6

Chapter Six

21

The news at breakfast wasn't good. When Harry asked Neville about the Mandrakes, he all but burst into tears.

"I don't know," he wailed. "I don't know about mandrakes, we studied them seven years ago, I don't know what they eat or how much to water them or how fast they're supposed to grow. I've got Professor Sprout's library and I'm following the instructions as best I can, but she didn't leave instructions, not for this, it's only what's in the books, and—"

"Shh," Hermione said soothingly. She rubbed his back and shot a glare at Harry. "Everyone knows you're doing the best you can. I'm sure it's brilliant. Have they started bickering yet?"

Neville sniffled. "Yeah," he said. "They're moody as all get out, but I can't remember when that happened second year or how long it took them to mature after that and maybe I should be doing something different, I just don't know."

"I'm sorry I asked," Harry said quietly. He was going to tell them that he'd had a breakthrough on his project, but now didn't seem the time. "I just—"

"You just wanted to know, I know," Neville said. "Everyone wants to know. Madame Pomfrey owls me every single day asking about their progress. Professor McGonagall checks in at least twice a week if not more, and Professor Slughorn keeps asking when he should start the rest of the potion."

Harry looked up. "What? I thought Snape was brewing it."

Neville shrugged hopelessly. "I've only heard from Slughorn."

Harry's stomach twisted angrily. Snape was the right man for the job, he knew how to make it, he had done it before, and Harry was preventing him from his real job. It was a matter of healing those Harry had already hurt versus preventing Harry from hurting anyone else. It hadn't even occurred to him that Neville was having as hard a time as he was, and probably worse, since he didn't have a professor watching over his shoulder.

Then again, this whole thing was Harry's fault in the first place. He really did have a gift for ruining everything, every time.

"I'm not hungry," Harry said, pushing his plate away and standing up. "I'll meet you in class." He walked out of the Great Hall and up to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Her old bathroom; it could hardly be said to be hers when she was lying petrified in the infirmary. He gripped the edges of one of the sinks as sobs shook through him. Neville, how could he have forgotten about Neville? It didn't matter if Harry found a way of disarming his eyes, not if the ones who are already petrified couldn't get better.

He heard the stones shifting behind him and closed his eyes. "Neville needs help with the mandrakes," he said hollowly. "And since when are you letting Slughorn make the cure? You've done it before, you're better at potions than he is."

"I have other potions to brew," Snape replied. "Horace is competent. He will do an acceptable job."

"Competent," Harry shot back. "Acceptable. Don't you think they deserve more?"

"I cannot be in two places at once, Potter. I will supervise him, and make any necessary changes. You need my help far more than he does. As for Longbottom, I know very little of plants and would be no use to him."

Harry wished for his tail, wished he had something he could slam into the walls. "I'm going back to the Chamber," he said. "I'll send my paper up."

Snape grabbed his arm as he tried to pass. "No you're not," he said firmly. "You're going to my class, and then the next, and the one after that. You will eat your meals and do your homework and prepare your potion."

Harry attempted to wrench free, but Snape was very strong. "Let me go," he snapped. "I'll do whatever I want."

"You will do as I say," Snape replied smoothly. "You have said that I am all you have; fine, so be it. If I have a responsibility to you, I am not going to let you throw your life away just because you're in a bad mood."

"It's not my whole life," Harry said, though his voice had dropped. What had Snape said? What did he mean? "It's one bloody day."

"You have missed a great deal of classes this year," Snape said. "I will not stand by while you willfully disregard the rest. If you are violently ill or still in your other form, perhaps I will allow you to stay in the Chamber. But now you are sulking, and that is not an acceptable excuse." His hand tightened on Harry's arm, and once again he tried to shake him off. "Frankly, Potter, I'm sick of it. I have known for years you are a whiny, selfish brat, but before now I have not had to deal with you directly. I have been very patient with you but, as you always do, you have crossed the line. You will go to class, and you will stop complaining about it."

Harry slumped down and, knowing his fight was gone, Snape let go. "Fine," Harry said blankly.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for making me miss breakfast," Snape added. "Now go, I do not wish to be seen entering my classroom with you."

Harry went through his classes dully, focusing his attention away from himself and on the lectures. The words flew in one ear and out the other, but at least he took good notes. He made a transparent effort to be cheerful at lunch. His homework seemed to drag on forever, but whenever he glanced at the clock he found time had slowed as well, the end result being he finished all his work before eight. He even had time for a game of chess against Ron, and even winning failed to make him feel better, though the incredulous look on Ron's face was almost enough to get him to smile.

By the time Harry was back down in the Chamber he felt a bit better. He had finished his homework, he'd beat Ron at chess, the Mandrakes were about to enter adolescence, and Snape had brewed a successful potion. Perhaps things weren't as awful as he'd thought.

"I'm all yours," Harry told Snape, sitting opposite him as he always did. "Homework's done. Just brewing tonight."

