Harry gingerly extracted the board game from its cardboard box and laid it on the transparent table. He was sitting cross legged on the floor beside the low table while Snape was sitting on a stiff wooden chair, staring down at the board with a mild sneer curving his lips. Playing a board game had been entirely Harry’s idea. He must’ve been crazy to suggest it but during breakfast they had both agreed that they should try a bonding activity to get them closer together. This idea was the only one available so Snape had reluctantly agreed.

The fireplace was filled with orange flames, though considerably dimmer than the ones in the Gryffindor common room. Still, it was better than those infernal globes that had as much light as a single firefly. Snape had his back to the fire as he picked up one of the playing pieces. It was shaped like a fierce dragon and when the game started it would actually start to move. It could fly around the board or hop from one square to another. Maybe it if was in the right mood, it could even spit real flames. Harry picked a Griffin for himself before unfolding the board onto the table. It had been a Christmas gift from Ron, something that once belonged to his brother Percy. Harry privately suspected that Ron had given this to him because he was tired of always loosing this game to the highly talented Fred and George. Harry loved the gift anyway. 

The board was a large square surface with a worn out pathway drawn into it, a path that meandered through forests and meadows. Little squares divided the path into equal segments and both the dragon and the griffin were placed on the square marked with a big red zero. The moment the figurines touched the square they came to life. The griffin opened its wings and fluttered them excitedly, ready to begin his adventure. Snape’s dragon, on the other hand, let out a big snore and curled up on the board, burying its snout under its large green wings. It looked about as happy to start this game as Snape was. 

“Well, it is time you explained the rules of what appears to be a thoroughly childish game.” Snape leaned back on his chair with a long suffering sigh. Harry smiled to himself, suspecting that Snape wouldn’t stay uninterested for long. He buried his hands inside the sleeves of his brand new jumper and cleared his throat, ready to begin.

“This game is called Liar and basically the goal of the game is to lie successfully. The best liar wins.” That definitely caught Snape’s attention. He looked at Harry and arched a single neat eyebrow.

“On each turn, you have to take a card from the yellow pile over here.” Harry pointed at a large pile of cards sitting at the center of the board. “You have to flip it over and there’s a simple question on the back. You have to answer the question with either a lie or the truth and my job is to guess which one it is. After I guess, you must press this button in the center and it will show whether your words were true or false. There’s a mild lie detection spell on it. If I’ve guessed correctly, then I move up one square but if I’ve guessed wrong you move up one square. Next, it’s my turn to answer the question and you must guess if I’m lying or not. We continue the game like this until one of us gets to the finish line and the first one there, wins. It’s fairly simple game, really.” Harry shrugged and adjusted the pile of yellow cards more neatly.

“And what exactly is the purpose of the red and green pile of cards sitting beside the yellow one.” Snape asked.

“When you go along the pathway, sometimes you come across obstacles and to go over them, the board will ask you to pick a green or a red card. They have different, more difficult challenges in them.”  Snape nodded and looked at Harry more closely. He clasped his hands together and laid them neatly on his lap.

“One last question, Mr. Potter. Why exactly have you chosen this game? Do you not realize that the only possible end for this game is my victory? I am a Slytherin and a spy after all, who could possibly lie better than I can.” Harry smiled and rolled up his sleeves with a determined expression.

“Oh, we’ll see about that, Professor. I’m not planning to go down without a fight.” Snape shook his head lightly and reached out for a yellow card.

“Let us begin, shall we.” He turned the card on its back so that the question was clearly visible to both of them. Harry leaned closer to make out the written words. Lately, he noticed that his eye sight was getting worse and even with his ever present glasses, distant shapes had begun to blur. Squinting lightly, Harry read the question out loud.

“What is your favorite sporting activity?”

“Quidditch.” Snape responded, his expression unreadable but Harry hardly needed to read his expression to answer this question. He had lost count of the times he had heard Snape berate his favorite sport.

“Lie.” Harry answered. Snape calmly reached out and pressed the milk white button in the middle of the board. On the smooth surface, a single word appeared in a flowing elegant script: truth.

