Ficlet: Conversation with the Headmaster; PG; Severus Snape/Harry Potter

[the_hoard]

I wrote a birthday fic for Severus. Written for the snape_potter January prompt. Without further ado:

Title: Conversation with the Headmaster
Author: f13tch3r
Rating: G-PG
Pairing: SS/HP
Warnings: Pre-slash; Excessive drinking; mostly nude house elf; unbeta'd; Post-HBP (spoilers)
Disclaimer: Not mine. Depicted herein are beloved characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling and all those who are legally attached to the Harry Potter franchise.
Summary: Snape has an unexpected visitor

When the snowy white owl flew through his office window, the Headmaster nearly cursed aloud. He thought he’d seen the last of it years ago. What could the blasted bane of his existence want now after all this time? Perhaps he’s finally decided to set a date as to when he’ll drop by to kill me. The owl landed softly on his desk directly before him and on top of correspondence from parents concerned about the new Professor of Potions, a Miss Luna Lovegood. Apparently, parents are hearing from their students that they are confused in class because Professor Lovegood fails to fully explain the assignment. He would need to speak with her about this. Brilliant though she may be at potions, the Ravenclaw always was an odd one and needed reminding the students cannot read her mind no matter how deeply she believed the fur lined caps they wore allowed them to do so. How she got the notion that niffler fur was conducive to mind reading…. He shook his head. That woman certainly did lead one’s thoughts in strange directions.

Snape looked up and saw the owl, peering at him with strangely patient eyes. Good, it can wait a bit longer. Snape rose and crossed to the locked cabinet near the office fireplace. He pulled out the bottle of Scotch he kept there and a glass. Scotch, a vestige of his rotter of a father. Snape has a fondness for Muggle liquor. He poured himself a finger, looked over at Hedwig, whose head was turned completely around to watch him, and poured another. He replaced the bottle, thought better of it and brought the bottle with him to his desk. Why? Why this hesitancy? Why was he nervous to read what Potter had sent? It was foolish but he still couldn’t help it. Even when it was all over; when the truth was revealed; when the part he played in the madness to bring about the Dark Lord’s demise became known, he still couldn’t bring himself to look into the eyes of Potter. The one who had witnessed Dumbledore’s murder. Stupid brat! I was no coward and yet his words pierced my soul. He took a long swallow of his spirit. It mattered. His opinion mattered. He was your Saviour too, Severus. Enough!

Angrily, Snape snatched at the roll of parchment tied to the bird’s leg. Hedwig flapped and snapped at the roughness of his actions. “Hold still, foolish rodent!” When he finally was able to get the scroll off her leg he scowled at her. “You’d better not be expecting anything in return. I do not carry any treats!” The last word he spat in disgust. “I did not ask you to come here.” Hedwig hooted indignantly and flew off the Headmaster’s desk to perch atop a bookcase on the far end of the office, not before leaving a ‘treat’ of her own. “Oh you filthy creature!” Snape snarled. He reached for his wand, which lay atop his desk. At least, it was there a minute ago. Snape, near panic looked at the bird and his wand, which was clutched in the beast’s talons. “Give it back!” The bird twittered, obviously pleased with herself. Of all the idiotic, uncharacteristic…. Snape swore and flung himself into his chair behind his desk. He drained his glass of Scotch and poured another finger.

“What does the brat have to say? Not that I give a pixie’s arse.” Snape unrolled the parchment and found that it was not a missive from Potter, but an official decree from the British Ministry of Magic.

The Wizengamot and Council of Magical Law have seen fit to restore all rights and holdings previously denied to Severus Septimus Snape. Severus Snape is forthwith, warranted free, unrestricted travel to and within the United Kingdom. All heretofore charges and penalties have been acquitted and expunged from the permanent record of one, Severus Septimus Snape.

Moreover, Severus Snape is hereby awarded the Order of Merlin, Third Class for his efforts in destroying the forces of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his network of followers known as Death Eaters.

Authorised by: Griselda Marchbanks
Chief Warlock
Signed By: Rufus Scrimgeour
Minister of Magic
Witnessed by: Arthur Weasley
Head: Department of Magical Law Enforcement
Harry James Potter
Saviour of the Wizarding World

“That’s his official title is it?” Snape snorted and swallowed what was left in his glass. He poured another. He saw a hand written note he hadn’t noticed before. This handwriting he recognised.

Next, I’m getting that Order of Merlin bumped to First Class as it
ought to be. Happy Birthday.
~Harry
P.S. See you in a few.

