Hogwarts sweet Hogwarts
Well shit, Harry thinks to himself as some of the blood spurting from his broken nose flows back into his sinuses and some flows onto his face and trickles into his slack mouth, basically drowning him from both ends and with the stunning spell on him he can’t even cough it back up.
With a sinking feeling he listens to the footsteps and voices of the last few people leaving the train fade into the evening air and then all is deadly quiet. Harry has never hated Malfoy more than he does now. Every cell in his body is thrumming with rage and loathing. And a small part of him wishes that Severus would have been there and would have seen his precious Draco kick him, so he would know what the spoiled brat is really like… but he’d probably find some way to excuse it like he always does, Harry thinks bitterly.
He imagines Malfoy rejoining his goons and bragging about literally kicking Harry’s face in before making sure no-one will find him before the Hogwarts Express pulls back into platform 9 3/4 in London, if they even find him then… He tries to remember how long a stunning spell lasts unless someone breaks it, hoping fervently that it isn’t permanent… I’ll bloody starve to death before anyone notices me under this cloak, he thinks and damns his own reckless curiosity for getting him into yet another mess. And this time neither Ron nor Hermione is here to get him out of it…
Where are they? he thinks. Surely they must have noticed that I’m not in any of the carriages, so why aren’t they looking for me?
Suddenly the train lurches and causes Harry to roll onto his side, then the whole floor starts vibrating again as the engine roars back to life. This is it, Harry thinks as he glares at the dusty underside of the seats in front of his face. By the time Ron and Hermoine takes their seats in the Great Hall and realise I’m not there, I’ll be on my way back to London again and there won’t be anything they can do to help me…
But just as that depressing thought has flared up, the Cloak is suddenly pulled off him and there’s a flash of red light; Harry’s body relaxes out of the stunning spell and he is able to push himself to sitting.
”Wotcher Harry!”
”T-Tonks? What…”
”We’d better get you out of here, quickly”, the young witch interrupts and offers him a hand up.
The Hogwarts Express has started moving again, but Tonks doesn’t seem too bothered. She jerks her head towards the door and Harry hurries to follow her, merely hesitating for a moment as she pulls the door open and jumps out onto the platform. Harry jumps right after her, the ground seemingly sliding out from underneath his feet as he lands and he staggers slightly. Tonks arm flies out to catch him, but he manages to stay on his feet and straightens up just in time to see the scarlet steam engine disappear around the bend.
Tonks hands him the Cloak and peers curiously at his throbbing face, only mildly soothed by the cold night air and for a moment Harry feels embarrassed to have been discovered in such a weak and ridiculous position, and then he feels angry again.
”Who did it?” Tonks asks tonelessly, nodding towards Harry’s nose.
”Draco Malfoy”, he more or less spits out.
The cold, bitter urge for revenge is already coiling in his belly and almost as an afterthought he remembers to thank Tonks for her help. She merely shrugs though, not a trace of her usual smile or twinkly eyes. Actually, now that Harry is looking more closely, she seems a lot less colourful than usual. Her hair, normally a vibrant shade of pink or purple, is now a mousy brown.
”I can fix your nose for you”, she offers without looking him directly in the eye. ”Stand still…”
Harry had actually intended to go see Madam Pomfrey up at the castle, but it feels rude to turn down Tonks’ offer so he nods and lets her perform the spell. At first, his nose feels hot, then very cold. But when he gingerly feels it, it does seem to be mended and the pain is completely gone.
”Thanks a lot!” he says.
Tonks says nothing, just pockets her wand again and with another head jerk she tells him to follow as she leads the way towards the castle. They walk in silence, trudging up the dark, deserted lane following the fresh carriage tracks.
As the winged boars on the pillars on either side of the large gates finally come into view in the darkness, Harry is suddenly reminded of how extremely tired and hungry he is and it takes all of his will power to to keep walking the last few meters until they’re standing right at the gates. When he reaches out to open them however, he finds them to be locked.
”Alohomora”, he says and flicks his wand at the lock, but nothing happens.
”That won’t work on these. Dumbledore bewitched them himself…”
Harry gives Tonks a sideway glance, feeling a stab of annoyance at her new, gloomy attitude and is just about to suggest he camp out her under his Cloak for the rest of the night, when he’s distracted by the glow of a distant lantern that is bobbing towards them in darkness.
It’s not until the lantern is close enough to highlight the gates themselves that Harry can make out the sharp features of the person carrying it, and the very sight makes Harry’s insides flutter to life.
