Blind Ambition

Chapter 3

Harry sat at his place at the table, his eyes darting between his plate, the other occupants of the table and the door. Snape had yet to arrive at dinner and Harry prayed it would stay that way. No part of him felt like consuming the mashed potatoes and sausages on his plate as they floated in a pool of thick, stodgy gravy. Perhaps he would feel like it if he could ever get the knots out of his stomach.

Maybe he should just force it down so he can hurry up and get out of there before Snape turned up. After all, the last person he wanted to see again today was that man. In fact he'd rather face off with Voldemort six times over.

He wasn't a fan of these small gatherings at meal times during the holidays. If he were honest, he would rather eat alone. Especially today as his eyes swiftly darted from one side of the table to the other. He was the only Gryffindor amongst six Hufflepuff, two Ravenclaw and four Slytherins.

"Tell me dear Harry, how was your day?" The sweetly innocent voice of the Headmaster were released from his disturbingly curious lips.

The young wizard suddenly felt his chest tighten as Dumbledore's words travelled across the otherwise silent table. He instinctively glanced up towards the head of the table, his eyes meeting that of the older wizard through his halfmoon spectacles.

The corners of the Headmaster's lips contorted into a smile, one that alluded to knowing more than he was too polite to let on in words.

He hated that look. The look that his very soul was being penetrated and every private thought perused for the older wizard's amusement. He could hide nothing from this man. Maybe he should have tried harder during Snape's occlumency lessons.

Oh no, not Snape. Harry felt a shudder roll down his spine at the mere thought of those dark, seemingly bottomless black orbs he called eyes. Not to mention that crooked nose that he was always pushing into other people's business.

Harry open his mouth to speak, realising only then that he still had not yet answered the Headmaster's question as the eyes of everyone at the table seemed to round in on him.

"It was fine..." The young wizard began, despite the fact that his day had been everything except fine.

"I would advise against lying, especially to the Headmaster, Mr Potter." An all too familiar snarl sunk across the room like a dense fog. Only Harry wished it was fog, at least then he could hide amongst it, or even better, use it to escape like ninja smoke.

The young wizard clenched his teeth as he watch Snape glide across the Great Hall towards the only empty seat remaining at the table. Of course it would be the seat right next to Harry.

Just when he thought this day couldn't get any worse. The young wizard grimaced, though he did well to hide it as his eyes scanned his unwanted audience, trying to figure out if he could get away with not enlightening them as to the truth underlying the Professor's words. Yet, even he could not deny the air of awkwardness settling in over the table.

"Well that's lucky because I'm not lying." Harry forced the words from his lips, words that were seeped in frustration as he prayed the man would not pursue the topic. After all he wasn't lying, he hadn't died so his day was technically fine. Though at certain points he had wished he was dead.

Harry's eyes surveyed those of the other table occupants, though what exactly he was hoping to find, he wasn't exactly sure. Confusion seemed to be the only thing reigning in their eyes as they glanced at each other in an effort to seek clarification.

Harry's heart pounded in his chest as all that remained of his appetite slid through his fingers. He wanted nothing more than to get up and leave, but that would raise more questions, not to mention what would be discussed in his absence? At least this way he could monitor the situation and try to change the conversation as necessary.

"Ah, here comes dessert." Dumbledore smiled as a bowl of liquorice ice cream appeared before him.

Thank god.

Harry kept his eyes directed at everything except the man sitting next to him on his left.

"Don't forget you have detention this evening Mr Potter." Snape stated in a voice that Harry was sure even the Elves downstairs could hear.

"Detention for what?" One of the Slytherin boy's appeared to ask without much thought, yet the smirk on his face suggested otherwise.

Harry felt a wave of nausea bubble inside his stomach. This could not be happening. Why did Snape have to play these games? Surely the Professor would have more sense than to tell everyone the gory details of his offence.

Then again this is Snape he was talking about.

He finally directed his eyes to the man next to him, if for no other reason that give him a look that could kill.

Snape met his gaze, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Delight pooled within the professor's dark eyes, as though he were deciding whether to offer the boy a bone or sentence him to a fate worse than death.

Silence fell across the table. Harry didn't need to look to know that all eyes were on him. Harry hated this game of cat and mouse. He felt as though Snape were holding a wand to his head, his fate rested in the hands of the person he trusted about as much as Voldemort.

"Poor behaviour in the library." Snape smirked as his eyes penetrated Harry's, never once leaving him, despite the answer being directed at someone else entirely.

Harry resisted the urge to glance away, even for a moment, despite wanting nothing more than to flee the table and run for the hills.

But he mustn't. The last thing he wanted was to give Snape the illusion of winning this little game. The man deserved no such satisfaction.