Bananas and apples
Harry smiled as he chopped up his apple. He liked cutting things. Fruit cut easily. Sliced straight down. He preferred cutting bananas to apples though. Sometimes he got caught on the peel with apples. He didn't like that. It reminded him of skin. Bananas lost their peel before he cut them though. They were the easiest to cut.
He sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, his friends all around him. There was a spare seat to his left though. It was waiting for Ron. He'd be here soon. He'd be there when Harry needed him at the very least. He always had Harry's back.
Hermione sat beside him.
She didn't like cutting things. Especially not tomatoes. She didn't like the juice coming out. Harry liked cutting tomatoes. They were his favourite things to cut. They were easy to cut and he enjoyed the sight of the juice spilling from the other side of the skin, leaking, oozing onto his plate or the table, eventually falling onto the floor.
Hermione didn't like him cutting things.
Sometimes Harry would stop cutting things, because it made her sad. But he got the urge to do it again soon. And Hermione, with tears in her eyes, would turn her head away from him. There was nothing wrong with cutting things. That was what you were supposed to do with them after all, weren't you?
The High Table had a few less teachers now too. Hagrid was missing, along with Flitwick, McGonagall and Professor Vector. They were with Ron, Harry knew that. They would come back when he did. Dumbledore sat in the high-backed chair looking down at the Gryffindor table sadly.
Harry didn't know why he was sad. The world was rid of Voldemort after all. He should be ecstatic. Harry grinned up at him, a little bit of tomato sauce dribbling down his chin. He liked tomato sauce too. And tomato soup. He was drinking a glass full of tomato sauce right now, much to Hermione's disgust.
Snape sat a few seats down from Dumbledore, leaving spaces for the missing professors. Harry looked at him. Snape had helped him. He had helped, but Harry couldn't remember how. He decided it didn't matter and waved to Snape cheerfully.
Snape gave him a small half-smile in return.
Harry knew that later he would have to go down to the dungeons with Snape. They would continue with their lessons. It reminded Harry of something they used to do together. Only this time, Harry didn't have to tell anyone he was going to 'Remedial Potions'.
It seemed that time flew, because soon Snape stood and walked towards the Gryffindor table, looking down at Harry where he sat. Harry glanced regretfully down at his plate. He hadn't finished.
There were still three apples left. He had only cut up seventeen today. But he knew the lessons couldn't wait so he put down his knife and stood up, pausing only for a second when a tearful Hermione tugged his arm. He turned and allowed her to wipe away the sauce still on his chin.
Only to see the tears go away.
He followed Snape down to the dungeons, into his private quarters. He sat down in the green chair by the fire. He remembered that this room, these quarters had never had anything red in them. He thought it was sad. The Gryffindor common room was far better.
Not that Harry minded staying with Snape.
Snape sat across from him and looked at him carefully, judgingly.
Do you remember what happened?
Harry thought. He remembered cutting the apples today. He cut a few tomatoes earlier but Hermione got really upset so he stopped. He looked at Snape, hopeful to have answered correctly.
Snape gave him a strained smile.
What about before that?
Harry remembered getting up that morning. He had a blinding headache. He took the potion Snape had given him. It was yellow, damn the luck. But it had helped. He remembered getting dressed in his black robes but putting on the red jumper Mrs Weasley had once made him underneath.
Snape shook his head regretfully.
Harry frowned and crinkled up his brow. He remembered something else. It must have been a part of his dream though. Because he had a sword, the sword from Dumbledore's office. The one with Godric Gryffindor written on it. He wasn't allowed to touch that sword though. So it must have been a dream.
He had it in his hand and he had cut something, there was red. But it must have been a dream, so he didn't say anything. Snape wouldn't be happy if he was dreaming about the sword now. They had taken a long time to convince Harry he wasn't allowed to touch it.
So Harry shook his head and Snape stood, giving another strained smiled, patting Harry on the shoulder.
Harry wished he knew what they were looking for. It would have made the whole thing a lot easier. It had been over eight months since he had defeated Voldemort, he had had these lessons since the day he had come out of his coma. That was almost five months.
He still couldn't work out what they wanted.
He shrugged as Snape left. He stood, and wandered into his bedroom. There was nothing to do after mealtimes any more. Chess was boring, checkers would have been okay, but Snape wouldn't let him play.
Harry sighed. He just wanted to be red.
He climbed under the covers and snuggled down, closing his eyes.
Tomorrow he would cut some bananas, he decided firmly. Then maybe some apples…
A/N: Okay, this is my first one-shot. I don't usually write short stories. I have a trilogy on the way. I wrote this in about ten minutes after an inspirational read of 'I am Harry'. Please review, because I am considering a sequel, longer of course, about Harry perhaps healing? Remembering what Snape did for him and their…relationship before the war? Surprises aplenty but only if I get reviews.