8

Chapter Eight

25

Harry didn't transform until the first day of April. Any relationship he'd had with Snape was utterly gone. The longer between changes the more irritable Snape became, and in this stretch he was nearly impossible. The promise of a concentrated, freshly brewed potion just sitting there waiting was proving to be too much.

Harry was less concerned. Studying for the N.E.W.T.s he wouldn't need was taking up his entire life, especially since he was missing the Gryffindor study sessions. He'd always studied with his friends, especially before big exams. Snape was obstinately unhelpful, refusing to help even with his own subject, even though if this hadn't happened Harry could have gone to him for help. Not that he would have, but that wasn't the point. The point was that he was being difficult and irritable and they were both snapping at each other and, slowly but surely, escalating back to full-on shouting matches.

Harry was muttering angrily to himself as he poured over his potions textbook. He had learned loads when he and Snape were brewing all the time but now that they were just sitting around waiting Harry was entirely lost. Of course Snape refused to help with that as well, and that was the cause of most of their fights. Harry had even thrown a quill at him once, causing twenty points to be taken from Gryffindor and a tirade from Snape about how he couldn't give Harry a proper detention since they already spent all their time together, at which point Harry yelled that there was no bloody chance he was moving to Spinner's End and, in fact, he would disappear entirely and Snape would never be able to find him ever again.

But now Harry was working on potions, and there was no point in replaying their old arguments.

And then he wasn't anymore, he was changing, and he just barely managed to stumble away from the common room before flattening it entirely. He screamed and hissed in agony but even then, even when the pain was at its worst, he was excited. Finally, finally.

"Give me the potion," he hissed the moment he was able to. His eyes were squeezed shut but he was flicking his tongue in anticipation. He generally tried not to do that, it amplified all the dank, disgusting smells of the Chamber, but he couldn't help himself.

"Open your mouth," Snape said, and yes, he sounded just as excited as Harry. The potion still tasted of raspberry scones, only scones times a million, and it was sickeningly sweet.

"That's disgusting," Harry hissed.

"I don't know what you said and I couldn't care less," Snape said. The first contractions he'd used in a month. "Open your eyes."

Harry was suddenly tentative. "What if—"

"No," Snape interrupted. "Open your bloody eyes or fifty points from Gryffindor."

"Fine, but if you die, I'm not taking responsibility."

"Open your eyes."

Harry did. He looked at Snape and Snape looked back. He didn't turn to stone. Harry laughed, though it came out as a series of choked hisses. "Have I told you you're brilliant recently?"

"Quite the opposite," Snape replied, though there was no anger in his voice.

"So how are we doing this?" Harry asked. "Can I dictate my potions essay to you? Parseltongue lessons? Chess? A staring match? I really need to do my essay."

"Then we shall do that," Snape said, settling back into his contractions. "You were writing about the ethics of Felix Felicis. A rather amusing topic, given your proclivity for breaking the rules. Why would you be stuck on such a devastatingly easy subject? When I was Potions Master this would never be assigned in seventh year. Your knowledge is pathetic."

Harry slammed his tail into the wall. "Are you going to take down what I say or lecture me?"

"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape said. "Go on. I will write for you, but I will not help in any way."

"It's subjective, there isn't a 'right' or 'wrong' answer," Harry hissed.

"I don't know that second word, but if you are implying you cannot fail, I assure you that you are more than capable of such a task," Snape replied. "You are on history. History is fixed in time, at least in regard to the use of Felix Felicis in Ministry proceedings."

"Yeah, I'd gotten that," Harry said. "I need my history and potions books."

"I hate this," Snape replied angrily, going through the mess on the coffee table before bringing them over to Harry, who had once again settled just in front of the fireplace. "Doing your biding while you relax in the glow of the fire."

"I'm still freezing," Harry snapped. "And I'm hardly relaxing. This is my fourth paper of the night and I've been stuck for the past hour, all the while you just sitting there, knowing the answer, refusing to help. Some friend you are."

"Stop sulking," Snape said. "Use your brain, just for once. The answer is obvious. If there is no information on the subject, what can you infer?"

