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Harry Potter and the Book of Days	By : Stoeffl Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 2171 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter Five

Big Surprise

At that, the headmaster turned to his right, and Harry saw a man standing next to Dumbledore who he had not noticed before.

He seemed to been in is late forties or early fifties, and he radiated a soothing calmness. His dove grey suit matched his eyes and his grey temples. The man cheerfully looked at the students in front of him and smiled encouragingly at them.

Dumbledore saw the looks his guest received and noticed that they varied from interested to annoyed. He leaned closer to the other man and whispered softly into his ear.

Harry watched the two men at the teachers' table. When the headmaster whispered in his ear, the other man's smile broadened, and he quietly started to laugh, eyeing the students once more as if looking for something particular. Dumbledore obviously made him aware of... what? Harry turned his head in the same direction the two men were looking and saw that they were staring at the Slytherin table. The students at this table were scowling at the stranger, who seemed quite amused at their reaction.

The headmaster focused his attention once more on the students and cleared his throat.

"Let me introduce you to Doctor Sigmund Feinstein, Headmaster of Umberford School of Higher Education."

Feinstein bowed to the teenagers and offered them a bright smile.

"I'm honoured to be invited to this feast."

A low murmur wandered through the Great Hall, and the Slytherins' former dislike had turned into loathing.

Harry heard the low whisper of "Muggle" and felt a ripple going through the Hall. Mostly the students were surprised and curious, but some felt betrayed by the headmaster for allowing a Muggle to enter Hogwarts.

Dumbledore quelled them with a look. "Since Voldemort has risen once more and his followers now include not only Deatheaters and Werewolves, but also the Dementors, the Ministry decided that we need to strengthen our side. It is only natural that we would ask the Muggles for aid since their world is in even graver danger than ours. Because there is so little we know about each other, the staff and I thought it would be a good idea to have a school project with a Muggle school, and Doctor Feinstein was so kind as to agree to this project."

The old wizard gestured for the Muggle headmaster to sit down next to him and turned back to the students who looked at him with disbelief.

"Only the Third, Fourth, Fifth and Sixth Year students are going to participate in the exchange. The rest of you won't be affected by the project. I expect you not to shame your houses or your school."

Fred and George seemed crestfallen when they heard that they wouldn't be included.

"There is one more thing I have to announce. It may have come to your attention that once more we have no Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Last year's professor had to leave, and unfortunately I have not been able to find a trustworthy replacement. Since I was a teacher myself in the past, I have decided that I should be able to fill this position. Therefore, I am going to be your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Harry gaped open-mouthed at Dumbledore. Never had he expected to be taught by the headmaster himself.

"Well, that's definitely a surprise," Hermione whispered next to him. "First the Muggle headmaster, and now Dumbledore teaching. This year promises to be very interesting."

Harry nodded his head in agreement. Yes, this year would definitely be something different.

"I thank you for your attention, and Mahlzeit."

With these words, the Headmaster sat down and started talking to Feinstein. The two men dug into their meals, enjoying the food and their conversation.

Harry felt somebody brush his back, and he turned to see who it was. Ron stared back at him. His expression was miserable, and by the looks of it, he had not gotten the same treatment as Malfoy; he sported a blackened eye and a split lip. The redhead slowly sat down on the other side of Harry and silently shovelled food on the plate before him.

He chewed the food as if he was chewing dirt and all the time he refused looking up

Harry and Hermione exchanged surprised and questioning looks and watched Ron eat. The boy, who normally wolfed everything down with gusto, seemed almost to choke on every bite he took. He chewed the food as if he was chewing dirt, and he refused to look up.

Hermione watched him worriedly and looked at Harry for help.

Harry put his cutlery aside and turned to his silent friend. Carefully, he placed his hand on Ron's shoulder to comfort him. "Hey, Ron, what's up?" He tried to persuade his friend to talk, but the boy just slumped down further and shrugged the hand off of his shoulder.

"Ron, come on! What's the matter with you?" Harry grabbed his shoulders and forced him to turn around. Ron looked up, and his eyes shone with worry and unshed tears.

"I'm so sorry," came the soft reply.

"What for?" Harry studied his friend closely. He noticed that the redhead desperately tried to avoid looking at him or Hermione. "What are you sorry for?"

"I lost three hundred points before the term even started!" The answer burst out of the boy together along with the tears he so desperately tried to hold back. "We'll never be able to win the House Cup this year!"

