Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything Harry Potter related.
He liked to hear himself speak. At least that's what I think as Dad continues to lecture me once more about the finer points of how to be a Slytherin. The funny thing is, well, I'm not a Slytherin. I'm a first-year Gryffindor. Dad loves to think of me as one of his, though. I think it makes him feel better to think of me as one of his snakes. I don't correct him. After all, he's only going to argue with the old "You should have been one if Hagrid and your brother didn't corrupt you beforehand' argument.
One might be wondering why Dad is yelling at me, and yes, people, my father is Severus Snape. Please, let's not go over this again. I hate telling it the first time. The quick version is that my mum gave Dad his one night of utter bliss because she felt guilty for something when they were kids. I didn't find out this quaint fact until I went to Hogwarts and noticed how eerily similar I looked to the Potions Master, who just happened to turn out to be my real father. Dad regained custody of me once Madam Pomfrey figured it out, and a few days later, Draco's parents were strangely killed in an explosion or something so I gained a Slytherin brother. Once more, adults in my life have lied to me, but that's the usual thing, unfortunately. Well, not since I've been with Dad. He's been honest with me so far, but it's only a matter of time.
"Now, Mr. Prince, we shall speak about your atrocious behavior."
Blah, blah, blah, blah, that's all I hear from Dad as he drones on and on and on. I sigh swinging my legs back and forth as I sit on the edge of my bed. I swear to Merlin I've been here for a week. I mean, all I did was accidentally hex some stupid Hufflepuff. Draco's done it tons of times, and he doesn't get into trouble. I'm not going to tell Dad that, though. I mean, really, do I want to hear his condescending 'Harry Connor Prince' tone again? I think not.
"Are you even listening to me, Harry?"
My head comes up slightly to look at him. His dark eyes are staring at me, but I only bit my bottom lip. Should I respond with 'Um…yeah, sure…whatever you were saying, Dad, totally listening' or should I try a new line 'Nope, I thought it'd be more fun to tune you out, and hey, I'm right?' At the sight of Dad's raised eyebrow, I decide on the first.
"Um…yeah…I was totally listening, Dad," I say flashing him a soft smile.
"Do not play cute with me, Harry."
"Moi?" I say motioning towards myself.
"Harry Connor Prince," he growls folding his arms across his chest.
Uh-oh, I still got the condescending full name, I think before glancing towards the floor. Sulkily, I grumble in my head, I'm not playing cute. That's for girls. I know better than to say that aloud, though. Dad gets rather grumpy with it. I mean, what was the actual harm in hexing the Hufflepuffs? They're fine. Isn't there that old 'No harm, no foul' thing?
"Yes, Dad?" I reply as innocently as I can manage.
"You know perfectly well what," he snaps.
I gulp when I see that vein in his temple throbbing maniacally. This really isn't good. I then sigh and hang my head dejectedly. Truthfully, I hate when I upset him because I know that I've become a bit of a disappointment to him. It's only my dad, Draco, and me in our family. My mum died when I was little because this really bad dude killed her and my stepdad. I mean, Professor Sinistra stops in a lot, but she says that they're just discussing Head of House stuff. I'm pretty sure they both think I'm naïve, though, and don't realize what they're actually doing behind closed doors. I mean, I'm not an idiot. I am eleven. I can see the stupid little smiles between one another.
"What were you thinking, Harry?" he admonishes with his disapproving look.
"I wasn't," I mumble quietly.
"You will not get out of it that easily. What were you thinking, Harry?"
"They called me and Draco 'Nastily little orphans,' Dad," I answer glumly.
"And you thought it'd be fair to hex them?"
"I'm not like you. I can't just come up with wicked insults that quickly. I can hex them, though."
"No good has ever come through hexes, Harry. You best remember that, young man," Dad says softly before tousling my hair. "I've spoken with your Head of House, and you'll apologize to them." I grumble but nod. "I will no doubt regret this, but five points to Gryffindor for ingenious hexing." I smile. That's my dad. He likes to hear himself speak.
A/N: Thanks for reading. :D