“What?” Harry exclaimed, wondering whether something was wrong with the card. He wouldn’t put it past the twins to find a way to distort the cards to their devious will. “How can that be, professor? I thought you hate Quidditch.”

“Indeed I do, Mr. Potter.”

“Then how can Quidditch be your favorite sport?”

“I dislike sports in general. They are useless, not to mention hopelessly childish. Quidditch, since it at least helps children learn to fly decently, is a more useful sport than others.” Well, that made an odd sort of sense. With a slight poke from Harry, Snape’s dragon woke up and giving a large yawn, he stumbled over to the next square. There, he promptly resumed sleeping.

“Quite the energetic one, is he not?” Snape smirked, giving his sleeping dragon a poke with his index fingers. The creature just flapped at his finger with its wing and continued to sleep. Harry chuckled lightly as Snape turned over the next card. It was amazing how great it was to spend time with him when he wasn’t being a complete git. At times like these it was hard to believe that this man was capable of torture and even… Harry shook his head sharply. No. He won’t go there. Not now. This morning he had decided to just give Snape the benefit of the doubt, at least until they found out something definite against him.

“Anything the matter?” Snape asked, watching Harry intently.

“No, sir.” Harry stated, burying his hands in the sleeves of his new jumper. It was slightly bigger than his size but Harry didn’t mind. In fact, he liked to pull at the sleeves and watch his hands disappear into them. He bent down low and squinted hard to make out the letters on the card. They looked even smaller than before.

“Describe a prank that you pulled at school.” Harry read, grinning with anticipation. This was going to be good. Snape’s lips twitched mildly.

“I do believe it is now your turn to answer a question.” He stated evenly.

“No, professor. Since you won the last round, you have to answer this question as well.” Harry clarified.

“It is rather suspicious that you forgot to mention said rule at the start of the game, Mr. Potter. If we continue on in this line, I might come to suspect you of foul play.” Snape’s tone was mildly teasing.

“Why, Professor, I’m a Gryffindor, I’m the innocent one here, remember.” Snape huffed mildly before answering the question. Harry watched his face closely, trying to detect any sign of lies. It was impossible, like trying to read a marble statue. 

“During my first year at Hogwarts, me and a few older Slytherins decided to play a prank on your current head of house.” Harry stared at Snape’s mouth as he talked, trying to catch his lie. “You see, we were quite angry at her for not giving Slytherin house equal credit for the hard work of its members. So, in a brilliant flash of inspiration, we decided to play with her hair style. Namely we shaved her head while she slept and attached her hair on her face so that she was shaved and sporting a beard when she came to breakfast the following morning. To make matters worse, or better depending on your perspective, she didn’t figure out a way to reverse the effects until a few weeks later.” Harry couldn’t help but laugh at that. The image of Professor McGonagall with a beard was just plain unsettling. Harry bit his lip and stared at Snape’s marble face. Was that story true? How could he tell?

“I’m waiting for your verdict, Mr. Potter.” Snape urged. Harry figured the way to unmask a lie was to find a hole in the story so that was exactly what he was prepared to do.

“But why would older kids involve a first year in their pranks?” Harry asked. “When I was at school the older kids would just ignore us most of the time.”

“I was a considerably valuable asset to their prank. Even as a first year, I had a surprising mastery of potions. My sleeping draught was stronger and more reliable than any other student’s and I made it at my first try. Not surprising, of course, considering that I spent hours of my pre-Hogwarts days crafting various simple potions.” Well, that answered seemed genuine enough. It made complete sense, so maybe Snape wasn’t lying after all. Still, it was better to try once more to search for that hole in the web.

“Do you remember the names of the older students, sir?”

“I was under the impression that this was a game, not an interrogation. Still, in the interest of satisfying your curiosity I shall answer your question.” Snape said evenly. “I have forgotten one name and I have never known another but there was one girl, the oldest in the group, with whom I was closest. Her name was Eva Parkinson.” Was it a trick of the light or did Snape’s facial features shift momentarily at the name, as if it had a special significance to him. “The other names I remember were Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black.”

