kbinnz - Harry's New Home

"You lookтАж amazing," Sprout choked out.

Filius laughed, his high voice sounding alarmingly like a childish giggle. "Oh dear, Severus, I suspect you'll need to change your lesson plans for the next few weeks." At the younger man's confused expression, he elaborated, "You'd best have no potions that can explode on your syllabus. Between the girls who will be too moonstruck to follow instructions and those who will deliberately seek detentions in the hopes of being alone with you, you stand a good chance of seeing more explosions in the coming days than in the past five years!"

"This is all your fault!" Snape hissed at Albus, though in truth there was тАУ way down deep below all the humiliation тАУ a rather pleasant sensation in his chest. He'd never before been complimented on his appearance, quite the reverse in fact. He'd been a skinny, awkward adolescent with a defensively hunched posture and secondhand clothes, and he had never realized that he'd emerged from the chrysalis of gawky teen into a lean, wiry adult.

He had always assumed his oft-broken nose (courtesy of first his father, then the Marauders, and finally Voldemort) and crooked teeth (ditto) translated to an appalling homeliness. Merlin knew his father had called him a disgusting, ugly little goblin enough times for him to believe it. The greasy hair simply topped off what was, he thought, the long list of his unattractive features. To be considered "hot" had just turned his self-image upside down.

Now that his hair was shiny and framed his face with gentle waves, rather than hanging straight down in greasy locks, his smoldering eyes, strong chin, and high cheekbones could be appreciated for the first time in years. Coupled with his commanding presence, it was no surprise that he had struck the female population of Hogwarts (and some of the males as well) like a thunderbolt.

"Well, my boy, you could always decide to go back to your previous look," Albus pointed out gently, ignoring the gasps of dismay from the female faculty on either side.

Snape considered that option for about a second and a half before dismissing it with the snort of contempt that it deserved. Make life easy for the students and staff? What would be the fun in that? Much more enjoyable to torment them.

He tossed his head, surprised and delighted by the low moan that the action caused among the female students, and said in the most supercilious tones he could manage, "I cannot imagine why my personal grooming should be the topic of breakfast conversation. Please pass the toast."

Eventually, the novelty of his appearance wore off, Sprout cleaned the eggs off her lap, Hagrid removed the pork products from his beard, and Trelawny stopped moaning about "Ragnarok". By that time, however, Snape had discovered a previously undetected strain of vanity in his nature. He had known that he was justifiably proud of his prowess as a Potion Master, but for the first time, he began to understand how that prat Black must have felt, with girls swooning over him all the time. What's more, Snape found, he liked it. He really, really liked it.

Happily, his talent for Occlumency permitted him to suppress such base emotions. By the time Potter knocked on his door at ten, Snape had recovered himself enough to greet him with a glower. He had rather hoped the brat would be late and he would therefore have no reason to go ahead with his plan, but the little wretch's promptness prevented him from using that excuse.

"Potter, I had you come here so тАУ"

"Here, sir!" Potter not only had the temerity to interrupt him, but he also shoved a rather well-worn roll of parchment at him.

Fortunately for the boy, Snape was looking for a distraction. "What is it?" he demanded, unrolling the slightly sticky scroll.

"It's my essay on healing potions," Harry explained happily. He knew the professor would be pleased with him for using his time well. "R'member? You told me to write 12 inches after I thought that you used dirty socks to тАУ"

"I remember, Potter," Snape cut the urchin off. He scanned the document and was grudgingly impressed. The boy had not only included the relevant information, but he had also written it out more neatly than any of his previous work. Apparently the lessons of his last detention had sunk in.

"Oh, and here's more." Before he could chastise the brat for the mysterious stickiness of the parchment, not to mention its battered appearance, two more scrolls were thrust at him.

"What on earth?" A quick glance confirmed these were in different handwriting than Potter's.

"Well, I asked Hermione Granger to look over my essay to make sure it was okay, and so then she wanted to write one for extra credit," Harry explained guilelessly.

"What is 'extra credit'?" Snape demanded. It sounded suspiciously like 'extra work' for him.

"You know," Harry said, surprised. "It's when students do extra things that you didn't assign and it helps their grade."

"We are not even in the second week of classes, and Miss Granger has already established herself as an insufferable know-it-all. Why in Merlin's name would she imagine she needed to do extra work?" Snape demanded.

Harry shrugged. "That's Hermione. Anyway, while she and I were working on our essays, Neville came along, and Hermione bullied тАУ erm, suggested тАУ that he should do one 'cause then maybe he wouldn't be so confused and scared in class."

"Potter, the only extra work in my class is that which I assign as punishment!" Snape snapped. "Do you imagine that I have nothing better to do than to correct additional essays by know-nothing Gryffindors? Do you expect me to read three derivative essays on healing potions?"

Harry grinned. "I knew you'd say that!" Snape blinked, nonplused. "I told Hermione that she couldn't write an essay on the same topic as me, so she decided to write one on Polyjuice Potion. She'd read about it in one of her books and thought it sounded neat. And then she told Neville to write one about the potion from last week that he blew up, so you'd see that he really did understand it."

Snape plastered a sneer on his face and started to inform the little fiend that he had no intention of reviewing any unsolicited essays, let alone providing "extra credit" for them, when Harry looked up at him. The trust in those green eyes had an unexpected effect on his vocal cords and he found himself having to clear his throat instead.

"I even got started on my 500 lines," Harry told him proudly. He had decided that a way to reassure Professor Snape that he was a good disciplinarian was to show him that Harry took his punishments seriously. He had written the first hundred last night in the Gryffindor Common Room and, after the first dozen or so, some of the other students had come over to ask what he was working on. Although at first put off by the information that he was writing lines for Snape, the other Gryffindors had become intrigued by what he had been assigned to write. Quickly his "I will not quote my appalling relatives" had given way to "My relatives are stupid liars", "My relatives are lard-filled balloons" (his Housemates had really enjoyed learning what Snape had called his uncle), and "I will pay no attention to anything that my fat, stupid relatives ever said", among other, more inventive, suggestions from his fellow Gryffindors. Harry hoped that the professor wouldn't mind that the 500 lines weren't identical, but he figured that if nothing else, the variety would make more interesting reading for Snape.

"Hmf," Snape grumbled, deciding that (just this once!) he would permit the outlandish, Muggle notion of "extra credit" to be used in his class. He was a bit curious to see what a Muggleborn first year would make of as complicated a Potion as Polyjuice, and frankly anything that made Longbottom less likely to melt his cauldron could only be a good thing.