4

Chapter Four

11

Ron couldn't understand why Harry would rather stay at Hogwarts for holiday than the Burrow, especially given the attacks. Harry finally came out and said that yes, he was seeing someone, and yes, they were staying behind, and he was looking forward to having the dorm empty for a few weeks. That turned out to be a terrible idea, because Ron copied down the list of those staying, which was very, very small, and wouldn't shut up about it.

Then, quietly, Hermione suggested perhaps Harry was seeing a professor.

That was why she had been so quiet about all this? Harry could have hugged her, were that not so suspicious. Instead he yelled that she was being ridiculous and stormed up to his room. That confirmed her suggestion, and he was left alone after that as Ron reformulated his plan of attack.

The castle was depressingly empty once everyone left. Neville was staying to keep an eye on the mandrakes, but other than that the only other Gryffindors were a pair of first year twins Harry didn't know. At dinner it was obvious the other houses had fared much the same. Luna had stayed, which was very nice, but other than that, Harry didn't know anyone. Like other years the professor and student tables were condensed into one, and Harry wasn't happy at all that Snape was now infringing on his meals as well as his nights and classes.

Snape was pushing to finish the potion even more than before, which didn't surprise Harry at all. If there was anyone who would get grumpy around the holidays, it was Snape. He hadn't seen anything related to Christmas in his memories, but he was just that sort of person. He finished brewing the second generation of potion a few days before Christmas, and they only had to wait a single night for Harry to transform. This time they were prepared with a rat, signals, and Wingardium Leviosa.

This potion tasted like cherry cough syrup. Harry choked it down, then tested it on the rat. He had a moment of brilliant excitement when it didn't immediately die, but the two-second delay was even more difficult than if it had just turned to stone outright. Harry slammed his tail down twice, then curled up very tightly, all but crushing his head in the process.

In a moment of uncharacteristic sympathy, Snape said, "That means we're getting somewhere."

"No," Harry hissed.

"Yes," Snape replied. His Parseltongue was very, very basic, but he was finally learning a few words. "How long did it last?"

Harry slammed his tail down twice again.

"Two seconds is better than nothing," Snape said. "It needs tinkering, obviously, but this is how creating a new potion goes—one step at a time."

"I hate you," Harry said.

"I know that one, too," Snape replied. "Shut up and let me get back to work."

12

Christmas morning with Neville was nice. They each had a large pile of gifts, and opening them together was almost as good as being at the Weasleys. The house elves had outdone themselves on breakfast, as well as lunch and dinner, but the morning and the meals were the highlights of Harry's day. There was no one to play chess with, no one to complain about Weasley sweaters, no creative ways to dispose of the treacle Hagrid hadn't been able to send. He moped around and went straight to the Chamber after dinner. He no longer had to wait for Snape, who had managed Open quite some time ago.

To Harry's surprise he was already there, brewing away.

"Getting an early start?" Harry asked, settling down on the bench.

"We're close, I told you," Snape said.

"No we're not," Harry sighed, leaning his head on his arms, looking at him sideways. "So I managed two seconds. What ingredient caused it? Do we need more or less of it? Does it need another ingredient entirely? Was the brewing time off? We have no idea. Merry bloody Christmas."

"Oh, that's for you, by the way."

Harry gaped. There was a wrapped gift at the end of the table that he had entirely missed. "You got me a Christmas gift?" he asked. "What? Why?"

Snape sighed. "It's tradition, Potter. Just take it."

Harry slid over the package and opened it. It contained a small vial of a purple-ish grey potion. It looked disgusting. "What is it?"

"A potion I invented," Snape said, carefully stirring the current potion. "To prove to you inventing new potions can be done."

Harry picked up the vial, investigating it. "What does it do?"

"It's a relaxation brew," he replied. "I thought today might be hard for you."

Harry couldn't get past this sudden niceness. "Um, thanks." He uncorked the vial and downed it. It tasted like lilacs. At first there was nothing, but then all his muscles relaxed, his troubles seemed to melt away, and he suddenly didn't mind that it was Christmas and he was stuck in the Chamber of Secrets waiting to see if he would turn into a monster or not. "Ooh," he sighed. "You invented this? You should sell it."

"Maybe one day," Snape said. "Getting a potion accepted and patented is hell. Sort of takes the point of relaxation away."

"Yeah but…" Harry trailed off. He couldn't think, and it was delightful. "I'm sorry I didn't get you anything."

"That would require a working brain, Potter, and I've learned not to expect that from you," Snape said.

"I don't even care," Harry said. "That's how good your potion is. I'm complimenting you after you insult me. You should really get on patenting this."

Snape smiled. It was tiny and tight, but more than Harry had ever seen before. "Once I'm done dealing with you, we'll see."

"Mm," Harry sighed. "Do you have any more of this? You should relax too. It's Christmas. Which I don't even hate anymore."

"I know it's hard to believe, but there are wizards who actually enjoy brewing potions," Snape replied. "And I happen to be one of them."

"Yeah but—" Harry tried. "But it's good to relax. Also I feel guilty about taking up all your time and all your sleep and everything, so my gift to you is not having to work on my potion tonight. If you don't accept it then you're the same tight ass you've always been and this means nothing."

Snape paused stirring. "You're a brat," he decided on, though he did put the stirrer away. "You should know I'm only stopping because it needs time to cook."

"Yeah, alright," Harry said amicably. Everything was amicable. Things hadn't been amicable since he'd petrified Dean. But even that was going to be okay, because Neville was brilliant and the mandrakes would fix everything and, for the first time since it happened, Harry realized it wasn't his fault. Probably, his brain was a bit fuzzy.

Snape pulled out an identical bottle from his robes and drank it slowly, savoring the flavor. Then he sighed, and genuinely smiled. "It's been a while since I've used this. Christmas is a good time. I haven't had a good Christmas in years."