Will wonders never cease? Snape stared at the note and thought about what it meant. “I’m forty-three today.” He’d forgotten his birthday. He often did. Beyond his oft-forgot birthday, what did all this mean? Snape had long since abandoned any hope of seeing England again. After what he did to Dumbledore, he was surprised he was alive, let alone Headmaster of Durmstrang and now, his rights had been returned. Is this real? Could it be? Or could it be a trap to lure him back to England so they can arrest him? Whatever for? It’s not as though they didn’t know where he’d been all along. They could have dragged him back at any time. He found he didn’t know what he felt about this latest development.

Snape, all in all, was grateful for his current position. Durmstrang was a comfortable fit. They valued the Dark Arts and understood its practical uses and in these, Snape was well versed. The parents liked him. They appreciated his disciplinarian philosophy towards learning. They also understood the role he played in his past life. Here it was not a hindrance. Here it was something of which to be in awe. Durmstrang was a blessing. Snape had no idea how much he truly loved teaching at Hogwarts until he was banished from his homeland. He was left homeless and without a single knut, as all his assets were seized. Durmstrang was without a Headmaster since Karkaroff fled and was killed. So Snape went north.

P.S. See you in a few. What in Hades does that mean? A few what, years? When he’d frozen Hell over and got the Ministry to give him the Order of Merlin, First Class? I’ll not hold my breath for that. But then again, what has just happened was never expected either. Just then green flames roared to life in the fireplace. Snape had barely enough time to pour himself another couple of fingers before the boy wonder tumbled onto his fine hearthrug.

“Graceful as ever I see,” Snape sneered down at Harry. “To what do I owe the displeasure?”

“Good to see you too, Snape,” Harry said as he stood and brushed soot from his person.

“Merlin’s beard, child! Have you never learned to use a scourgefy charm? I’ll have you know that is a rare and fine rug upon which you are standing and soiling so thoughtlessly!” Snape reached for his wand absently. Throwing his hands in the air, “Would you kindly tell your familiar to return my wand before I turn her into a specimen for the ornithological study chapter for my Care of Magical Creatures first years?!”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Snape. No need to pitch a fit. She’s only doing what she was told to do. I needed to make sure you wouldn’t hex me the moment I set foot in your office.” Harry waved his wand over himself and was cleansed, as well as the soot that had fallen to the rug.

“Indeed, that moment has passed. But the longer you stay, more shall present themselves,” Snape muttered.

“Hedwig, if you would?” Hedwig merely blinked and looked from one man to the other, then again at Harry as though to ask if he were mad. “Hedwig….” The bird turned her head away and refused to move but simply let the wand drop. It fell with a clatter.

Snape stooped to pick the wand up. “Filthy, insolent creature,” he snarled. As he stood, he raised his wand but was met by the wunderkind’s wand pointed directly at his face.

“You wouldn’t really try anything, now would you, Snape?”

Snape replied with icy stillness, “Lower your wand, Mister Potter. I need not remind you, you are in my office, in my school, as my guest. Manners.” Harry stared hard at Snape and lowered his wand. “I expect you to clean up after your owl,” Snape said, indicating his desk.

Harry turned red upon seeing the mess. “You must’ve really upset her. She doesn’t do that, normally. Sorry about that.”

Snape harrumphed and took another gulp from his glass. “Can I offer you a beverage of some sort?”

“Sure, I’ll have whatever you’re having.” Snape accio’d a glass from the open cabinet, poured Harry a glass and refreshed his own. “I’d like to propose a toast. To your health, Headmaster, I raise my glass. Happy Birthday.” Harry beamed. Unbelievable. They drank. “Mm, smooth. Never pegged you for a Muggle Scotch drinking man, Snape.”

Snape glared warily at Harry. “What do you want?”

“What is this stuff called?”

“I was under the impression you could read. Why did you come here?”

Harry grabbed the bottle off the desk and read the label. “May I?”

“Finish it.” Snape moved to the wingback chairs near the hearth.

Harry poured the last of the 20 year old Scotch in his glass and followed Snape. “I just wanted to pay a friendly visit to my favourite ex-Death Eater.”

“Draco is not here.” Snape summoned a new bottle from the cabinet. For a moment, Snape thought he ought to halt the booze but then couldn’t think why. If he had to deal with Potter, better he do it mildly sober.

“Funny. Had I known about this sense of humour of yours before…give that here.” Harry took the bottle from Snape’s hands. Snape was dangerously close to being clumsy. Anything less than grace was unheard of. Harry busied himself with uncorking the bottle.

