To Severus surprise Harry fixed him a cup of coffee in the morning as he had yesterday, this time making himself a cup of his own as he sat down to look over a letter he was preparing to mail off. Severus thanked him, somewhat baffled by his behavior.
"You're welcome," the boy said simply as he took a sip of his own coffee. He watched as the boy made a face at the taste, frowned, and then shrugged, taking another sip.
"I do have tea if you'd prefer," Severus pointed out to him.
"Tomorrow," Harry agreed. "This stuff taste like crap."
Severus had to bite back the impulse to deduct house points for the comment. Instead he headed toward his office, intent on getting some work done before the day started. He was stopped by the sudden flurry of wings through one of the owl entry holes. Looking up he spied several owls flying into the room, all laden down with heavy envelopes and packages. Harry stood in surprise as several more owls followed the first few, more following them.
"Expecting a delivery?" he asked.
Severus shook his head, baffled himself by the sudden influx of letters. They couldn't all be howlers from Black! He moved toward one of the owls, picking up the letter the bird dropped at his feet. To his surprise it was addressed to Severus and Harry Potter-Snape. He didn't recognize the seal on the back.
"Potter-Snape?" Harry demanded, and Severus looked up quickly. Harry had picked up a handful of the other letters and was looking at the envelopes. He sounded both disgusted and outraged. "What's this all about?"
"Wedding gifts, if I'm not mistaken," Severus informed him, tearing open one of the envelopes and reading the card inside. "Apparently a Mr. and Mrs. Hardcastle wish us long life and happiness and have sent a fourteenth century silver tea service to Snape Manor to commemorate the joyous occasion."
"Snape Manor?" Harry asked curiously. "So there really is a Snape Manor? What color is it?"
Severus glared at him. Sometimes Gryffindors made no sense at all. "You realize of course we're going to have to send thank you cards to all these idiots, don't you?" he demanded. "No doubt every Wizarding family in the world will send the Boy Who Lived a wedding gift and we're going to have to reply to all of them."
Harry looked at the growing pile of letters and packages. "Suppose any of them are hexed?" he asked.
Severus' eyes widened in alarm; no doubt some of them were from the families of Death Eaters. "Oh, bloody hell! Don't touch any of them!"
Conjuring a box he began levitating the letters into it, summoning a couple of house elves in the process and telling them to reroute all their mail to the Ministry where it could be properly sorted and scanned. He was tossing several more letters into the box when he noticed the handwriting on one was strangely familiar. Freezing he turned it over, staring at the seal on the back - a red rose with a serpent twined around it. Momentarily stunned, he nearly dropped it.
He was pleased to note that his hands were steady as he broke the seal and opened the envelope. He read the short note inside with a firm grip on his emotions, forcing equal amounts of bitterness, anger and pain from rearing their ugly heads. His eyes lingered on the invitation noted at the bottom of the letter, and the signature that followed it.
"What's that?" Harry's voice broke through his composure.
"Not your concern!" he snarled, and then instantly regretted the response. So much for controlling his emotions.
He realized a moment later that not only was he repeating back the very words Harry had mocked him with last night, but that this time they were also utterly untrue. He looked up to see Harry's face go white with anger. But rather than saying anything Harry just pushed past him and strode toward the door.
"Wait," he sighed. Harry stopped, but did not turn. "That was untrue. This does concern you." Much as he hated to admit it, there were certain personal facts that he was going to have to share with Harry Potter. No way of avoiding it forever.
Harry turned, his green eyes wary but no longer quite as angry. He still said nothing however.
"It's a letter from my brothers," Severus explained, and then because he knew this was not going to be an easy conversation, he moved toward the couch and sat down. Harry joined him a moment later, sitting across from in one of the armchairs.
"What do your brothers have to do with me?" Harry asked.
Severus smiled bitterly. "They want to meet you. Want to meet the young man who has single handily returned our family name to good standing."
"And something about that makes you angry with me?" Harry demanded.
Surprised by his statement, Severus looked into his eyes, seeing years of hurt there. No doubt his Muggle family took every little slight and family squabble out on him. "I'm not angry at you," he assured him. "I'm angry at. . ." he broke off uncertain how to answer that question. "I haven't spoke to either of my brothers in nearly eighteen years."