"Last Christmas was awful," Harry agreed. "I nearly died. Because of a snake, actually. Not a Basilisk, though. Nagini."

Snape snorted. "You're not allowed to say you were almost killed by that wretched thing, not to me."

"Oh, right," Harry said. "Sorry. Though I'm glad you shared your memories with me, even if my dad was kind of a dick."

"We're relaxing," Snape said. "I don't want to talk about your dad."

"Okay," Harry said. He stretched. His muscles were so relaxed, it was wonderful. He transfigured the bench into a plushy couch and moved the potions table that was now at exactly eye-height out of the way. He stretched out and sighed happily. "I'm glad my mum was nice to you. You should have more people be nice to you."

"Potter, quit it," Snape said. "Leave my memories alone."

"Okay," Harry repeated. He transfigured Snape's bench into a couch as well. "There, that's relaxing."

Snape shifted around. "You make comfy couches."

Harry laughed. "Thanks. You make excellent relaxing potions." He conjured a small, low table between them and summoned his chess set. "Here. Let's play."

Snape was, unsurprisingly, a very good chess player. It took all of Harry's focus, not to win, which wouldn't be possible, but not to lose horribly. With the relaxation potion at work, all his focus meant, at most, perhaps forty percent of his mental faculties. The resulting loss was quick and painful. As Snape reset, Harry asked,

"Have you seen my mum since she died?"

He stilled. "What sort of a question is that? No, Potter, I haven't dug up her grave to stare wistfully at her bones."

Harry frowned and chucked a pawn at him. "That's not what I mean. I've seen her twice, once when I first battled Voldemort in the graveyard, and once with the resurrection stone when I was going to my death."

Snape replaced the pawn on the board. "No, I haven't."

"Well, you should know she protected me even after she died," Harry said.

"How very nice for you."

Harry rolled onto his side so he could see Snape properly. "I thought it might make you feel better," he said. "Knowing that my mum took care of me."

"I already know she was an exceptional person, I do not need to hear further details," Snape said icily. Despite playing as black, and despite having won the previous game, he ordered his pawn forward. "Your move."

Harry didn't reply right away, and when he did, it wasn't to direct chess pieces. "You saw my memories when you were teaching me Occulmency. That makes us even, for me seeing yours in the Pensieve."

"No, Potter, it does not," Snape said darkly. "I gave you those memories because I thought I was dying. They define who I am, what I've done with my life and why. Those memories are my essence, and you know them. What I saw was mere child's play; your cousin picked on you, Granger screwed up a potion, Dementors are scary. This secret of yours, the whole reason why we're stuck in this dungeon together, that's the only leverage I have over you."

"I didn't mean it that way," Harry said. "Not against you. I'm glad I know. Snape, you're one of the bravest men I know. I'm not holding it over you, for Merlin's sake. I'm admiring you for everything you did. I'm sorry you're ashamed to share the best of yourself with me."

There was a lengthy pause. "You're defeating the point of the relaxation potion. You have to give yourself to it, you cannot just expect it to take over when you speak of such things. I have known we must have this conversation from the moment I woke up after the attack, but let us not waste this time."

"Okay," Harry said. He had thought it would help to talk about it if they were relaxed, but he saw Snape's point. Even more, he saw that Snape was anything but relaxed, while that hadn't been his intention, though if he was thinking clearly it would have been obvious. "Knight to F3. Should I not talk at all, would that ruin your relaxation?" He moved onto his back, giving him the freedom of not being watched as Harry talked.

Snape made his move, then considered. "You may speak."

"How's your year going?" Harry asked. "Honestly, I'm not teasing you. I know an announcement was made about killing Dumbledore and spying and being on our side and stuff, but I was the only one who saw it in the Pensieve. There must be loads of students who don't believe it."

"Fine," Snape said sharply. "Make your move, Potter."

Harry glanced at the chessboard and moved a pawn forward. "Obviously not a relaxing question," he said, looking back up at the ceiling. It wasn't a very nice ceiling, but it let his mind wander pleasantly. "I don't imagine much of your life was relaxing. What would you like to talk about?"

"Perhaps I was hasty in granting you such an allowance," Snape replied before addressing the chessboard. "I cannot think of a single topic on which you would be an or appropriate conversationalist."

"You're not very relaxed at all," Harry accused. "It's Christmas. You've drugged your brain into submission, at least supposedly. Relax."

"Focus on the game."

Harry sighed and advanced another pawn, his mind fully turned from chess strategy to Snape strategy. "Really, we practically live together. You might as well open up to me just a little."

"There is nothing relaxing about living with you in the Chamber of Secrets," Snape replied.

Harry sat up. "I can fix that." He summoned over a rock and transfigured it into a Christmas tree, complete with twinkling lights, red, green and gold ornaments and a shimmering silver star on top. He magicked a pair of reindeer antlers onto his head and a Santa's hat on Snape's, which he immediately took off. "Christmas cheer," Harry said, magic dueling with Snape's firm grip on the wriggling hat. "You brought me a Christmas gift. Wear the hat."

"As penance?" Snape asked snidely. "I do something nice, and I must be punished for it?"

"I have antlers," Harry pointed out. "You wouldn't look worse than me. Besides, we're very, very alone down here. Nobody's going to see."

"No," Snape said firmly. "It's your move."

Harry took his Bishop. "Put the hat on."

"No," he repeated angrily. "Would you just pay attention to the game?"

"I think you put something extra in my potion," Harry decided. "I'm all relaxed and silly and happy, and you've still got that stick up your ass that's always there. Either you didn't take yours or mine was spiked."

"Or perhaps I chose not to make an idiot out of myself given the slightest provocation," Snape replied. "Potter, focus. It's your move again."