Hermione got up from her place next to Harry and walked to her other best friend. She wrapped him in her arms and carefully patted him on the shoulder. "It's not that bad. It's just a slight disadvantage."

"Hermione, I lost our house three hundred points. That's not a slight disadvantage, that's more likely the end! Even Hufflepuff will beat us this year."

Ron had finally gained control over his emotions, and he studied the faces of his friends at the table. Nobody seemed bothered by the deduction of points, and Seamus and Dean beamed happily at him.

"Hey," Seamus said, "seeing you beat Malfoy is worth every single point the greasy git took for it."

Dean enthusiastically nodded his agreement, and even Neville smiled encouragingly at Ron.

"You know, the git looked real pissed back then." Seamus's look became distant and dreamy. "Oh, what would I give to see that expression again."

The whole table, Ron included, burst out in laughter.

Suddenly Neville choked and paled. His eyes took on a frightened look, and he tried to hide under the table.

"Maybe the git didn't look as pissed as you do now," drawled a familiar voice.

In the following sudden silence, a falling pin could have been heard. Slowly, Seamus looked up and at the figure, which now loomed behind Harry's back.

"Potter, Weasley, come to my office after the feast." With these words, Snape left the Gryffindor table and rejoined his colleagues at the staff table.

"Serves you right,” came the reprimand from Hermione.

"If I may remind you, you laughed with us," Seamus snapped at her.

Neville crawled back out from under the table. He was chalk-white and trembled furiously. "He heard us!"

"Calm down, he's not going to bite you," Harry reassured the frightened boy. "Wonder what he wants us to come to his office for?"

"He'll probably tell us about our detention." Ron resumed eating.

"See you later!" Hermione left together with the rest the of the Gryffindors for the tower.

Ron and Harry turned to the dungeons and made their way to Snape's office. The further they descended into the dungeons, the darker and creepier the corridors became.

"Who'd want to live in a place like this?" Ron eyed the damp, cold walls with disgust. "I bet he had to move down here because nobody wanted him as a neighbour."

Harry silently followed behind Ron, carefully watching his step. He dreaded slipping on a stair or on the wet floor.

The office was two levels under the Entrance hall, and the corridor was lit by several torches. The two Gryffindors summoned all their courage and were about to knock at the door when a sudden voice shocked them.

"Now look at this, two Gryffindors so far from home. Well. Pothead, Weasel, don't wet your pants; get moving." Draco Malfoy had approached them silently and was now waiting for them to open the door.

Ron was about to give the blonde a piece of his mind, when the office door opened and a grumpy-looking Potions Master stood in front of them.

"What are you waiting for, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy? I don't intend to spend the night here, so get in and try to be decent for a change." The last remark was directed at Ron, who forced himself to stay calm.

Without further resistance, the three boys entered the office and stood in front of Snape's desk. The heavy wooden furniture was covered with scrolls and books. Most of them looked very ancient. The professor sat down on the leather chair behind the desk and glared at them. This time not even Malfoy was spared, and somehow this made Harry even more nervous.

"I believe you can very well imagine why I ordered the three of you here." Snape leaned forward, resting his elbows on a stack of parchments, and watched them closely. "All of you will have detention, although the length will vary with the involvement in this displeasing incident. I assume that you can imagine that the headmaster was not pleased when he heard about it. He assigned me to choose your punishment."

Ron swallowed when he heard that. He knew that this time he was in big trouble.

"Mr. Potter, since you are the one with the least involvement, your detention will be spent with me. You will assist me during the next three weeks with the preparations for the classes, and you will also clean the classroom at the end of each day."

Ron looked at his friend with pity and feared for his own detention, if the easiest was to spend three weeks with the greasy Potions Master.

"Mr. Malfoy will gladly assist Professor Hagrid for one month with his classes and help to look after the creatures."

Draco was about to voice his protest when Snape sent him the worst death glare ever. The boy gave up at once, completely stunned by this treatment from his head of house.

"Now to you, Mr. Weasley. You have the great honour to help Mr. Filch with his work for the next two months. I'm quite certain that he will be happy to make sure that your detention time will be put to good use." Snape had watched Ron's reaction toward his punishment closely, and when there came no complaint from him, he sat back in his chair, signalling the nearing end of the conversation. "I expect all three of you to start with you work tomorrow. Make sure that you contact your supervisors because I will inquire after your commitment. Now, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy are allowed to leave for their dormitories. Mr. Potter will stay to discuss tomorrow's schedule with me. Good evening." The Potions Master crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Ron and Draco to leave the office.

