Harry quickly ducked as an object flew past his head. He looked around for an escape, or at least a shelter. No use, he was surrounded. Quickly he dived out of the way as several more objects flew past. The snow was fresh and deep and his arms sunk in up to the shoulder. He struggled for a minute trying to get up, the cold snow seeping through his clothing, but he didn’t pay too much attention. He was too busy trying not to get hit. Already his nose and ears were numb, his toes chilly and his cheeks bright red. Finally he freed himself from the deep snow drift, quicky ducking behind a tree. He saw Hermione to his left, engaging another in furious battle. He turned back to the right, looking for the enemy. He was breathing hard, his breaths coming out in small white puffs.
Harry was hit hard in the back of the head . . . with a snowball. He could feel the snow slipping into his collar and shuddered slightly. The remaining Gryffindors as well as a few Hufflepuffs had decided to entertain themselves with a snowball fight over vacation, about a dozen people were participating. Several teachers were posted around the grounds, far away from the flying projectiles, as Voldemort was becoming a larger threat, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t still have fun.Finally Harry spotted the culprit - a very smug looking Ronald Weasley. Ron was near the castle and had no where to hide. He was also not paying attention to Harry anymore - perfect. Gathering up a large snowball Harry quickly hurled it at the red-head. Yes! It was going to hit! Oh no! Ron had spotted it and quickly ducked out of the way. The snowball continued flying - right towards Snape!‘Crap crap crap!’ repeated through Harry’s head like a mantra. There was no stopping the snowball and Snape was looking the other way. ‘Crap crap crap’ continued to run through Harry’s head - right up until the snowball collided with the face of the most feared professor in Hogwarts history.
Immediately all action stopped as suddenly as if a spell had been cast over the grounds. Not even the birds in the forest dared make a sound. Snow was all over Snape’s face and in his hair, but the small bit of skin showing was quickly turning a dangerous shade of red. Slowly Snape reached a hand up to his face, dragging it down the length of his face, flinging the snow off his hand. His eyes stayed clenched shut for a moment and he seemed to be reigning in his temper. Slowly the eyes opened and focused on Harry, the only one with a clear path to Snape in his position leaning against the wall of the castle.
Harry winced as Snape pulled his wand out of his sleeve and Professor McGonagall rushed towards him from where she was about twenty yards away. Snape waved his wand and Harry found he was terrified to the point of being unable to move. But instead of a curse being hurled at him, several large snowballs formed and flew straight towards the unmoving Harry.
Quickly regaining his senses Harry tried to run, but it was too late. The barrage of snowballs hit him dead on, knocking him back into the snow drifts. Harry was almost completely covered in snow. Slowly the shock of what had just happened wore off and the snowballs began flying again. Harry lay in his snowdrift replaying the events in his head. Snape - greasy git of the dungeons - had just thrown a snowball at him. And hit him even! With all the thoughts running through his head Harry didn’t notice Snape approaching.
“I highly doubt it’s comfortable to lay buried in the snow like that, Mr. Potter.” Snape said, smirk on his face. He extended his hand to Harry who warily took it. Snape easily lifted him out of the snowbank and back onto his feet, even going so far as to brush a bit of snow out of Harry’s hair.
“I would suggest you go take a hot shower before you become ill.” Snape said, and Harry knew this was probably as caring as he would ever see Snape being. Perhaps it was the fact that he was finally free of his spying duties, having been discovered just two months ago, on Halloween to be exact. Harry tried not to think of the scars that lay hidden under his robes. He had been to one to discover Snape, left to die outside the gates, having witnessed the torture in a vision. Shaking himself out of his thoughts Harry followed Snape back to the castle, this time protected from the flying snow by a weak shield charm cast by Snape himself.
“Oh, and Potter?” Snape said, stopping Harry just as he was about to ascend the first of many staircases up to the tower.
“Yes Professor?” Harry asked, turning.
“Detention, tonight at 8.” Snape said, sweeping off into the dungeons, leaving a speechless Harry gaping after him. Some things just never changed.