I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 10

"You hate me!" yelled Harry as he struck out with his fists to hit him.

Professor Snape caught the child's fists before they connected, and he straddled the bench to sit by him. "Harry! Control yourself."

Harry sniffled but he would not cry. He never cried and he would not start now. "You hate me..." he sighed as he tried to yank his hands back. Professor Snape would not let go.

"I do not hate you, Harry," Professor Snape said firmly. "Did I not tell you as we brewed your potion that we could not show ourselves as friends in public?"

Harry gulped back a lump of tears, and nodded. "But, you made me look stupid, and you let everyone laugh at me, and..." he looked up into the man's eyes and saw there the gentleness he had gotten used to. "M-my aunt and uncle hate me, and they look just like... just like... you did." His voice hitched and he turned away since he knew he was not going to be able to hold back his emotions anymore. He was so very confused because what had happened in class was nothing at all like he expected.

Professor Snape let go of Harry's fists and the boy scooted away from him, and put his head down on his arms. He was curled up in the best way he knew how to escape. Snape cringed. It hurt. Deep down inside himself the Potions Master felt pain at witnessing the child's pain.

The last few days Snape had tried to keep his distance from the child; kind but not inviting. Obviously Harry had not seen his actions in the manner he had meant them to be. Harry had not been play-acting to help keep up the falsity that they were enemies; he had truly, and deeply so, been hurt.

"Harry." The boy would not move. Snape softened his voice; the one Harry had known as Professor Snape would read to him late at night in the Infirmary when nightmares woke him. "Harry... please face me."

Slowly Harry raised his head. He was mortified as tears had escaped his control and were now coursing down his cheeks. He refused to look at his teacher.

Snape hissed as he saw the boy's tears, and Harry, mistaking the sound for anger, flinched. "Harry... dear child..." sighed Snape with all the frustration the child's distress had awakened in him. "I truly do not hate you. I never meant for you to feel as you do now. Harry, I..." Professor Snape rolled his eyes skyward. What else was he to do? He rarely had to comfort any of his Snakes because that was a job he gave to the prefects. The first years, though... such small children who had been excited by the day but were met at night with homesickness where they missed parents, little brothers and sisters. The first night was never one that his prefects could entirely handle themselves, and so he often spent that night awake visiting those small first years, and comforting them the only way he could.

It had never occurred to him that Harry, although not one of his Slytherins, was a first year, an eleven year old boy. He had been thrust into a life of excitement that had soured all too quickly and impelled him to seek a way to his family’s home because that offered him something he was accustomed to. It was to the child's misfortune that he left Hogwart's protection, and was discovered by the mad Bellatrix who played with him in her manner of punishment for a crime he had never committed. The only silver lining in that cloud was that the witch had left him for dead, and he was found by Muggles who did their best to take care of him.

Snape hated the sorrow he felt within but he pushed it aside. There was a child before him who was hurting, who might even have become frightened of him. "Harry, would you come here?"

Harry sniffled and watched as his teacher opened his arms in invitation. Harry wanted what was so difficult for the older man to offer but he was hesitant. If he accepted the professor's apology it would open him up as well, and he was always so careful. Harry eyed the man’s open arms but he did not move any closer. With a roll of his eyes Professor Snape enfolded the boy in his arms. He stiffened but he did not move or fight to be free.

The professor had hoped for some weeping but Harry just remained still and quiet. After a too brief moment Harry pulled sharply away.

“Thanks, sir. Hermione and Ron are waiting for me.” Without a by-your-leave Harry grabbed his bookbag and ran out of the classroom.

Snape watched the boy leave, and realised that he ached with the child’s sudden departure. He had comforted other children, his Snakes, but for this one time a child felt right in his arms and he doubted that all he had imparted to Harry was discomfort.

Snape felt an old wound open from his past; he knew he was lost. He could not serve this child as he had intended; not yet, perhaps. Even so, Snape vowed in silence that he would be the one adult Harry could count on; the one adult he could truly trust.

Harry met up with his friends in the Great Hall. Lunch was nearly over but he grabbed an apple and some milk to tide him over until dinner. The last class of the day was History of Magic with a lecture Harry knew he would hear many times over the next seven years. He had smiled then, right in the middle of the ghostly Professor Bins lecture; it was the first time he thought of staying at Hogwarts longer than the rest of the term. He attributed his change of thought to his Potions professor; he understood. Somehow he not only understood Harry but accepted that he was just a boy. Harry decided that if Professor Snape offered to hold him again he would not react the way he had done so that afternoon.

“Harry?” asked Hermione as she glimpsed his smile. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah, Hermione.”

“Good. Listen to the lecture and take notes, now,” she verbally nudged.

Harry chuckled softly, and began to write.

Dinner that evening went as it should, and near the end of the meal a house elf popped up beside him, and handed him a note. He would meet his professor at his private lab to help him brew the second dose of his Cruciatus After-effects Relief Potion.

In the private lab as they brewed Harry dutifully made notes but every once in awhile he slipped and scribbled a doodle in the margin of his journal. One doodle captivated his attention and before he realised it he was taken away by the slight tapping of an inquiring finger upon his shoulder. Harry glanced up at his professor.