Harry sighed. "Fine. I give up." He put his wand down, the Santa hat stopped struggling, and he turned all his attentions on the game. It seemed, while barely paying attention, he managed to play fairly well.

They finished the game in silence, and while Harry still lost, it was by much less.

"I'm done," Harry said. "Why don't you spend the night in your proper quarters? You said the potion doesn't need any more work, and if I change there's nothing to test on me. There's no reason for you to spend Christmas stuck in the Chamber of Secrets with me."

"I believe we've had this conversation before," Snape said, and Harry saw he was resetting the chessboard. "All my things are down here. I do not wish to deal with returning them to my quarters for a single night."

"I'll just go to bed, then," Harry said, getting up. "Enjoy your relaxation."

"Potter, stop sulking," Snape said. "You lost twice. If you give up that easily on everything, you'll hardly get anywhere in life."

"I don't care about that," Harry said. "You deserve to relax, and I'm clearly not helping. Try to have a Merry Christmas, would you?"

Snape let out a deep sigh. "Come back. The problem was not playing chess. You just talk too much."

Harry turned back around and leaned against the side of the couch. "Are you sure?"

"I would not be adverse to another game."

Harry decided that was as good as he was going to get and sat back down. "Alright then. Let's go."

13

Harry wasn't aware he had fallen asleep until he woke up. His glasses were on, the Chamber ceiling was above him, and there was something hard and oddly shaped under his hand. He picked up whatever it was and blinked blearily. A bishop?

Oh, right. Chess.

He glanced over. Snape was sprawled out on the other couch, sleeping peacefully. Harry smiled. He'd never seen Snape look so…maybe not peaceful, but at least relaxed. Harry cast a Tempus charm—eleven forty-five in the morning. Merlin, how late had they stayed up playing chess? Harry knew he had finally won a game, and that it had taken a while, and they hadn't stopped at that.

Harry threw the chess piece at Snape, who flinched but remained asleep.

"Oi!" Harry said loudly. "Lunch!"

Snape groaned. "What?"

"Lunch is in fifteen minutes," Harry said. "I'm gonna get dressed and go; do you want to come with, or should I bring you something?"

Snape squinted at him. "And if you were asked whom the second lunch was for, what then? I hardly think so."

Harry shrugged. "Whatever. Skip a meal if you want. I'm heading up."

"I'm coming," he grumbled, standing up. The bishop clattered to the floor. "Why—"

"No reason," Harry said quickly. "Give me a minute, I've got to change."

They were both tired and groggy—a side effect of the relaxation potion, Snape said, which he had failed to mention last night—and so they didn't think to separate before entering the Great Hall. In fact, they even sat together, causing the entire table to fall into a surprised silence.

"Good to see you're getting along with the students, Severus," Professor McGonagall said eventually.

Snape looked at her, then at Harry, and jerked in his seat. "Christmas spirit," he muttered.

"Barely," Harry mumbled, still quite asleep. "Wouldn't even put on a Santa hat." Snape kicked him under the table and Harry glared at him.

"I'm sure that would have been quite amusing," Professor McGonagall replied. "However, one cannot expect such things from just anyone."

"I saw you yesterday," Snape said. "At all three meals, and not once were you wearing a festive hat."

"Dumbledore used to," Harry said, and while he meant it as a wistful memory, he had forgotten that he wasn't allowed to antagonize professors outside of the Chamber of Secrets.

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "He did, as you so indelicately put it. Mind your manners, Mr. Potter."

Harry busied himself with his eggs and toast. "Sorry, Professor."

"However, you do have a point." She took out her wand, pointed it at her hat, and suddenly the standard black hat became a Santa hat. "A day late, but better late than never."

Harry smiled, especially given Snape's discomfort. Harry was fully prepared to tease him endlessly as soon as they were safely alone in the Chamber. The rest of lunch was unremarkable, aside from the incredulous looks from Neville. They started the walk to Gryffindor Tower together but Neville broke off partway through, saying he needed to write his gran. Harry thought he sounded suspicious but left it alone, and in any case, Neville rejoined him in the common room a few minutes later.

It was a relaxing afternoon, doing nothing in particular. They both had homework out but didn't do much other than occasionally open or close a book. In retrospect Harry should have found that worrisome, since Neville didn't ask once about why he showed up with Snape, or why they sat together, and that would have been suspicious, had Harry noticed. But, beyond that, Neville was so relaxed and nonchalant, it never occurred to Harry that something might be wrong.

Just before dinner the owl came.

14

There was a furious tapping on the window of the common room, and Harry was happy to see it was Pig.

"Hey, look," he said, getting up and letting the bird in. "Ron's sent us something."

"Right," Neville said quietly.

Harry tightened his hold on the owl and gave Neville a distrustful look. "You don't seem surprised."

"Oh, well, you know Ron," he said, rambling a bit. "He's probably sending a joke letter or something to make up for the reasonable Christmas gifts."

"You know what this is," Harry said, sitting next to Neville, still holding Pig. "And it's not good."

"No," Neville said slowly. "No, I don't know, not exactly."

Harry untied the letter and let Pig go. "Is this going to physically harm me when I open it?"

Neville tugged on his sleeve. "Probably not."

"Probably," Harry echoed. "If something happens to me, I'm hexing you."

"Yeah," Neville sighed. "And, er, Harry, when you open it, remember that Ron made that same threat, okay?"

"But you're sitting next to me and he's at the Burrow, so that whole don't shoot the messenger thing goes right out the window," Harry replied. He poked the letter with his wand, but nothing happened.

Neville sighed again. "I know."

Harry opened the letter. There were a lot of angry splotches and scribbles, but he could make out the message, barely.

SNAPE.