The two boys bowed and said their goodbyes, turning to leave. At the door, Ron looked back and sent Harry a questioning look as if to ask if he was all right.

Harry smiled encouragingly and turned to face the professor, who had started leafing through the stack of parchments. The soft sound of the closing door marked the final departure of Ron and Draco, leaving him all alone with Snape. Patiently, Harry watched the man continuing whatever he had started before they had come, slowly getting entranced with the soft sound of rustling parchment and flickering candlelight.

The golden sheen accented the contours of Snape's face and gave his black hair a luminous quality. The soft strands seemed to be alive and absorb the splendour of the firelight.

Suddenly Harry saw deep black eyes, and a comfortable, familiar warmth spread through his body. Slowly, bits and pieces of a certain night - or to be more precise, a certain dream - came back to him. He could feel soft lips and taste vanilla. Flashes of a dark mysterious man and burning desire came up in his mind.

"I hope you have finished your observations, Mr. Potter, and we can finally start to discuss tomorrow's schedule."

The unexpected remark brought Harry back into reality, making him blush. He dearly hoped that the professor didn't notice his aroused state. Uncomfortably, he shifted from one foot to the other.

"Stop this nonsense, Potter, and stand still," Snape reprimanded him." I expect you to come here every break and help me prepare the next class. You will arrive on time; I won't tolerate any tardiness from your side. After your last class in the afternoon, you will come to the classroom and clean it properly." He stood up from his chair and glared at the nervous boy in front of him. "Did you get what I have told you so far, Potter?"

"Yes, sir," came the soft answer.

"Good. Any further instructions for the rest of the week, will come tomorrow. You can leave now. Good evening, Mr. Potter."

Harry turned his back to the professor and headed for the exit. At the door, he stopped. "Thank you, sir."

Snape, who had already sat down again and continued reading, looked up in surprise. "What for, Mr. Potter?" came the confused question. "I don't believe you to be thanking me for giving you detention."

"No, sir. I wanted to thank you for the sour praise on the train." Harry left the room and softly closed the door behind him, leaving a surprised and puzzled Potions Master behind.

Slowly, Harry made his way to Gryffindor tower. He was as confused as the dark man in his office. He simply couldn't understand these strange flashbacks and the feelings he had for the Hogwarts teacher.

"Harry, Harry, you always have to find a way to complicate your life further."

He thought about the way Snape had been illuminated by the flickering candlelight, and he remembered the deep black eyes that seemed to draw him in. A strange longing was creeping into Harry, and he got so sad that he almost started to cry.

"It simply can't be," Harry whispered, on the edge of tears. "I love Cho."

But somehow he realised that he was only trying to fool himself. Tired, sad, and weary, he arrived at the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.

"Good Merlin, what am I supposed to do now?" Harry shook his head, defeated.

"What's the matter with you, lad?" the Fat Lady asked the upset boy. She eyed the sad form and felt pity for him. "Problems with a teacher or problems with love?"

Harry finally burst into tears, unable to hold them back any longer. "Both," came the reply, which was almost too soft to hear.

"Now, now, boy. Don't worry. Everything will turn out all right."

"No, nothing will be all right. I finally turned into the freak the Dursleys think me to be," Harry told her. Crying quietly, he sat down in the middle of the corridor, hugging himself. He was so lost in self-pity and beginning depression that he didn't notice the entrance opening and Ron and Hermione stepping outside.

When Hermione saw Harry sitting on the floor, shaking and sobbing, she rushed forward and embraced him tightly. "Oh, Harry, why are you crying?" She softly stroked his back.

Harry, now starting to hiccup, looked up at his two friends, who eyed him with concern. He wiped his tears away with the back of his hand and forced himself to take deep breaths.

"Come on and calm down," Hermione told him gently.

Ron stood nearby looking worried and confused, not knowing what to do. He knelt down next to Hermione and put a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"What happened? Did Snape hurt you?" he asked his friend.

When the name of the Potions Master was mentioned, Harry's eyes got a hurt look, and he turned his head away from his two friends. This alarmed Hermione.

"Harry, if he hurt you, you have to go and tell Dumbledore about it."

He just shook his head and stared at the hands resting in his lap. "No, he didn't hurt me," came the soft whisper.

Ron squeezed his shoulder encouragingly. "Tell us why you're so upset, Harry."

"I can't. If I tell you, you'll hate me." He never looked up at his friends, desperately trying to avoid eye-contact.

Hermione grabbed his chin and forced him to face them. "Harry, listen. Nothing, absolutely nothing could make us hate you, and let me assure you that it hurts that you don't trust us like we trust you."

