Reaching an understanding HP

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he mentally ticked off the last moments of Potions class. On any other day he would be fidgeting in eager anticipation, but today his stomach was churning with dread. Why dread the end of his most hated class? The answer was simple: today Harry was going to apologize to Snape.

Harry himself nearly died of shock at the thought: him apologize to Snape? When first considering it, he could barely stop himself from rushing to the window to check that Voldemort wasn’t dancing ballet in the castle yard. Despite the seeming absurdity of the idea, Harry felt compelled to say something about what happened the other day. He didn’t expect the reticent professor to accept his apology; but at least Harry would be able to sleep without the feeling of sour shame burning in his gut.

“Class dismissed, you know what to do.” Professor Snape intoned blankly from the head of the classroom, snapping Harry from his thoughts and stirring his classmates to action.

Harry marveled that he had made it through the lesson with only minimal point deductions. It appeared that Snape truly wanted nothing to do with him at the moment, not even to broadcast Harry’s mistakes to the class. The students trickled steadily from the room, and Harry waved on a reluctant Ron and Hermione who cast him curious glances from the door. As much as he would rather not, this was something he needed to do alone. Finally, as the potion’s room door swung shut on the last pupil, Harry lurched towards the potion master’s desk on unwilling feet.

“Professor, may I speak to you?” Harry paused, wavering, and Snape raised one oily eyebrow, “Please.” Now was not the time for his stubborn pride.    

“By all means Potter, you do have a mouth, so yes. What tripe do you have to bother me with?” The professor sneered at him, dark eyes reflecting his irritation.

“I… I’ve come to apologize. I should not have pried into your past, those memories were not for me to see. At the time, I only thought it was fair, since you had seen so many of my memories, why shouldn’t I see yours.” At this Snape’s eyes flashed as though to interrupt, but Harry held his hands up to pause him, “I know, I know, that was wrong of me and I regret it; but what I saw has helped me understand more about certain things I think.”

“You know,” Harry chuckled softly, ruffling his hair, “I always thought you were such a bastard to me for no damn reason; just because that’s how you were, an evil greasy git.” Snape’s eyes narrowed dangerously and Harry hurriedly continued, “Now, I realize that’s not the reason. Old grudges are the reason why you’ve always hated me. Professor Snape, I am sorry for what the Marauders put you through, my father and Sirius especially. I know what it’s like to be kicked around and stepped on for no other reason than because of what you are, because of who you can’t help to be…”

Harry trailed off eyes drifting down to his feet a moment, before snapping his gaze up to the potion master’s again, “People can be incredibly unfair to one another, without having reason. Professor, I understand if you can’t forgive me for the things I have done to you over the years; but please do not hold who I am and who my father was against me.”

Harry stared Snape in the eye a moment longer as silence hummed around them, before bidding him a hasty good evening and darting from the room like a frightened deer. Snape looked bemusedly after the boy for several long minutes as all the youth said sank in. The professor then heaved a heavy sigh and pressed his long spindle fingers to his temples, leaning back in his chair.

“One thing I must always begrudge you, Mr. Potter,” he muttered to the air, “is that you certainly never fail to surprise.” The lean man smirked ironically.

The next potions class once again had Harry on edge. This time, he found the potions master’s actions and expressions completely unreadable, not even his usual disdain was apparent. Snape simply swept around the room, a silent phantom observing the students actions with a hawk’s eye. Harry spent the period with his nose buried as firmly as possible in his potions book, as careful as possible not to draw the attention of anyone, especially Snape. After a small eternity of starring at the books indecipherable jargon, class was finally dismissed.

Harry jumped to his feet, eagerly cramming his belongings back into his bag, but it appeared the fates would not allow him to get away scot-free.

“Mr. Potter, please remain after, I would like a word.” Snape’s voice drifted over the students towards him like a dementor’s mist over the chatter of the jostling students. It was the please that made him certain he was doomed.

He watched, helpless as Ron and Hermione left the room; Hermione flashing him an encouraging smile and Ron shooting him a pitying ‘Nice knowing you mate.’ look. Silently Harry watched as the last stragglers exited, mentally willing them to linger, unfortunately his cries went unheard and they left unimpeded.

That left Harry and Snape. Alone. Harry gulped, turning to face his professor and the two stared each other down for several moments. Snape sitting behind his desk with an unreadable expression, bony fingers in a steeple in front of his hawkish nose; Harry standing in the center of the room, wide-eyed nervous, clearly attempting nonchalance but failing miserably.

“Come, sit Mr. Potter, I have not killed you yet, and have no intention to.” Snape ordered dryly, gesturing to an empty wooden chair beside his desk.

Harry quickly complied, not entirely believing the stoic potions master had just cracked a joke to him of all people. He settled quickly into the old chair, idly noting the faded carvings of snakes along the arms.

“I have been thinking of what you said to me the other evening.” Snape said gravely, snaring Harry’s nervous eyes with his own dark stare. “After a time, I realized what you said that evening is possibly the most sensible thing I have ever heard come out of that brash mouth of yours Potter.” Harry gaped and Snape held up a hand to silence whatever he might of thought to blurt.

“You are not the only one who has reflected upon the things they have seen. I loathe to admit it, but I have come to realize that you are not the spoiled child I always though you Potter. You do hold the capacity to act in a brash and childish manner, yes, but you also carry a compassion and humility that I previously discredited. You posses a good level of common sense as well, though you rarely choose to use it.” Snape gave Harry a pointed look, and Harry looked away sheepishly.

“I admit I also judged you very superficially, Potter. While you thought I was simply… what was your term… ah yes an ‘evil, greasy git’ “ He shot an abashed Harry a wry look-- “I thought you were merely a snotty spoilt brat like your father was. Apparently, we were mistaken in our perceptions—“ Snape’s face looked pinched, like this allowance pained him, “on both our parts.”

Harry and Snape sat in silent for several moments as the professor let his words sink in. Snape observed the youth silently as the emotions swept across his face, finally settling to a small smile. What the boy did next surprised the older man yet again.

Harry suddenly stood, moving to stand before the potion master’s aged and stained desk.

He grinned broadly, extending his right hand to Snape, “I think we should introduce ourselves properly finally. I am Harry Potter, boy wizard who is either incredibly lucky or incredibly unlucky.”

Snape quirked an eyebrow and stood grasping the students tanned calloused hand in his pale potion stained one, “I am Severus Snape, potions master, considered cynical to many, practical to myself.”

The two shook hands, Harry’s grin broadening and Snape finding himself returning it with a twisted grin of his own.

“Pleased to meet you Mr. Snape, I look forward to working with you in the future.” Harry said, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice.

“Indeed the feeling is mutual Mr. Potter. Do try to arrive to lessons on time now and again.” Snape replied, uncharacteristic sparks of mirth flickering in his eyes as the two separated hands.

“Certainly, Mr. Snape.” Harry chimed cheerfully, gathering his bag and heading towards the door with a wave.

His foot was nearly out the door when Snape’s voice stayed him, “Oh and Mr. Potter?”

“Yes, sir?” Harry questioned, poking his head back into the classroom.

“Speak a word of this to anyone, and I will not hesitate to hex your tongue out; new beginnings aside.” The professor, spoke stoically, a slight mischievous spark in his eyes the only give away.

“Of course not sir, this stays between us. Besides, I doubt anyone would believe me even if I told them!” With that, the youth was gone, faint laughter left trailing behind him.

Snape quirked an eyebrow and found himself startled into a laugh as well, and then settled back into his seat, shaking his head. He set aside this strange turn of events for later contemplation and set himself to the task of grading second year essays, oh the horror.