You're [the first and worst outburst of scribbles was here, and then Hermione's writing instead of Ron's] spending all your nights with Snape? I know his memories changed everything, but

[back to Ron here] I'd thought the worst possible case was Malfoy, but Snape? Harry, what the [scribbles again]

[Hermione] We're giving you the benefit of the doubt for now, but please do owl us back. We're concerned.

[Ron] And possibly hate you.

[Hermione again] Happy holidays, Harry. And try not to do anything too stupid.

"They—they think I'm—" Harry broke off into hysterical laughter. "Merlin's beard, they think I'm sleeping with Snape?"

"Well, you have been acting strangely all term," Neville said. "You haven't slept in our dorms since the first few weeks. You haven't exactly been stopping the rumors that you're seeing someone, or even that it's a professor. And then, walking in with Snape, after missing breakfast, and sitting with him, you can see how it could look…" He trailed off as Harry continued to laugh.

"No," he said eventually. "No, I'm not—" Another bout of giggles "—sleeping with Snape." He looked around, to make sure they were alone, and quietly asked, "Can you keep a secret?"

"Yeah, of course," Neville said earnestly.

"Well, Snape prohibited me from saying anything, but he's been working on a potion to disarm a Basilisk's eyes," Harry said quietly. "We need to find the Basilisk first, and figure out a way to get it to drink the potion, but if we did, that would be brilliant."

"Yeah, definitely," Neville said excitedly. "What do you have to do with this?"

"He needs a potions grunt," Harry replied. "To do the chopping and the grating and the stirring and whatever he doesn't feel like."

"So why is this such a secret?"

"He doesn't want to raise hope," Harry said. "At least that's what he says. It's probably because he doesn't want to be humiliated if it doesn't work."

Neville laughed a little. "Yeah. That's really noble of you, Harry, spending all your nights with Snape to help people. It makes my work with the mandrakes look like nothing."

Harry's stomach dropped. "No, Neville, you're so much better. You're going to rescue the petrified."

"But you could invent a permanent solution!" Neville replied.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "For all the Basilisks roaming around the English countryside? But it doesn't matter, we're both helping. Now let me send Ron and Hermione a letter. I can't believe—" He broke off into laughter again as he penned a reply, repeating what he had told Neville. He was extraordinarily proud of his excuse, especially on such short notice. It was possible it could cause problems later on but, at least for now, it was perfect.

Harry made sure to sit as far away from Snape as possible during dinner and then, since he didn't need to hide the fact that he was sneaking away, he hurried to Myrtle's bathroom where he paced anxiously, waiting for Snape. As soon as the professor walked in Harry burst into his explanation, feeling more and more like he had made a terrible mistake the more he talked.

"Not ideal," Snape replied, then opened the passageway. "Questions could be raised, but as long as your friends remain silent, things could be worse." He grimaced, remembering Ron's letter. "Much, much worse."

The benches were still couches and the potions table was still off to the side. Harry collapsed onto his couch, good cheer gone. Snape had insisted they had made progress, but Harry still didn't see it. He heaved a great sigh and lay down, burying his face in his pillow.

"Self-pity doesn't suit you, Potter," Snape said.

Harry could hear the sounds of Snape readying to brew, but he wasn't in any mood to help, or even to turn his couch back into a bench. "I don't care, I deserve it. Next time you accidentally petrify half the school, talk to me."

"I would like to remind you I killed Albus Dumbledore," Snape replied coolly.

"Barely," Harry muttered. Then he realized how that sounded, and started babbling. "I mean, I know what a sacrifice you made, I didn't mean to say it was blasé or anything, I mean, sound blasé, I just meant—"

"Shut up," Snape interrupted. "And get up. I need you to—"

"I don't care," Harry said mournfully. "I'll spend the rest of my life in solitude in a reserve somewhere unplottable. I have no idea when I'm going to change and I can't control the poison or my eyes; there's no way I can ever live in proper society. Maybe I'll just stay here for the rest of my life in the Forbidden Forest, one more myth to scare students."

"Shut up!" Snape repeated, his voice getting louder. "I'm serious, Potter, I'm not doing this by myself."

"Yes you will," Harry said. "You're having the time of your life with this. Inventing a new potion to help curb the deadliness of a new species. You couldn't ask for more."

"I could ask for anyone other than you," Snape hissed. "Get up or I'll dock fifty points from Gryffindor."

"Not without an excuse," Harry muttered.

"Insubordination at Boxing Day lunch," Snape said smoothly. "I'm transfiguring your couch back to a bench. Fair warning."

Suddenly the couch was hard, and the pillow Harry was shoving his face into was wood, and his nose was uncomfortably squished into the bench. Heaving a huge sigh he sat up and looked at the unrecognizable slop in front of him. "What is this?"

"Do you care?" Snape asked icily. "Chop it into seven and a quarter pieces, and make sure the quarter is exact."

"Chop?" Harry asked. "It's sludge. Can't I spoon it?"

"No."

Harry sighed again and got to work.

15

The problem with the new excuse was that now Hermione was constantly badgering him to come down and help with the potion. Harry tried to tell her that it was hard enough getting along with Snape himself. Bringing another student Snape hated would only make it worse. He added that all he was doing was prep work, which he didn't need help with. Finally he reminded her that Snape had sworn him to silence, and how much trouble Harry would be in if he found out his friends knew.

The only successful way to get her to stop was to invite her to do research. It wasn't going to come to anything, Harry was certain of that, but at least it kept her from complaining.