”Well, well, well…” sneers Professor Snape and taps the padlock with his wand once and immediately the gates creak open. ”Nice of you to turn up, Potter. Although you have evidently decided that the wearing of school robes would detract from your appearance.”
”I couldn’t change, I didn’t have my —”
”There’s no need to wait, Nymphadora”, Snape says, completely ignoring Harry. ”Potter is quite safe in my hands.”
Harry huffs indignantly to himself, but says nothing. He realises that Snape can’t just treat him nicely all of a sudden, not in front of Tonks. But it still irks him that the man won’t even look at him. Snide remarks he can take, but to be ignored like that… Harry stuffs his fists into his hoody, to reduce the temptation to reach out and… and shake the man, Harry thinks. Because he’s frustrating. That’s all.
”See you, Harry”, Tonks murmurs and without waiting for his reply, she turns around and Disapparates.
Snape stands back to let Harry pass through the gates and then locks them again. He still avoids looking directly at Harry, and it’s really starting to annoy the younger man. But he says nothing. Two can play this game, he thinks surly and starts trotting after the older man as he swirls around and leads the way up to the castle.
They walk in silence for several minutes. Harry’s anger growing with every step until he’s sure the other man must feel it radiating off him like heat waves. But Harry won’t be the first to speak. Not after Snape so rudely interrupted him. He won’t.
”Fifty points from Gryffindor for lateness, I think”, Snape says finally. ”And, let me see, another twenty for your Muggle attire.”
”But that was becau—” Harry starts to defend himself, but quickly cuts himself off.
He won’t be goaded. Not now. Not when he’s already so angry he’s bursting with it. If he gets into a fight with Snape now, he’ll do something he’ll regret.
”You know”, Snape says in his most deceptively jovial tone of voice, as if they’re simply discussing the weather or something. ”I don’t believe any house has ever been in negative figures this early in the term — we haven’t even started pudding. You might have set a record, Potter.”
The fury and hatred that was already bubbling inside Harry after his run-in with Malfoy now blazes white-hot and he shoots the Potion Master a furious glare.
”Harry! You promised!” he hisses.
That seems to throw Snape off momentarily and he glances back at Harry, a startled look on his face and maybe a hint of regret, if Harry squints, but it’s gone again just as soon as it flared up and the man looks away with a contemptuous sniff.
”I suppose you wanted to make an entrance, and with no flying car available to create a dramatic effect you thought that bursting into the Great Hall halfway through the feast with blood all over your face would suffice?”
”Enough already”, Harry barks out. ”I didn’t stun and kick myself in the face, did I.”
Snape seems to peer down at him through the corner of his eye, as if considering asking him. As if he bloody well cares, Harry thinks bitterly and feels a stab of pain in his chest at the thought. Because he thought Snape actually did care, in his own way. But now… Now he’s not so sure anymore.
Snape abruptly slows his pace just as they reach the castle steps and Harry stumbles to a stop as well.
”Are you alright?”
”W-What?” Harry stammers.
Snape gestures towards his nose with an impatient huff. Harry’s hand automatically flies up to feel it, as if making sure it’s still there and still mended. He nods quickly, and Snape gives him one nod back before striding up the stone steps towards the big oak doors of the castle, his robes billowing dramatically behind him. Harry releases a small breath that he’d instinctively held in, the butterflies back in his belly again.
”Is there any point in me asking…” Snape murmurs after a moment.
”No”, Harry mutters. ”You already know who did it. And you don’t care, do you. So… Just… Whatever.”
”Eloquent as ever”, Snape mutters.
Harry hurriedly follows Snape up the stairs and into the Entrance Hall, where he is immediately hit with a wave of chatter and laughter of all the other students already in the Great Hall. For a moment Harry considers putting the Cloak back on so that he can sneak unnoticed into the Hall and take his seat at the Gryffindor table.
As though having read his mind, Snape says, ”No Cloak. You can walk in so that everyone sees you.”
Harry gives him an incredulous look, but Snape merely raises an eyebrow at him.
”I told you—”
”Yes, and as you also told me, apparently, I don’t care”, Snape says.
For one brief second, Harry searches Snape’s face for any sign of emotion, like hurt or… But he’s immediately distracted when Snape gives him an impatient glare and grabs him by the scruff of his neck and propels him around and then pushes him through the open doors of the Great Hall.
Harry stumbles under the weight of his push, but as every eye in the Great Hall turns to look at him, something that would normally make Harry’s face heat up and his skin crawl, all Harry can really focus on is the burning chill on his neck where Severus hand is no longer touching him.