“Ah, yes, might I remind you Regulus is long dead? He is not here either.” Harry dropped the bottle in Snape’s hands.

“Sit down before you fall down.”

“I’m not intoxicated.”

“It’s your world we’ll call it whatever you want.” They sat. Snape sat more roughly than he intended.

“Why isn’t Draco your favourite ex-Death Eater? Did he not teach you Occlumency? That was key in defeating the Dark Lord.” Snape poured. “Is he not like a brother to you? I heard he married the she-Weasley.”

“Yes, all that is true,” Harry extended his glass, “but you still hold a special place in my heart, Snape.” Snape snorted and poured. “Besides, he married my girl. That one is tough to get over.”


“Potter, she was not right for you. Gods, she was like a sister! I shudder to think on it. Still, while you were being the hero, she was being romanced by Draco Malfoy. That had to have hurt. Tell me Potter, do you think he loves her or has he done it all simply to best you and rub your nose in it?”

“He loves her. I know it. Ginny would not abide pretence. She’d hex him to Hades. She’s no one’s fool.”

Snape raised his glass, “To the philandering, bride stealing, best-thing-he-could’ve-done-for-you, Draco Malfoy. Cheers.” They clinked.

Harry didn’t drink. He stared into his glass. “It’s your fault you know.”

“Isn’t everything?” Gulp. “That is your philosophy is it not? It must be Snape’s fault. Fool of a boy, don’t know why I let you drink my liquor.” Gulp.

“I mean his conversion. He came to our side on the road you paved. Had you not,” Harry halted. Snape’s head snapped up to meet Harry’s gaze. “Had you not done what you did, that is, keep Draco pure, so to speak, he would have been lost to the Dark. There would have been no redemption for him. He recognises that.” Harry drank. “He reckons that he’d be dead had he completed his task. His heart was not in the Cause.”

“He was pusillanimous,” Snape sneered.

“That too.”

“You’re a fool Potter. I did nothing. It was all Dumbledore.” He drank.

“That’s not what I saw.”

“Drop it, Potter. Let the past stay there.” Snape’s tone was stone cold.

Harry met Snape’s glassy stare. “No. I won’t stop until you are awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class.”

“It’s a waste of time, Potter. It’ll never happen.” Snape drained what remained in his glass. He reached for the bottle. Harry picked it up before Snape could grab it.

“You deserve it.”

“I don’t want it. Pour.” Snape held out his glass.

“How about a pint of Adam’s Ale, eh? Whaddaya say? Just for a change of pace. How do you summon an elf around here?”

“I want nothing but my Scotch. If you don’t like it, you are free to leave Mr. Potter. I need no looking after from you.” Just then a stout elf wearing a fur hat and nothing else appeared at Harry’s elbow.

He spoke in a deep brogue, “Is sirs needing something?”

Startled, Harry answered, “Oh my, yes. Some glasses and a pitcher of cold water and keep it filled please. Thanks.” With a ‘pop’ the elf was gone and the water appeared on a trolley along with assorted fruits and cakes. Harry poured two tall glasses of cool water. He pushed one under Snape’s prominent nose. “Did you know your elf is missing his pants?”

Snape flinched from the glass. “What is it? Yes, well, it’s the only male genitalia I see anymore, other than my own.”

Harry smirked, “Ah. Water. Drink it.” Snape was scowling. “Humour me.”

“Wretched boy.” Snape drank. “My Scotch tastes better.”

“You just think it does. Would you like something to put in your stomach?”

“Stop your infernal coddling, I am not an infant! Sit down before I throw you out!”

“My apologies, Headmaster.” Harry sat again in the wingback.

“Don’t apologise, you don’t mean it.” Snape had somehow got his hands on the bottle of Scotch and had poured himself another glass. He held it out to Harry, who sighed and held out his Scotch glass for another refill. “Get on with it, Potter.”

“Headmaster, I expect you’ll be wanting to inspect your holdings, yes?”

“I have no holdings. Any funds I may have left in England are meagre and may easily be transferred to my vault here. And stop calling me Headmaster. From you, it’s weird.”

“But Spinner’s End, sir.”

“I want nothing to do with that Hell on Earth.”

“But it’s your Hell on Earth, sir and it could fetch an income.”

“Fine. Sell it, keep it, I don’t care,” Snape said with a wave of his hand. He drank.

“I meant a regular income, Professor.”

Snape scoffed, “A mere pittance, Potter. That place was a shambles when I lived there. I don’t imagine the years have been kind.”

