatically, even if it was natural for him to think ill of Potters in general. No wonder Harry did not want to spend the summer with him, if he thought Snape was a thief or worse, out to murder him. He should have known, after months spent in Harry's company, that the Boy Who Lived to Give Him Grief would not have openly disdained him for no good reason. And betrayal, or the appearance of it, that would be the greatest reason of all for disdain from this boy, who had lived every day for the last ten years feeling betrayed by his "family," who did not care for him. And who had spent the last few months feeling betrayed by the wizarding world for not taking an active interest in his welfare excepting as far as he could do things for them. Never caring about Harry for himself.
Now he was in a quandary. How to let the boy know he was mistaken about his Potions Professor's motives without getting into the history of his own involvement with the Dark Lord? That was nothing he wanted to shed light on. How could he do it without having the boy find out the worst about him: what he had done years ago that had gotten Lily and James Potter killed. Then Harry would be shunning him for a different reason, a valid reason. He needed . . . he wanted to protect the boy and take him out of his relatives' care, but to do that, Harry needed to trust him. It would take a certain amount of finesse . . .
"Er, Professor?" The girl in front of him coughed politely. "You aren't really trying to steal the Stone, are you, sir?"
Severus stared at her with cold, expressionless eyes, and let her own flushing skin advise her of his innocence. He did not bother to ask the two of them how they knew -- now -- what the hidden treasure was which Potter had confessed to knowing about months ago. He would put money on Hagrid's loose lips every time. It didn't matter, in the end.
"Are we done, sir?" the boy had the temerity to ask.
"Almost," he snapped. He held up one finger to caution them. "You must tell me -- I want your word -- if Mister Potter gets it into his head to do anything about the Sorcerer's Stone. I know all about your little night time mission to the tower with a crate full of Norwegian Ridgeback," he kept in a sour smile as both sets of eyes widened at his words, "so don't try to deny he's capable of harebrained schemes. I want your oath as Slytherins that you will inform me immediately if Potter tries anything foolish." He had seen too much Gryffindor courage (read: stupidity) in the boy's Slytherin green eyes to ever assume Harry would just let the Stone get stolen out from under him. "Promise me."
"Yes, sir," Nott said promptly, and Snape immediately wrote him off.
Bulstrode, on the other hand, hesitated before agreeing, and he was almost convinced she would hold to her word.
"Excellent. That is all."
The children escaped his office with alacrity and Severus went back to his deliberation as to how he could reconcile with Harry without making it obvious the boy's friends had informed on him. A tricky puzzle at best, but he comforted himself with the knowledge that he had several weeks left till the end of the school year. Exams were starting in a couple days, so he could wait until they were done before approaching Harry -- no sense in making final exams more nerve wracking than normal for the boy.
--HPSSHPSSHPSSHPSS--
On the last day of exams, Severus was coming down the central staircase, thinking about Harry Potter, when who should nearly crash into him but this same boy.
"Good afternoon," Snape said smoothly. The boy stared at him as if seeing an Inferius. He seemed agitated, wringing his hands together. "You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he said, smiling a little to put the boy at ease.
"I was --" Harry began, then trailed off as if he had no idea what to say.
Severus was struck by a sudden realization. Harry's behavior was far too anxious for a boy who had just finished his exams. He was near panic; it was in his eyes, and Severus had an inkling as to why. On his way to the staff room to meet with Minerva because Albus had been called away to London suddenly, Severus knew, somehow, that Harry knew about Albus, too. "You want to be more careful," he said in warning. "Hanging around like this, people will think you're up to something."
Harry flushed, but turned to go outside.
Snape called him back. He needed to make sure that Harry didn't do anything as foolish as try to stop a thief who was likely working for the Dark Lord. The boy could be killed, or worse if he got involved, and Severus could not allow that under any circumstances. He needed to stay within the safety of Slytherin's walls tonight, and every night, until Quirrell's connection to the Dark Lord was exposed and he was safely locked away. The only way Severus could think of at the moment to keep Harry from getting in trouble was to say, "Be warned, Potter -- any more nighttime wanderings and I will personally make sure your last days here are quite miserable. Good day to you."
He strode off in the direction of the staff room, not looking to see where Harry went. He did catch a glimpse of the Bloody Baron, far enough away from the boy that he did not seem to be hovering -- and perhaps Harry did not even realize he was still being trailed -- but still close enough to protect him, if it came to that. Good. That was one less worry. At least the Baron would let him know if Harry tried to be some Gryffindor hero.