"Why not?"
"Because my brothers have never forgiven either me or my father for tarnishing the family name in the first place," Severus explained simply, though there was nothing at all simple about it. Nothing at all in that statement to explain years of pain and betrayal and angry unforgivable words between brothers that could never be taken back.
Harry looked startled by the admission. "Your father was a Death Eater?" he asked. Severus nodded. "And you joined the Death Eaters to be with him?"
He had no doubt that the boy had wondered about his history and how he had come to be a spy in the first place. "No, Mr. Potter," he told him. "I joined the Death Eaters so that I could get close enough to my father to kill him." Green eyes widened in shock, and Severus threw Harry a twisted smile. "Like my brothers, I couldn't forgive my father either. He was our blood, our responsibility, and every crime he committed was ours to answer for."
"You killed your own father?"
"No," Severus shook his head. "Thankfully I was spared that little indignity by Lucius Malfoy. Seems they both fancied the same mistress and dueled over her. My father lost. Since I was unable to reclaim our family honor myself, I went to Albus Dumbledore and offered to spy for him instead."
"But your brothers never believed you?" Harry guessed, too clever by half.
"We never really had a particularly long conversation on the subject," Severus informed him. "There wasn't much opportunity for me to convince them of my guilt or innocence one way or another."
"But they must have believed you after the trial!" Harry protested.
Severus looked up sharply, pinning Harry with a sharp glare. What in God's name could the boy know about that trial? He'd never said anything, and he doubled very much Albus had discussed it with the boy.
Harry flushed and looked down. "I looked into Dumbledore's pensieve a few years ago. I saw some of the trial. That's how I knew you were spying for him in the first place."
"That man leaves the damnedest things lying about!" Severus cursed, feeling strangely vulnerable at the thought that Harry might have witnessed his youthful torture in the hands of the Dementors and the shameful trial that followed.
"Didn't your brothers believe you then?" Harry asked, changing the subject.
"Didn't matter," Severus explained. "The damage was already done. And judging by the terseness of the letter, I doubt they believe me even now. But they're not willing to pass up this opportunity. The hand of friendship they are extending is to you, not me."
Harry frowned at that, and if he heard the bitterness in Severus tone, his expression did not betray the fact. "May I see the letter?" he asked.
Shrugging, Severus handed it over to the young man, wondering why he even cared. Harry read it, his face thoughtful. "Since the invitation is really meant for me instead of you, would you mind if I wrote the reply?" he asked.
Severus' heart lurched. Surely the boy wasn't interested in befriending his family? He fought back the flare of hurt that thought sent through him. But then why should he expect anything more from James Potter's son?
He stiffened, composing his features, determined not to betray even the slightest bit of emotion. "Do as you like," he informed him coldly.
Harry nodded in satisfaction, smiling as he rose to his feet, letter still in his hand. As he made his way toward the door, Severus found he couldn't simply let it go at that; the sting of betrayal was just too sharp not to be twisted a bit. "If I may ask," he said tersely. "What precisely are you going to say to them?"
Harry paused at the door. "Oh, I'm sure I'll find some appropriately flowery way of phrasing it, but the gist of it will be that they should all go screw themselves."
As luck would have it, the door closed behind Harry long before any other students had the opportunity to witness their dour Potions Master roaring in laughter.
Surprisingly the two of them managed to get through the next two weeks without killing each other. Stories of Severus' threat to Draco Malfoy had apparently made the rounds and the rest of the students were careful to keep their comments to themselves after that. Classes went on as usual, though Harry did make an effort not to give Severus reason to reprimand him in class. Didn't always work however - but then they both supposed it would look odd if things changed too much. As it was Severus was just as likely these days to take points from Slytherin as he was from Gryffindor - though he did enjoy the latter far more than the former.
Harry spent his free time with his friends, and Severus went on with life in much his usual manner, minus the duties he'd once had as a Death Eater spy. At night Harry took the potions of Dreamless Sleep Draught that Severus brewed for him in his lab, and Severus kept the silver warding bands around his own Dark Mark.
