There were charms, of course, for keeping warm and dry, but magic could only do so much where weather was concerned. He hated slogging through mud.
Those full, attractive lips curved upwards. Harry grinned like Severus had just handed him another First Class Order of Merlin medal and said, "Brilliant," with such enthusiasm that Severus really had to wonder at his social life.
"If you don't mind my saying, you need to get out more, Potter."
"You'd say it even if I did mind, so what's the point? Anyway, that's the kettle calling the pot black again," Potter replied.
Again with the kettle and pot.
"I fail to understand your fascination with those woods. They're just trees and plants charmed to bloom out of season. Any fifth year could manage that."
"Could a fifth year have created those security wards?" Potter challenged.
"No, but you could have without draining a hundredth of your power," Severus answered.
"Don't be too sure of that. Remember, my solution to the problem was send the bugs back to America. You had the foresight and imagination to solve the problem. Your creation is both practical and beautiful. You should be proud of it," Harry said.
Irritated, Severus felt himself warm to the words. Did Potter think he was a child to be placated with compliments?
That he was so terribly susceptible to the kind words angered him all the more. Severus grit his teeth to keep from shouting a demand at Potter as to what he really wanted, why he was here, and what he was playing at. Forcing his gaze onto the bubbling blue liquid in his cauldron, he stirred steadily. Though it wasn't strictly required, extra boiling time would only strengthen this brew.
"How much longer are you going to keep us here doing busy work?" Potter softly asked after another few minutes.
"What are you talking about?" Severus snapped.
Potter paused to think before speaking, which was never a good sign with Potter. "You've had Jodfries, Viers, and Adair in detention for the last six weeks. I know for a fact that you're up to your ears in chopped slugs, toads, and stinkweed."
Severus tensed. "You weren't invited. If you don't want to be here, Potter -"
"That's not what I'm saying!" Potter insisted.
"Then what are you saying?"
"I was just wondering why you're wasting our time," Potter said.
Even though the words weren't voiced as an accusation, they hit Severus as such. "I hardly consider the brewing of medicinal potions for the infirmary time wasting."
"That's Cold Ease you're making in that cauldron. You've been stirring it for the last twenty minutes, even though it turned blue a half hour ago like it should when it's done."
"You astound me," Severus sneered. "I thought you'd forgotten everything you'd learned at Hogwarts for your NEWTs the instant the Cannons signed you. I had no idea you remembered so much of your Potions classes."
Once again, Potter refused to be baited. Rather than return the insult, Potter calmly said, "You're right. I don't remember it from school. But you had me stirring Cold Ease when I visited last Tuesday, and you told me that it was done when it turned blue."
Severus opened his mouth for another volley, realized that he had no idea what to say at being caught, and looked down at the potion in his cauldron. Finally, he just muttered, "So I did."
"I'm not complaining. I just wondered why we're doing work that obviously isn't necessary."
Severus ran a hand through hair that he'd once again forgotten to wash this morning. Its slightly oily feel seemed to drive home the illogic of this situation. He was the Greasy Git. Potter was the Boy Who Lived. Why, in Merlin's name, would the darling of the Wizarding World want to spend time with him?
Severus searched his mind for an evasion that would salve his pride, but there wasn't any explanation other than the truth. Knowing he was committing yet another grave, tactical error, which compounded his first mistake of agreeing to this détente insanity, he softly said, "Perhaps detention is the only level on which I know how to deal with you."
"That's bullshit," Harry answered. "We don't have any trouble talking at the Three Broomsticks or out in the forest or even at the teachers' table. It's only when I come to visit you down here that . . . things are different. I was just wondering why that is."
Severus wished Potter would get angry and yell at him. He wished that they were still communicating on the level they had six months ago. He'd understood the ground rules of that interaction. This new civility left him without a point of reference.
