Chapter 18

A Time for Tea

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There was a long silence as professor and student each contemplated his own thoughts. Harry could feel the Potion Master's gaze as it settled on him, and despite his apprehension, he met his eyes.

"Is this what you came for?" he asked quietly, wishing Snape would just leave.

There was a short pause.

"No," Severus said a second later, straightening back up. Until this moment, he had lost sight of his reasons for coming. "I came here because the headmaster paid me a visit earlier and explained to me why my afternoon would not be occupied by Occlumency lessons."

Harry's shoulders slumped slightly as he sat back down in his chair. He'd hoped to lead Snape away from the confrontation; it now seemed he'd led him into another one.

"Now, while he seemed to think you were better left on your own," Severus started with a misleadingly light tone, "I highly disagree." And while this was true, and Severus was effectively presenting a front of formidable displeasure, he was having difficulty conjuring up the feelings to match it.

Harry chanced a look at the Potions Master's face and saw with a surge of dissatisfaction that his expression had darkened once again. He dropped his head in defeat, hoping to appease the Professor.

"A teacher, or any of your elders, for that matter," Severus continued, "should never be expected to brook refusal from you. The fact that you think they should deeply aggravates me…"

Severus took pause, expecting a smart retort from the boy in front of him. However, Harry remained quiet, and Severus found himself at a surprising loss for words. He contented himself with crossing his arms and glaring down at him, but something about the way Harry was glaring evasively at the floor, loathing his very presence there, made him feel a little angrier with himself than anything. After all, Harry really only felt this way towards him because Severus had provoked it all these years. Now, with the scary reality in place that this boy, unacquainted his son, might have limited time, he couldn't help but feel slightly less vengeful towards him. He wasn't repentant, no, but he was feeling a bit more generous... even if not by choice.

Harry looked up after a moment and said dully, "Is that all, sir?"

Severus shifted his jaw and considered Harry through narrowed eyes. He greatly disliked the notion of discontinuing his lecture, but his loss for words would prove his persistence in lecturing the boy fruitless.

"Don't," Severus said warningly, raising one long finger to point threateningly at Harry, "let it happen again." He then turned on his heel and swept towards the door, saying over his shoulder, "Be at my office tomorrow, by five o' clock. Don't be late."

xxx

Bright rays of sunshine swept through the windows of Gryffindor tower, streaming across Harry's face and forcing him to consciousness as little pricks of light pried their way into his eyes. With a low groan, he turned over in his bed and lobbed his pillow over his head. He hoped, to no avail, that he might fall back to sleep, for if he woke up, it only meant hours of endless research for the second day in a row, and that he wasn't looking forward to.

Harry finally gave up on his quest for sleep after one extremely restless hour, which he'd spent tossing and turning in his bed in useless attempt to find repose. He could already feel the heat of the day, and dug through his trunk to find the coolest clothing he had brought. After dressing, he padded lightly down the coiled stairs to the common room. He saw with some satisfaction that his books were still strewn across the room; he had worried the house elves might have tidied up and lost his places in the marked chapters.

Thinking he would return to his reading later, Harry headed through the portrait hole and towards the Great Hall for breakfast, hoping he hadn't slept too late. He was starting to enjoy the peacefulness of the castle now; it was lovely to roam the halls early in the day without interruption. It gave him a lot of time to think, a lot of room for clarity, which was a good thing since his life was often far too complicated for his liking.

Harry passed by the classroom in the entrance hall that had been transformed earlier in the previous year to suit Firenze, the new divination teacher. Firenze was a centaur who had been banned from the forest by his herd when he had agreed to help Dumbledore and filled the position that Professor Trelawney had left vacant when sacked by Dolores Umbridge. It had been a huge scene, Harry remembered, leaving Trelawney in tears upon her suitcases as the short, squat, and toad-like ministry official-turned-professor had attempted to have her removed from the castle. Dumbledore had supplied a new teacher before another ministry-ordered teacher had been able to fill the spot, and had ensured Trelawney a home within Hogwarts walls. Harry could still remember Umbridge's veiled rage at this, especially at the fact that a half-breed was the only thing standing in the way of extra support for her and her plans at taking over the school. Oh, how well those worked out, Harry thought with a smirk.

Harry vaguely began to wonder what had become of Umbridge before he was struck by a sudden thought; Firenze was a more than competent divination teacher, and who better to ask about dreams? Turning around, Harry ventured hopefully into the open door of the classroom, and was pleased to find Firenze there, writing what looked like a letter.