“Truth?” Harry stated but it came more like a question. He still wasn’t sure.

“Is that a question or your final verdict, Mr. Potter.”

“Yeah, it’s my final answer. Your story is true.” The left corner of Snape’s lips curved upwards in a self-satisfied smile. He pressed the button again and Harry saw the word “lie” materialize onto its surface. Damn it! He lost again. It was a pity. Harry had kind of wanted that story to be true.

“I did warn you that you would lose, did I not?”

“Well, it’s not over yet, professor.” Harry said, poking the sleeping dragon. A puff of smoke came out of its snout but otherwise, it didn’t move a single muscle. “Oh, come you, you lazy twit!” He poked it harder. Still nothing.

“Are all your playing pieces normally this unwilling to play the game?” Snape asked watching Harry struggle with his stubborn dragon.

“Of course not! Look at my Griffin. He’s flapping his wings and jumping on the spot, ready to fly.” Harry countered.

“Too bad he will never get the opportunity to do so. I have a strong suspicion that your energetic Griffin will stay rooted to his spot for the entire game.” Snape’s tone was light. “Really, what luck this poor sleepy dragon has! He should have been your piece.” Harry chuckled as he forcefully shoved the dragon to the third spot.

“Finally. Let’s move onto the next question, sir.” Harry pushed his gasses up is nose and bent still lower to read the next card. Odd. He never had this much trouble reading words before. Maybe the looping script on the cards was giving him trouble.

“Mr. Potter?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why is your nose nearly pressed against the cards? Can you not read the letters?”

“It’s a little hard.” Harry shrugged, finally giving up and picking up the card, bringing it so close to his face that the glossy surface nearly touched his nose. “Its these weird shaped letters giving me trouble.”

“They appear fine to me. Perhaps it is your eyes that need to be checked, Mr. Potter. Have you ever encountered this problem before?” Snape sounded concerned. It was strange how such a simple question made Harry feel warm and happy. He had to fight the urge to grin like the half mad Cheshire cat.

“Sometimes, when I’m sitting in the back rows, the board looks a little blurred.”

“Then how can you see the instructions I write on the board if you constantly sit on the back rows in my class? Why do you simply not come to the front desks?”

“Well…” Harry shrugged, twisting the sleeves of his sweater. He was looking anywhere but at Snape right now. He couldn’t just tell Snape that he had been dead scared of the man after the very first potions class. It just sounded so pathetic.

“Never mind. I believe I can imagine the answer for myself.” Snape stated bitterly.

“But it wasn’t a problem, sir.” Harry quickly continued. He didn’t want to get Snape upset, not now that things have been going so well. “I just copied the instructions from Hermione’s notebook. She writes neater than you anyway…” Harry bit his lip immediately. Sometimes he was just a complete and utter idiot.

“All I meant was that she writes bigger letters in print so it’s easier to understand than your cursive.” Well, that just made things so much worse. Why couldn’t Harry just keep his mouth shut.

“I mean, your cursive is great. Its better since its more adult- like. All adults use cursive, like Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick. I mean, it’s like mandatory for adults to write in cursive. Maybe it’s because they write so much all the time.”  

“Mr. Potter?”

“Yours is a little harder to understand because your letters kind of run into each other but that’s just cause you write a lot faster. Not that that’s bad!”

“Mr. Potter?”

“I’m not trying to insult you, sir! I’m just saying that it’s easier to read Hermione’s letters than yours because she writes better. No. That’s not what I meant! I just meant…”

“Mr. Potter!” Snape exclaimed loud enough to get Harry to pause in the middle of his potentially dangerous sentence. “Perhaps, it is best if we move onto the next question before you find yourself rambling to death.” Snape was smiling. Actually smiling. Harry jaw dropped open in surprise. Severus Snape, feared bat of the dungeons was really smiling. Granted, it was probably just his way of laughing at Harry but still! He was smiling. Harry couldn’t help it. He laughed. Harry resisted the probably fatal urge to jump onto Snape’s neck and give him a big warm hug.