Realistically, Harry could have really used the help. The closer it got to the N.E.W.T.s the harder classes got and the more homework he had. He was studying in every spare minute of his spare time, including during meals (which made Snape dock ten points from Gryffindor for turning in a paper that smelled of mashed potatoes. This led to a huge blowout in the Chamber that night, which nearly led to Harry petrifying Snape when he suddenly changed in the middle of the fight). Harry studied the entire time between dinner and going down to the Chamber, even while he was in snake form. He curled himself in a corner as far away from Snape as he could manage and, facing the walls, read and reread his texts.

Snape had the third version of the potion ready by the second week of February. Harry didn't morph again until Valentine's Day, which he found absolutely horrible for no particular reason, since he didn't have a girlfriend or a girl he wanted to date. He was much too busy for that. Still, as he swallowed the potion, he couldn't help but feel cheated. He could have had a girl, if this hadn't happened.

The potion didn't work.

For the first time, it didn't work in a catastrophic way.

Harry's anger over his condition suddenly amplified tenfold. Despite Snape's best attempts at holding him back, he left the Chamber, slamming through the pipes, ricocheting off the walls, causing a panic in the main castle.

There was a weak point in the pipes by the kitchens. He rammed into the pipe, the pipe shattered, the old bricks crumbled, and he was loose in the castle. He had vague thoughts of staying away from the more inhabited hallways but he just couldn't bring himself to care. He didn't want to hurt anyone, but he was sick to death of being coiled up in a corner, and stretching himself out in the hallways felt too good. As a result of Snape's utter failure, Harry ended up in the Great Hall, racing along the walls.

The two Hufflepuff prefects saw his reflection in the starry ceiling.

Harry immediately slithered back into to the hole in the pipes and down to the Chamber of Secrets, which he entered with closed eyes. He felt his way along the wall and coiled himself, all the while listening to Snape's furious and entirely justified yelling. Harry picked out the sound of footsteps far before Snape could hear them and slammed his tail on the floor three times. Snape cursed and cast a Disillusionment charm over the entire chamber, modified from the regular charm so the magic was undetectable. Harry was covered by this as well, appearing as an unstable pile of rocks. Snape covered himself in Harry's cloak and found his own corner to hide in.

Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Slughorn spent hours combing the room. Harry hadn't realized just how good Snape was at spells until they finally left without coming close to either him or Snape. It made sense, given what he had to go through as a spy, and his prowess as a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, but Harry still thought of him as a potions master and nothing more.

Harry refused to leave the Chamber for an entire three days. Snape brought him food on the second and third days, after his failed attempt to lure him out with hunger failed. Still, as cruel as he could be, he didn't actually want Harry to starve to death, and he felt as guilty as Harry did about the attack. Ron, Hermione and Neville all assumed he was working overtime on the potion, and the three told the rest of the school he was suffering from what muggles called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and needed to stay in bed until he felt better. That wasn't exactly untrue; he just stayed in the Chamber instead of his room.

And he was the one who caused the attacks.

Harry ate what Snape brought him, although reluctantly. He followed Snape's instructions regarding the newest potion without a word, too depressed to argue or attempt to convince Snape it was pointless. If he hadn't been so depressed he might have found Snape's attempts to get him to leave the Chamber kind, but he ignored those as well, including threats to expose him, only relenting when Snape declared he would dock fifty points from Gryffindor for every day he stayed "in bed". Harry felt guilty enough as it was, and he couldn't bear to bring more harm to anyone. He resumed his normal schedule on Thursday, sneaking into bed in the wee hours, going to breakfast, lunch and dinner, attending all his classes and getting make-up work from his professors. He studied diligently until eight, and then snuck back down to the Chamber. He hated it, but it felt more and more like home with each day. He supposed he was getting Stockholm's Syndrome for a room. How pathetic.

"Why were you so insistent that I leave?" Harry asked. Snape had let him off preparation duty until he caught up with his work, so Harry had lengthened the table and was doing potions homework. It usually made him extremely irritable to work on potions while Snape was in the room, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"It would have been suspicious," Snape said. "That PSTD nonsense Granger was going on and on about would have been seen through immediately had the school not been so upset."

"PTSD," Harry corrected. "What's the percentage of bezoar stone to newt tails when used against Tentacula venom?"

"Three newt tails for every gram of bezoar," Snape said automatically, and Harry managed a small smile before getting yelled at for cheating. They continued to work in silence until Harry's eyes refused to focus and he was falling asleep at the table. More to the point, until he actually fell asleep at the table, causing Snape to rap him on the head with a freshly cleaned stirrer and demand that he go to bed.

"Haven't finished my work," Harry muttered, sitting back up and returning to his essay.

"Is that for tomorrow?"

Harry glared at him. "Yeah, Defense Against the Dark Arts, first period."

Snape sighed dramatically. "I'll grant you an extension until eight on Saturday. Go to bed."

"I should help you, then," Harry said. "If I'm not doing homework, I should be working with you."

"You're of no use to me when you're falling asleep," Snape said. "What if you keeled forward and knocked over the cauldron?"

Harry sighed. "Fine. G'night then."

Of course, as soon as he crawled into bed he was wide awake. He kept seeing the Hufflepuffs' faces, how they were frozen in terror. Frozen temporarily, he reminded himself, but that didn't help at all. What if Neville couldn't get the mandrakes to mature quickly enough? He knew that was ridiculous too, and his friend had no control over how quickly plants grew, and if he had to stay into the summer he would. Then Snape would brew the restorative and it would be fine.

Unless for some reason it didn't work this time.

During his three-day self-imposed exile in the Chamber Harry had decided if the potion didn't work he'd leave Hogwarts, no matter the time of year, or how close he was to graduating. It would almost certainly be inferred that he was behind the attacks, but he didn't care. He had been doing research, and discovered a huge dragon reserve in northern Scotland. He'd spend the rest of his days there, however many they were; he had no idea if his lifespan was increased to that of a Basilisk, and could only hope he retained his normal, wizard lifespan so he could die as soon as possible.

