Nobody ever asked my birthday

Nerves on Fire

Approaching Dumbledore's gargoyle, at ten minutes to half past six, Harry Potter belatedly realized he didn't remember a damned thing about any of his classes that day. Which is probably worse than it sounds, considering Snape had been teaching Defense that day.

... They hadn't been practicing obliviation had they?

Harry thought not, anyhow, though he obviously couldn't be sure.

Even if they had, he could always borrow notes from Hermione. Harry was suddenly very, very thankful he had such a good, studious friend.

Harry hated waiting, particularly when his mind could conjure up a million different problems. Snape, Dumbledore, McGongall and Malfoy - and Harry Potter, in one room.

It was a wildfire waiting to happen. Burn down the whole castle, really.

He could be thrown out of school - Malfoy could be thrown out of school, and have to sulk home to, well, that. Snape could steal Malfoy's shiny new badge. McGonagall could transform everyone in there into weasels. Okay, so that last one was farfetched. Snape could deliver poison though - a nice slow-acting poison. It would at least serve to get the notoriously impatient man out of a meeting that he'd clearly need to be dragged to.

Dumbledore could announce that Malfoy and Potter had to apologize in the Great Hall, and then hug each other and become best friends.

Fat chance of that actually working.

Harry's mind had slid to a halt at that, wondering just when had I decided that Snape didn't tell Dumbledore about most of his plans?

Probably around the time Snape offered to torture me as training, honestly.

Five minutes later than he'd intended, Harry Potter rose up the spiral staircase, opening the door to find Dumbledore and McGonagall discussing something that was clearly not terribly private, as Draco Malfoy sat, like any young aristocrat, on a small wooden chair. That's why Snape always stands. It's bad enough for someone of my height to have to sit in a firstie's chair. Snape's tall. Looming also decreases other people's disagreeability. Everyone except me, I guess. Harry'd always had a relatively poor response to authority figures, and ones trying to enforce their authority by sheer height were not going to get anything but Harry's back up.

Of course, now they had to wait for Severus Snape. Who was not about to take one minute more out of his dinner than he ought to, not for a meeting like this. Harry wished, briefly, that he could have done the same. He wasn't sure what the meeting was even about, though, so he wanted to make sure he didn't start out on the wrong foot. He might need both feet to jump off the bridge at this point. Not that he really knew what he was talking about, so...

Harry reaches the top of the stair, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, unsure of whether to interrupt or not. It doesn't help that Malfoy is clearly eavesdropping, and that the Professors are clearly letting him. Eventually, a tap of his foot sends him sideways enough to see the other chair (which was being cleverly hidden by Malfoy).

Harry slides into the chair with his face awash in relief.

Only to find Malfoy staring at him, with a look that said What the hell are you smoking?

Harry wouldn't have responded, even if he could have responded - there were teachers present!

And then, of course, Severus Snape swooshed through the door, slamming it as a matter of course.

Dumbledore and McGonagall looked up, as Snape found the darkest corner of the bright room to loom from.

"Headmaster, you called?" Snape drawled, his temper leashed like a slavering dog, moments away from breaking the chain.

[a/n: Snape's never been one to leave things alone. Even when it would be better for everyone.

I have decided to go for the "I will skip days sometimes!" as anything else is truly autistic.

And Harry, unlike Hermione, really isn't hyperfocused on school.

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