“You’re smiling, sir! You almost never smile.” Harry exclaimed.

“Contrary to the vampire rumors circulating the castle, child, I am only human.” Snape shook his head lightly. “I do occasionally fall prey to the human weakness of smiling.”

“It’s great, sir! You look years younger and a lot less threatening when you smile.” Harry smile froze in his lips for a moment. “Not that you look old when you’re sneering! You look perfectly fine even when…”

“Read that question now, Potter!” Snape chuckled with his deep baritone voice. “Alarm red. Danger of rambling ahead.”

“Quite the poet, aren’t you, Professor?” Harry laughed.

“Just read the blasted question!”

“How often do you lie? And if you think you are a great liar, how did you become good at the subtle art of lying.” Harry read aloud.

“Does the card really say that, Mr. Potter?”

“Well, I added the ‘subtle art’ part but the rest of it really is on the card.” Harry smirked up at his professor. Snape only shook his head and answered the question.

“I lie almost daily and yes, I do not exaggerate when I state that I am quite the professional liar.”

“Arrogant much?”

“It is not arrogance, child. It is a simple undisputable fact.” Snape stated with a marked emphasis on the last word.

“And how did you become so good at lying, sir?” Harry was surprised and a little disappointed when he saw Snape’s smile disappear. He retreated behind his mask again, hiding every expression with the ease of long practice. Harry had come to understand that Snape used his mask to hide strong feeling, especially when he was talking about something serious or unnerving. The answer to this question must be something that made his professor uncomfortable. Harry was just about to say that they should move onto another question when Snape started to answer.

“Lying has required quite a lot of practice on my part.” Snape said, his gaze shifting to the hands clasped on his lap. “I make a habit of practicing with myself every morning the moment I wake up and every night just before going to sleep.”

“And how do you practice with yourself, sir? Do you go over different lies in your mind?” Harry knew he shouldn’t press but he couldn’t help it. He was just too curious to know the answer.

“Not exactly.” Snape paused, looking intently at the dragon snoring on the board. He seemed to be weighing just how much to tell Harry about his private life. “I use a mirror. There is a full length mirror in my bedroom and it serves the express purpose of helping me perfect my lying skills. I stand in front of it every day and try out different expressions. I attempt laughing or squinting my eyes suspiciously or smirking with a knowing glimmer in my eyes. Most often, I practice these expressions while conversing with myself on different topics.” Harry really shouldn’t have laughed but the truth is, he did. The idea of Snape standing in front of a mirror, laughing to himself everyday was just plain weird. The mask on Snape’s face faltered for an instant before crumbling completely to reveal an expression of pure anger. 

“How dare you, Potter! How can you laugh at me knowing what I do every day, what I am forced to do to protect the side of the light?”

“Sir, I didn’t…”

“Every day I must stand in front of the most dangerous criminals alive and I have to lie convincingly to their faces while trying not to think of the fact that a single wrong word might get me killed. Do you think that such a job is easy, Potter?”

“I just…”

“Can you blame me for practicing every chance I get just so I might get to live another day?”

“I’m so sorry, sir!” Harry felt horrible. Of course, it must be hard to be a spy, not knowing when his last day would come. It must be terrifying. Harry really shouldn’t have laughed. Snape just shared something intensely private with him and what had he done? He had laughed at his professor’s face. He really did feel horrible.

“Just give your verdict and let’s move onto the next question. I will not linger on this one any more than is strictly necessary.” Snape snapped, looking anywhere but at Harry.

“What?” Harry blinked, momentarily lost.

“The game, Mr. Potter. Are we not in the middle of this childish game you yourself chose?” Harry nodded at Snape’s words. “Then give a verdict and let us move on.”

