Severus fidgeted nervously. He hated social evenings. He was terrible at them, not to mention wholly inexperienced. Dumbledore had forced him to attend a few "parent-teacher" social events early in his tenure, but after he had reduced several parents to tears with his cutting remarks about their children's scholastic prowess, upbringing, and likely career path, even Albus had given up. Snape was given special dispensation to avoid all events that were likely to bring him into direct contact with parents, and so his social calendar for the past decade had been largely confined to Death Eater meetings. Spying and socializing were a poor mix, and even his fellow Death Eaters had quickly learned not to invite him over for dinner.
As a result, he felt like a gauche teenager at these things. What was he supposed to do? Was it his role as guest to make conversation, or the Weasleys as his hosts? Once again, he envied Lucius Malfoy's effortless savoir faire. Say what you would about pureblood bigots, at least they all had exceptional manners. Not that they often chose to use them, but at least they could.
Dear Pureblood Monthly, he thought, what advice would you have for a half-blood Death Eater (retired) who is invited to dinner at the home of blood traitors and finds himself with The Boy Who Lived glued to his knee? Do I use a fish, butter, or steak knife to surgically remove the brat? Is it considered poor form to cut my own throat rather than suffer through such an excruciating evening? If not, which knife do I use? Is suicide considered more or less of a faux pas if you wait until after the meal has been served?
Snape cleared his throat. He had to say something. Anything. He glanced wildly about the room, seeking inspiration, and realized to his horror that in his nervousness, he had absently been patting the little monster.
Harry relaxed with a happy sigh as the professor gently rubbed his back. His muscles were still sore from all the Quidditch, and then he had tensed up again, worrying about the Weasleys. It was awfully nice of the professor to realize this and help calm him down. And he was doing it in front of the Weasleys, even! He wasn't hiding how he felt or pretending one thing in public and doing something else in private. Wow. Harry was really lucky.
"So, Harry, how are you enjoying Hogwarts?" Mr Weasley asked, realizing that his normally voluble wife was, for once, shocked speechless by the sight in front of her.
"It's brilliant!" Harry replied, smiling broadly.
"What's been your favorite part so far?"
Harry glanced over his shoulder. "Meeting Professor Snape," he answered honestly, turning back to his best mate's dad.
Arthur did his best to ignore the choking noises which emanated from both his wife and guest at Harry's reply. "Really? And why is that?" he continued, feeling that he was dropping ever further down the rabbit hole into some topsy-turvy alternate universe.
"'Cause he's been really great," Harry explained. "He's taking care of me now, you know."
"Harry, love, wouldn't you like it if we took care of you?" Molly asked feebly. She kept her eyes on Harry's face, ignoring both the deadly glare from Snape and the disapproving frown from Arthur.
Harry shrank back against Professor Snape's chest. "UmтАж" He wasn't sure how to answer. He didn't want to insult his best mate's family, and he did want to visit them a lot тАУ probably тАУ but he didn't want to lose Professor Snape either. Even if the Weasleys explained to the professor how the whole parenting thing should work, and stopped him from being so lenient, Harry still liked having someone so big and scary looking out for him.
Molly shook herself. Harry's body language said it all and, Merlin help her, Severus Snape had bristled with protectiveness for the boy from the moment he'd come through the floo. Obviously her preconceptions had been wrong. Harry was тАУ amazingly enough тАУ happy with the dour man, and she'd be damned if she would permit anyone, even herself, to interfere with his choice. Of course, if it ever changed, then she'd be the first one to snatch the boy away, but for now, it was clear that Harry was where he needed to be.
"Well," she forced herself to inject cheer into her voice, "even if you don't want us to take care of you all the time, maybe you'll still be willing to visit us part of the time?" She looked at him hopefully. "And of course, Professor Snape can come along whenever he wishes."
Harry looked back at the professor again, seeking reassurance. If Snape was there too, that was different. He smiled at Molly. "That'd be nice."
She sighed in relief. Then gasped. "My starters!" She bolted for the kitchen.
"Harry, other than Potions," Arthur said with a wink, "what have been your most favorite and least favorite classes so far?"
"I think transfiguration is really hard," Harry admitted, "even if it is taught by Professor McGonagall. She doesn't give her own House any special treatment," he said, glancing slyly at Professor Snape.
Arthur laughed, well aware from his sons of Snape's preferential treatment of Slytherins. "Do you think that having your child in your class will be easy or hard, Severus?"
Snape choked again. His child? Had Weasley actually said that? He wasn't so far gone as to miss how Harry straightened up proudly at the question. The brat was now eyeing him with тАУ good grief! тАУ a downright proprietary air.
"I have already put Mr Potter on notice that I expect a high standard of behavioral and scholastic excellence from my ward," he finally managed to get out, though his usual sneer was marred by the tremor in his voice.
Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "He's awfully strict," he told Arthur, leaning forward and lowering his voice confidingly. "I already owe him like 700 lines, and it hasn't even been a whole week of school yet!"
"I'm sitting right here." Snape poked the little brat irritably. How dare he refer to him in the third person! To his further annoyance, Harry giggled and Arthur chuckled. Obviously he needed to poke harder. Or maybe a good strong pinchтАж
"So what's your favorite class?" Arthur continued, pleased at how Harry was relaxing. At least raising six boys made it easy to strike up a conversation with one.
"I like flying! We had our first class this afternoon," Harry answered, his eyes shining. Molly, who had just entered with small plates of savouries, smiled as she saw his animation. She put down one plate in front of the child, just as he explained, with a guilty look at Snape, "I got into trouble though."
"What happened?" she asked consolingly. "Did you fly too high?"
Harry squirmed. He hadn't meant to admit this to the Weasleys. He didn't want them to think he was a troublemaker or anything. "Madam Hooch had to take Neville to the infirmary, and she told us to stay on the ground, and I sort of didn't listen."
"Harry James Potter!" Molly scolded in a voice that even Harry recognized as a mum's "you are in big trouble, young man" tone. "That was very dangerous!"
"Particularly when he nearly smashed himself against the castle wall in an effort to rescue a silly trinket," a silky voice put in from behind him, and Harry turned to look reproachfully at his professor.
Snape smirked. That would show the Weasleys that Prince Potter wasn't such a little angel.
Sure enough, Molly looked even more concerned. "Harry! Wasn't that your first time on a broom? What if you hadn't been able to stop in time? You could have been hurt! Promise me you won't do anything so foolish again, or I won't be able to stop worrying about you."