Chapter Text
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“Sorry for the intrusion,” said Severus, who did not feel sorry in the least. As tempting as it was to reach out and close Petunia’s gaping mouth for her, he was a mature adult and resisted the urge. “Is Harry home?”
Behind him, Theodore curled his lip in distaste at the picture-perfect home of the Dursleys.
“Mrs. Dursley,” Severus repeated blatantly, “Is Mr. Harris James Potter home? Or do I have to come in to search for him myself, just to ensure that you haven’t starved him to death and buried him under your house?”
“H-He’s fine!” Petunia snapped out of her stupor, glaring daggers at the man. Despite her best efforts, all her glares simply bounced off of him— Severus had been glared at too many people lately, and a Muggle housewife was the least of his threatening concerns. “Harry!” she rolled her eyes in annoyance when he didn’t respond. “He’s probably out in the back garden or something.”
Severus gave her a pointed look and strided into her home, raising an eyebrow when he passed Dudley, eyes glued to the television. So much so, in fact, that he didn’t even notice the two strangers in his home.
“How quaint,” Severus commented idly as he walked through the kitchen, grimacing at the sheer amount of oil on the pans. “Honestly, Petunia, are you trying to give your husband and son an early death? Cardiovascular diseases are very much real and very much fatal.”
Once again, Petunia spluttered, at a complete loss of words. Severus was having a very, very fun time, and from the looks of it, Theodore was enjoying himself just as immensely. Reaching the end of the kitchen, the potions master pressed the back door open, already spotting Harry’s head of dark curls.
“Mr. Potter,” Severus called out, his heart warming as he watched surprise, overwhelming joy and relief burst across the boy’s face. “Apologies for my tardiness and the lack of communication. A giant basilisk is much, much harder to dissect than you’d think, even with magic. If you’d like to get your belongings, we can get going very soon.”
“Yes!” Harry was basically jumping with enthusiasm, which grew even more as Theodore peeked out from the doorframe, Hedwig cawing happily at the sight of her owner. “Theo! Hedwig!”
As Harry bustled upstairs to collect his items, Severus faced a stunned Petunia again. “Ah, I nearly forgot,” he said pleasantly, drawing out Harry’s report card from one of his many hidden pockets. “Mr. Potter, as expected, did spectacularly once more in the academic year. Yes, let’s see here… outstandings in all of his courses, mind you— first placing in Potions and Transfiguration… second placing in Charms and Herbology, third placing in History of Magic and Defense Against Dark Arts,” the potions master reported, “And fourth place in Astronomy this year— an improvement. I’m very pleased with his performance. Mr. Potter has, once again, scored third placing in his year— a very impressive placing to maintain.”
Harry, who had caught the tail end of his results coming down from the stairs, beamed proudly.
“Ah, just in case this gets lost before your husband returns and has a chance to look at his nephew’s report card…” Severus paused, holding up the parchment. “Ah, perhaps I’ll just, ah, stick this here…”
With a flick of his wand, he had cast a sticking charm on the report and plastered it on the main entryway of Number 4, Privet Drive, so that the Dursleys had to look at it every time they entered or exited the house.
“Oh— I should also mention that Mr. Potter, Mr. Nott— and their friends— were all awarded Special Awards for Services to the School, a very, very honorable title to receive,” Severus said seriously. “You should be very, very proud of your nephew, Mrs. Dursley.”
“I—” Petunia stared at Harry, as if he had two prongs sticking out of his head and she couldn’t possibly imagine herself ever being proud of him.
“Now, Mr. Potter, say goodbye to your aunt and let’s get going.” Severus said, already shepherding Theo outside, shrinking Harry’s trunks. “There is much to do.”
“Bye, Aunt Petunia.” Harry managed as a courtesy, flicking one last glance at his report card, plastered onto the wall. “I’ll see you next summer. Please don’t overwater the roses. And please don’t over prune the new basil plants I just potted.”
“Harry!” came Theodore’s voice, sparkling with laughter, down the street. “We’ll leave without you if you don’t hurry along!”
“Ah!” Harry gulped, stumbling on his own two feet on his way out the front door. Petunia watched her nephew go, the boy dashing down the street, vibrant with happiness, not even bothering to throw a last look at Number 4, Privet Drive before he grabbed onto the other boy’s arm, Severus watching the two with a wry smile.
In a trick of the light— or perhaps in a blink— the three disappeared from the street, despite Petunia’s best efforts to blink back the sun and search wildly for them. There was no trace of them up or down the street, the roses and flowers of Privet Drive dancing lightly in the wind, as if nothing was amiss at all.
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Harry blinked the flash of apparition away, the familiar streets of Iveyworth materializing before his eyes. It hadn’t changed in the slightest— still bricky little roads and lanky houses pressed against each other, each a different color of white, gray or blue. On the black-tiled rooftops, ravens and crows cawed their greetings, some hopping onto the intricate, sparsely-placed lamp posts for a closer look at the three arrivers. Beside Harry, Theodore grinned, almost in awe of seeing the little town again.
“Let’s go!” said Theodore impatiently. “I can’t wait to see my room again!”
“Calm down, Theodore,” Professor Snape rolled his eyes. They passed the town roundabout— encircled by the bookstore, grocery, a barber’s, a tailors— and out of these shops peered the curious old aunts, recognition in their eyes as they remembered the two boys from last summer.
“Hello, Ms. Marfy!” Harry greeted happily, “Oh, and Mrs. Rosette— yes, Theo, you know her— she made the best strawberry cookies, remember?”