“Truth.” Harry stated with a lump in his throat. Harry had got this one right but he felt no satisfaction whatsoever. He had hurt his professor and ruined everything once again. Snape’s words were true. How could they not be when Harry had heard the anger and indignation in his voice? Harry had heard the fierce way Snape had defended his bizarre habit. His words had been true. That much couldn’t be disputed. Then why the heck was Snape looking at him with a big self-satisfied smirk on his face? Wordlessly Snape pressed that button and one fatal word stared up at a very astonished Harry Potter. Lie.

“Do remember to close your mouth, Mr. Potter. It wouldn’t do to have the esteemed Boy-Who-Lived looking so very comical.” Snape grin widened as he picked his snoring dragon by the tail and dragged him onto the next square.

“But… but…” Harry sputtered.

“Yes, Mr. Potter?” Snape arched his eyebrow. He leaned back in his chair and watched Harry, his eyes glistening with amusement.

“That was a lie?!” Harry exclaimed bending forward to inspect the writing better even though he had already seen it perfectly well. This one word was very big, after all, taking up almost half the board. The word didn’t change. Snape really had been lying. “But… but you were so…”

“Eloquent as ever, I see.” Snape was really enjoying this whole situation.

“What about the whole ‘I’m risking my life and nobody understands me’ thing you were just going on about?”

“It was merely an effective way to make you believe that I was sincere. Really, I am not yet crazy enough to talk to myself in the mirror.” Snape shook his head, his black eyes glistening mischievously. “Do you wish to continue with the game or will you simply wish to bow out gracefully before my poor dragon starts crying from having his sleep disturbed so often?”

“Definitely continue!” Harry exclaimed. “I will get at least one right, you just wait and see.”

“Mmm… It seems that I will be forced to wait quite a long time yet. It is a good thing I possess the unlimited patience of a Slytherin.” Harry ignored him and took another card. He might be losing embarrassingly but Snape was still really fun to play this game with. That was a thought Harry never imagined he would have, the concept of Snape and fun joined together.   

“Describe one memory you have of … Your partner shall fill in the blank.” Harry blinked, a thought coming into his head, a thought that would definitely get him into trouble. He shouldn’t say that name. He really shouldn’t say that name.       

“Well, whose name do you wish to supply?” Snape was watching him, his smirk still in place. He was so light and happy and sure of victory. Harry should not say this name. But, unfortunately, Harry rarely ever took his own advice, no matter how good it was.

“James Potter.” Dead silence. Snape’s mask returned, full force. Every line in his face smoothed out leaving behind a face of marble. Only his fingers pressed so tightly together that they were turning blue betrayed his anger. The yellow card trembled under Harry’s fingertips. That was a mistake, a big mistake. Why had Harry brought his father up? Things were going great. Why is it that Harry just couldn’t let Snape’s hatred of his father go? Harry wanted so badly to understand this hatred between a person he loved unconditionally since birth and a person who he was growing increasingly fond of. Harry gulped and tugged at his sleeve, the sleeve of the new sweater which Snape had bought for him. Harry stared at his new shoes, even those a gift from his professor, and waited for the bomb to fall. The white shoe lace had come undone. He had been hasty when he got dressed this morning impatient to play this game with his new mysterious guardian, someone who, despite everything, was trying to spend time with him. Harry pulled at the shoe laces, making sure it was tight enough. Then, he careful tied them together, avoiding looking at Snape’s face.

“Change it.” Snape hissed. “Change the name, Potter.” Harry looked up. Snape’s mask was twitching. It was about to fall and Harry was positive that this time the anger behind it will not be fake.

“Sir, can’t you just…”

“Now, Potter!” Harry jumped at the venom in Snape’s words. He panicked and blurted out the first name that popped into his mind.

“Hagrid.” Snape took a deep breath. He unclasped his hands and flexed his fingers. He took another slow breath, holding it within him before exhaling again. When next he spoke, his tone was calm and under strict control.

“I could tell you of the time I first met Hagrid…” And so the game continued. James Potter was apparently forgotten but he stood in their minds, a barrier that couldn’t be surmounted. They went on from one question to the next. Harry laughed and smiled, trying his best to forget his father. After a time, he did succeed. Snape, contrary to popular belief, was very good at games. As he sat there, talking and laughing, Harry felt a sense contentment fall over him. His father, Snape’s dark past, these things were laid aside if only for this moment.

