Please Be There If I Remember

Chapter Fifteen: Arguments

Draco felt rather than saw the potions master's eyes on him as he easily finished the Invigoration Draught that he had ordered them to brew. He wasn't sure what the man's problem was with him, and was told by his three friends that the way he was acting towards him was not normal Snape-ish behaviour. (Blaise's words, not his.)

So he waited until class had finished and the man dismissed everyone with that careful, laid-back drawl that Draco had to admit was rather cool sounding, and stalked up towards the man's pristine desk.

Snape blinked slowly at Draco's presence like it was a riddle he didn't want to solve, and waited patiently in that infuriatingly bored expression like he wanted—no, needed—Draco to be the one to start up the conversation because he couldn't be the one bothered to do it himself.

Draco cleared his throat impatiently. "Hello, Professor."

The man looked up at him with those deep-set eyes that Draco—for some inexplicably strange reason—found very calming.

"Hello Draco," the man crawled out. "Are you here to ask a question about your potion? Because I would rather not have my time wasted since you clearly know how to brew it to near perfection," he sneered.

For some unknown reason, Draco preened at the not-compliment.

"Thank you, Sir, but that is not what I'm here for."

Professor Snape showed as much surprise as a man like him could—his head tilting upwards slightly and controlled confusion swimming behind his deep gaze.

"Then why, pray tell, are you standing in front of my desk."

"I was wondering why you seem to be acting so...strange around me. I am sure that you have heard about the memory loss?"

Snape raised his eyebrow as if to say, What professor hasn't?

Draco chuckled at his expression, and for some reason, Snape almost looked as if he were relieved by the sound.

"Well, my friends told me that you were acting a lot different than usual, and you kept sending me these—glances, of sorts. So I thought I would ask if there was anything you'd like to...I don't know, tell me?"

The man paused for a moment, thinking. "Well, as your godfather, Draco, I—"

Draco blinked and his mouth burst out the words before he could stop it. "My what?"

Snape paused then took a deep, settling breath.

"I am your godfather."

"Oh."

Draco found that he couldn't quite grasp the thought, as it kept leaping away from him like a string blowing lazily in the wind. Was that why the man had been sending him such guarded looks?

"I was not aware that you didn't know," Snape said, looking as though he had accidentally eaten something rather sour.

"Neither was I," Draco answered blithely.

This was definitely not how he thought this conversation would go.

"It certainly explains a lot though," Draco pointed out. But something was still bothering him like a rock stuck in his shoe. "Why didn't you come talk to me then?"

"I was...unaware that you would want to."

So the stuck-up teacher that was calling out Potter on literally nothing in potions class today is self-conscious? Who would've thought.

Draco tilted his head and stared at the man in front of him. His hair was dark and shining with a thin layer of grease that he doubted the professor ever washed, and his nose was long and pointy, like an extra eye that was staring balefully at him from behind an unknown curtain. He knew the professor was at least nearing his forties, but he looked much older with all of these attributes put together and Draco found himself curious about him.