Harry could've smacked himself. "Nobody's tried it before."

"You're brilliant," Snape said dryly. "And why would there be no information on something so obvious?"

"Because it's so obvious," Harry answered. "Nobody's bothered trying or if they have, their attempts were so inane it wasn't worth recording."

"Very good."

So apparently Snape's mood had improved. He was helping, in his own way. Harry finished dictating his essay, feeling very clever as he cited Fred and George's attempt to cheat the age line, and how nobody had cared beyond a quick laugh. Then the essay was over and he felt brilliant.

"What time is it?" Harry asked. "How long have we been doing this?"

"Nearly three," Snape replied, and that was genuine excitement in his voice. "You changed at one-thirty. We are currently at an hour and fifteen minutes."

Harry wrapped his tail around and rested the tip on Snape's lap. "Thank you," he sighed.

Snape put a hand on his tail. "Finally. Though it is still quite early. I could die at any moment."

"Please don't say that," Harry said. "Put it out of your mind, that's what you told me."

Snape squeezed Harry's tail reassuringly. This certainly had put him in a better mood. "I will have time," he said. "If my hair begins to turn to stone we will stop."

They sat in silence for a few moments before Harry asked, "Can you put the heat lamp back up?"

Snape frowned. "Was that heat lamp?"

"Yeah."

Snape conjured it, and Harry sighed again. "This is downright peaceful."

"Keep your eyes open," Snape demanded. "You are relaxing. I know full well snakes do not need to blink. I'm serious Potter, don't even blink. We are testing the longevity of the potion, and it will do us no good if you do not maintain eye contact."

"You let me look at my books," Harry muttered. "But fine. I won't take my eyes off you." Another silence, this one much less comfortable. "Well?" Harry asked eventually. "What are we going to do for the rest of the night? Chess?"

"I am not in the mood," Snape said, and then he smiled slightly. "I find myself too agitated to focus on such banalities."

"We haven't gotten along in weeks, I don't remember what we do," Harry said. "And really, Snape, it's not fair of you to blame me for not changing. You know I don't have control over it."

Snape frowned. "I missed a word."

"Which?"

Snape huffed. "If I knew I would not have to ask. Just before you told me it was not fair to blame you."

Harry though, and then his eyes widened. "Snape? Have I never said that before?"

"Whatever you said, yes, that."

Harry suddenly felt very bad for reasons he couldn't explain. "Severus Snape," he hissed slowly. "You."

"Oh," Snape replied. "Again. I should know my own name."

"Severus Snape," Harry said once again, and Snape copied him perfectly. "You've gotten loads better."

"And yours?" Snape asked.

"My what? Ability to speak Parseltongue? Voldemort passed it on to me, you know that."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Your name, Potter. How do I address you?"

"Harry Potter," he said.

"Harry Potter," Snape repeated in Parseltongue. "Rypotter?"

Harry chuckled. "Harry," he said slowly, with a long pause. "Potter."

"Potter," Snape tried.

"Brilliant," Harry said. Then he paused again. "You should call me by my first name, I guess. Especially if we're going to live together." He paused again. "Is that still on? I don't remember which of us went on about not, probably both—"

"You," Snape interrupted.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Whatever. In any case, as long as we're down here or at your place, Harry is fine." He was a lot more worked up over this than he should have been, but he couldn't help his stomach from churning.

"Harry," Snape said, still in Parseltongue. "I don't believe I have ever called you that before."

"Well don't if you don't want to," Harry said irritably. "Aside from this past month or so we'd been getting along much better, and, y'know, we're going to be living together. But fine, whatever you want, Snape."

"I meant no offense," Snape replied, and Harry wondered if he was even aware he was still speaking in Parseltongue. "I was merely remarking that it would be a change."

"Forget it," Harry hissed. "You're a—a—" He struggled for an insult Snape wouldn't know. "—shriveled old ball sack." Then he laughed, which didn't really help.

"Shriveled what now?"

Harry froze. Right, he knew that from talking about shriveled figs. "Not important," Harry muttered. "Forget it."