_________

“Goodnight, sir.” Harry said smiling up at his professor. It was late, later than both of them had expected. The game had gone on for hours. Harry hadn’t moved a single step forward but that didn’t matter to him. He had a great time. His griffin on the other hand was pissed off at him and would probably not want to be his playing piece again. No matter, the dragon would do for him next time.

“Goodnight, Mr. Potter.” Professor Snape held the door open for Harry. He was not smiling, not openly but the rigid line of his mouth was relaxed. His back seemed less stiff, his whole posture less guarded. Of course with Snape it was impossible to tell, especially since Harry had seen with his own eyes how brilliantly he could lie, but he believed that even Snape had enjoyed himself today.   

“Maybe we should try a different game tomorrow.” Harry asked hopefully.

“Well, well. Getting tired of losing already, are we? Whatever happened to your determination to get at least one right?”

“After losing a gazillion times, I’m over it.” Harry stated lightly.

“Perhaps we shall try a different game. Not tomorrow but possibly on Monday. Tomorrow I am determined to take you to a sight healer and get those eyes properly taken care of.” Harry swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.

“Thank you, sir.” He said hoarsely. The words came out much more quietly than he had expected.  

“Whatever for?” Snape asked.

“For everything.” Harry said, looking at the guarded face of his professor. “For taking me in, for the cloths, for trying so hard to get along. Most people wouldn’t have bothered. Hell, my aunt and uncle never did.”

“It is nothing, child.” Snape cleared his throat and shifted his weight on his feet, clearly uncomfortable.

“It’s definitely not nothing, not to me.” Harry rejoined, wondering whether he could get away with a hug. He decided it was better not to risk it.

“It is getting late, child. You should go and get a good night’s sleep.” Harry nodded and climbed upstairs back to his own bedroom. He placed the board game in his desk drawer and got into his new pajamas. It was amazing how they took away the chill of the house instantaneously. Harry wondered vaguely whether they were charmed to stay in the right temperature. Whether it was the warm cloth or the warmth of the night’s game, when Harry climbed under his blankets, he felt happier than he had been in a very long time. Perhaps he could borrow one of the Weasley twin’s games. They had a whole collection locked up in their trunk, away from their siblings’ greedy fingers. Maybe they wouldn’t mind lending some to Harry and then, he could play with Snape. He would get to know the man better, slowly but surely. Why even now he…

Tap. Tap. Tap. An owl was knocking at his window, demanding entrance. Harry recognized the drooping and elderly figure of Errol, the Weasley family owl. For the first time ever, Harry felt his heart sink at the thought of Ron and Hermione. He got up reluctantly and opened the latch of the window letting the tired owl sail into his room. Errol flew into Hedwig’s cage, dropping the letter at Harry’s feet. He nibbled on Hedwig’s favorite owl treats before closing his eyes and collapsing into a fitful sleep. Harry picked up the letter and broke it open, being careful not to rip the envelope.

Dear Harry,

International Union day is coming up in a month! Mom and dad are pretty excited. They’re preparing a big dinner and inviting all our cousins and uncles and aunts and loads of other relations I don’t remember having. Hermione will be here of course and we both want you to be here too. I’m actually pretty desperate to have you here again. Mione is making me study all the time! I’ve already completed all my homework and term doesn’t start for ages yet! It’s positively ridiculous. Between my mom making me do chores and Mione making me study, I’m pretty stressed out. Come along, mate. I could use a good game of Quidditch.

Anyway, mom is going to send an invitation to Snape. She wants both of you to come. I just thought I’d give you a head’s up. See you on Monday, mate.

Your harassed friend,

Ron

What the heck was International Union day? Harry thought looking at the letter with a frown. He had never heard of it before. It must be some wizard tradition that Ron simply assumed Harry knew everything about. He shrugged and determined to ask Snape about it tomorrow while on their way to the sight healer. At least it would give them something safe to talk about.  