Suddenly his thoughts were racing, first memories flashing before his eyes before coming to the present and what he was thinking at this very moment, bright and shiny. Harry let out an infuriated shriek and slammed his mind closed.

"What the fuck!" he yelled. "Legilimency? You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

"Stop swearing at me, Potter," Snape said calmly. "I could hear the edges of your thoughts without magic at all. You were thinking about dying, and I wanted to make sure you weren't planning on killing yourself."

"What business of it is yours if I was?" Harry asked irritably. "I'm not, I was just wondering how long my lifespan is, but even so it's none of your business what I do with myself."

"Yes it is," Snape replied. "I vowed to keep you safe, and I will not disrespect Dumbledore or your mother by standing idly by while you do something rash."

"Well you can knock it off," Harry snapped. "I'm fine." He heard footsteps, then his curtain shifted aside, and then Snape was standing before him. "Get out of my room."

Wincing, Snape asked, "Do you need to talk?"

Harry sighed. "No. Get out."

"You have to stop blaming yourself," Snape said. "There were no attacks, only accidents. Especially those Hufflepuffs; my potion backfired, and you were incapable of controlling yourself."

"And Hagrid?" Harry asked angrily. "When I somehow managed to forget I'm a bloody monster and nearly killed one of my closest friends? Tell me how that was anything other than my fault."

"Your intensions were pure," Snape replied. "You meant no harm to anyone."

Harry rolled over and buried his face in his pillow. He was dangerously close to crying, and he was not going to do that in front of Snape, absolutely not. "Get out," he said again. "I'm trying to sleep." Harry felt a small thump, and he picked up the flask that had been thrown onto his bed. "What is this?"

"Calming draught," Snape said. "I brewed it a while ago, in case your self-pitying egotism showed itself again."

Harry threw the flask at him, which he caught deftly. "I don't want it."

Snape threw it back. "I don't care. Take it."

Harry chucked it as hard as he could, but Snape still managed to catch it. "No. I don't deserve it."

"I've only got two and a half minutes before I need to stir," Snape said, throwing it back. "Stop being so difficult and let me help you!"

"No!" Harry repeated. Then, hating himself for it, he broke down. It was the Hufflepuffs, the unsuspecting fifth years who had no business doing checks at all, and just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. What if they hadn't thought to look at the ceiling first? What if they had just barged in? What if he happened to be looking at the doorway instead of the far wall?

Snape sighed. "Drink the potion."

"No," Harry croaked between his tears. "Leave me alone."

Much to his great, incredible, unbelievable surprise, Snape sat at the edge of his bed. He took the flask from Harry's hands, opened it, and shoved it back at Harry. "Please, for both our sakes, drink it," he said, sounding pained. "Unless you want to spend the rest of the night blubbering in front of me."

"You don't understand," Harry said, still crying.

Snape glared at him. "I've done far worse than you, and intentionally. What do I have to say to convince you these were accidents?"

"I know they were," Harry said. "That doesn't change anything. What if next accident I turn someone to stone? What then?"

"That's why we're working on a cure," Snape said. "Or I would be, if you weren't keeping me here babysitting you."

"I'm not keeping you here!" Harry yelled. "I've told you to get out and leave me alone!"

"I will when you drink the draught," Snape replied calmly.

"Merlin's beard, if that's what it takes to get you to go away, fine." Harry drained the entire flask before Snape could stop him.

"Potter, you blithering idiot!" Snape yelled. "The whole thing? You had to go and drink the whole thing. Have you any memory at all? Madame Pomfrey gave you a small cup, not an entire flask!"

"Well you should've said somethin'," Harry said, words slurring together. He slid bonelessly into bed, flask clattering to the ground. "Y'seemed insist'nt."

Snape groaned. "Sleep it off. I'm sure your professors, myself included, will be absolutely thrilled when they find out you're missing yet another day of classes."

"Excuse me," Harry breathed, closing his eyes, unable to hold them open any further. "'T's your fault. Write up an 'cuse."

"I suppose the truth would be fitting," Snape sighed. "I tried to give you a calming draught and you overdosed."

"M'kay," Harry said. "See y'n th' m'n'ng."

"Tomorrow night, if you're lucky," Snape said. He picked up the flask and stood to leave. "Potter, really, this isn't your fault. You got the wound while saving the world, yet again, and you have done everything in your power to keep yourself from harming anyone."

"Mm."

Then, Harry sure he was hallucinating, or already asleep, Snape said quietly, gently, "Sleep well." And then he was actually asleep, no doubt about it.

16

Harry drifted in and out of consciousness. When he was aware of what was going on he felt rather giggly about it, and even his dreams were calm, filled with beaches and Crup puppies and the Burrow. At one point a plate of food appeared next to him, and Harry ate his sandwich very calmly, even though the mustard was too spicy for his taste. He was calm. And happy. But mostly calm.

Later on Snape came to check on him.

"I'm fine," Harry said calmly. "I'm caaaaaaalm."

Snape sighed. "I'll be back at eight."

"Okay," Harry replied calmly. "'M gonna go back to sleep now."

"Yes, yes you are," Snape said. "If you're awake enough to eat it, dinner is next to your bed."

Harry lolled his head to the side. There was a plate next to him, filled with delicious-smelling food. He reached for the fork, and then he very calmly fell asleep again.

Snape was back a few minutes later.

"Can you sit up yet?"

"I thought you weren't coming until eight," Harry sighed, eyes closed.

"It is eight," Snape said. "Potter, open your eyes."

Harry calmly struggled, then finally succeeded, and looked calmly at his professor. "Hi, Snape."

"Yes, hello, fine," Snape replied. "Sit up."

Harry forced his calm muscles to function, and eventually managed a seated position. A calm seated position. "Okay," he said calmly.