Hearing this, Harry chewed on his lower lip, searching for a way to tell them what was bothering him.

"The reason why I'm so upset is that I found something out."

Hermione and Ron watched him fumbling with his hands nervously. Patiently, the two Gryffindors waited for him to continue.

"I realised that ..... that I'm not in love with Cho, and that I love somebody else instead. I've somehow got the feeling that I never really loved Cho, that I just unconsciously tried to distract myself from this other person." Harry heaved a deep breath and continued, " You won't like whom I'm in love with. No, not at all."

Ron dreaded the revelation, feeling somehow scared about Harry's confession.

Hermione suspected what would come next. "Harry, who are you in love with?"

He fixed his hands with his eyes and mumbled a soft reply. "I'm in love with Professor Snape." Defeated, his head hung low, and he nervously waited for his friends' angry fit. Surprisingly, it never came.

"Oh, Harry, you sure know how to make yourself miserable." Hermione hugged him once more and stroked his back.

"Boy, Harry, unrequited love is the worst." Ron shook his head. "The greasy bastard doesn't have anything like a heart, and you go and give him yours."

"You don't hate me?" came the shy enquiry from the Boy-Who-Still-Lived.

"Why should we hate you?" Hermione let go of Harry and put her hands in her lap. She smiled at him. "What kind of friends would that make us, abandoning and scolding you because of this?"

"Hermione's right. Believe me, you're going to need all the help and encouragement you can get." Ron clapped Harry on the back and got up from the floor. He held his hand out to Harry, offering him help with standing up. "Come on, let's go inside. If Filch or a teacher finds us outside at this time, detention will be extended."

Harry nodded determinedly and took the offered help. He straightened his wrinkled clothes and wiped the lest remnants of the tears away.

"There you go." Hermione, who had also gotten to her feet, took Harry's other hand and dragged her two friends to the portrait.

"Animus et magnitudo."

The three Gryffindors stepped inside the common room and claimed the empty couch in front of the fireplace.

That night, Harry dreamt again.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, only to be faced with complete darkness. In the distance he could see a small, soft light. He carefully started to approach it. The surrounding darkness was cold and clammy, but the slowly growing beacon of light promised warmth, comfort, and protection.

Entering it, Harry recognised a room which was lit by a fire burning in a stone fireplace. Its flickering, warm glow bathed the whole chamber in gold, illuminating a heavy wooden desk, several bookcases filled with leather-bound books, and an old wooden canopy-bed. Silently, he walked about the room, taking up several things, trying to memorise every detail of it.

When Harry carefully brushed over the cool white linen of the blankets, he felt another presence close by. He turned round and walked to the huge armchair in front of the fireplace. Surprised, Harry realised that it hadn't been there before. Cautiously, he walked round to the front of the chair and stared at the seated figure of Severus Snape. Harry took a sharp breath and shakily brushed the pale cheek with his fingers.

"Harry, why are you so scared of me?" Snape took hold of the trembling hand on his cheek and guided it to his lips, gently kissing every single finger tip, then the palm.

Harry shuddered and stepped closer to the man. His other hand came to rest on a broad shoulder.

"Don't you trust me?"

It hurt Harry to see so much pain reflected in Snape's eyes. He climbed in his lap and snuggled close to the warm body, burying his head under the man's chin. "I trust you with my life."

Two strong, protecting arms wrapped themselves around his smaller form, and Harry felt peace and comfort flow through him.

"I'd never hurt you," a soft whisper sent him into oblivion.

At breakfast in the Great Hall the next morning, Harry watched the dark Potions Master's every move. He absently noted the man's oddity of adding eight lumps of sugar to his cup of tea.

When he woke up, Harry had been able to remember the dream he had had over the holidays. After reliving the whole scene once more, he had been painfully aroused, and he'd spent most of the time before breakfast in the shower room, taking a very cold shower.

Now Harry tried hard to keep his emotions, his hormones, and his body in check. Which was easier said than done.

"Hey, Harry! Come back from lala-land and participate in the conversation I'm having with you." Ron pulled on Harry's cloak. The redhead smiled at him understandingly and pointed at the empty plate in front of Harry. "When you're done watching Prince Charming, you should eat something."

Hermione snorted into her teacup but managed to keep from laughing out loud.

Harry blushed a charming shade of pink and started buttering a slice of bread.

"You know, maybe you shouldn't watch him so obviously, or else everybody'll know," advised him Hermione. She poured him a cup of tea and urged him to drink it.