Harry tended to avoid Severus' company as much as possible, but some nights he sat in the living room with him and did his homework while Severus read or prepped for his own classes the next day. And while they didn't precisely get along, Severus had to admit it wasn't entirely unpleasant to have company. At least he'd gotten past his desire to strangle the boy every few minutes.
To his surprise he received a second letter from his brothers the following Friday. This one, addressed to both Severus and Harry, was far more politely written. They made a point of saying something that might vaguely be construed as an apology toward Severus, and included him in the invitation openly this time. This time his sister had also added a postscript to the letter, begging Severus to accept the invitation, as she desperately wanted to see him again.
Severus frowned, wondering what Harry had said to them in his reply. Must have been interesting, and he regretted now that he hadn't asked to see it. It felt odd to think that Harry Potter might have actually defended him to his family - also felt oddly nice, a fact that worried Severus. But he pushed it all aside as he considered the issue.
It was late Saturday morning before he'd made up his mind and he went in search of Harry. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, and he had no doubt that the Gryffindors were planning their usual jaunt to Honeydukes that afternoon. He hoped he could catch Harry before he left.
He found him sitting with Ron, Hermione and Neville Longbottom in the Great Hall, all of them gathered around a Wizarding chess set. Ron Weasley was about two moves away from checkmating Harry. All four of them looked up in surprise when Severus approached, Neville turning a pale sickly color.
"Harry," he greeted, purposely using the boy's first name, something that seemed to shock all four of the students. "I have a personal errand to run in Hogsmeade this morning. I was hoping you would be willing to accompany me . . .if you are available, of course." He tried to phrase his words in such a way that the boy understood it was a request and not an order. This was the first time he'd attempted to infringe upon Harry's free time. He saw Ron's look of outrage, and hastened to add, "It won't take more than an hour or two. You will have ample time for any other outing afterwards."
"Alright," Harry agreed, his expression unreadable. He nodded to his friends. "I'll meet you guys at Honeydukes this afternoon."
They just nodded in agreement, and Harry followed Severus out of the Hall. As they walked away, Severus heard Neville moaning to Ron and Hermione, "Oh, poor Harry! It's like having detention all the time!"
He snarled to himself at the thought, making a note to find someway of giving that little fool detention. Glancing at Harry he thought he detected the slightest smirk and almost abandoned this idea entirely. He knew his company was not that enjoyable, but it certainly wasn't like having detention! He went out of his way to make detention as miserable as possible, but he'd been as pleasant as possible to Potter in the evenings they were forced to spend together. He could only imagine what Harry and his friends must say about him behind his back.
Severus got a carriage in the castle courtyard and they took it down the winding road toward Hogsmeade. Harry, sitting opposite Severus in the cab, stared curiously at him. "So what is this errand all about?"
Severus frowned, not at all certain how to go about explaining any of this. "I received another invitation to dinner from my family. And while I couldn't care less about my brothers, I would like to see my sister again. She has at least made an attempt over the years to speak with me - despite the fact that her husband insisted she break off all ties with me. Now of course he's changed his mind, and she has requested that I at least attempt to reconcile with my brothers. You are of course under no obligation to accompany me, but I was hoping you would agree to it."
"A whole houseful of Snapes?" Harry asked.
Severus acknowledged the jest with a mocking smile. "Would it help if I assured you that we are nothing alike?"
"Yes, actually," the boy actually had the cheek to inform him. "I'll go. But that still doesn't explain what sort of errand we are running this morning."
Ah, now to really insult the boy. "We're going to Torsond. You need some appropriate clothing. Those rags the Dursleys supplied you with are unsuitable." He glanced pointedly at the jeans the boy was currently wearing. Most of the students chose to dress out of uniform during the weekend, and while the jumper Harry was wearing - made he believed by Mrs. Weasley - was somewhat tolerable the jeans were not. Aside from being torn in several places, they were also several sizes too large for Harry. He'd glanced inside Harry's wardrobe earlier that week and noticed that aside for the school uniforms, the rest of his possessions seemed to include a couple of ancient t-shirts, two pairs of torn jeans, and a plaid shirt he believed the boy had been wearing since first year.
