kbinnz - Harry's New Home

He would just have to explain to Harry later тАУ in very stern language тАУ that this sort of thing was not to occur again. The nerve of the little brat! Thinking that he could speak on behalf of one of his professors! He should banish the arrogant whelp to his room, but the notion of what the boy would find there decided him against that course of action.

"Potter, come with me," he snapped, leading the way to the boy's bedroom.

Harry followed obediently. He was highly pleased with himself. Imagine, he'd been able to teach the professor about extra credit! "Did you see I had oatmeal and fruit for breakfast?" he piped up, trotting behind the tall man. "Hermione said that was very nutritious."

"I hope you are not dimwitted enough to expect showers of praise and presents every time you do what you are told," Snape said repressively. Just because the books said to notice and reward good behavior, rather than simply pointing out and punishing bad behavior, didn't mean he was planning to simper around the little brat, cooing whenever he managed to wipe his own nose. "Get in." He shoved the bedroom door open and pointed.

Harry couldn't suppress a smile as he entered his room (his room!), though it faltered a bit as he saw a broom lying on the bed. "S-sir?"

Memories of being dragged from the cupboard under the stairs and presented with a mop and bucket rushed through his head, though тАУ he reminded himself stoutly тАУ it was only fair if the professor expected him to do some chores around the place. "Do you want me to clean your quarters?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound whiny.

He didn't mind cleaning, not after all the wonderful things Snape had showered upon him, but he had just thought that maybe Snape might not be quite so brutal about it as his aunt and uncle had been. Being handed a mop or broom or bottle of dishwashing detergent had been a regular occurrence at the Dursleys and had served to drive home the fact that the only thing they valued about Harry was his ability to do housework.

Snape stared at the boy and fought down a desire to bang his head against the wall. Of course, one afternoon at Hogwarts was hardly going to overcome years of servitude among Muggles. "Potter," he said quietly, "you are a wizard, not a Muggle."

"Y-yes, sir?" Potter agreed nervously. He wasn't sure what the professor meant. Was he about to get into trouble for doing something that Wizards didn't like?

Snape took him by the shoulder and steered him over to the bed. "Wizards do not use brooms for cleaning, Potter. They use them for flying." He left the boy looking down at the Nimbus 2000.

Harry's face turned a fiery red. He was such an idiot! Not only had he forgotten about flying on brooms, but he had been rude enough to imagine тАУ again! тАУ that Professor Snape would act like his relatives! He kept forgetting, despite the professor reassuring him over and over that he wouldn't be treated like that any more. Professor Snape must think that Harry was a complete moron. And of course, the professor probably felt like Harry was insulting him each time he expected him to act like Uncle Vernon. A hot lump grew in his throat and nearly choked Harry.

Here Professor Snape had just bought him yet another present, and Harry's response was to lump him with his horrible relatives. He felt awful. He wished Snape would take back the broom and whack him with it. He was a stupid, ungrateful brat who тАУ

Snape watched Harry's anguished face with increasing guilt. Of course Muggle cleaning appliances would have brought up dreadful memories for the boy. Harry had already revealed that he suffered from flashbacks, and here he was тАУ ostensibly an informed, responsible adult тАУ triggering them. He reached out an awkward hand and patted the boy on the shoulder, half-expecting Potter to flinch away from him.

Instead, Potter twisted around and buried his face in Snape's robes. "'M sorry!" he whimpered. "'M sorry!"

"Potter, you need not apologize with every other breath," he began.

"But I do!" Harry clung tighter to the man. "I forgot! I didn't mean it! I just forgot!"

"You are new to the Wizarding world," Snape pointed out. "It is natural that you would revert to the habits of a lifetime."

"But I should've known better," Harry said miserably, looking up at him. "I mean, you're so much nicer to me than the Dursleys, and -"

"That's hardly saying much, Potter," Snape interrupted drily.

"Are you really mad?" Harry worried, sniffling. "I don't want you to feel bad. It's all my fault you know, not yours."

"Potter, it will take you time to recover from your relatives' appalling treatment of you, let alone become familiar with the Wizarding world. I am well aware of the enormous adjustment you are making, and I am quite тАУ pleased тАУ with your progress." There. That was positive reinforcement.

Harry dragged in a deep breath, reassured by the professor's words. It was true тАУ in the space of a few short weeks he had gone from his lonely existence as the Dursley's detested servant to this new world, new school, new culture, new friends, new guardianтАж Maybe he wasn't such an idiot after all. Snape had said he was making good progress, and he hadn't sounded hurt or offended.

Harry felt a surge of gratitude for the tall, dark professor. How many other people would be so forgiving and patient with such a whiny freak? He hugged Snape again. It felt like all the bad luck he'd had over the last ten years was finally being balanced out. He was so lucky to have such a brilliant guardian.

"Potter," Snape interrupted before the emotional little creature could drive himself into hysterics again. "I will be angry with you if you don't quickly display better manners than an illiterate baboon. You have just received a gift. What are you supposed to do?"

Harry looked up, puzzled, and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Aren't all baboons illiterate?"

"Potter! Do not be cheeky!" He accio'd a handkerchief and held it out to the brat, glaring.

Harry frowned, oblivious to the handkerchief. "I wasn't being cheeky," he protested. "But baboons тАУ at least in the Muggle world тАУ can't read." Then, for the first time, he really looked at the broomstick and all thoughts of baboons, Dursleys, and misunderstandings flew out of his head.

"Th тАУ this is a racing broom!" he blurted out. "Ron showed me pictures in his Quidditch magazine!"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Congratulations, Mr Potter. You have now graduated to stating the blindingly obvious."

"But this is the kind of broom that professional Quidditch players use," Harry continued, trying to make the professor understand why he was so excited. All the dinnertime conversation with the Quidditch team came back to him. "Oliver has one, and so does a girl in Ravenclaw, but no one else тАУ" He broke off with an audible gasp. "Is тАУ is this for me?" he whispered, eyes huge as he stared at his professor.

"I realize you are a Gryffindor, Potter, but the fact that it is on your bed, in your room, might lead you to that conclusion," Snape retorted, highly uncomfortable with the adulation that was fast growing in the boy's expression. "Surely even you have had time to realize that a Seeker must have an adequate broom in order to perform his assigned task. Did you imagine I would have you use an old school broom during your games?"

"But you mean, you тАУ you bought this for me?"

Snape scowled, hideously embarrassed and furious that the brat was making him state it openly. He briefly considered a highly sarcastic response, but given the little idiot's near-complete ignorance of the Wizarding world, not to mention his Gryffindorish gullibility, it was too likely that he would believe any statement, no matter how farfetched. "Yes."

Harry beamed like a supernova and grabbed him. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"