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Chapter Text

Chapter One: Surprises

July 28th, 1995

Severus Snape was not terribly fond of surprises. More to the point, he absolutely despised them. Most of the surprises in his life had in fact turned out to be poorly disguised catastrophes. Indeed, he even found the concept of a surprise party tactless. One should be informed in advance if well wishers were to jump out from behind a wall shouting, “Happy Birthday,” or some such nonsense.

Not that Severus had ever collected enough well-wishers for such a ridiculous affair. Merlin forbid.

He avoided mystery novels on principle, he could do without a riveting plot twist, thanks ever so. Those of higher intellect preferred to have a complete understanding of what should happen next at any given time. Severus maintained that it was merely this intellectual superiority that moved him to inform his Mother that wrapping his Christmas present would only provide a potentially unnecessary shock.

It was therefore to his great disdain that he found himself in a complete state of surprise several times in the course of a single day. The first shock, in hindsight, turned out to be the least surprising thing to occur that day.

It happened as he was standing in the basement of his home, stirring a steaming cauldron in his potions laboratory. Bright purple steam poured off the cauldron and Severus sighed in a state of contentment that only a well brewed potion could afford him. Severus tended to view his lab as something of a sacred space. It was his sanctuary away from the pressures of the Dark Lord, annoying headmasters, and worst of all…teenagers. The only types of surprise he was accustomed to in this space were of the potion related variety. Mild explosions, ruined brews, and frankly, genius innovations were to be expected.

Severus never allowed anyone into his lab, he barely allowed anyone into his house as it was. The wards on his home were extensive, to the point of paranoia if Minerva was to be believed. He was therefore immediately placed on guard when he spotted the shadow of someone moving steadily down the small corridor that led into his lab.

His years of spying for the Dark Lord were appreciated at times like this as he carefully and silently followed the stranger who was now approaching the staircase leading to his kitchen. When Severus finally caught up the mysterious individual, he was quick to react.

“Identify yourself!” Severus demanded, drawing his wand and pointing it at the back of a tall figure dressed in pitch black robes.

“Calm yourself, you know, stress will spoil your lovely complexion.” drawled the intruder in a strangely familiar tone.

Undeterred, Severus growled, “I said, identify yourself!” Severus was beginning to feel unsettled by his inability to gain control of the situation. Feeling trapped in his own home was an entirely unwelcome sensation he hadn't felt since childhood.

The interloper had the audacity to sigh dramatically, before saying cooly, “When you were 5 years old, you fell out of the apple tree in old Jenkins yard, you still have a small scar on your knee, shaped like a crescent moon.”

“I...what...?” Severus had never spoken of that day, not even to Lily. His father had received a phone call from Mr. Jenkins, citing injury to his tree, resulting in one of the most severe punishments Severus had ever received.

The figure slowly turned around and Severus was confronted with the disarming reality of his own reflection. He thought for a delirious moment that he had stumbled into a mirror, before his general senses caught up with him.

“Who told you that, who exactly are you?” Severus was proud of the cool demanding tone he was able to produce, it is after all, not every day that one is confronted by a stranger wearing their own face. 

He had hoped to convey and air of intimidation, However, his mirror image simply sighed once again. “You’re awfully slow. I suppose I was dropped on my head as an infant in this universe?” He said snidely.

Severus, not lowering his wand, changed tact, “Explain, quickly.” He would not allow this strange man to control the conversation.

Another sigh. Self conscious offense clawed in Severus’s chest. “Obviously, I’m you, or a version of you I suppose. I recently discovered a Vilagre. I was sorely tempted by the thought of...” The man broke off this thought shaking his head. “Well, at any rate, I must admit, in a fit of foolishness I put it on, it has clearly not placed me where I had hoped and instead in your...hmm, how shall I put this, charming universe.” The sneer that accompanied this statement was hardly needed to emphasize just how charming his counterpart found the welcome reception.

Severus meanwhile, found himself quite affronted by the severity of this surprise. The Vilagre was considered to be a dark artifact, capable of transporting an individual into a closely related universe, and was widely thought to have been eradicated in the early 19th century. Many Wizards had fallen prey to the allure of it, traveling between universes, attempting to find one that better suited them. Some searched for a lost loved one, others for riches, fame, or success. Such jumping resulted in a weakening and occasional loss of the magical core, and thus the ministry had outlawed them, claiming dark influences were at play. Severus could think of only one thing that would have caused him to attempt such a foolish thing, one someone to be precise.

Severus scoffed, but recovered quickly, not enjoying feeling wrong-footed by this other version of himself. “Well I'd have put the kettle on if I’d known you’d be making this sudden appearance." He sneered sarcastically. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated that the situation would require intervention. "I imagine you’ll be wanting to speak with Albus presently?” Involving the Headmaster seemed the wise course of action, despite making Severus feel vaguely childish.

The man eyed him closely, as if he could see through Severus's insecurity. “Yes, that would be ideal. It may be beneficial to exchange some pertinent information." He said pompously. "I'm assuming the Dark Lord has also returned in this universe?” The other Severus looked annoyingly unruffled by the entire affair.