He looked up calmly, seemingly having already guessed who had just entered the room.

"Harry Potter," Firenze acknowledged, giving Harry a courteous nod before looking back down.

"Hello, Firenze," Harry said pleasantly, watching him with mild interest. "Are you writing a letter?" He had never really thought of centaurs as using the post; they seemed above such ordinary means of communication.

Firenze nodded, still writing and allowing his gaze to remain focused on the parchment. "That I am," he said, "Professor Trelawney wishes to remain in her tower, and I have a difficult time climbing up there. We are coordinating lesson plans through Dumbledore."

"Oh," Harry murmured reminiscently. He remembered hearing something the previous year about the two teaching together and was quite familiar with Trelawney's odd inclinations. It hardly surprised him that she was now refusing to leave her tower.

"Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Potter?" Firenze asked, looking up at Harry.

Snapping back from his thoughts and meeting Firenze's eyes, Harry remembered his reason for being there and nodded. "Yes, actually," he faltered a moment, "er- or, I hope you can. You know a lot about things like dreams and predictions and everything, don't you?"

"Predictions are never reliable," Firenze said steadily, "nor are many forms of dreams."

"Well," Harry said distractedly, thinking he should have been more prepared for such vagueness. "If I were to ask you about the nature of some dreams I've been having, would you be able to tell me about them?"

"One can never tell until the dreams are described to him." Firenze said wisely, moving towards Harry and stopping a short distance in front of him. "But if you were to relate these dreams to me in detail, I might."

"Right," Harry said quietly, flushing slightly and averting his eyes to the ground. "But please, don't tell anyone?"

Firenze nodded compliantly. "Not unless necessary."

Harry was annoyed with this answer, but went on anyways. The curiosity was killing him, and he was positive that another hour in front of an open book would drive him mad.

"Well, alright," Harry started somewhat awkwardly, sitting down on the soft green earth that was the classroom floor. He wasn't quite sure how to explain what had been happening; he couldn't think of a fitting introduction to the story behind his current inquisition. It seemed simplest to cut to the point. "You see, the day I was rescued from Voldemort-" Harry looked up briefly and was glad to see that Firenze had not flinched at the sound of the name. "-I almost died. But for some reason, Snape grabbed my hand, like it would keep me here- and we shared some sort of, umm, connection, you could say."

Harry looked up again to see if Firenze was following, and at his small nod, he continued. "Since then, I've been having these dreams- and they- they all involve him and my mother. It's usually just little scenes between the two, simple conversations or something, but they always seem like they're… a little more than friends. Then, the other night, I had this really strange one where they ran into each other at Diagon Alley, and Snape said a few nasty things to her, and then they just rushed away from each other. I don't get it, and I'm being driven out of my mind. I've researched all sorts of texts on dreams, but it's all so indefinable, I mean, the only tell-tale sign for most of them is whether or not you're asleep-"

Firenze held up a hand, signaling for Harry to fall silent. "Mr. Potter," he started indistinctly, turning and moving towards the window, gazing out towards the lake. "You are aware of the possibility that some dreams are prophetical- tell of the future, correct?"

Harry bit back the urge to say he knew what prophetical meant and nodded, which Firenze must have guessed as he continued without a verbal response.

"Are you aware of the theory that there are dreams which may tell of the past?"

Harry's mouth opened slightly in confusion as he sputtered in response. "Wha- I- well, I'd read that, but I-" he paused. "how?"

"Unfortunately," Firenze said, turning away from the window, "one can hardly ever tell if that is the case. Dreams, as all aspects of divination, are very unreliable. However, the fates often use them as a way of prodding us in the right direction."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "And what direction would that be?"

"It is difficult to say," said Firenze, gazing upward. "But dreams of the conceptual nature are rarely insignificant. Perhaps you should be spending less time attempting to understand the logical meaning of them, and more to understand the intended purpose for them."

"But," Harry said faintly, still at a loss for words. Was Firenze saying these dreams could be some sort of recollection from the past? That they could be real? "I don't understand."

"Perhaps you are not meant to," said Firenze, "yet."

"But can't you-"

"Our kind do not serve as seers. If the fates inform us of certain events, it is not so that we will reveal them, for if that were the intention of our knowledge, everyone would have it." Firenze turned and gave Harry a distant smile. "In time, Mr. Potter. In time."