Harry flushed at the criticism. "It's not as if I can't buy my own clothes!" he protested.
"And yet you have not," Severus pointed out.
Harry frowned. "It never seemed important. I wear a uniform most of the time."
"And what about during the summer?" Severus asked. "You certainly do not wear the Hogwarts uniform during your summers in Muggle Surrey?"
"Considering I spend the summer locked up in a small room, it's never really mattered what I was wearing," Harry told him pointedly.
Severus frowned at that. He had not taken that into consideration. Nor did he like these reminders of the boy's home life. Sickened him to think of it, and he made a point to speak to Albus about having something done about the Dursleys. Their behavior was unconscionable and should not go unpunished.
"So where are we going again?" Harry asked, changing the subject.
"Torsond," Severus repeated, giving him the name of one of the finest clothiers in all the Wizarding World. He'd have a suitable wardrobe made for Harry by the end of the week.
Harry seemed to think about that for a moment. "Isn't that place kind of expensive?"
"With good reason," Severus informed him. They might be expensive, but they were worth every penny. Only the finest materials were used. "I will of course be paying for the purchases."
"I have money!" Harry protested.
"Good for you," Severus frowned, glancing out the carriage window. "I will still be paying. I am responsible for your financial support."
"Why are you responsible?" Harry demanded, his voice darkening with anger.
Somewhat surprised at the boy's tone of voice, Severus glared at him. "What?"
Harry's brow furrowed in exasperation. "Why are you the one responsible for me? Why aren't I responsible for your financial support?"
Snape stared at him. Certainly the boy had gone daft; might explain his marks in potions. "Don't be ridiculous!"
Harry's eyes flashed. "What's ridiculous about it? It's a legitimate question. Is it because I'm younger? Just because I'm younger I automatically have to be the housewife?"
Housewife! Not daft, the boy was crazy. But what ever it was, he certainly seemed to have gotten himself quite worked up over the subject. "This is some sort of Muggle thing, isn't it?"
"Just answer the question!"
"It has nothing to do with your age!" Snape glared back at him. "It's because I'm financially set and you are not. You haven't even taken your NEWTS yet. And even if you had, even if you were fifty years my senior, if our financial situation were still the same as it is now, I would still be responsible for your support. I have more money than you. A great deal more money than you. That makes our financial support my responsibility."
But Harry had folded his arms and was glaring at him in stubborn outrage. It occurred to Severus that perhaps this was some sort of weird Muggle pride thing. He'd have to find a way of personalizing the argument a bit more. "Haven't you ever wondered why Percy Weasley has not yet married the lovely Penelope Clearwater?"
The non-sequitor seemed to catch Harry off guard. "Just figured he wasn't ready yet."
Snape snorted in disgust. "A Weasley, not ready for marriage? Right. He hasn't married her because while she is not rich, she does have a nice dowry. And until he can financially match that dowry with money of his own, he won't marry her."
Far from appeasing the boy it just seemed to bring his anger back full force. "Because he's the man and she's the woman! Which makes him the one in charge."
Ah, Severus thought he saw the problem now. Apparently he was associating their financial inequalities with some sort of gender identification. "Because he wants to have children, you ridiculous boy!" he corrected. "Being a Weasley, he probably wants to have lots of children! And if he's not the one financially responsible for their family, they can't have children and expect to maintain any sort of social standing in Wizarding society."
"What do children have to do with it?"
Severus sighed. "Regardless of what ever gender roles are played in Muggle society, in Wizarding society a mother's finances are never used to supplement the family's income. They are kept for her private use, but mostly they are set aside as her children's inheritance. No self-respecting wizard would ever touch his children's inheritance."
Perplexed Harry tugged at a lock of his hair, unknowingly covering up his scar more completely. "I still don't see why that means you. . ."
Severus cut him off. "Regardless of gender, the partner in a bond-marriage who is the most financially stable is responsible for the financial support of the family. If a male and female bond-couple want to have children, then the male must make certain he is the one considered the most financially stable. In our case, since children are not an issue, it is a simply a matter of mathematics. I have more money than you; therefore I'm responsible for our finances. Do you understand now or should I explain it using smaller words?"