“Unfortunately, yes he has. Albus is at Headquarters, are you planning to question him on every minute difference in this world?" Severus sneered. "I know you’ve come looking for her, so I'll save you the trouble, she's as gone here as she is surely in your world.” He spat harshly. The man was a fool if he thought he could absolve his sins by finding Lily in another universe. 

The man didn’t even manage a sigh this time, looking at Severus as if he possessed less intellect than a flobberworm. “It’s not as though I was attempting to find her for myself.” He snarled.

Severus barely had time to process what his alternate self could have possibly meant by that when he continued on. “Regardless, we must find out what exactly differs in your world, even a dunderheaded Hufflepuff would realize that even small differences could create a ripple effect. Such differences could even change the course of this war.”

He lectured in such a way that Severus pondered if he also sounded quite so pompous when he spoke to his students. He quickly dismissed this notion, deciding that it must simply be a nasty quirk of his counterpart.

Severus, while he was still somewhat unsure of the validity of this strange creature, strived at all times to be the bigger person. Relenting to the whims of his alternate self rankled, however, especially since this version maintained a sense of self-assuredness and calm that Severus currently envied. “Very well, let's see, Cornelius Fudge is denying the Dark Lords return.” Severus intoned.

“Ah yes well, seems his idiocy can not be contained to a singular universe.”

Severus reluctantly felt the corners of his lip turn upward. “Indeed, I assume the Order has reconvened in Black’s home?”

“Obviously.”

“Alright, hmm, were you born in Cokeworth?”

Alternate Severus rolled his eyes, gesturing at their surroundings, muttering “Nevermind, this is asinine.”

“It was your idea!” Severus nearly threw his hands up in exasperation, an action that would have been entirely unlike him. Clearly he had even less control over the situation than he had thought. They glared silently at one another before deciding equally as silently to give up on the line of questioning.

The odd pair moved simultaneously toward the stairs, intending to owl the Headmaster, mutually preferring to pass this dilemma off on Albus rather than enduring further time in each other's dubious company.

As they walked, Severus was again drawn to comparison of his other universe self. What could be so different in his world that caused him to look so, well…different? They weren't large differences, perhaps slightly less shadows beneath his eyes, fuller in the face, cleaner hair. What was far more disquieting was that this man looked happy, a state of being Severus could not recall experiencing in at least two decades.

Severus was shaken from his silent contemplation when his counterpart nonchalantly delivered the second shockingly unpleasant surprise of the day.

“So, is Harry home?"

Harry Potter was not terribly fond of surprises. When he was small, huddled and cold in his cupboard, a surprise usually meant a bang on his door, a rough hand dragging him out. Such an occurrence usually ended in a smack, a belt, and no meals for days at a time. These incidents typically followed a bout of extremely strange activity.

He had once appeared on the roof of his primary school, having been chased by Dudley's gang one moment, and thirty feet above ground the next. When Aunt Petunia had sheared off his hair leaving only his fringe, he'd been so humiliated, only to find it grown back the next morning. Then of course, there was Dudley's 11th birthday in which the other boy had become trapped in the Brazilian Boa’s enclosure. Despite the consequences of this event, Harry still thought on this occasion with some humour. He often wondered what became of the wanderlust filled snake he’d freed.

These events had left a lasting impression on Harry, the impression that he was different, dangerous, a freakish waste of space. It wasn't until Hogwarts that Harry learned that the odd things he could do weren't a result of freakishly bad behaviour, but in fact accidental magic. It hardly mattered now, as it turned out, he was a different, dangerous, waste of space.

“Just take the cup Cedric. On the count of three…Kill the spare.”

Harry just brought death and misery wherever he went. He couldn't even manage to be normal in a world where unicorns were real and you could fly on broomsticks. He had started out his freakish campaign with getting his parents killed before he was out of nappies. Now, Cedric was dead, and once again it was his fault. Why should Harry be alive while someone like Cedric was not? Someone with parents who loved him, who didn't bring everyone down into darkness with him.

To prove the point, tonight has been no exception to the “surprises are horrid and destruction follows Harry” rule. The last thing Harry had expected while arguing with his cousin on Magnolia Crescent was to encounter a dementor, but it was undeniably something he should have anticipated by this point. After dragging Dudley through the front door, narrowly avoiding having vomit painted on his shoes, Harry found that he himself was the one being dragged.

He desperately implored his uncle as he was pushed roughly to the floor, uncaring of how pathetic his pleading sounded. “Please Uncle Vernon.. I swear, I swear, I didn't do anything to Dudley, it was dementors...they are these horrible creatures, they...they guard the magical prison”

“Do NOT say that word in my house” Vernon thundered. His face was rapidly turning the shade of puce that usually indicated that Harry was about to be in a world of pain.

It should be noted that this would have been a very good time to feel surprised, by Harry's accounting. It would have been a quite pleasant surprise if his uncle would have acted out of character, sat him down for a cup of tea and talked through the issue calmly.