"This is all for you," Snape said. "The potion, living at Spinner's End, living in the Chamber now, it is all for you. So if you desire to be called Harry, so be it."

Harry continued to stay still. It always kept coming back to this. "You've done a lot for me," he said carefully.

Snape groaned. "Again?" he said. "We must go through this again?"

Harry swished his tail, forgetting it was on Snape's lap, who jumped beneath him and let out an undignified oof as Harry hit him in the stomach. "Sorry," he said, embarrassed. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Snape said dryly. "I would, however, ask you to refrain from doing that again."

"Sorry," Harry repeated. He considered removing his tail from Snape's lap, but the physical contact was so nice—studying for N.E.W.T.s hardly left time to snuggle with Hermione, even if that was still okay, which he didn't know—and he couldn't bear to give it up, not unless Snape made him.

Snape tapped a finger on his tail. "We have been so wrapped up with your eyes I had forgotten your strength and your poison."

"Eyes, strength, poison, impenetrable skin, nearly indefinite lifespan, all that, gotta love it," Harry said sarcastically.

"I missed that. If you were listing your symptoms, I needn't be reminded when your tail did it for me," Snape replied. "Back to your original point—your original one, not the tired nonsense regarding my motivations—I would not be opposed to using your given name. Outside of the classroom, of course."

"Course," Harry replied, shocked. "Whatever."

Snape checked the clock. "Three-thirty." He yawned. "I find myself torn between going to sleep and continuing our experiment."

"Sleep," Harry said. "You're always telling me to go to bed; follow your own advice. Oh, and congratulations."

"For the potion?"

"That, too," Harry said, "but I was talking about the fact that you've been speaking Parseltongue."

Snape was obviously surprised, and Harry would have smiled were he not a snake. "I had failed to notice," he said. "I'm just full of surprises tonight."

"Go for a third and listen to me," Harry said. "Go to bed."

"Has your need for physical contact been sated?" he asked, and Harry glanced away.

"You do enough for me," Harry said. "I don't need my hand—or my tail—held. I'm fine."

"You are truly awful at hiding your emotions from me," Snape said. "This past month I may have been difficult, but you have been just as bad, and you have not left early nor returned late once. You have also slipped back into whining over loneliness at least once a day. The conclusion that you have not been able to lean on your friends is not a leap. You think I enjoy having a Basilisk tail on my lap? You're heavy and scaly and hit me."

Harry was shocked into silence. He literally had no idea what to say. "I—" he started. "Um. Thanks, I suppose. You don't have to worry about it. I'm an experiment, an excuse to invent new potions. You aren't responsible for my emotional wellbeing."

"Perhaps not, but keeping you happy results in far fewer fights between us, as well as fewer nights when I am kept awake by your rather loud hysterics," Snape said.

Of course. Of course he didn't actually care. Harry didn't know why he needed to continually relearn this lesson, but that little spark of hope wouldn't go away. He flicked his tail off Snape's lap, curling himself in front of the fire. "Just go to sleep," he said bitterly.

Snape rose and padded across the carpet. Harry was facing the fireplace, focused entirely on the warm flames dancing in front of him, and nearly struck out when he felt a hand on his side.

"I did not enjoy it, but I did not leave, or demand that you stop," Snape said. "The past month has been very difficult for both of us, and your year is only going to get harder. If you require physicality to continue on, I will not refuse you."

Harry was once again at a loss for words. Snape's hand was warm, and he realized he had never been touched in this form, not beyond the very tip of his tail. It felt strange, very different from regular touching. He hadn't been this aware of his scales since he first changed.

"Okay," Harry said eventually.

Snape's hand dropped away. "I will see you in the morning."

"Yeah," Harry said vaguely. "Have a good sleep. Sorry I kept you up."

"Of all the reasons to stay up, watching a potion of my own device succeed is perhaps the best," Snape replied. At some point he had slipped into English, but he switched back to Parseltongue. "I am sorry I cannot help more. Try to get some sleep, Harry. You need it."

"Right."

Receding footsteps, the swish of Snape's curtain, and then silence.

Harry didn't sleep for quite some time.