Severus considered a number of possible responses, from an outright lie to light evasion, but once again, his mind circled mysteriously back to the truth. Over the last month, he'd given Potter a number of opportunities to attack a vulnerability. Potter had yet to do so.
Taking a deep breath, Severus braced himself, and offered, "I'm sure it's painfully obvious that I'm unaccustomed to entertaining visitors."
A chuckle that was neither cruel nor mocking greeted his confession. In an almost fond sounding tone, Potter said, "Well, if you set them all to chopping up slugs and stinkweed, that's hardly any wonder, is it?"
"You are the first . . . well, the only visitor here since Albus . . . died. And he never needed much to entertain him. Give that man an empty paper sack, and he'd be happy for hours. One could hardly credit he was the greatest wizard of his age," Severus said, thinking that the young man before him held that title now.
"You miss him as much as I do, don't you?" Potter gently questioned.
That being too open a statement of his private feelings to answer, Severus deflected the question, "We were acquainted for more than thirty-five years."
Although Severus saw from the expression in his eyes that his tactic didn't fool Potter for a moment, the younger man didn't seem inclined to call him on it.
Severus was beginning to appreciate that quality in Potter. In all his previous interactions with people, those who'd been foolish enough to attempt to befriend him had tried to pressure him into being more like them – more open and communicative about his emotions. Potter didn't seem to be trying to change him. Potter asked the same type of questions the others had, but seemed content to decipher his answers himself, rather than force Severus to openly admit things that made him uncomfortable.
"You used to play chess with him, didn't you?" At his slow nod, Potter continued, "Well, I'm not in Ron's league, but I'm a decent player, if you want to give it a go some evening."
His guts clenched at the suggestion. Severus looked back down at the furiously bubbling blue potion in the cauldron. Chess was one of the few entertainments he'd ever been able to share with others. It was one of his true pleasures.
He hadn't touched his board since Albus' death. He missed it more than he would have his right hand. Minerva had asked him once several weeks after Albus' funeral if he'd wanted to play a game with her, but the offer had so obviously been motivated by pity that his refusal had been predictably savage. She'd never asked him again. Nor had anyone else in nine years.
That Potter could so casually offer . . . .
His pride wouldn't allow him to reveal how tempted he was. Severus took a deep breath to dispel the tightness in his gut and then turned back to face Potter. Needing to put some distance between himself and his reaction to both the memories and Potter's offer, he looked for a diversion.
Fortunately, Potter had neatly provided him one. A less likely candidate than Ronald Weasley for the mastery of any intellectual pursuit could hardly be imagined.
"Not in Weasley's league?" Severus questioned, letting his tone and raised brow convey his feelings on Ronald Weasley's intelligence. That not being enough, he felt compelled to continue, "The creatures you're chopping have more formidable mental faculties."
Potter laughed, caught himself, and then said, "That's a terrible thing to say, even if it was funny. It might surprise you to know that Ron has been beating the Headmistress regularly at Wizards' Chess for the last ten years."
"There have been several documented cases of idiot savants in Wizards' Chess. I wasn't aware we had one at Hogwarts, however," Severus replied.
Once again, Potter seemed to laugh in spite of himself. "You're awful. You do know that, don't you?"
Liking what amusement did to Potter's striking features, Severus gave a slight bow and said at his most urbane, "I pride myself on it."
"Well, you've met your goal. Come on. I'll put these things away and help you decant that, and then we can head out to the forest."
Although Potter's assistance wasn't necessary, Severus allowed him to help.
"Damn, it's cold," Potter announced in a white puff of steam thirty minutes later, pulling up his black cloak's hood as they made their way across the frozen ground on the outskirts of the castle.
The wind was howling down out of the north, blowing out the last of the day's storm clouds, making their eyes water, and stinging the skin on their faces. Off to their right to the west, the sun was starting its slow slide behind the mountains.
Severus carefully set his foot down in the icy-crisp dead grass on the slope down to Hagrid's hut and pointed out, "We are halfway through November."
