12

Chapter Twelve

36

Harry discovered Snape's birthday the morning of. They were having breakfast at the staff table and Harry wasn't really paying attention to Snape; he was too engrossed in a conversation with Neville about aconite to notice much.

However, a large, brown package dropped in front of Snape was enough to get his attention.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"I would not know, Potter, I have yet to open it," Snape replied, rolling his eyes. Harry watched on with interest as Snape unwrapped the package. There was a gift basket of sorts, though instead of things like fruit and cookies, it contained obscure potions books, a bottle of aged scotch, and small boxes labeled in a language Harry couldn't read. Snape smiled briefly before wrapping it back up and sending it down to his room.

"Well?" Harry asked. "What's the occasion?"

"Nothing important," Snape replied, going back to his breakfast. "Return to your conversation."

"No," Harry said firmly. "No, tell me."

"It is none of your business," Snape said. "I would have told you were it important."

"Don't be so uptight, Severus," Minerva broke in. "It's his birthday."

Harry's eyes widened while Snape winced. "Why didn't you tell me?" he accused. "You celebrated my birthday, I ought to be able to celebrate yours."

"I do not wish to dwell on such things," Snape replied tightly. "As you well know, Minerva. I have resigned myself to gifts from the staff, but you needn't spread it all over the school."

"Harry and Neville are staff," Minerva replied. "I won't argue with you, there isn't any point in it, but if you could just relax—"

"I am relaxed as I chose to be," Snape said icily. "I refuse to abide this nonsense any further."

Minerva sighed, rolling her eyes. "Very well, Severus. If you desire to spend your birthday sulking, I won't get in your way."

Harry tapped his fingers on the table and turned back to Neville. "Anyway, you were talking about nodding onions?"

"Yeah," Neville replied. "They're, um." He dropped his voice. "Are you going to do anything?"

Harry glanced at the man on his other side. "I'm not teaching until after lunch," he whispered. "I think a trip to Hogsmeade is in order, don't you?"

"Sorry mate, I've got class at ten," Neville said quietly. "But good luck finding something."

Harry nodded slightly, then raised his voice. "So it's got nice flowers?"

Neville cleared his throat. "Yup, it's known for them. It's used all over Northern America for…"

37

Harry was already in the Chamber when Snape arrived. He was looking particularly sour, and poured himself a serving of scotch before sitting down, a pile of scrolls in front of him.

"I hate this time of year," he said bitterly. "How is it that every single student manages to Obliviate every single piece of information over the holidays?"

Harry smiled slightly. "Happy birthday, Severus."

Snape glared at him. "Is it Christmas?" he snapped. "Have I given you permission to use my given name?"

Harry summoned a perfectly wrapped package and set it down in front of him, sending scrolls fluttering to the side. "The shop wrapped it for me, so presumably you can actually open it this time."

"Yet again, Potter, you have created a mess in your wake," Snape replied distastefully. "Those papers were organized, you know."

Harry waved his wand and they resorted themselves. "There. Stop stalling and open your gift."

Severus sighed heavily. "Fine," he muttered, opening the package. Inside was a crystal decanter, swirling in something like an s-shape. He held it up, and firelight glinted in all directions. "Lovely," he said irritably, but Harry thought he was genuine. "Now let me grade these insufferable papers. They're horrid, but unfortunately I am still bound to read them." He sent the decanter to the potions table, took out his red ink and turned to his papers.

But one he finished grading papers and went back to brewing—Harry didn't know what, something for his own enjoyment—Harry noted he was using his new flask. Harry smiled to himself.

38

Harry didn't respond to attempts to force him into a change. The potion merely postponed his transformation, which was much more annoying than if it did nothing at all. The completed potion sat on the potions bench in the Chamber until late March when it turned from a bright, grass green to a dull greenish-brown, at which point Snape threw it away. Neither of them spoke about it, only waited for Harry to change again.

If he was going to.

Which would really be important information to know.

Harry was still enjoying his apprenticeship, and enjoyed teaching the first years even more. Neville loved spending all his time in the greenhouses, and he was finally starting to get the hang of teaching. The students still scared him, and he still had trouble coming out of his shell, but it seemed to finally be sinking in that he was more than capable of teaching Herbology.

In late April Harry finally transformed. He took Oculos Ius, and swished his tail nervously as he and Snape went over the plans again. First he would tell himself to change back. If that didn't work, Snape would try.

There wasn't actually a lot to plan.

"Change me back into a human," Harry hissed.

He did. Immediately. The pain from the first transformation had yet to wear off, and the agony was almost too much. He lay on the floor, panting heavily, grinning and laughing, no matter how it hurt.

"I love you," Harry gasped. "You and your potion skills. You're brilliant."

Snape smiled. "I do not disagree. It needs more refinement so you can control when you go into your other form as well, but this is very promising."

Harry closed his eyes and focused on the images of his Basilisk form. "Change me into a Basilisk," he hissed. His heart dropped.

"We already determined this potion does not allow such a change," Snape replied.

"I know," Harry sighed. "I just thought—I don't know. What're going to do next?"

Snape considered. "I require time to think."

Harry tapped his finger on his leg. He'd developed the habit from swishing his tail and couldn't break it. "What if we powdered the bezoar stone instead of chopping it? Wouldn't that make it more potent?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Are you offering to do such a task when you have so much difficulty with merely chopping?"

"If it works it doesn't matter," Harry said. "If you think it's a bad idea, maybe we should brew separate potions, so we can test two theories at once."

"No, whichever we did not use would go bad," Snape replied. "Besides, I believe you may be onto something. We will begin the potion in the morning."

Harry went over and gave Snape a tight hug. Snape stiffened, but patted his back awkwardly. "Thank you," Harry said, then returned to his own couch. "I've got essays to grade, but then do you want to play a game of celebratory chess?"

"I suppose," Snape replied. "As long as you promise not to touch me again."

"You're a strange person," Harry said, summoning the essays. "You only allow physical contact when—"

"Which you are under oath never to speak of," Snape interrupted. "If you intend on having enough time left for chess I highly recommend focusing on your grading."

Harry smiled. "Whatever you say."

Stop! You have a choice!

If you want to keep the story as a platonic mentor fic, just keep reading through chapters thirteen and fourteen (the epilogue). If, however, you want to read the romantic Snarry ending, skip ahead to the Chapter Sixteen and start there! It will still say chapter thirteen at the top, since it replaces the platonic mentor chapter thirteen. I'm equally pleased with both endings, and I know my readership is divided, so this is how we're going to keep everyone happy :)

Love!