“It could do, sir. I’m sure it could. I inspected it just the other day. I made sure the Aurors replaced whatever they removed.” Harry was speaking as if from a prepared speech.

“Whatever for?” Snape said.

“It would just need someone to manage it. It’s easy, I’ve done it with Godric’s Hollow and Grimmauld Place. You wouldn’t believe the effort it took to remove all the Dark Magic from Grimmauld Place, but we did it, sir. Now it brings in a very nice sum. It’s a good bit of property.”

“Why?” Snape said quietly, unheard.

“I could hire someone, if you like. It would just take a couple of calls, no problem.” Harry rose and moved to the fireplace and took a handful of floo powder from the mantle. “I know some people who would be happy to help. I can call now.” Gods, the boy was manic.

“Why are you doing this?” Snape was whispering, staring at the glass in his hands.

For the first time Harry saw the pained and confused look on Snape’s face. “I want to help.”

“What is it you want?” Snape’s voice still a whisper, unmoved.

“To help. I said so.” Harry replaced the floo powder.

“You make no sense.” Snape’s eyes still on his glass. “What are you playing at?”

Harry knelt down before him, looking up beseechingly; “I just want to help you.”

Snape met Harry’s eyes with a steely glare. “Get. Out. I will not be used to assuage your guilty conscience.” Snape stood and pushed Harry out of the way roughly. No doubt this action was meant to be menacing but Snape swayed and nearly fell upon rising. Snape’s world spun. Harry swiftly stood and grabbed Snape by his arms, lifting him up. Strong boy.

“Where are your rooms? I’m putting you to bed.”

“You’ll do no such thing, unhand me! Can’t a man stumble in peace?”
Harry set Snape down in his chair. He quickly got Snape another glass of water. “Drink it.” Snape scowled up at Harry. “Don’t make me force you to drink it. I can, you know. I killed Voldemort. I can make you drink this water.”

“I killed Dumbledore. We’re evenly matched.”

“We are not. Dumbledore was twice the age of Voldemort and half-dead already. I win. Drink.”
Snape sighed heavily and took the glass from Harry. “You could save yourself all this trouble and just give me a sobriety draught.” He sipped the water.

“Who said I wanted you sober?” Snape snorted. “I’m sorry. We don’t have to discuss your holdings. I was just trying to be helpful.”

“You could be more helpful by sitting down. I’m getting a headache having to look up at you.”

“Sorry, Professor.” Before sitting down, Harry grabbed a bunch of grapes from the trolley. “May I?”

Snape rolled his eyes.

Harry popped some grapes in his mouth. “Mm, sweet.” Harry extended his arm. “Would you like some?”

“Oh please, Mister Potter, allow me to dim the lights, turn on some soft music perhaps, so you may hand feed me grapes. Such a sweet seduction, how you make love to me,” Snape snarked in a sickly sweet tone.

Harry’s arm retracted. “It’s not like that. Why do you have to…?” He appeared stung.

“Why are you here, Potter?” Snape asked flatly.

Harry looked to the fire. He was silent for a good thirty seconds before answering. “I dunno. I guess I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. What with getting your rights back and all, I thought, maybe you could use some company. Maybe an old friend?”

“We were never friends, Mister Potter.”

“I know. I know that. I just…it’s not like you’re having a party or anything.”

“My sad lack of sycophants notwithstanding….” Snape paused, stymied. He too, stared into the fire. They sat this way in silence for many long minutes before Snape broke the comfortable silence with, “I need a drink.”

“Me too.” Harry rose and retrieved the bottle and their glasses. He poured them both unhealthy doses of the liquid ambrosia.

Snape smiled. “Ah, now you’re learning,” he said when handed his glass. “Or is your tack now to kill me via alcohol poisoning?”

“Just drink, you bastard. And stop smiling, you’re creeping me out.”

Snape raised his glass. “To me,” he declared. “To me and another forty-three insufferable years of torment and vain attempts to equip young budding witches and wizards with the education they sorely need but are too moronic for anything to stick.”

Harry chuckled, “Here, here! To the greasy git. May you find happiness and fulfilment making miserable the lives of scores of unsuspecting Scandinavian youth for many years to come.” They laughed, clinked and drank.

“You’re laughing! Great God, Almighty, you’re laughing!” Harry roared with laughter.

Snape sniggered, “Don’t hold it against me. I’m drunk; I know not what I do. Any appearance to good humour is purely accidental.” Harry snorted and sputtered. “Don’t you dare lose a single drop of that Scotch! It’s a very fine spirit, I’ll not have it wasted.”

