Better Be Slytherin!

*Chapter 37*: Chapter 37

Better Be Slytherin! – Chapter 37

By jharad17

Disclaimer: None of this is mine! Eh, I'll get over it.

Warnings: language, references to mild sexual abuse

Note to viewers: This story (of Harry's first year in Hogwarts) will not be slash.

A/N: Looks like, from the informal poll I took last chapter, that about 90 percent of you are firmly pro-TimeTravel fic, either slashy or non-slashy, with about 10 percent giving the idea a thumbs down for various reasons. So, um, yeah, since my country of origin is democratic and all (at least for the time being; by next year, who knows) I shall bow to the majority opinion. Besides, I think my bunny is a decent one. It will be a week or two before I get the first chapter written, though. In the meantime, enjoy this little number. Onwards!

Previously on Better Be Slytherin:

It was time Harry had someone he could count on for good. Like a father, who he could lean on and believe in, and trust. Severus would make it happen. He owed it to Lily. He wanted it for Harry, and for himself.

"It's all right. I'm here," he whispered into the boy's hair as the sobs slowly abated and turned to occasional sniffs and hitched breaths. "I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you."

Harry heard the words that Snape said, but like the words that had been whispered to him over the last few minutes, or hours, or years, since he started bawling like a baby, they didn't make any sense. He finally seemed to be getting control back, though, and that's what mattered.

Once he'd gotten his breathing firmly back to near-normal, he dared to lift his head and face the music. What had he been thinking, to throw himself at the professor like that? Snape must think him a complete idiot, an utter prat, and a unbelievable . . .

Wait. What was he saying?

". . . s'all right, Harry. You're safe. I won't let anything happen to you."

What was that supposed to mean? No one had ever said such things to him. He cleared his throat. "Professor?"

The hand smoothing over his head stilled -- and he had never felt such a thing in his entire life, but God, did it feel nice, and soothing. Gentle, like someone actually wanted to feel better, like they cared about him, which he knew was a lie, of course. It was all so surreal.

Fingers then, under his chin, lifted his face to meet the professor's. Harry stared into dark, fathomless eyes, then looked quickly away. "Sorry," he said, his throat still clogged with tears and mucus from his running nose. He tried not to look at the professor's snot and tear dampened shoulder. He was in enough trouble already. "Sorry, sir."

"There is no need to apologize," Snape said in the same gentle tone he'd been using, and did not let go of Harry's chin.

"But I . . . I mean, you're . . ." He gestured helplessly at the mess on Snape's robe, but he would not meet the professor's eyes no matter what. He brought a hand up, cautiously, to wipe his nose. "I shouldn't've cried. Sorry."

"Harry . . ."

The tone Snape continued using was so unfamiliar to him that he had absolutely no idea how to respond to it. Instead, he stood up suddenly, pushing himself awkwardly away from the professor and to his feet. The feel of his wand in his hand gave him some semblance of calm. When Gaius had called, "Expelliarmus," in his face, seconds after he'd drawn the length of holly, he'd known he was in serious trouble.

But he could not, would not think about that now.

"Sorry, sir," he said again, because that's what was done, when he had been bad or wrong or insolent or whatever. Apologize, again and again, and maybe he would escape the cupboard. Feeling suddenly cold, and horribly exposed, he cast about for his tee-shirt and spied it where Gaius had dropped it, after so casually taking it from him, despite Harry's attempt to make him stop. Harry shivered again, remembering, and then pushed those memories away. Hard.

Just as Harry started for the shirt, Snape stood, and it looked like he was reaching to touch Harry's shoulder when the door to the lavatory banged open. Harry jumped, and, not even thinking, hid himself behind the professor.

Millicent stood in the doorway, looking furious, though Harry could only barely see her from his hiding place behind Snape. "Harry!" she yelled. "Do you want to tell me why that bastard Gaius just came out of here? I thought I told you--" She seemed to realize, all at once, that Professor Snape was also in the lavatory and stopped short. "Oh," she said, much more calmly, though her face was flushed, or perhaps it had already been. "Hello, Professor."

Snape inclined his head. "Miss Bulstrode."

"Is . . ." She scanned the room, and stared at where Harry was, though fortunately, she could not meet his eyes. Harry wasn't sure he could ever look her -- or anyone -- in the eye again. "Is Harry okay?"

Instead of answer, or scream at her for yelling and cursing in front of him, Snape turned slightly, so he could gaze down at Harry, who turned his face up like he knew he should, but, again, kept his gaze cast down. Then, softly, Snape said, "He is not . . . injured, at this time. Please return to your common room."

Goosebumps had broken out all over Harry's chest and arms, and he hugged himself tightly, shoulders hunching up for better protection.

"But sir, I--"

"Now, Miss Bulstrode," the professor said, in a tone that brooked no insolence.

But Millie opened her mouth to protest again, and so Harry leapt in to save her. "I - I'm okay, Millie. Please, j-just go."

He could feel her study him, even if he was mostly hidden, and he tried to project a sense of confidence, to let her know he was fine, but he had no idea how to do that anymore.

Slowly, she said, "All right. But Harry, please, please come talk to me."

He gave a short, jerky nod that he wasn't even sure she saw, and then she was gone, and he was alone with the professor again. Immediately, he darted for his tee-shirt and yanked it on in harsh, uncoordinated movements. His fingers fumbled, tucking it into his trousers, and he dared not look up even once, even though he knew the professor had turned his back, to give him some little privacy. He was extremely grateful.

"Thank you, sir," he said, when he was back to rights. He sidled toward the door to the lav. "I have . . . I've got an essay to finish. For Herbology."

"Harry . . ." the man said again, and Harry was sure he had never heard his given name from an adult so many times in a week, never mind just in this past hour. "You need to come with me to see the Headmaster."

Harry shook his head. No. No way. He was not about to tell what happened, not now, not ever. He didn't even want to think about it. Besides, all that would come of it would be more hurt, for him. And for Hermione. He kept moving toward the door, slowly, knowing if he went too fast, Snape would catch him out.

"I'm sorry," the professor said, and the words were too weird, on top of everything, that Harry stopped and glanced at him. That was a mistake, he realized, as he was caught by the man's expression . . . which really did look apologetic. But why??

"I'm sorry. You have no choice. This incident must be reported."

"No. No, I can't!" He stumbled back a step or two, to get away.

"It's the only way he will be punished," the professor said firmly, and Harry knew he meant Gaius, but at least, he was spared hearing the boy's name.