Harry stared blankly at him for a moment before rising to his feet. "Right," he said dazedly, stepping towards the door, "well, thanks."

Firenze nodded his welcome and Harry stepped out into the corridor.

Harry had an idea that he was leaving the room in a much more befuddled state than he had entered it with. Too weary to think about Firenze's cryptic words, he tried to shake off the uneasy feeling that had arisen in his chest and went into the Great Hall for some breakfast, glad to find that it was empty of people, but not food.

xxx

If there was one part of the year which Severus loathed above all the rest, it was the two-week period in which the staff of Hogwarts prepared for the start of term. The Headmaster was adamant about multiple staff meetings, finalizing lesson plans, and reminding each teacher, (especially Severus) of what it was he or she needed to take the time to concentrate on. McGonagall was often spoken to about her impatience and constant overworking- Hagrid, his need for caution- and Severus was repeatedly told, (in certain words) to be nice. This bothered him greatly- but often, he let it go, as did the rest of the teachers. This year, however, he'd bitten back at Dumbledore's subtle comments, and now the air between them was very tense as they moved on to lesson plans.

Both were very relieved when McGonagall came to the open door and informed them that Firenze was waiting at the bottom of the staircase to speak to them. Dumbledore made a quiet comment about not expecting him until later, and the two men made their way down to the main floor, where the fair-haired centaur was waiting patiently for them.

"Firenze," Dumbledore said graciously, stepping first off the bottom stair and giving him a nod of greeting.

Firenze returned the nod to both Dumbledore and Severus, saying, "Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor Snape." He paused and discretely glanced around before continuing to the nature of his business.

"Young Mr. Potter was down to see me today," Firenze started purposefully, immediately gaining the two Professors' full attentiveness; Dumbledore because of his ever-present concern for the boy, and Severus because of his alarm that Firenze would presume to involve him. "He has been having dreams."

"With Voldemort?" Dumbledore inquired immediately, looking as though an affirmation would send him bolting straight to Harry.

"No doubt because of his refusal to cooperate," Severus commented sardonically, crossing his arms.

Firenze looked in placid interest between the two, seeming unsurprised yet fascinated with their opposing reactions. "Neither," he responded.

"I am not unaware of the recent discoveries about the child," Firenze went on assiduously. "I was, until now, unsure what course was meant to be followed. It seems apparent, however, that he is intended to learn of his true identity and only you can control how."

Severus was eyeing him askance, arms still crossed and brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" he asked sharply.

"I mean," Said Firenze a little more compellingly, "that these dreams have all been recounting a history between you and his mother, a history which he is finding very suspicious." Severus paled considerably at this, and though he had remained unchanged in every other way, his face denoted sudden and sickened anxiety. "He's been relentless in discovering the reason behind them, and as they are being shown to him for a reason, likelihood would dictate that he will eventually discover the meaning of them. All it would take would be for him to find the right book."

Severus allowed his widened eyes to linger on the centaur in front of him for a moment, and he then lowered them to the ground in a fixed stare. He hardly dared to glance at the Headmaster as he felt him shift at his side.

"You are sure of this?" he heard Dumbledore say gravely.

"Positive," Firenze said, with more confidence than Severus would have liked. "I promised I would not tell anyone unless necessary, but in this situation—"

"No, you were right to tell us. Thank you, Firenze," Dumbledore said.

Severus could feel the old man's fierce gaze turn upon him as Firenze gave them one last nod, turning and heading in the opposite direction, the clacking of his hooves echoing loudly throughout the silent corridor as he went.

Severus speechlessly turned towards Dumbledore, slowly bringing his eyes up to the man's face. He saw in an instant that the man looked angry and reproving rather than pleading and sympathetic as he would have expected- strangely, it made Severus feel more tolerant towards him.

"Well?" Dumbledore said flatly, his face stricken. He had clearly figured out, some time ago, that Severus had never had any real intention of telling Harry. It had probably been during their argument five minutes previous. "What do you plan to do now?"

Severus looked away, staring down the long corridor, and inhaled deeply. His shock was wearing off, and he found himself filled with dread at the thought of the deliberation he would now have to face. "I think," he said unevenly, "that I will go have a very long cup of tea." At Dumbledore's incredulous look, he added as he brushed past, "to mull over."

xxx End Chapter xxx