“Sorry, sir! I know I should be…”

“What are you drawing, Harry?” Professor Snape glanced into the journal. At some point the boy had gone back over his notes, emphasised areas, and added decorative touches such as 3D looking boxes, or boxes with little animal faces, or were dripping with vines. It was aesthetically charming without taking away what the journal was.

“Uhm… my potion. That’s not too hard but I wanted to get your hands just… well… it’s just a doodle,” he sighed. He wished he had not drawn anything on the pages.

“That is not a doodle just because it is small.” Professor Snape compared his hand to the one Harry had been working over. “You’ve done well.”

“Thank you, sir.” Harry kept his smile small but inside he was jumping and yelling with delight. A grown-up liked his drawing!

“However, while we are here working, please stick to note-taking. Later you may add your… embellishments,” clarified Professor Snape.

“Notes. Yes, sir!” Harry returned to his note taking and listening to his professor. For the remainder of that time both were quiet unless Professor Snape had information to impart.

When the evening was near its end the Potions Master released his student to return to his tower, his friends, and to do his homework. Harry hesitated, though.

After a moment his voice piped up, “Professor Snape can I… would you mind if I… uhm… did my homework in your home before bed?” Harry lifted his chin to bravely meet the older wizard’s implacable gaze. Hopefully he added, “Please, sir? I’ll be very quiet.”

The Potions Master, inwardly, was delighted with the request but he did not let his emotions show. Instead he appeared to be thinking over what the boy had asked. Snape nodded. “It would be more convenient. I will not aid you in your homework, though. Do you understand, Harry?”

Harry nodded, and smiled. “That’s fine, sir. Thank you!”

Curfew ticked over at 10 in the evening. Harry was working diligently on his Charms essay. He was seated on the floor, before the fire, and he had all his notes, parchment, inkwell, quills, and textbooks spread all over the coffee table. Professor Snape was opposite in the sitting room at a smaller version of his classroom desk grading quizzes he had given to his upper level classes. He stopped, to see if Harry needed him, when he heard the boy shuffling. Harry was only removing his school robes since he was warming nicely with the flames in the fireplace at his back.

Harry did not notice the sudden scrutiny of his teacher who was taking in the poor state of the boy's clothing. Jeans and shirt were obviously hand-me-downs as they did not fit Harry. It was then that Snape realised the boy had a general scruffiness to him that Professor Snape had attributed to genes inherited from his equally scruffy father, James. However, this was the affected appearance of a child who had never been given clothing that truly belonged to him, and fitted. Snape also noticed that Harry was squinting through his glasses at his work, and he wore trainers, instead of uniform half-boots, that had seen loftier days. A shoelace was broken, and the rubber side on the other shoe was starting to peel away.

"Harry, did you purchase clothing for school beyond your robes?" Snape suddenly asked.

Harry glanced up from his work. "I only had enough for my books, my wand, and my robes, sir." He then shrugged. “Then it all disappeared. I haven’t been back for anything, yet, and since all my books, and stuff were new…” Harry glanced up with a sudden thought. “Where did all my stuff go?”

“You do not know?” asked Snape. He knew the boy’s wand was gone; it was the first clue he had found in the Forbidden Forest that showed he had been abducted from there because the Potions Master had found the broken wand. There had been nothing else, though.

“Well, to be honest, sir, it was Ron that told me it was all gone. He said a house elf came the second week I was gone and took my trunk. I haven’t been to the dorm since and then you showed me a book bag with all new books, quills, ink, and parchment.”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” muttered Professor Snape. He knew the house elves were overseen by the Headmaster. Had Albus a hand in the disappearance of the trunk?

Snape would speak to the Headmaster later. The more immediate problem were the child’s clothes and his need for a new wand. "Surely your parents left you more money than just your wand and school supplies required?"

Harry stood up. He tentatively walked over to his teacher's desk and then began playing with the nearest corner of it. "The goblin at Gringotts told me I had enough for all my school stuff but that my wand would be the most expensive, and it was. It took all the money I had left. I don’t know if there’s anymore. An’ well, I just didn’t want to bother anyone."

"You do need a new wand," reminded Snape who had let the boy use his as they brewed.

"Yeah. The crazy witch broke it, and then she threw it away. I think she was trying to make me upset about that and when I wasn't she..." Harry rubbed his cheek where the crazy witch had slashed the soft flesh with her dagger. "Professor McGonagall said I'd need a new wand but I don't have any money left for one. Ron told me I could share his." Harry smiled brightly but just for a moment.

Snape shook his head. "Tomorrow afternoon I do not have any classes, Harry. I shall write a note to your teachers for the classes you will miss and we shall get you a new wand, and some suitable clothing."

"But I can't, sir!" protested Harry. "I don't have any money and I'm pretty sure my uncle won't give me any."

"Return to your work, Harry. I believe the Headmaster may have an answer to the problem." Snape put down his quill, made sure that he directed Harry back to his table of work, and then he Floo'd to the Headmaster's office. Harry marvelled at the little bit of travel through green flames but then tamped down that feeling. Magic was really kind of neat but this world was so… complicated.