"What Strange Conditions Everywhere"

My god has forsaken me and disappeared,

My goddess has failed me and keeps at a distance.

The benevolent angel who walked beside me has departed,

My protecting spirit has taken to flight, and is seeking someone else.

My strength is gone; my appearance has become gloomy;

My dignity has flown away, my protection made off....

The king, the flesh of the gods, the sun of his peoples,

His heart is enraged with me, and cannot be appeased.

The courtiers plot hostile action against me,

They assemble themselves and give utterance to impious words....

They combine against me in slander and lies.

My lordly mouth have they held as with reins,

So that I, whose lips used to prate, have become like a mute.

My sonorous shout is reduced to silence,

My lofty head is bowed down to the ground,

Dread has enfeebled my robust heart....

If I walk the street, ears are pricked;

If I enter the palace, eyes blink.

My city frowns on me as an enemy;

Indeed my land is savage and hostile.

My friend has become foe,

My companion has become a wretch and a devil....

As I turn round, it is terrible, it is terrible;

My ill luck has increased, and I do not find the right.

I called to my god, but he did not show his face,

I prayed to my goddess, but she did not raise her head.

The diviner with his inspection has not got to the root of the matter,

Nor has the dream priest with his libation elucidated my case.

I sought the favour of the zaqiqu-spirit, but he did not enlighten me;

And the incantation priest with his ritual did not appease the divine wrath against me.

What strange conditions everywhere!

When I look behind, there is persecution, trouble.

Harry stared at the parchment before him. It was written in Snape's scrawling handwriting. At first, he thought he was looking at something that Snape had written himself and he felt a deep well of sadness. But then he noticed a clay tablet on the desk and some other scraps of parchment and realized that Snape had been translating the tablet.

The tablet was inscribed with wedge like symbols and Harry seemed to recall a night when Hermione had shown him a page from her runes text. The word cuneiform came to mind. He moved the papers on the table, glancing nervously at the door.

When he had woken, Snape had already been gone and there had been a note on the counter telling him to eat the cold meal that had been left out and then get out and do something with his day until lunch. Harry had taken his time eating and then had seen a mess of papers sitting on Snape's desk that hadn't been there the night before. A voice in the back of his mind had told him to leave it alone but he had caught the words on the first page and couldn't stop himself from reading it. Harry had felt like that all last year, as though the whole world were against him. After last night when he had been forced to remember that the Order didn't think well of Snape, he had immediately thought that Snape had written the poem.

He didn't know why he was relieved to see that it was a translation instead. There was just something very disturbing about the thought that Snape might actually care about what others thought of him, because if he did, then he must be very sad indeed. And Harry couldn't imagine Snape being sad. He was just too...too strong. Harry didn't mean to keep looking, but there was something familiar about the symbols on the tablet. It must just be from Hermione's texts, though for some reason, he didn't think that was it.

The door opened and he jumped back, upsetting some of the papers and his heart hammering in his chest. Snape stood in the doorway, looking between him and the desk. "So...SO!"

When had Harry heard this before? The image of a jar of cockroaches flashed through his memory and he stepped backward slowly, right up until his back hit the wall. Snape swept forward, the sound of each step pounding in Harry's ears. He wished now he had never seen Snape duel, because now he was remembering bodies thrown with the casual flick of a wrist, landing in pretzel configuration. Did Remus have good reason to fear for him? Harry's mouth went dry.

Snape grabbed the paper that Harry had been looking at and lifted it off the desk, eyes roaming over the desk, making sure nothing was missing. Then he turned on Harry and Harry felt the full force of Snape's glare.

"Going through my things again Potter? Hoping to prove all of your friends right about me?" Harry didn't for a second think that Snape's quiet tone meant that he was out of danger.

"I...I didn't. No!" Harry protested.

That seemed to make Snape even angrier and he moved forward in one smooth motion and grabbed Harry's shoulder. His fingers were surprisingly strong and Harry thought that if he gripped any harder, it would leave bruises.

"You didn't what Potter? Don't lie to me!"

Ah, that was it wasn't it? Snape always thought he was lying or up to no good. Harry put his hands between them in the air. "I did. I did look at the papers. But I wasn't..."