Speaking of Snape… This letter seemed fairly pointless. Ron could have easily told Harry all this the day after tomorrow when his lessons with Professor Sprout would resume. Then, why this sudden letter? There was only one answer to that question. His friends had found out something of Snape’s past. Maybe they had even compiled a list of his crimes and sent it to Harry so that he would finally grow to hate his new guardian. Harry didn’t want to read it but in the back of his mind he knew that he should. He folded the letter and stuffed it back into the envelope. It was getting late and tomorrow he had to wake up early. He had to review his last lesson and make sure that by Monday he was ready to learn new material. Besides they would be going to the sight healer tomorrow. It was going to be a full day and he needed his rest. Harry stuffed the letter into the bottom of his trunk, burying it as far down as he could. Then he quickly climbed into his bed and shut his eyes tight. He forced the letter and questions of Snape’s past to the back of his mind, letting pleasant thoughts of this afternoon lull him into sleep.

_________

Well. This evening had been… interesting. Whoever thought that he could get along so well with Harry James Potter of all people? Severus had to admit it, the child was pleasant company. Deep down Severus had always known that the boy had a good heart. Why else would he risk his life to protect his friends, time and time again? Granted the boy was rather foolish but that was the norm among children his age.

Severus took a sip of coffee from his mug and settled down for a long night spent adjusting next year’s curriculum. He always liked to modify his notes and bring them up to date. Current discoveries should always be taken into account. The world of potions was always changing. Discoveries were made, improvements were conducted on the existing potions, new methods of brewing were introduced. Severus always liked to give his students fresh information, different to that in the printed pages of his book. For after all, the more advanced and accurate the knowledge the children received, the better. Most of his colleague, not to mention the students, thought that he was a horrible teacher. Well, perhaps he was, he lacked the patience to deal with children but that didn’t mean Severus didn’t try his best. Often, the better students, those who actually tried, learned a lot from him. Miss Granger, for example, improved daily with her already quite formidable potion skills. Mr Potter, on the other hand, seemed to get worse instead of better.

Severus picked up his grade book and flicked to the first year records. On instinct, he cast a fleeting glance down at his own Slytherins, making sure that their grades were as high as they could possibly be. With a satisfied nod, he moved on, his eyes scanning for the name he had been searching for. There it was, Potter, Harry right next to his friend Mr. Weasley. Severus frowned at the red marks on the page, tracking Potter’s score throughout the school year. There were only a handful of A’s and only one E. The rest were an alarming blend of P’s and D’s. This would not do. This would not do at all. The child, though far from perfect, was at least smart enough to earn a consistent A in his class. Why were his grades so appalling? Severus reluctantly had to admit that he was partially at fault. He had been treating Mr. Potter unfairly since the beginning of the school year, insulting him for no apparent reason. The child was reasonably well behaved, the only reason Severus yelled at him was because of his uncanny resemblance to his father. Thankfully, in these past few days, Severus had come to see the boy as himself and not the shadow of a cruel sadistic man.

Severus leaned back in his chair and stared at a dark patch on the carpet. He thought back to the game they had just been playing. He had been with the boy all night and not once had he thought of James Potter. Well, there was the one time that the child himself had brought it up but they had quickly moved on. Severus had maintained control of the situation. He hadn’t belittled or insulted the boy in any way. A definite improvement. Considering how he looked like James Potter reborn, Severus was managing to be quite civil to him. Severus smiled as he remembered the way his mouth had dropped open in shock that one time he had lied about the mirror. It was quite, for lack of a better word, endearing. One could also use the word “cute” to describe him. Of course, Severus would never openly do so but it was true nonetheless. He hadn’t seen the father in the boy’s face then. Did the father and the son really look that alike? In fact the more time Severus spent with the boy, the more he saw that Harry Potter was different. Yes, the shape of the face, the hair and the cheekbones were all the same but there was something utterly different and unique about the boy’s face. Perhaps it was the open smile or maybe it was the way he looked at Severus timidly with his head bent low, or even the way he bit his lower lip. His very expressions suggested an innocence and an openness that had never appeared on James Potter’s face.