Harry glared at him. "Fine, I get it. Someone could have explained this earlier, you know?"
"Perhaps if you applied yourself more or took a Muggle Studies class," Severus suggested mockingly.
"I do apply myself. And Muggle Studies is useless!" Harry shot back hotly. "Neville said that last week they learned how to use a toaster!"
Not at all certain what that had to do with the topic of conversation, Severus gave Harry a withering glare. "And, what pray tell, is a toaster?"
Harry's lips twisted in a mocking smile. "You take a piece of bread, you stick it in a slot and you push a lever, the bread comes out cooked. Any five-year-old Muggle knows how to use a toaster."
"Having never been a five-year-old Muggle, I wouldn't know," Severus informed him coolly. Didn't sound like Muggle studies was particularly useful, but then he supposed that was the point Harry was trying to make in his round about way.
"What happens when I pass my NEWTS and get a job?" Harry asked suddenly. "If I make more money than you, does that make me in charge then?"
Severus snorted at the thought. Apparently the boy didn't understand just how wealthy a family he'd married into. "I doubt very much you'll ever make more money than I do."
That challenging gleam returned to those green eyes. "How do you know? Do you have any idea how much money a Professional Quidditch player makes? I'm thinking of going pro."
Severus nearly groaned out loud at the thought. "I might have known you'd go into something as frivolous as that!"
Harry grinned cheekily at him. "Just think, you'll be the only Potions Master married to a professional Quidditch player."
Severus stared at him. The boy was actually teasing him. Two weeks ago he would have laid good money that Harry Potter was terrified of him - now he was teasing him in such a manner that indicated he was actually hoping to rile him up, make him angry. "You're determined to torment me, aren't you?"
Harry thought about that a moment and then just grinned. "Well, I did learn from the best," he explained. "Had to get something out of all those potions classes."
The carriage jolted to a stop as they reached their destination and the boy leaped out. "You could try studying potions," Severus muttered to his retreating form. But of course that was probably asking too much.
The proprietor of Torsand came out to meet them as they entered the shop, greeting Severus by name. He bought most of his own clothes here - all save the robes and tunics he wore during school hours. Considering how many times he found himself doused in exploding potions, he saw no point in ruining anything of quality.
"Marius," Severus greeted the man with a polite nod.
Marius grinned warmly at Harry. "And this must be Harry!" he exclaimed in delight. Severus resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. Everyone in the Wizarding World knew Harry Potter. "Ah, come for some new clothes have you young man?"
Harry glanced down at his jeans. "I guess," he sighed. "Preferably something that's in my actual size. I'm actually partial to the colors orange and purple."
Both Severus and Marius stared at him in horror. "I'm kidding!" he told them both. "Red and gold actually."
"Ah, a Gryffindor," Marius said relieved. "Of course!"
In a matter of moments Marius had Harry on a stand, measuring tape in hand as a magical scroll automatically marked down the measurements he called out. Severus sat down to one side and watched in silence. Once the measurements were taken, Marius began showing Harry bolt after bolt of material - velvets, silks, and brocades - draping some of the cloth across Harry shoulders to see how they matched his own coloring. Severus found himself smiling in amusement - the boy might like the Gryffindor colors, but the Slytherin green suited him better. Brought out his eyes.
He said very little himself, letting Harry make the majority of the decision, though he did inform Marius that he wanted an entire wardrobe - breeches, tunics, doublets, robes, cloaks, boots, riding breeches. Harry's eyes widened as he rattled off the list of items. The more he listed, the more he thought of - stopping himself when he realized he was actually starting to enjoy himself a bit too much. Picturing what Harry might look like in riding breeches was going a bit too far into that realm of lustful thoughts he'd promise himself he'd avoid at all cost.
When they left, his purse was a great deal lighter, and Harry was a great deal more baffled by his behavior than before. "I'm going to look ridiculous," Harry complained.
"Probably," Severus lied with a smirk. The boy would look lovely. Far too lovely for someone like him to be keeping company with, but he'd be damned if he ever informed him of that. "But at least it will all fit properly."