Snape grabbed his other shoulder and pushed him out from the wall toward his room. "Your room Potter! I don't want to see or hear you until I get you out for lunch!"

Harry tripped on the edge of the carpet and ended up sprawled at Snape's feet. This was definitely not the best position to be in. Snape was looking angrier and angrier.

"I'm sorry. I really am!" Harry said with feeling as he got to his feet. "I wasn't looking for anything. I was just reading that poem because I saw it sitting there and...and," he lost his steam as Snape's eyes got darker.

"And you think my papers are your business. You just can't help yourself can you Potter? You think everyone's life is your business?" Snape knew that normally, this wouldn't have made him quite so mad. But after the incident with the pensieve last year and then with Lupin last night, he found his rage just simmering below the surface. The little brat had no respect for his privacy. He should know...he should damn well know to stay away from his desk!

"I'm sorry. I really am! I shouldn't have looked. I...it's none of my business. I really am sorry!"

Snape reached down and hauled him up roughly by his wrist. Harry could feel his fingers digging into his wrists and winced, but he didn't want to say anything. Snape started hauling him to his bedroom door as he spat out words. "That's the smartest thing you've said Potter. But despite how sorry you always are, it never stops you."

Harry was afraid to interrupt, which, in some small part of his brain that wasn't occupied by fear, he thought was rather funny. He had faced Voldemort for Merlin's sake! But he was even more afraid to not say anything. He needed someone to understand. He needed Snape to understand. He had never even apologized for the pensieve incident and now seemed better than never.

"I...I know that it seems that way." Snape's glare got even harder so he rushed on, the whole time dragging his feet across the carpet. "I really am sorry. I messed up when I looked in your pensieve. I'm so sorry!" he cried. Now he was nearly desperate for Snape to stop and listen to him. "I do respect your privacy!" he yelled. "I...I never breathed a word about it to anyone. And it had the opposite effect on me than you thought it did. Oh God, I'm really sorry!" he cried as they crossed the threshold of his room. Harry knew he was rambling but Snape was fearsome in his anger and Harry really was sorry.

Although Snape was furious, he had years of practice controlling himself, and Potter could hardly utter a lie in his presence without him knowing. The boy was sincere, but...

Snape spun Harry around to face him. "What do you mean ‘opposite effect', Potter?" His grip dug even more painfully into Harry's wrist, and Harry was astonished by the man's strength. Snape didn't even seem to realize it was hurting him until he winced. Then the grip loosened considerably and Harry drew in a breath, but Snape was still glaring at him so he ploughed on.

"I didn't like what I saw. You were wrong. I don't think my father was amusing. I...I don't think I'm like that. I don't think that's right, two on one and unprovoked. I...it was wrong." His last sentence was said like a judge pronouncing judgment and he noted with astonishment that it was the first time he'd been able to say out loud that his father had been wrong without making excuses, and he felt better for some reason. He realized a second later how hard it had been to live up to the perfect name of Potter.

Snape leaned forward until he was inches from Harry's face. "So now you pity me Potter?"

What!? Warning bells were going off in Harry's head. He had never thought that! And now more than ever, how could he ever dare to pity Snape? He had to say something. "NO! I don't pity you," he said with equal parts shock and sincerity. "I respect you!"

Wow, he hadn't meant to say that. But now that it was out, he knew it was true. He still didn't like how Snape had treated him over the years, but he had to respect the man after everything he had seen and heard. And the scars on Snape's back that he had been so curious about? They had to have come from battle. No, he could pity a lesser man, but never Snape. He was just too damn strong to pity in any form.

Snape stared at him for several heartbeats after that and then, abruptly, dropped his wrist as though he had been stung. He stepped backward one step, never taking his eyes off of Harry and Harry had the impression that Snape was searching for the truth in his mind, so he returned the eye contact and let him.

Just as abruptly as Snape had dropped his wrist, the man turned on his heel and left Harry standing in his doorway staring after him. He went to the door of the bathroom and Harry heard him rummaging around in the cabinet. After a minute he returned. Harry had not moved at all. When Snape reached out and grabbed his wrist this time, Harry didn't flinch at all. He didn't know how he could tell, but he knew that Snape wasn't going to hurt him. He had even known it before, although Snape had dug a little too hard on his wrist.

