Title: Green and Red

Author: Arsenic

Rating: G

Fandom: HP

Disclaimer: HP belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsday, Scholastic and WB. I am just borrowing concepts and characters.

Summary: Severus has always appreciated one Gryffindor.

For kaiz on her birthday. I'm sorry I couldn't do a little romance for you, but this is what I've got. I'm sorry I couldn't do an epic for you, because you deserve it, but um, I found out when your birthday was a little late for that. All the same, I'm so very very glad you deem me worthy of friendship. You make my world much more beautiful. Thanks for that.

*

October, 1971

Professor McGonagall wears a lot of green. For a Gryffindor, that is. Severus knows this shouldn't be reassuring -- he's known better than to judge by appearances since…well, for a long time -- but it is.

She also gives Severus house points when he answers questions correctly. She even does so without flinching or curling her mouth into that tiny little moue of distaste that she gets when a student accidentally transforms a button into a rock, rather than a spool. Which happens a lot.

Most of the other teachers find ways not to give Slytherins points, but Professor McGonagall doesn't seem to mind. Sometimes she'll even call on him for the easy answers, although less and less so as the year progresses. Severus doesn't really mind; he prefers the challenging ones.

Severus likes Professor McGonagall -- as much as he likes anyone, liking people is often a pointless past time in his experience -- but he doesn't trust her. So when she calls out, "Mr. Snape, stay after class," he is careful not to flinch. People feed on fear. Particularly children's.

He hasn't done anything wrong, not that he knows of, at least. He stays, obviously, because running just proves guilt and always, always makes the punishment worse.

When the rest of the students have left -- the Ravenclaws snickering at Severus's plight and the Slytherins cautiously sympathetic to it -- Professor McGonagall sweeps around her desk to where he is standing, and it's regal but not imposing. Severus wonders how she manages that. He doesn't ask.

"You've been doing quite admirably in my class, Mr. Snape."

Severus is not lulled. "I enjoy the work."

"Would you be willing to do a little bit extra outside of class?"

Severus has no interest in labeling himself a teacher's pet. Even if he did, he'd find a Slytherin allied teacher with whom to do it. Then again, it does him no good to insult this woman. He does something he hates but that has saved him more times than he can count. He plays dumb. "I don’t understand, Professor."

"I need a research aide. You seem like someone capable. The position is paid, of course. Students haven't so much free time that they can afford to spend it working without restitution."

Severus can't help the flare of interest that the mention of money sparks in him, he can't, not when his mum's birthday is quick coming upon him and his robes could really use some patching so he won't have to spend so much energy on low-level glamours and it would allow him to buy treats on the train ride home during the hols. It galls him that she's caught his attention so easily. He wonders if she knows about his situation and that thought is enough to bring acid, hot and biting, to the base of his throat. "Is that not usually the position of a sixth or seventh year?"

The professor's voice is cool as she says, "It's usually the position of whomever I deem worthy, Mr. Snape."

Worthy isn't a word that many people have applied to Severus in his short (but rather interminable) time on this earth. That, even more than the money, is what propels him to ignore every single doubt clamoring about his stomach, his lungs, his heart, and say, "What would you need of me?"

*

May, 1979

When Severus realizes that -- no matter how pretty Narcissa's smile is, or how welcoming Tom Riddle's handshake, or how pleasing Nott's wit -- he's not a murderer, he goes to Albus Dumbledore.

It's not that he trusts his old headmaster. He trusts Dumbledore as much as he trusts Riddle and perhaps a bit less. There's history there, after all. Still, when one is intent on bringing down one intensely powerful wizard the only logical move to make is to join camp with another one. One equally intent on bringing said wizard down.

Logic is one of Severus' strong points.

He lays the groundwork with Lord Voldemort -- as Riddle has taken to calling himself, Severus personally thinks he could have managed a better anagram but to each his own -- cajoles him into letting Severus go back to Hogwarts. After all, a spy in the tent of the enemies, what could be more useful?

Indeed.

Severus goes back then, back to those halls which echo with safety and danger and hurt and triumph and a million things that only he knows about. He, and every other child who has traversed their ways. He goes back to meet his old headmaster and instead finds himself meeting with the one person in the world he's never asked to see again.

Professor -- Minerva, he's not a student any longer -- McGonagall stands in front of him and there is that tiny moue on her lips, the one he's only seen once before in regards to himself. "Whatever you have to say to the headmaster, Mr. Snape, I assure you it can be said to me just as easily."

Severus wishes that were so, he dearly does, but whereas the headmaster has disappointed him often enough to allow Severus an ease in returning the favor, Severus has only ever been the one to disappoint in this particular relationship. She fought his decision to give up his aide position in his fourth year; his fourth year, when the teasing of Potter and his sycophants rose to nearly intolerable heights concerning Severus's "pandering" to their Head of House and not even his housemates would support him in that fight, wary of his relationship with "the Gryffindor harpy." Severus had needed support. The choice between her support (and the money that came with it) and that of his classmates had not been an easy one. Not that she would have known that from his curt refusal to continue. Not that he'd had any ability to do things any other way, not if he hadn't wanted to cry in front of her. Which he patently hadn't.

She's still staring, waiting, and Severus has long felt that the best way to get pain over with is quickly. He snatches the sleeves of his robes (lovely and new and financed by a certain Dark Lord who shall remain unnamed) and shows her the Mark. "I've come to defect."