“More time for catching up later,” Snape reminded them, managing a smile at the aunts cooing at his two boys. “My apologies. I have to get them home and unpacked first— yes, yes, I will send them over when they have time— yes, of course, ah— must I come, too? Okay, fine, fine, we will visit, I swear…”
Slowly, the houses became more and more recognizable, and then once again, they were standing before a familiar cobalt door, and Hedwig cooed happily, hopping off of Harry’s shoulder and onto the mailbox.
The boys were tripping over each other in their excitement to the front door, practically jittering as Snape slid the key into the keyhole, the house unlocking with a resounding click . Immediately the boys were inside, Hedwig fluttering behind them to her favorite perching spot in the living room.
With their laughter filling his house, Snape locked the door behind them, already hearing the telltale sounds of the two boys unpacking their trunks and throwing their clothes into their closets. There was a resounding thump as Theodore unloaded all of his books— and Snape patted himself on the back for the forethought of more shelves in their rooms.
“Theo, Theo, Theo— look, I got new bedsheets, with little golden snitches on them—” Harry announced excitedly upstairs, jumping into the other boy’s room to show off.
“Oh big deal , mine have dragons and viking boats on them!” Theodore scoffed, laughter bursting like fireworks as the boys shoved each other on their beds.
Snape shook his head fondly. To no one in his foyer, but to his two boys upstairs, he said with a smile: “Welcome home.”
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“What’s your bedsheet, Professor Snape?” asked Harry innocently one day over dinner. Snape choked on his spaghetti and had to pat himself on the chest for a few seconds.
“Ooh, does it have little bats on them? And cauldrons with poisonous green potions?” Theodore suggested with a wide grin. Beside him, Harry tried his very best not to laugh (and then failed).
“For your information, not that it is your business, it is black.” Snape rolled his eyes. “I prefer simplicity.”
“Boring. As expected of the great dungeon bat,” Theo snorted, reaching for another helping of spaghetti. “Harry, pass the sauce. No, not the creamy one, Harry, the tomato one— what’s it called, again— bollocks? Bolog? Bulgaria?”
“Bolognese,” Harry and Professor Snape corrected in tandem. “Honestly, Theo, after a whole summer of living in a Muggle town?” Harry chastised. “ Bulgaria ? That’s a country, for Merlin’s sake.”
Obviously, Theodore rolled his eyes. “Close enough.”
“Roll your eyes any more and your eyes will retract into your skull,” Snape warned, spinning his fork into his plate of pasta.
“Funny, coming from you.” Theodore raised his eyebrows.
Harry chortled. “He’s got you there, professor.”
The potions master opened his mouth and then closed it again, pinching his nose. “Fine. Fair argument.” he sighed, and then scowled lightly. “Eat your dinner.”
Dinner was finished without any further complications. As Harry helped the older Slytherin put away the plates, Theodore wiped their table with a dishcloth and brought their kitchen scraps outside to the compost. In the living room, Hedwig, now wide away, was already looking outside the windows longingly.
“Give it a moment before you let her out,” Snape said to Harry as he was drying his hands, “I have a letter I need her to deliver— to the Malfoy residence, as a matter of fact. Do you two want to write something to Draco?”
“I’ll ask him what his argument for Gabinski’s method is,” Harry perked up. “Oh, and he said he would mail me the Quidditch magazine after he’s done…”
“You can get your own subscription, you know,” Snape pointed out, flicking his wand to polish their counter. Satisfied, he strolled over to the living room, sighing as he sunk into his regular armchair with a newspaper in hand. “It’s not that expensive.”
“Eh,” Harry shrugged. “No harm in saving paper. Theo, do you want to write to Draco?”
Theo waved his hand distractedly, already curled up on the couch with a Nordic book in front of him, written in symbols that Snape could barely begin to understand. “I’ll just write in the margins of yours.”
“Honestly, Theodore, do I have to teach you the etiquettes of letter-writing?” said Snape, exasperated.
“I’m just saving paper!” protested the boy.
Snape stared at him over the newspaper. “Touche.”
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“Theodore, Harry, go to bed ,” Severus said tiredly, leaning against the bedframe of Theodore’s bedroom. “For Merlin’s sake, you have got to know that reading by a single candlelight is not good for your eyes. Harry, your eyesight is terrible enough as it is. Make Theo put down his book and go to your own room.”
“But—” Theo opened his mouth.
“The book isn’t going to run away from you!” the potions master threw his hands up in frustration. “It’ll be right there tomorrow! If you two want to accompany me to Diagon Alley, you will go to bed early and you will rise early, because if I have to call you more than once, you’re going to stay at home.”
Theodore gasped. “You wouldn’t!”
“I will!” Severus nodded affirmatively. “So, off to bed with you two! Honestly.”
Harry slid off Theodore’s bed unhappily, where the other boy sulked and crossed his arms. “Goodnight, Theo. I’ll see you.” he said sadly, waving mournfully.
“He’s not going off to war, for Merlin’s sake!” Severus groaned. “You don’t have to say that in such a miserable tone, Harry, he’ll be right here tomorrow! Why does it sound like I’m separating two star-crossed lovers instead of two boys who have perfectly nice bedrooms? The two of you share a dorm for nine months of the year, by Jesus…”
The potions master sighed. At that rate, he was going to have a head of white hair by 35. However, watching the two boys tuck themselves in, he couldn’t help but smile. Sure— Minnie would tease him about turning gray eons before she ever did… but for the two boys to have a home? It was worth it.
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