Snape was holding a jar of some sort of salve and it took Harry a full minute to comprehend that Snape was applying it to his wrists where he had dug his fingers in. Before he pocketed the jar again, Snape ran a finger over his wrists and turned them this way, then that, looking for the bruises that weren't even forming.

Then, as if nothing had happened at all, Snape strode out saying, "It's lunch time. Have a seat."

Harry was stunned and chagrined. He followed Snape out to the table and sat quietly while Snape prepared sandwiches. Had he said the right thing? Had Snape forgiven him? Did Snape ever forgive anything?

Snape was just stunned. Respect? From a Potter? He saw the truth in Potter's eyes. No one, besides Dumbledore, had ever recognized the good that he had done, at least not aloud. If they ever had any respect for him, they kept silent about it and treated it like it was his penance or some such nonsense like that. As if any of them understood what he had done or how he felt. He had his fair share of guilt, it was true, but he knew what they thought on the matter and they couldn't be further from the truth. His guilt had all to do with what he had failed to accomplish and with his former friends in the Dark Lord's army and not much to do with his having been a death eater. He had made the best decisions that he could have at the time.

In the moment that Potter had uttered those three words, ‘I respect you', all of his anger had blown away and been replaced by...he didn't know what. Gratitude? Relief? More likely surprise. How pathetic really, he snorted to himself. After all this time, someone finally recognizes all of his hard work and he feels gratitude? But his allies had hated him for so long without giving a damn about his work or the truth of his past, that he had just never realized how good it could feel to have someone say it.

Potter. Potter was sorry. Potter admitted his father was wrong. He had seen gratitude in Potter's eyes since the rescue. And now respect. Severus Snape, with all of his command of the spoken language, was speechless. And just like that, Potter was forgiven.

Huh.

During lunch, they ate in complete silence, although neither of them seemed to notice it. They both finished at the same time and Snape rose stiffly from his seat and announced that he would be in the lab until dinner finishing the Wolfsbane. Then he left.

Harry, remembering what Snape had said about doing something constructive each day and giving an account each night at dinner, determined he would make peace by finding a book and studying something. He went through all of Snape's books and finally pulled down a dog-eared book about defense against the dark arts. The first thing he noticed when he opened the book was how all of the margins were taken up by cramped writing, which Harry immediately recognized as Snape's. He started reading the first chapter, but his eyes were nearly always running off to the side to read what Snape had written about the passage.

The book read, "When meeting a werewolf, one should always be prepared to conjure silver ropes. Though this almost always ends up in the death of the werewolf, the law clearly states..."

To the side of the passage, Snape had written, "If one is so inclined to kill the creature, you might as well use an Avada and make it painless. But that would be unforgivable."

Another passage read, "When faced with a Dark Witch or Wizard, you should never try to duel them alone. Instead, seek assistance, preferably from a ministry auror." To the side, Snape had replied, "Or you could use a good blasting charm and survive the encounter." Harry snorted. The book was full of these little quips and Harry realized that what would have been another boring and useless defense book was rendered interesting by Snape's margin scrawls.

Before Harry even knew it, he was looking up at the clock and he realized that dinnertime had started fifteen minutes ago. But Snape hadn't come back at all. He replaced the book on the shelf and stared at the door for a few seconds before deciding to just make dinner himself. Snape was probably in the middle of a potion and just couldn't get away.

A half hour later, he placed the salad and the meat pies on the table and still, Snape hadn't shown up. Harry decided to go and see if Snape was coming. The potions lab was close, and looking through the door, Harry saw Snape leaning over a cauldron, stirring, while several others were brewing on their own. Harry watched for several moments as Snape worked among them all with ease and confidence. Harry and his classmates, even Hermione and Malfoy from time to time, had trouble with just one cauldron. But Snape looked like he could probably handle a few more. It was impressive how he moved among them, stopping to stir here and there, or turn down the heat, or pour a potion out. Snape seemed to be moving with an inner rhythm. Harry wouldn't have minded watching him work for a little while but he didn't want to make him angry and dinner was getting cold, so he knocked on the doorframe and said "Sir? I've made dinner. Shall I keep it warm for later?"

Snape rose from his cauldron and replied without looking up. "I will join you when I've poured the last of the potions. It should only take a half hour."