She says, "We're going to need some Veritaserum."

*

August, 1981

Some nights when Severus comes back from the meetings, the times when he doesn't really have much information and his sessions with Dumbledore are short, or when he's done something that completely negates his reasons for leaving Voldemort's followers in the first place, or after Lucius' eyes have been merry and Severus has laughed along with the joke, some nights he knocks on Minerva's door and waits to see if she will let him inside.

She always does, of course. Severus wouldn't even knock if she hadn't sought him out that first time, nearly a year earlier when he'd been wandering the halls, slaughtering House Points willy nilly where given the chance. He wouldn't try if she hadn't demanded in that tone of hers, the one that brooks no argument and never has, that he follow her. He wouldn't if she hadn't made him tea and served him scones with fresh butter, the kind his family could never afford when he was a child and which he gorged himself on upon arriving at Hogwarts. He wonders if she noticed or if they just share a similar fondness for the spread.

She did, though, and so he knocks, and enters when she opens the door, and seats himself in one of her chairs and asks something frivolous such as, "Have you read the latest article on animagic registration?"

She always has, of course, Severus suspects she has eyes in the back of her head and uses them to catch up on all the latest in academia and current affairs while teaching classes and possibly baking scones. She makes a small scoffing noise. "They're fools. Those laws will only ever work when they find a way to truly enforce them."

Severus agrees, but there's no fun in that, so he argues with her, the same way he argues with her about quidditch. Severus, for his part, couldn't care less about the game, but he loves the sharpness to her tone when she defends her team, the small mote of amusement in her eye that lets him know their hostility is all in good fun. Besides, Severus feels rather gallant defending the Slytherin children. It's the first time he's ever had something worthwhile to defend. Minerva never attacks the children themselves, never. She's still the only other professor inside Hogwarts who doesn't flinch when giving them points.

Friendly rivalry or no, Severus recognizes an ally. He thinks it may be the first time he's ever managed to do such and he wishes he could have figured it out at fourteen, when it might have changed things. Things are as they are now, though, and Severus is learning to live with that. So long as there are nights with tea and gentle verbal needling, Severus suspects he might learn to be happy with it.

Their argument over next week's match comes to a crescendo without Severus really noticing, his mind on other, less pleasant things. Minerva lays out her terms: "House who loses buys house who wins firewhiskey. A bottle. Of the good stuff."

For the first time in his life Severus can afford to do such a thing. Plus, he's willing to bet she'll share, even should she be the victor. Without even really sparing a thought to defeat, without caring that it's a possibility, Severus raises his tea cup. "You're on."

*

April, 1996

Umbridge has driven Albus out of the castle and as contentious as Severus's relationship with the headmaster sometimes is, this is decidedly a Bad Situation. Minerva and he have cut back their semi-regular meetings (more semi than regular, this year has been hellish) because it is causing The Pink Terror (as Severus personally likes to think of Umbridge) to look askance at him. Not that Severus minds (well, it's most likely not a good idea for Lucius to get hold of the idea that Severus is chummy with "the old Gryffindor harpy" but other than that, his reputation isn't something that keeps Severus up at nights) but Minerva does, says that they need someone The Crone (as Minerva likes to call Umbridge when she's not in hearing distance) thinks she can trust. Sometimes, Severus really hates his life.

He throws caution (years and years of it) to the wind when Minerva is taken down by a cadre of people unfit to clean her bedchamber, let alone trade hexes with her. There are times when Minerva's Gryffindor side annoys the living hell out of Severus. It doesn’t get in the way of his getting her to Mungo's, fast. That isn't as easy as it sounds. There's no way to Apparate a second person, particularly not when said person is out cold, and Severus doesn't think he has the skill to fly her on his broom. He ends up flooing them in, which is complicated. Minerva is not a small woman, Severus is no giant, and unlocking the floo wards out of Hogwarts is no picnic. Also, it means leaving Hogwarts in Filius's hands for a bit. Minerva trusts Filius, Severus knows, (and she'll just have to do it for him, because Severus has never much gotten into the habit of trusting others, minus Minerva) but The Pink Terror is not someone Severus feels enormously confident leaving anybody to face off to; at least, anyone other than Albus. Who is, he feels the need to restate mentally, not there.

Despite this worry, Severus stays with Minerva. This is partly out of a lack of ability to trust the Mungo's staff (he's had too many stays at the place for that) and partly because…well, he's just not leaving her. Not until she's woken up and told him to get himself back to the school this instant, "What in the world were you thinking Severus? Leaving the school to That Woman, I swear…"

Then, and only then, will Severus leave. Not before he says, "I was thinking…" only he can’t say what he was thinking because it isn't in him to say that she wasn't waking up and he couldn't think, couldn’t think at all. Severus always thinks. His mind is the only thing that has never failed him. His heart, constantly, his body, occasionally, his spirit…he's not even sure it's ever entered into the picture, his mind, never. Not before now, at least. He finally settles on, "I'll go make sure She hasn't burnt the school down."

Minerva nods. He's nearly out the door when she calls, "Severus."

He turns. She says, "Thank you. For…allowing the school to possibly be burnt down. For me."

Severus smiles. It's not something he would do for anyone else. It's not something he often does for her. It’s the only response he knows.