Snape knelt down so they were at the same level. "Follow my fingers with your eyes."

Calmly, Harry did.

"Grab my fingers and squeeze."

Calmly, Harry did.

"Alright, you'll be fine," Snape said, standing back up. "You can go back to sleep."

"Pepper Up?" Harry asked calmly.

"A very good sign that you can think of a potential solution," Snape replied. "However, mixing Pepper Up with a calming draught is extremely dangerous, causing anything from hysterics to a week long sleep, and occasionally heart attacks."

"Oh," Harry said calmly, lying back down and closing his eyes. "Okay, never mind."

"Just sleep."

"Okay," Harry sighed calmly. "Okay."

Harry wondered why being calm would cause hallucinations. Maybe because his hallucination was calm. Possibly because he was asleep already, and his dreams were so calm. But it certainly felt real when Snape brushed Harry's hair off his forehead. Regardless of how real it was, it was calm.

The next time Harry woke up he felt awake. He ate the food Snape had brought him with no trouble, and, even though he stumbled a few times, made it onto the potions bench.

"I see you have rejoined the land of the living," Snape said, not looking up from whatever he was chopping.

"Still calm," Harry said. "But I can move. And talk. And I'm even mostly certain this is real and not a hallucination or a dream."

Snape looked up. "You were hallucinating?"

"Maybe," Harry replied. "Probably just dreaming."

"Potter, this is important. If you were hallucinating I need to take you to the hospital wing right away," Snape said, and he was serious enough that he set his knife down entirely. "What did you see?"

Harry frowned. "You. You told me to sleep well. And then later you touched my hair."

Snape returned to his chopping. "Never mind, you're fine."

Harry was lucid enough that he thought it good that he was still calm, because otherwise he might have freaked out. Instead he went back to the potions essay that was still sitting where he left it. He had a hard time focusing at first, but working helped, and by the time he finished, he was feeling much more like himself.

"Here's my essay," he said, handing it to Snape. "I'm not sure what time it is, but it's done."

"Not to worry, I already took ten points from Gryffindor for turning it in late," Snape said, levitating the scroll into his room. "Five points for not turning it in during class, and five points for each hour after eight."

Harry glared at him. "You were the one who drugged me."

"And you were the one who failed to think, once again," Snape replied. "It should have been obvious not to drink the entire flask, and if you were that dimwitted, it at least should have occurred to you to ask the correct dosage."

Harry sighed. Arguing was pointless. "Fine, whatever. Am I working with you or can I catch up on homework?"

"Go ahead," Snape said. "You certainly need all the time you can get."

"Thanks," Harry said dully. "How very kind of you."

17

Harry changed that night, but it hardly mattered. He was still depressed, still feeling the effects of the calming draught, and he didn't even bother to curl up, just lay against the far wall and stared at the stone. It was gone, everything was gone. The thrill of being a Basilisk. His friendships were fading due to his hours spent in the Chamber. His hope that things would get better.

"Potter, stop sulking," Snape said.

"No," Harry hissed.

"An overdose of calming draught can cause extreme depression as it wears off," Snape said. His Parseltongue had drastically improved over the months, and while he couldn't say much more than open, he generally understood at least the gist of what Harry said.

"It has nothing to do with the after effects and you know it," Harry said.

"Perhaps not exclusively," Snape admitted. "But certainly amplified. I can hardly believe I'm suggesting such a thing, but why don't you go for a jaunt in the Forbidden Forest? It should be safe enough."

"No," Harry repeated. "Even if the forest itself is safe, how do you propose I get there? All the pipe exits are monitored."

"Didn't catch that," Snape said. "What about the forest exits?"

Harry sighed. "Pipes," he hissed slowly. "Pipe exits. Unsafe grounds."

"Ah," Snape said. "I left one open for you. It comes out in the Black Lake. You would have to hold your breath and swim very quickly, but there is little chance of running into student or staff deep in the lake."

"Merpeople," Harry said, which was entirely lost on Snape. "Water people," he tried.

"Merfolk?" Snape asked, and Harry thumped his tail once. "You really believe they would consent to having a pipe anywhere near their territory?"

Harry considered. "It's too dangerous," he said eventually. "What about centaurs?"

"What about whats?"

Harry whipped his tail angrily. "Horse people."

"What people?"

He let out a series of curses. "Four legged forest people."

"Centaurs are wise enough to stay far away from you," Snape replied calmly. "They have much experience with the dark creatures of the forest. You are not a threat to them."

"I'd disturb the spiders."

Snape snorted. "I am sure leaving them alone is a very high priority."

"It is!" Harry yelled. "I know what it's like to be kicked out of my home, I'm not doing that to anyone, even spiders."

"Then steer clear of their habitat," Snape said. "You know well enough where it is. For all practical purposes the forest is endless. Avoid the spiders, stay away from the Merpeople, and revel in yourself. Eat your natural diet, feel the snow beneath your scales, and get out of this ridiculous mood so you can be of use to me."

"It's always about you," Harry sneered. "You couldn't care less about my happiness. You just want me for research. I'd be better off in Azkaban, at least there wouldn't be any pretenses."

"Oh yes, poor little Harry, spending all his time with his least favorite professor," Snape taunted. "Blaming me for everything that's wrong in your life. If it was truly all about me I would have turned you over the moment you came to me. I could have continued my work on this potion, delivering it to Azkaban myself. I'd have the glory of catching a Basilisk, of discovering a new species, and of spending all my time working to help the wizarding world. Instead I reside down here, with you."

"You're only protecting me because of some stupid vow you made to Dumbledore," Harry snapped. "You couldn't care less about me."

"You know I can't understand you when you speak so quickly," Snape replied.