“Exceedingly fine, sir.” Harry’s eyes were alight with mirth. His lips and cheeks rosy from the drink. Diabolically endearing. He doesn’t even know it, does he? Their laughter died down and the men were left sipping in silence, gazing at the tongues of fire blazing before them.

The silence was broken by a thump on the rug. Harry spun his head around. “I finished it before I dropped it.” Snape’s words were heavy and slow. The room had begun to tilt and drift askance.

Harry just looked at Snape and blinked a few times. Finally he shook his head and stood slowly. He approached Snape. “I’m taking you to bed.”

“Excuse me? How dare you take advantage of my honour.” Harry hoisted Snape out of his chair.
Snape groaned, “Slowly Potter or I’ll mess all over you.”

“I doubt that. You have too much dignity for that.” Harry wrapped his arm about Snape’s shoulders and pressed their sides flush to each other. Harry was bracing Snape for a walk.

“What are you doing?”

“Where are your rooms?” Snape was squirming. “I can walk you or levitate you, which would you prefer?”

“I can walk, you nagging ninny!” Snape spun to face Harry and the room tilted again. He groaned.

“Fine, lean against me.” Snape now leaned heavily against Harry.

“That way. My rooms are through there.” He indicated the far wall behind the Headmaster’s desk.

“That’s a stone wall, sir.”

“Are you sure you’re a wizard?” Snape slurred. “Just keep moving Potter. You won’t be hurt.” They made their way to the wall and when they passed through the magical threshold into the corridor beyond, Harry shivered.

“Whoa. I’ll never get used to stuff like that.”

Snape snorted. “Merlin, Potter, you’re like a wide-eyed child.”

Ignoring him, Harry asked, “C’mon Professor, where am I going?”

“Third door on the left. The first door is my private laboratory, behind the second are the facilities and the third is my bedchamber.”

“Oh my, Professor. Who would ever have imagined I’d be escorting you to your bedchamber?” Harry needled.

“Keep talking like that, Potter and I will vomit.”

“Idle threats, Professor.”

“It’s all I’m capable of at the moment.”

“Nous y sommes.”

Snape raised an awkward eyebrow. “Comme toujours, evidemment.”

They entered Snape’s room. Candles dimly lighted it. Harry brought Snape to the bed. Before letting go, Snape looked over at the man holding him up. “You’re taller than I remember.”

“Yeah, I grew a bit after school. Though I’ll never be as tall as you.”

“But tall enough so as not to be a strain on the neck.”

“I beg your pardon, sir?”

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Yes.”

“Ignore it.”

“I’ll try,” Harry said under his breath. He deposited the soused headmaster on the bed then quickly left the room. Lacking support, Snape flopped back on the bed. Harry returned to the room with the pitcher of water and a glass. He placed these on the night table. He sat on the bed and hauled Snape up to a sitting position again.

“Who’s there? What are you about?”

“It’s me, sir. It’s Harry.”

Snape groaned. “Why are you still here? Isn’t there somewhere you should be? Surely there’s someone out there who’s missing you right now. Some sad sap who is spilling tears in a pint of something that you have yet to return.”

“No sir. There’s no one.”

“I find that hard to believe, Potter. Why ever not?”

“I’m Harry Potter. My life does not afford frivolity.”

Snape sagged against Harry, his head resting on Harry’s shoulder. “Pity. You’re too young to be alone.” Harry began tugging at Snape’s clothes. Snape sluggishly slapped at Harry’s hands. “Opportunist ne’er-do-well. Nothing but a blighter after my honour.” Snape giggled. Was that a giggle?

Harry snorted loudly. “Sir, your waistcoat. You need some sleep.”

“I am capable of undressing for bed. Go away, I don’t need you.” Harry rose and made for the door. “Wait.” Harry turned. “Bring me a blue bottle from the shelf in the loo. Take one for yourself.”

When Harry re-entered the room, he handed a bottle to Snape. “You have a lot of those.”

“I’m running low.” Harry looked sadly upon Snape. Suddenly he appeared so small and so tired. “Do not judge me, Potter.”

Harry slowly shook his head. “I’ll never judge you again, sir. I promise.”

“Get out. You’re making me ill.”

“Yes sir. G’night.”

“Take that flying rat with you.” Harry smiled.

“Happy Birthday, Professor.”
-------------------------------------


Thanks for reading. Please correct my French if needed. uniquewonders has brilliantly supplied fixes to my pidgin French.