Harry stepped in further. "Can I help?"

Snape almost said no, but on second thought, instructed Potter to carefully pour two of the potions into several bottles and seal and label them. The boy had made it through five years of potions after all.

When they finished fifteen minutes later, Snape locked up the potions lab and they walked back to their rooms. They had been silent up ‘til then but Snape spoke before reaching the door. "Mr. Potter, I have learned to expect very little good in this world, but I still expect a good dinner."

Harry noticed the slight gleam in Snape's eyes and wondered if he was being serious or joking. Harry cracked a slight grin and said, "Well in that case, I think you'll be pleased. It's a gourmet dinner."

Snape snorted when he saw the meat pies and salad on the table. But it was good. He himself had rarely had time to cook anything more complicated than sandwiches and had often just gone without if he was too busy or tired.

Feeling in a better mood for all the good food that he had just consumed, Snape sat back and linked his fingers over his stomach. "Maybe I'll keep you around Potter. I believe I've gained weight in the last few days."

Harry smiled at the compliment and silently agreed that Snape should eat more. He had seen the man's ribs last night. He didn't understand why Snape ate so little though. The only thing he could think was that Snape was too busy, because this castle was full of good food.

True to his word, Snape expected an accounting of his day over dinner. Harry left out the part about the translation on the desk since they both knew about it and instead, talked about the book he had read part of. "And the notes in the margin really helped sir."

Snape nodded as Harry got up to bring him the book. When he had it in his hand, he said, "Ah, yes. This was a ridiculous book, I recall. But then most defense books are woefully inadequate."

Harry agreed wholeheartedly. "I know. But your notes really helped. You should write a book sir."

Snape's head snapped up at that and he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Then his eyes slipped over to a drawer in his desk for a second before looking back at Potter. Harry just stared at him in astonishment. In a moment of clarity, he realized that Snape must have done so, or at least started one.

"You've already written one haven't you?" Harry asked. Any danger at asking Snape a personal question was forgotten in his own excitement. He wanted to read that book, badly.

Snape stiffened slightly, then in the space of a breath relaxed. He nodded curtly and after another pause, got up and moved toward his desk.

No way! Harry thought. No way is Snape going to show me!

But Snape pulled open a drawer and withdrew a large stack of parchment from it. As if that stack hadn't been large enough, he then withdrew an equally large stack from another drawer. When he came back to the table, he dropped the combined stack on the table with a thud.

Harry leaned forward excitedly as Snape took a seat directly next to Harry's. He pulled the stack toward him and separated it into two neat piles. On the top of one, Harry saw the title, "Practical Battle Techniques" in Snape's handwriting. On the other, the title read, "Compendium of Battle Spells and Their Counters: Both Light and Dark."

"Oh. My. God," Harry breathed. "This is awesome. You wrote all of this? Can I read them?"

Snape sat back with a slight smile on his face. "I did write these, in between the wars. The Compendium was finished in your second year. The other I finished years before that."

Harry frowned up at him. "But why haven't you published them?"

Snape shrugged, which was a very un-Snapeish thing to do, Harry thought. In an off hand tone, he said, "It seems that no publishers wish to carry my books."

Harry's frown only grew. "Can I read them?"

Snape stood from the table and reached for two cups, one he filled with tea and the other with coffee. "You may," he answered as he handed the cup of tea to Harry.

At Harry's look of delight, he sat back down and leaned forward to speak, making sure that Potter was paying attention. "But! You may not take them out of these rooms and you may not tell any of your little friends about them. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." He didn't really, but he'd keep to the deal anyway.

"Very well," Snape said as he rose from the table, went to his desk and started working on the parchment that had sparked their argument earlier. Harry was already reaching for the stack on "Practical Battle Techniques".

They worked in solitude and quiet for over an hour. Snape looked up from time to time to see Potter leaning over the parchment until his nose was practically touching it at times. At others, Potter would be practicing wand movements quietly. The last time he had watched Potter for nearly a full minute as he excitedly turned the pages. Potter was even taking time to study the illustrations that he had included.

