Anxious Anticipation

The end of term came all too quickly.

After exams they had a week to wait for results; suffice it to say, it was a tense week. Harry would admit to some anxiety over his exam scores, but the true source of worry was Hermione, who was fretting almost the whole time.

He'd managed to distract her a bit, mostly with You-Know-What related activities. For starters, he and Theo had been helping her with target practice – it turned out that while Hermione was excellent at quickly mastering almost any spell they put in front of her, her aim was...less than stellar. Apparently the bookish girl had never really been one for physical activities of any kind, so her stamina was quite low and her ability to hit moving targets was...stunted. Nevertheless, she was determined to catch up with them, so that she could participate in their weekly duels in the next school year.

Her progress in the area of spell-casting was, unfortunately, limited, though, because every time she started hitting the target more consistently, she'd lose concentration and start ranting about all the questions she thought she might have gotten wrong on her exams.

The same thing happened when they tried dueling, which Harry had been sure would hold Hermione's attention. At one point, Theo had actually stunned her accidentally with a stupefy he'd expected her to block. When they asked her why she didn't use the shielding charm, she simply said.

"I think I might have sliced the willow root."

"So?" Theo had asked obliviously.

The outrage on her face was unmistakable.

"We were supposed to dice them!"

Apparently she'd been having nightmares about her Potions exam. Not that Harry really blamed her. Trying to brew a perfect potion with Professor Snape looming over them ominously was not an ideal exam setting. He was sure Neville Longbottom had been crying nearly the whole time. Honestly, he was surprised that nothing blew up.

When dueling and spell-casting failed to hold Hermione's attention, Harry tried to distract her with research; he proposed a mini research project, and she readily agreed, and on Sunday they'd gone to the library looking for ideas. They eventually found a book on Norse Runeology that caught their attention, and their intensive research session went well for all of 30 minutes before Hermione began to bemoan the astronomy problems she thought she got wrong. Apparently Professor Sinistra was quite close to Professor Babbling, and Hermione was horrified at the prospect on making a bad impression on her future Ancient Runes instructor before they even met.

In the end, their scores came back, and it turned out Hermione had nothing to worry about. She'd gotten top marks in nearly all her exams, as had Harry. He'd managed to beat her in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Transfiguration, and she'd come in first for History of Magic and Herbology, but they'd tied in everything else. Malfoy had beaten both of them at Potions, however.

Theo did quite well in all his classes...except History of Magic, but that was to be expected. No one liked Professor Binns much, and Hermione was the only one who paid attention in that class; even Harry preferred to daydream and do his own reading later.

Anyway, Theo was quite pleased with his marks. The other Slytherins seemed content as well – at least, there were no complaints (well, nothing too dramatic). Parkinson and Greengrass, at the very least, were quite smug, and Davis and Zabini feigned indifference as usual. Bultrode did surprisingly well, and Crabbe and Goyle of course did poorly, but Harry highly doubted they cared at all.

Ron and Neville were happy just to have passed all their courses, and Corner and Boot, who had become Michael and Terry by the end of the school year, did of course quite well. Harry was pretty sure Michael would have died of shame had he gotten anything less than an Exceeds Expectations, and Terry seemed to get decent marks without trying too hard, so it was unlikely he'd do badly.

All and all, Harry hadn't been very surprised about any of it – really, getting marks back was rather...dull and routine. What he hadn't expected, however, was for Professor Snape to pull him into his office on the night before they were to leave.

Harry had been walking with Hermione to the Room of Hidden Things, where they'd found a couple of interesting books on old Druid rituals that they were going to check on, and he'd nearly stumbled over in shock when the Potions Professor swept past him, sending a glare his way before saying,

"Follow me, Potter."

Sure enough, he and Hermione had just gaped at him for a moment.

"I haven't got all night!"

Harry glanced apologetically at Hermione before running after the ill-tempered professor.

Professor Snape didn't say a word to him – didn't even look at him – as he trudged down to the dungeons at a merciless pace that had Harry nearly jogging to keep up.

Harry's heart was pounding by the time they reached the professor's office, and his frame went stiff as he followed the man in. Was he in trouble? What did he do? He didn't think he'd done anything. All things considered, he thought he'd been very well behaved of late. Indeed, he was almost always well behaved. All he did was read. That's literally all he did. How does a professor get you in trouble for reading? But then again, if anyone could manage it, it would be Professor Snape.

"Sit down, Potter."

Harry nodded meekly and took a seat across from his Head of House's desk.

The man glared at him for a moment, and he tried very hard to fidget under the man's harsh black stare – he thought he succeeded, but it wasn't easy.

"Potter," Professor Snape said, and Harry started at the sharp enunciation of his surname. "Do you know why you're here?"

"I...no sir. I have no idea, to be honest."

"Just a little over a week ago you were admitted to the hospital wing with life-threatening injuries. I want to know why."

Harry frowned slightly. "Sir, Professor Dumbledore should have -"

"Professor Dumbledore fed me an obvious lie with the implied footnote that if I wanted the truth I would have to hear the truth from you," the man snapped.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Sir, Professor Quirrell was going to steal the Philosopher's Stone -"

"Yes, Potter, I'm very well aware of the circumstances. But if you truly mean to say that you followed Quirrell to the Stone as an attention-seeking, self-righteous, arrogant, conceited, half-witted, dunderheaded Gryffindor then believe me, you will be scrubbing cauldrons September to May in the coming school year. Now tell the truth."

Harry paled a bit at the threat and made a show of gulping audibly – luckily, the Professor seemed pleased by his nervous reaction. "I...he was working for Lord Voldemort, sir."

The man flinched, but only slightly.

Now Harry had to be careful. Whether or not Professor Dumbledore was suspicious of him he could not say, but the elderly man seemed content to let things unfold for now. But Professor Snape – something told Harry he'd be more proactive in his search for the truth. Harry had to be convincing, and he needed to deter the professor from questioning him further. How does one go about deterring Severus Snape? Harry had no idea, except...well, what would be really nice is if he could get the Potions Professor to sympathize with him...if only slightly, for the sake of dispelling suspicion. The best way to do that? Well, that was actually quite easy. Play on the man's guilt. Harry knew he'd feel horrible about it later, but he also knew he couldn't afford to have Professor Snape as an enemy...not yet, anyway.

He let his face fall, and looked at his hands, making a great show of hesitating before he spoke.

....

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