"Thank you. Both of you," mumbled Harry. "You're the best friends anyone could have."

"Mr Potter, bring the bottle of Leopard bane tincture over to my desk. It's the large blue one with the silver stopper." Snape continued copying the most important instructions for the class on the blackboard.

Carefully, Harry put the retrieved bottle next to the rest of the ingredients of the Skelegrow potion on the desk. "Anything else, sir?"

He felt a soft tingling in his stomach whenever Snape's eyes rested on him or when the black garments brushed against him. All day his nervousness and tension had been building up, and during the last ten minutes it had become unbearable. Every second he expected Snape to turn round and reprimand him for staring too long at him.

"Potter, I would appreciate it, if you actually paid attention to me when I talk to you!" An angry glare from those mysterious, deep black eyes sent pleasurable shivers down Harry's spine.

"I'm sorry, professor." Harry looked at the floor, fighting against his raging hormones. Harry had often been glad about having been sorted into Gryffindor, but right now there was nothing Harry more desperately wished than that the sorting hat hadn't listened to his pleas and had put him into Slytherin. The mere thought of Snape being his head of house made him giddy with excitement.

"I told you to refill the jar of powdered rosewood." Snape frowned, displeased. " I'm starting to suspect that you are not ignorant, just dense."

"I'm not dense, merely distracted." In his anger Harry had said more than he had intended to.

"Distracted, Mr Potter?" Snape raised an eyebrow, feigning interest. "Now, what could be so important, to occupy your little teenage-brain?"

Harry trembled with anger. As much as he desired and loved the man, he was tired of feeling stupid and clumsy. He had tried his best to impress Snape with his capable work, he had always arrived for the class preparations on time, he had never talked back or given snippy remarks, and he had actually started to pay attention during Potions, rereading everything they had learned in the evening; but somehow the dark Potions Master always made Harry feel inferior, like some lowly, worthless creature.

"Are you dreading your next Quidditch match against Slytherin, or has some fangirl of yours been on your mind lately?" Snape stalked over to the boy. "I have noticed your strange behaviour during the last two weeks, and I have been wondering why the famous Harry Potter got so calm and quiet. I don't know what you no-good Gryffindors are up to now, but let me assure you that I'll find it out sooner or later."

Harry couldn't believe what he'd heard. Every one of his good intentions had been interpreted as some form of concealment for some evil. In Snape's eyes, he couldn't do anything right.

"Just for your information, Mr Potter, I noticed the stares you were sending me the whole day. Tell that criminal godfather of yours that he should find someone with greater skill to spy on me."

Harry watched in disbelief as the Potions Master lean closer, searching for fear and guilt in his eyes. When Snape had started to tell him that his staring hadn't gone unnoticed, cold fear had spread in his chest and stomach, but after hearing the professor's conclusion, a heavy burden was lifted from his chest. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Professor, but Sirius didn't tell me to spy on you."

The man didn't move, eyeing the boy in front of him suspiciously.

"Furthermore, sir, I have to tell you that I don't know what you're talking about. I have not watched you more often or more closely than before." Harry knew this was the biggest lie ever. He had, in fact, spent every minute during breakfast, lunch, and dinner, absorbing the sight of his secret love. "In conclusion, I want to tell you that any distraction on my side is solely my business and doesn't have to interest you in the least."

If Snape had been glaring before, he was practically on the edge of killing Harry now. His eyes sparkled with barely concealed anger, and his thin mouth was twitching. He breathed erratically and clenched his fists, barely being able to keep himself from strangling the boy.

"Mr Potter, this time I'll pretend that your being distracted led to this inappropriate behaviour," came the pressed reply.

Harry almost didn't hear the teacher's words, being entranced by the hypnotising eyes boring into his own. "Yes, sir," whispered Harry, noticing the other man's closeness. He felt hot breath on his cheek, and desire stabbed him.

Before Snape had the chance to retreat, to leave Harry's private space, Harry leaned closer and quickly brushed his lips over Snape's. After an awkward second, Harry pulled back, spinning round and running from the room as fast as his feet could carry him.

Snape stared, stunned, at the open door through which the boy had fled. Wearily, he walked to the chair behind his desk and heavily collapsed onto it, closing his eyes and rubbing them with his left hand. "Dear Merlin, what was that?"

His hand dropped onto the desk, and Snape opened the eyes once more, looking at the open door. "This is not good. Definitely not good at all."
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Harry Potter and the Book of Days