Harry Potter One Shots

(4) The Cupboard

All rights belong to the author, enahma

The next day, when Harry went to his private lesson with Snape, he felt the old dread approaching him again, the dread he had felt only before Potions lessons, and for awhile he was considering turning back. But in the end, common sense won and Harry knocked on the door of Snape's office.

"Come in," the usual cold voice barked and Harry suddenly regretted his previous decision. He wasn't in the mood to bear Snape's cold and hurting remarks about his incompetence. "Come in!" the voice repeated louder, so Harry took a deep breath and entered.

"Oh, it's you," Snape looked up from a simmering cauldron. "Close the door."

Harry complied and stepped ahead tentatively.

"Come here," Snape said irritatedly. "I promise I won't bite."

Harry forced a smile and almost tiptoed closer to the working desk. Snape showed him a thick, open book and with a slight nod he motioned Harry next to him, where a knife and six piles of ingredients were waiting for him to begin.

With a sudden decision, Harry took off his outer robes, and with a sigh, he prepared to work. Soon, he was standing next to Snape chopping and piling, slicing and smashing ingredients in the order he was told or he read in the book, while, from time to time, Snape gave him short explanations about the difference between brewing methods and characteristics of different ingredients. Harry felt absolutely useless as he tried to follow Snape's advice and orders; his powdered dragon teeth seemed more smashed than powdered and he even managed to chip the knife. His hands trembled in nervousness as he handed the prepared ingredients over, but Snape didn't utter a word, although the potion in the end turned pink instead of lilac.

"That's enough for today," the Potions Master said, and when Harry wanted to apologise for his clumsiness, the man simply smirked. "For the first try, it was almost acceptable..."

"Almost?" Harry asked uncertainly. Snape's smirk widened.

"Well, not an A, but not a D either. A fair P, I'd say."

Harry shrugged.

"I told you... sir."

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"It was just the first lesson. Don't worry, Mr Potter, it will be much better – if you pay any attention, that is."

Before leaving, Snape gave him some books, with precise instructions on what to read in them before Thursday.

It took several sessions for Harry to get used to working with Snape, but by the end of November, he found their time together almost comforting. Their conversations somehow always eased the burden on his soul. Generally, they talked about Potions, but after the first week, other topics appeared during their common sessions: Quidditch, history, the wizarding community or other students and teachers.

From time to time Snape mixed some personal references into their talks, but the first time he concretely referred to Harry's problems happened in the second week of November, on a Monday 'Infirmary Session' as Harry called it.

"Professor McGonagall told me she hasn't seen you in the Astronomy Tower in the last few weeks," Snape told him in that strange, chatting tone they generally used, while they were brewing a mild strengthening potion. Harry didn't react, just muttered something unintelligible under his breath. "What?" Snape insisted.

"I have no time to go there," Harry repeated in embarrassment. "I've got my homework and essays and even this Potions stuff..."

"Oh," Snape lifted an eyebrow. "If you think it hinders you in more important issues, we can stop this..."