He couldn't help but feel elated that a student was finally reading his book and enjoying it. He had been disappointed time and again that no one was willing to publish a book on defense by a potions master. Only one publisher had deigned to read it and he had said straight out that it was very good, but it wasn't what was selling now days. Apparently, the only defense books that were making any kind of money were the ones that were personal accounts like Lockhart's books. He hadn't even bothered to mention that they would make good books for Hogwarts children. Each defense teacher picked their own book and syllabi and Snape couldn't hope to get his book on the roster. As far as writing about personal accounts went, Snape could have written several personal accounts for every chapter in that book. But he didn't fancy going to jail.

Harry was totally engrossed in the book. He had forgotten two minutes into reading it that he was even in the same room with anyone. The Battle Techniques book was well written and could almost read like a story, except it had no actual personal accounts. The first few chapters dealt with preparation and training, both of the mind and the body. Strategy took up the largest part of the book. The reigning theme in the book seemed to be proper training and preparation, practicing until defensiveness was a reflex, and taking initiative, though several chapters were dedicated to specific cases, like proper duels or sabotage. There was even a rather large section on stealth. Harry devoured the first few chapters, recalling to his mind each time he had seen action himself and comparing how he had acted to how the book's author would have. It was clear to him now more than ever, even though he had said it before during the DA, that he had survived almost entirely on luck and the help of others. Preparation and strategy had had very little to do with it at all.

The book spoke of several specific spells of course. But it didn't waste precious space going into detail about each one. It gave an abbreviated explanation of its effects and how to accomplish it and then referred the reader to the exact page in the Compendium where it would be found. Harry found himself going back and forth between the books several times, practicing the wand movements and paying close attention to the pronunciation guide. Each spell in the compendium had an essay length description that included a brief history, examples of best usage, and detailed explanations of its effects. At the end, references were given for further reading. Then a list of similar spells, counter spells and potions with similar effects was given, each with its own page number. Harry could have picked a page, read a spell and randomly followed the path of similar and counter spells and never gotten bored or lost sight of its relevance.

He was so engrossed in the book that he was completely taken off guard when there was a knock on the door. He looked up and blinked his eyes a few times and watched as Snape stalked toward the door with his wand out. The door went clear as Snape approached it. Remus.

Snape yanked the door open and stepped aside, a glower on his face the whole time.

"Good evening Severus. Hi Harry," Remus waved. Harry stood up nervously and smiled back, but he watched Snape out of the corner of his eye.

"Hi Remus. How...how are you?"

"Fine, thank you." Remus however, was watching Snape too.

The door slammed shut and after the ‘pleasantries' Snape pointed to the spot of floor that Remus was standing on and said, "Stay here. I'll bring you the potion."

"Thank you Severus," Remus called out to Snape's retreating back. When he had gone into his room and shut the door, Remus turned worried eyes to Harry.

"Is he very angry?" he whispered. Harry only had time to nod in the affirmative before Snape came back out carrying a steaming goblet. Harry hadn't even known Snape had brought the potion into the apartments.

The goblet was thrust into Remus' hands and Snape crossed his arms. "Well?" he snapped.

Remus sucked in a breath and threw his head back, followed by the potion. When he finished drinking it, Remus' face was twisted as though he had just eaten something rancid. Snape on the other hand, was smirking nastily as he took back the goblet.

Harry felt his own lips twist into a smile and quickly schooled his features. It was kind of funny to see Remus making such an awful face though.

"Will that be all...Lupin?" Snape dragged his last name out sarcastically.

"Actually, no Severus," Remus said in his most polite tones. Harry just stared at him open jawed. Remus had better have a good excuse to stay after what had happened last night.

Snape's eyebrows rose into his hairline. "Indeed?" he asked quietly. Harry could tell he was irritated and so could Remus.

"Yes, I saw the Headmaster and he wanted to talk to both of us in his office."

Snape stalked to the door, pulled it open and looked back to Remus, who hurried out, waving goodbye to Harry. Before Snape left, he turned back to Harry, made eye contact for a beat and then walked out. Harry just sat down at the table, at a loss. He really wanted to know what was going on.

Unfortunately, when Snape came back a half hour later, he said nothing at all to Harry as he went to his room and shut the door behind him. Harry took that as a sign that it was bedtime and moved Snape's books to the side table, then went to his own room to try and sleep. At least it was cool in the dungeons.