Harry spotted his friends waiting for him down the street in front of Honeydukes. He waved to them, then paused before heading off to join them. "Just out of curiosity," he asked. "All this money your family has. . .who's the heir?"
"I am," Severus informed him - something that had continued to gall his brothers for years.
"So Snape Manor is. . . ?"
"Mine," Severus agreed.
The smile that lit the boy's face was not one of happiness but of mischief. "What color was it again?"
Severus' eyes narrowed. "Why are you obsessed with its color?"
But Harry just grinned impishly. "No reason," he shrugged, and then raced off to join his friends. Severus rode back to the castle alone.
The following Monday afternoon Severus found himself wandering restlessly around his classroom after his final class - Harry's class - which had gone abysmally poorly. He'd taken points away from Harry, Ron and Dean after the three of them had nearly succeeded in blowing up the classroom with their fire oil potion. Days like these just reminded him of why he disliked the boy so much - he suspected the feeling was mutual.
Too restless to stay still, he retired instead to one of the castle salles where he found Madam Hooch working with rapiers. She was actually one of the best swordsmen he'd met in a long time - and she happily spent an hour dueling with him, something he hadn't indulged in a while.
All the children of wealthy, pureblood Wizarding families were taught various forms of fencing as children. He'd never care for it much as a child, being a skinny, gangly boy, and had only learned what he needed to learn to appease his father. But several years of torment from James Potter, Sirius Black and the other Gryffindors had eventually awakened Severus' more vicious nature. He'd joined his fellow Slytherins in their private fencing salles, eventually learning to enjoy the violence of the sport. He had his share of scars from bloody duels, and had given his own share right back - but while his peers like Lucius Malfoy reveled in the blood, for him it was now more a discipline and a means to work out frustrations.
Later he ate in the Great Hall, then retired to his own chambers where he sat in front of the fire trying to read a book. Far from having cured his restlessness, the exercise had only increased it, and he found himself watching Harry doing his homework at the small table in the corner.
"How was your day?" He couldn't believe he'd asked the question. Nor apparently could Harry for he looked up in surprise.
"Fine," he replied, an odd expression on his face. His answer wasn't entirely accurate of course - Severus knew he was angry about the more than thirty house points he'd lost. "How was yours?" That last was civilly spoken, but just barely.
"Fine," Severus answered, debating mentioning that he had enjoyed the opportunity afforded to him to potentially rob Gryffindor of the house cup this year. "How are your classes going?" He told himself that he really wasn't interested. Just making polite conversation.
"Fine," Harry said again, and then a strange light entered his eyes. "Well, not all my classes," he added.
"Oh?" Curious in spite himself, Severus leaned forward wondering if Harry was going to share something about his other classes, and wondering why he cared if he did.
"Yes," Harry continued. "I hate my potions class," he explained blithely. "I don't get along with the teacher. He can't seem to explain anything in a way that makes sense."
Severus' eyes narrowed as he found himself caught somewhat off guard by the tact Harry was taking. He'd of course initiated it, asking about the classes after all. But he hadn't expected such an open insult. "Maybe if you paid more attention, the things he told you would make more sense," he bit out.
"I do pay attention," Harry insisted. "It just doesn't seem to do any good! He doesn't give good directions. I do exactly what he tells me to do and my potions still blow up in my face."
"Exactly what he tells you!" Severus leaped to his feet, incensed by the blatant lie. "You chop instead of slice, dice or sliver. You don't mash, ground, or grind any of your ingredients properly and you fling them together as if you're making a stew instead of a magical potion!"
Harry leaped to his feet as well. "You tell me to add a cup of Ansil Weed, I add a cup. You tell me to add a salamander tongue, I add a salamander tongue. And then you tell me I did everything wrong!"
"I told you to add a cup of DICED Ansil Weed, and a SLIVERED salamander tongue!" Severus roared back at him.
Harry's eyes widened in disbelieving outrage. "They all turned to mush in the cauldron anyway. What in hell does it matter if they're diced, sliced or mashed!"
"You stupid boy! It matters!" Severus yelled at him in fury. "The preparation changes the properties of the ingredients. Any five-year-old wizard knows that!"