"Come over here," Snape instructed. "Chop these leaves finely."

"Why there?" Harry asked, pulling the leaves towards himself. "I'm terrible at finely, but being on the other side of the bench won't help."

"It will allow me to observe you more closely," Snape replied, taking the leaves back. "And do not move the ingredients without my permission."

Harry sighed. "Fine." He moved next to Snape and, much to his chagrin, he actually did do a better job. Snape only sent the leaves back once before he declared them acceptable.

"The rest I can do without you," Snape said. "I did a great deal of preparation during the day. You may do as you please."

Harry curled his arm on the table and rested his head on that. "I want to change," he said.

"Then do it."

"I can't," Harry replied irritably. "We've been through this.

"Then don't complain."

Harry sighed. Snape was infuriating. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do?"

"Yes."

Harry groaned. "You say I can go back to Gryffindor Tower at three in the morning, yes? That's not for seven hours. What am I supposed to do for seven hours?"

"Stop complaining," Snape repeated. "Read. Play yourself at chess. Do whatever it is you do at night."

He thought, which, to be fair, was what he usually did. "Did you take responsibility for me this morning?"

"No," Snape said crossly. "I would never do such a stupid thing."

"Then what—"

"Stop talking, I'm focusing," Snape replied. "If you're going to stay here, you have to stay quiet."

Harry did. He never would have thought being next to Snape would be comforting, but he didn't particularly care. He just watched Snape brew.

That, in fact, was not a good plan. He created a huge panic when he changed, destroying the potions table and knocking the cauldron over. Snape was yelling something at him but he couldn't hear over his own agonized screams. Screaming, however, proved to be extremely fortuitous. When the cauldron fell it upended into his mouth, nearly choking him, but he did get the full dose of the potion.

And just like that, they tested the potion on a human.

Harry could never keep his eyes closed immediately after a change, he was too busy gulping air into his abused lungs and trying to get over the pain. It was like after a particularly difficult Quidditch game; getting over the exertion took all his effort, and his eyes were not on his radar. In fact, he didn't even realize what happened until Snape's screams were cut off quite suddenly and Harry realized he was looking directly at him. The silence nearly gave him a heart attack.

But, on closer inspection, Snape had been shocked into silence, not turned into stone. His silence was due to a loss for words, not death.

"That was—" Harry stammered.

"Extraordinarily irresponsible," Snape filled in. "But informative."

"Informative?" Harry echoed. "You did it. You've cured my eyes."

"Perhaps," Snape replied. "Look away from me, would you? We haven't done our time tests on rats yet, let alone on humans. Rats are considerably smaller than I. Maybe you'll be safer for longer because there is more mass for your eyes to bore through. Or maybe the opposite is true, we have no idea."

"Yeah but you offered to test," Harry protested. He was elated, beyond elated, and wanted nothing more than to prove that he was safe.

"Stop," Snape said angrily. "Go to your corner while I work out how to test this as safely as possible."

"Go to your corner," Harry mimicked, slithering away. "Merlin, I feel like I'm five again." He paused. "No, I guess a corner is better than a cupboard."

He heard Snape returning order to the potions area, and then a tapping as he thought.

Snape let out a shaky sigh. "All we can do is have you look at me," he said. "There isn't another way to do it. The rat you killed was a gradual process, and I believe I will have the time to get away." He laughed darkly. "I can still turn to smoke, thanks to the Dark Lord. I don't imagine you can turn smoke to stone."

Harry swished his tail thoughtfully. "I wouldn't bet against it," he said. "Just tell me if there's a problem. Or, if you can't speak, use wandless magic to send up a shower of red sparks."

"We'll keep an eye on the time," Snape continued, and Harry could tell he was nervous by the sudden use of contractions. He paused for a few moments. "Okay, well, might as well get started. You can come back over."

Harry was much less excited when faced with the possibility of severely damaging or, more likely, killing, his professor. He slithered over to the common room with his eyes closed, following the sound of Snape's breathing, and settled with his head on the plush carpet.

"Open your eyes," Snape said, sounding remarkably sure of himself.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked.

"No," Snape replied. "We haven't been sure of anything. But go ahead."

Harry tapped his tail nervously. "I don't want to kill you," he said quietly. "We've been—I don't know, but I don't want to kill you."

"You're too kind," Snape said dryly. "I don't want to be killed either. Then again, I have survived near death before. If the Dark Lord couldn't kill me, I'm relatively certain you can't."

"I did kill him," Harry reminded him.

Snape scoffed. "You disarmed Draco Malfoy."

"You're an arse," Harry snapped, opening his eyes and glaring at Snape. "Do you have any idea—"

"You can stop berating me," Snape interrupted. "I assumed you wouldn't work up the courage to open your eyes unless I surprised or angered it out of you."

Harry's glare intensified. "Fucking prat."