Severus chuckled to himself as he remembered the way Harry had rambled on, getting more and more scared but unable to stop himself. That was definitely… cute. Goodness, that was twice Severus caught himself thinking of that hideous  word. Whatever was happening to him? The truth was, quite shockingly, that he liked having the child around. The way he laughed and smiled and looked at Severus with gratitude in his eyes. Spending time with him was refreshing after the loneliness of these dark halls. Perhaps they would try another game, something that would, at least, give Potter a few chances to win. Perhaps a round of Gobstones or Wizard Snakes and Ladders. There was this one game Severus had played as a child, something he had loved sharing with his mother. He didn’t quite remember its name. Something to do with treasures and pranks… What was its name? Severus would go upstairs and take a look in the attic. It was bound to be hidden there somewhere.

And what about the lessons? Now that he wasn’t prone to lose control, he himself could teach Harry defensive spells. They would manage it somehow. Who knows, perhaps they could even come to enjoy these lessons now that they didn’t hate each other. Merlin, it was nice to be liked. The way Harry had smiled and laughed with him had been delightful. Severus always considered himself a misanthropist but even he grew tired of all the hate sometimes. It was hard to be the outsider every time. The disgusted stares and the people always looking at him and seeing only evil was a hard burden to bare. Yes, he was not a good person and he did deserve most of their distrust but that did not make it any less hard. The way Harry had acted tonight, like Severus was just another man and not some monster out to devour the world had been wonderful. Perhaps Dumbledore had been right after all in putting Harry here. Who knows, maybe in time he could even be a good father. It doesn’t matter that he does not know anything about being a father, he would learn. Severus was shocked at how optimistic he sounded. It was quite unlike himself but tonight’s game had put him in a good humor.

Severus snapped the grade book shut. Things will improve next term. He will give Harry extra lessons so he could catch up to the other students. Everything will solve itself in time. With a flick of his wand the book sailed back to its place in his desk drawer. He stood up to leave. It was getting late. He could revise the curriculum another night. Perhaps this light mood he was in could even help him get through the night without the constant nightmares still trailing after him. He made to leave the room but a spot of yellow on the black carpet caught his attention. It was a book lying face down on the floor, half concealed beneath the orange armchair. A corner of it was sticking out tentatively. 

On instinct, Severus picked it up. He hated clutter. He frowned down at the glossy new cover of the book. It was a first year transfiguration book. It must have fallen out of Harry’s bag when he came rushing down here with the board game. Severus placed the book on the orange armchair by the fire thinking to return it in the morning. Just as the book sank down into the plush cushion, something small slipped out of its pages and fluttered to the floor, right on top of Severus’s boots. He picked it up and cast a fleeting glance at the mess of words on the page. It was a letter, a personal one no doubt. Severus meant to slip it back into the safety of the transfiguration book but his own name caught his eye. Dear Professor Snape, it read. With some shock, he realized that the letter was for him. Curious now, he started to read the words on the page.

His eyes followed the rush of words on the page and slowly, his rare smile faded. Each and every word chipped away at his happiness until there was nothing left. His lips pursed together and his forehead creased into a frown. His eyes travelled, faster and faster down the page, running after the stray thoughts captured on paper. His good humor and optimism vanished without leaving any trace behind. Suddenly, he felt an inexplicable sadness and disappointment descend on him. Just for a single moment, he had come to believe that Harry Potter was different, that despite everything the boy had come to like him, that he had managed to open up to someone like him despite his dark past and even darker reputation. He thought, foolishly, that a few civil words and a silly game was enough to make the boy comfortable around him. Severus had even believed he could be a father to him. What nonsense! He was nothing but a death eater and nobody in their right mind would want to spend time with him, least of all a little boy whom he had grievously injured. It was foolish to think otherwise. Damn it all, he needed a drink. Perhaps Lucius was still available for a friendly bottle or ten of firewhiskey.