"I know," Potter laughed, and Severus couldn't help but note how red his cheeks were becoming from the cold. "It's just bloody freezing."
"This was your idea," Severus reminded him.
"I know. But can't I complain about it? I mean, it was your idea to teach, and you've got tomes of complaints when it comes to what you call the dunderheads."
"Actually, it wasn't my idea; it was Albus'. But you have a point. And, I must say, that is a rather Slytherin reaction, so whinge away."
As he'd expected, that brought his Gryffindor companion up short. Severus turned his gaze towards the cloudy sunset to hide the smile that was twitching the corners of his mouth at the irritated consternation playing over Potter's hopelessly open features.
"I hate it when you do that," Potter said after a minute or two of quiet walking.
Severus paused for effect, and then gave an urbane, "I know," the tone of which set Potter laughing.
It still startled him how willing Potter was to be entertained by his humour. Most of their co-workers were too dim to get his sarcasm and those few who had some faint inkling of what he'd said, generally discounted that he could have possibly intended his words to be taken humorously. It felt like a lifetime since there had been anyone around who got his jokes. That it would be Harry Potter who did so was the ultimate irony.
They walked on in an oddly contented silence, passing into the Forbidden Forest's chill shadows. This time of the year, the bare trees allowed more light to penetrate than in summer, but the light was still diffused because of the height and breadth of the tree trunks.
Severus had to admit that he was pleasantly startled himself when they entered the border of the charmed woods. One moment they were standing in a brutally cold, wind-tortured setting and the next, fragrant summer heat embraced them as they passed through the security wards. The moaning wind was replaced by the mechanical buzz of the cicadas. A robin trilled in a nearby tree while a brown hare munching on some watercress at the edge of the nearby trickling stream raised its head to stare at them, its nose twitching.
"That feels amazing," Potter said, throwing off his hood and removing his cloak as he took a deep, theatrical breath. "I forgot how much I miss the scent of wildflowers."
Severus undid his own winter cloak as the unseasonable warmth washed over him. It was a lush night, warm and sultry in here, the complete antithesis of the wind-battered land they'd left minutes ago.
"I love coming here," Potter said over his shoulder as he moved through the forest to a spot he seemed to particularly fancy. The site was slightly uphill near the stream, filled with ferns, boulders, and the rotting, behemoth skeletons of fallen trees. When he reached it, Potter paused beside some deadfall and leaned back against a fern-laden trunk that smelt of moisture and of life.
Pausing a couple of yards away, Severus distractedly noted that Potter's eyes were a deeper, richer green than that of the fern frond dangling off the deadfall next to his left ear.
"I'd noticed," Snape answered as he followed the path Potter had taken through the understory bushes, small rowan, and oak trees that were crowding the open space on the stream bank. As he passed through the tangled leaves, it occurred to him that a charm against ticks might be in order.
"This is so peaceful. I think we should create a spot like this every year."
"Doubtless such continuous manipulation would have a detrimental effect on the trees," Severus warned.
Severus stopped near Potter, beside a convenient moss-covered boulder. They both laid their cloaks on the grey rock, which was mostly dry.
"Look back the way we came," Potter directed, stepping into Severus' personal space as he touched his arm and pointed off into the distance with his free hand.
Distracted by the proximity and touch, Severus uncomfortably did as requested. At first he didn't understand what Potter was going on about, but then he noticed how the setting sun had turned the clouds on the western horizon a blazing shade of orange interspersed with brushstrokes of magenta and a colour suspiciously close to lavender.
"It's breathtaking," Potter whispered, his hushed tone sending an inexplicable shiver through Severus.
Once again, Severus found himself wondering what the devil Potter was doing knocking about with him. The younger wizard should be out here with another good-looking young whippersnapper, sowing his wild oats in his precious time away from the students. What possible enjoyment could the other man be getting sharing this romantic scene with him, of all people?