"Eleven points from Gryffindor," Snape said. "I have come to understand that it is unavoidable you call me names, but I draw the line at that word, which you know full well. One point for each letter. For the second time, I remind you."

"You tried to goad me into killing you," Harry hissed. "Brilliant."

"I'm not dead," Snape said. "Come, let us use this time for Parseltongue lessons. There is no point in sitting around worrying."

"Chess," Harry countered. "I'm too anxious to teach."

"Too what?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I know you know what that means. Accio chess set." It flew across the room and settled on the table. Harry's eyes flew open. "Oh, I forgot I hadn't tried spells yet. I guess they work."

"We can do more exhaustive research on that later, when my life is no longer on the line," Snape said, setting up the chess game.

Harry's heart was twisting. It wasn't that odd, given how his relationship with Snape had matured, but he was still surprised at how much he cared. "I don't like this," he said.

"Put it out of your mind," Snape said.

Harry twitched his tail anxiously. "Could you light a fire? I'm always freezing when I'm like this. We need a heat lamp."

"I understood almost none of that," Snape replied. "Were you trying to direct a chess piece?"

"No," Harry said. "I'm cold. Fire." He nodded towards the fireplace. "Warm?"

"Right," Snape said, lighting a fire. "We should have gotten a heat lamp."

"That's what I said," Harry muttered. "Heat. Lamp." Snape performed a series of complicated gestures with his wand above Harry, and suddenly heat was radiating towards him. "Ohh," Harry sighed, eyes slipping shut. "Oh, that's good. We should have thought of this ages ago. I can't kill you now, not when you're this brilliant."

Snape smiled, just a little. "Go on, it's your turn to start."

They were halfway through the game when Snape suddenly jerked back.

"Stop!" he yelled. "Stop, close your eyes, stop!"

Harry squeezed his eyes shut immediately. "What? What's wrong? Are you okay?" Snape didn't answer right away, and Harry panicked. "What happened? What's going on? Are you alive?" That was stupid, he could hear Snape's heart beating, but he couldn't think clearly.

"Yes," Snape said finally. "Yes, I'm okay. You only got a few strands of hair. Much like the rat, who started with the whiskers. How interesting."

"Interesting," Harry said numbly. "I almost killed you and you think it's interesting."

"Don't be overdramatic," Snape replied. "A few stands of hair hardly equates near death."

Harry quickly moved back to his corner, head buried in his coils. "How long was that?"

"Just under an hour," Snape replied. "The same as the rat."

Harry wanted to swish his tail, he knew it would make him feel better, but he was too upset to unclench himself. "That's awful," he said. "It takes overnight to brew, and only gives me an hour. Even if I stocked up, I don't have the hands to drink it myself when I'm changed." He sighed. "Still, I guess it's better than nothing."

"I merely need to make it more potent," Snape replied. "That will hardly be difficult. I declare a tie in our game so I can begin brewing."

"Do you think it'll take longer?"

"No," Snape said over the sounds of starting the potion. "Not yet, at least. First I will try adding higher concentrations of our ingredients. If that does not work, then I will let it brew longer."

"Okay," Harry said quietly. He felt a little like throwing up. Excitement mixed with terror wasn't exactly good for the stomach. After an hour or so he couldn't stand it anymore and, eyes closed firmly, glided over to Snape. He had gotten very adept at moving around with his eyes closed as he learned to trust his heightened senses. Very, very gently, he rested the tip of his tail on Snape's foot.

"What are you doing?" Snape asked distractedly.

"I'm sorry," Harry all but whispered. "I know it was just your hair, but I'm so sorry."

Snape stilled, then returned to the potion. "You did nothing wrong beyond not being careful enough with your transformation. It was my decision to act as a guinea pig. If I lose a few hairs, so be it."

Harry stayed silent. He was thinking again. His relationship with Snape had been improving slowly and steadily, mostly slowly, over the course of their months together in the Chamber, but drinking together had jumped it forward. It still felt strange to be able to be in physical contact with him, but neither moved away, or seemed particularly upset. Just a little strange.

Harry felt asleep shortly after that and only woke up when he changed back. Every time he tried not to scream, tried to get himself used to the pain, and it never worked. Screaming and writhing in agony on the floor next to Snape was much more embarrassing and much less comfortable than a tiny tip of his tail. At least he was saved the humiliation of destroying the potions station this time.

He sat on the floor for a few minutes, leaning against a leg of the table before standing up and stretching. "D'you want help, or can I go to sleep?"

"Sleep," Snape replied immediately. "Tuesdays are your short day, yes? Come down after your last class, halve cherry pits and finely chop the Tentacula leaves."

"Can't I tonight?" Harry asked. "I'll have homework then, and I'm free now."

"You need sleep," Snape said firmly. "You were a wreck in Defense. Go to bed."

"I was upset, not tired," Harry grumbled. "But fine. See you then."