Harry thumped his tail angrily. "You don't care about me!" he yelled, pointing his tail at Snape, and then at himself.

There was a pause, and Harry could hear Snape had stopped powdering whatever it was he was working with. "Are you requesting my friendship, Potter?"

"No," Harry said immediately. "Of course not." He slammed his tail against the wall in frustration

"You are lonely, that is quite clear," Snape said. "And I suppose you spend more time with me than anyone else."

"Arguing," Harry said. "Yelling. Being ordered about. Doing your bloody impossible homework."

"We play chess," Snape said calmly.

"We played chess," Harry corrected. "While drugged."

"Perhaps that should be amended," Snape replied as if it was nothing. "Would your pieces respond to Parseltongue? An interesting experiment. You can hardly turn them to stone when they already are. And since we can converse, it would be easy enough to trade off closing eyes."

Harry was completely thrown by this. "You need to be working."

"A single game could hardly hurt."

"No," Harry said stubbornly. "I don't want to."

Snape sighed irritably. "Fine. Be miserable. I'll leave you to it."

"Fine," Harry snapped back. A few minutes passed. Then, despite his better judgment, he asked, "Are you only doing this out of an obligation to Dumbledore? Or my mum or whoever?"

"You are quite cryptic this evening," Snape replied. "Rephrase your question, Potter."

Harry slammed his tail down angrily. "Do you care about me, or just the potion?"

"You're an insufferable, egotistical, dull Gryffindor idiot," Snape replied. "However, due to prolonged exposure, I have grown used to you."

"Bloody brilliant," Harry said. "You vaguely kind of sort of tolerate me. I still hate you."

"Then stop seeking my approval," Snape said. Apparently he finished his powdering, and tipped the ingredient into the cauldron, which sizzled and released the scent of freshly mown grass.

"Grass?" Harry asked.

"I don't understand you."

"Green stuff on the ground," Harry sighed.

"Yes, it smells like grass," Snape said. "Do you have a point?"

"It's pleasant. Covers the smell of my rotting counterpart."

"Rotting what?"

"Fucking Basilisk!" Harry yelled, pointing his tail at the still decomposing corpse. "The thing that's made my life a living hell that I'm forced to stare at and smell and spend all my waking hours and most of my sleep thinking about! Clear enough for you?"

"Crystal," Snape said calmly. "You should have said something if the smell was bothering you. Any number of potions produce a pleasant scent. What would you prefer the Chamber to smell of?"

"Anything else," Harry grumbled. "Grass. Flowers. The first snowfall." He was starting to get lost in his list. "A spring rain. A crackling fire. Roasted marshmallows." He shook himself. "Fucking anything other than that."

"I didn't catch most of that, but I will see what I can do." Another pause, this time broken by Snape. "I hope you recognize the extra time spent brewing something entirely for your benefit. I have grown accustomed to such smells, both from the Basilisk itself and from working with potions for so long. This is wholly to please you."

"Thanks," Harry muttered. "As long as you're in a giving mood, feel like passing my potions N.E.W.T.s right now?"

"I assume you are speaking of your N.E.W.T.s and no, I will not excuse you," Snape said. "I will bring you your potions book if you want to study."

"No," Harry said petulantly. "It doesn't matter if I pass. I've got my post-Hogwarts plans all sorted."

"Oh?"

"The Hebridean reserve," he answered. "Should be big enough."

"I have no idea what you just said," Snape replied. "Would you crush these chestnuts?"

"Yeah," Harry said absentmindedly. There were very few ways he could help brew as a Basilisk, but crushing things was most assuredly one of them. Snape placed the nuts on a plate and guided Harry's tail over to it. He quickly flattened them. The momentary contact of Snape's hand on his tail was bittersweet; he had grown accustomed to a lack of physical contact, and even just the fleeting guidance was a comfort. "The dragon reservation in the north."

"You needn't yourself," Snape said for the hundredth time, returning to the brewing table. "You need only be careful."

"Where?" Harry asked bitterly. "Grimmauld Place will hardly accommodate a fifty foot snake."

"Was that Grimmauld Place?" Harry slammed his tail once. "It could if you cleaned out the basement."

"Sure, I'll just toss ancient dark artifacts out onto the street," Harry said sarcastically. "I've got no idea what they do, but surely they're completely safe."

"Put an extendable charm on the attic and move them up there," Snape said reasonably.

Bloody hell, Harry was sick of this conversation. Reasonable Snape was infinitely more annoying than irrational, yelling Snape. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Of course not, you never wish to discuss any means by which your life could improve," Snape replied. "If only you hadn't made me learn Parseltongue I would at least have a few nights reprise from your constant sulking."

"Fuck off."

"Seven points from Gryffindor, one for each letter that fell from your forked tongue," Snape said. "I'll think of a reason in the morning. I'm going to sleep, I'm exhausted." The sounds of Snape wrapping up for the night, and then silence as he entered his charmed room.

As much as he hated admitting it, Harry already missed their conversation. Tomorrow, he vowed, he'd spend as much time as humanly possible with Ron and Hermione, using any excuse, however transparent, for physical contact. He was going crazy living in this dank chamber with no one but, as Snape had put it, his least favorite professor. Merlin, even a physical fight with Malfoy would be welcome, if he got to feel the warmth of a human being, even if it was just a knuckled fist meeting his jaw.

Harry spent a long time that night wishing snakes could cry.

He transformed back fairly early in the morning but didn't bother moving to his room. He just curled up where he was and finally had the cry he'd been waiting for all night. He knew he was being pathetic and had no right to be upset, not when there was an infirmary of petrified students, staff and ghosts upstairs. They deserved tears, they deserved sympathy. Harry was nothing.

Fuck, he sounded obnoxious, even to his own ears.

Then he had a revelation.