"I was never a five-year-old wizard!" Harry shouted back, once again turning Severus words from several days ago right back on him. Shocked Severus stepped back in amazement. The boy was too clever by half, and now that he stopped and thought about it he had a point to boot. He stood in silence, blinking at the angry young man in disbelief. Well. . . damn! Making a quick decision he turned and walked swiftly toward the door to his private lab.
"Come here," he told ordered, pushing open the door. He didn't bother to see if the young man was following him. Instead he began rummaging through his stores on the shelves around the room, removing a jar containing Wizarding sugar root. When he turned back around Harry was standing beside his worktable, waiting patiently, his face still fixed in a stubborn but expectant frown.
Severus set down several of the sugar roots, and picked up a sharp knife. He began cutting through the roots with quick deft strokes of the knife, dicing some, slicing others, chopping a third pile and final dropping some into a mortar and pestle and grinding a fourth bit. Then he handed one of the untouched roots to Harry. "Taste," he ordered.
Looking somewhat put out, Harry took the root from his hand and bit off a small portion. "It's sugar root," he shrugged. "Tastes sweet."
Severus handed one of the sliced pieces of root. "Taste," he ordered again.
Sighing, Harry took a bite of that. He frowned at the taste, his eyes widening slightly. "It's. . .not as sweet."
Satisfied, Severus handed him a piece of diced root. Harry tasted it without being asked this time. "It's salty!" he exclaimed.
Next he handed over the chopped root. "Tart!" Harry sounded completely baffled.
Severus held out the bowl with ground root inside it, watching as Harry dipped a finger in and brought it to his mouth. He found himself a bit preoccupied with the pink tongue that licked the digit clean and almost didn't hear Harry exclaimed. "It's too sweet now!"
"Sugar root is one of the more extreme examples of magical ingredients," Severus informed him. "The differences in preparation are extraordinarily noticeable, something every Wizarding child learns in their mother's kitchen growing up. All the magical ingredients you use in potions are affected by the way in which they are prepared. If a potion asks for diced Ansil Weed and you chop them you might as well have just added a completely unrelated ingredient for all the good it will do."
Harry looked completely flummoxed. "No one ever told me," he stammered. "I thought you were just being fussy."
"Fussy!" Severus glared at him.
"How was I supposed to know?" Harry insisted. "You never mentioned any of this. Not even during my first year."
"Don't they teach you these things in Muggle Studies?" Severus had never actually taken Muggle Studies himself, having believed it to be a waste of time. He was beginning to think his assessment has been accurate.
"No," Harry told him. "And I don't take Muggle Studies - it's pointless. According to Neville they are currently discussing the relative merits of analog verses digital watches. Something no Muggle-born cares about."
"Then apparently we need two different versions of Muggle studies," Severus mused. Muggle Studies was supposed to teach Wizarding children about the Muggle world, and Muggle-born children about the Wizarding World. It seemed however it focused on the ridiculous minutia of the Muggle World alone.
"Apparently," Harry agreed, looking down at the collection of sugar root. "I'm sorry."
Surprised by the apology, Severus raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "For what?"
"For screwing up in potions," he explained.
Severus sighed. "I'm the teacher," he admitted grudgingly. "It was my mistake not yours. I should have figured out what the problem was." A thought occurred to him. "You don't suppose that's what Longbottom's problem was?"
"No," Harry shook his head. "He's wizard-born. He's just terrified of you."
Severus almost laughed at the explanation. "And you're not?"
Harry looked up at him, his gaze open and thoughtful. "No," he admitted. "I've been living here three weeks now and you haven't even come close to killing me. No matter how angry I've made you."
Suddenly suspicions Severus glowered at him. "Have you been trying to make me angry?"
"No," Harry smiled. "If I was really trying, you'd know. Sirius has been mailing me lists of suggestions that he's certain will send you into a rage."
"Potter!" Severus sputtered in shock, not at all certain how to take that comment. He actually wouldn't put it past Sirius Black to do just such a thing. Remus Lupin too.
Harry just grinned somewhat cheekily at him. "I'm going to bed," he announced and left him there still struggling to find words.
After a moment Severus just gave up and laughed softly. He hated to admit it, but he as actually starting to like the boy.