Harry’s life, he had long since learned, was never full of pleasant surprises. As it happened, the familiar swishing sound as his uncle removed his belt was unsurprising, he could easily predict the path of the leather sailing through the air towards him, he felt the sting of it against his skin before it ever struck. What was slightly surprising, was that long after Harry had lost the ability to count the strikes of the belt, he was once again dragged along the floor.

However, it was not towards the stairs leading up to his room, but rather to the cupboard under the stairs into which he was unceremoniously shoved. Harry barely made out what was said before the door slammed shut.

“You should have never been born, freak.”

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“So, is Harry home?"

The words echoed strangely in Severus’s mind. He could define each word individually, however the particular combination and implications simply did not register. Harry? Surely this man did not mean-

“..Potter? He’s at home with his relatives of course.”

His counterpart suddenly lost the aloof manner Severus had been admiring just moments before. His face was rapidly draining of colour, and he looked stricken.

“What on earth is he still doing with those wretched beasts?” He growled in a low dangerous tone, his eyes flickering madly around the stairwell, as if he would locate the missing boy within the peeling walls.

“He and his muggle cousin were attacked by a dementor last night, the Order has a party heading out tonight to retrieve him and bring him to headquarters.” Severus personally felt that the full Order escort was a bit much, but only the best for the spoiled prince Potter of course.

His counterparts faced paled even further. “Unacceptable, I shall retrieve him immediately.” With this he fled up the stairs faster than Severus was aware his body could be capable of, and was gone. Presumably the man had left in this desperate fit to retrieve the Potter brat. For whatever reason this had turned him from a collected sneering menace into a man possessed. What urgent business could he possibly have with the boy that couldn't wait until the evening?

Severus continued to ponder the strange reaction of his counterpart as he started up the stairs at a more reasonable pace, seeking Albus’s guidance more acutely than before. He had barely made it to the top of the stairs before he was nearly toppled over by his third unwelcome surprise of the day. Severus grabbed hold of whatever had tumbled blindly into him and found himself with an armful of black haired, bespeckled teenager. Glancing down he was confronted with familiar bright emerald eyes, blinking owlishly up at him in obvious relief. The boy was breathing in small gasps as if he had run a great distance.

“Severus! … Sweet Merlin…I was.. so worried..”

Clearly this day was not about to get any better.

Chapter Text

Chapter Two: A Simple Arrangement 

Severus had always expected to pay penance for his crimes, chiefly the folly in his youth, the ugly mark marring his forearm. Becoming a Death Eater went beyond the foolish actions typical of the young. He was a criminal of the most unredeemable sort. If that were not enough, his mistakes had resulted in the death of the only person who had ever truly understood him, tolerated, loved him even. He had never felt worthy of Lily’s attention, even prior to the cruel incident that ended their friendship. 

Her death was a crime for which he knew no amount of suffering would ever repay. He did expect to pay, however, and he had. Penance had stalked him over the years. It had come in the form of torture under the Dark Lord's creative curses, endless torment from the meddlesome Headmaster, and worst of all, his continued post which required interacting with school aged children. 

Despite his stoic acceptance, Severus decidedly could not have predicted that payment for his crimes would ever take the shape of a nearly fifteen year old Harry Potter, clutching at his arm and gazing at him as if he’d hung the moon. For surely, the universe could think of no greater insult than a teenager clinging to him like a barnacle. The expression on the boy's face was unfathomable, relief and fondness clear in his familiar features. Severus balked. His own alternate universe self had been bad enough. A second intruder in the form of Potter spawn was simply adding insult to injury. 

“Potter... unhand me NOW” Severus scowled down at the boy, pulling his arm roughly from his grip. Wiping his sleeve of the invisible grime the boy surely had left behind.

Instead of Potter's face falling into the familiar look of petulant disdain he had grown accustomed to in his potions classroom, a sharp look of hurt and confusion crossed his features. He opened and closed his mouth several times before beginning to ramble. 

“Are you angry with me? I swear I wasn't trying to be reckless, I couldn't find you and I came down to your lab, there was this weird glowing light- I tried to run back but I got sucked into something. I thought it was a portkey again…” Potter trailed off at the end of his short breathless speech, a distant fearful look settling into his green eyes. Severus merely scoffed at him, holding a hand up to his face to stop him from speaking further. 

“Do be quiet Potter, if I wished to listen to your typical pathetic excuses I would have asked. As it stands, the less time I spend listening to your obnoxious voice the better.” Severus felt comfortable being back on familiar ground. Knocking the arrogant brat off his pedestal was practically his favourite hobby after all. He anticipated with a small measure of glee the resulting loss of temper that was sure to occur.

“....why are you being so mean?” Potter's voice sounded small, lacking any of the typical bravado and arrogance Severus associated with the Gryffindor. The pathetic reaction hardly gave him the satisfaction he normally received, that of watching a miniature James Potter glare as he struggled to hold his temper. 

Had Severus been a kinder man, he may have considered putting the boy out of his misery, explaining about the mishap of his counterpart, and his transportation into an alternate universe. He could set Potter’s mind at ease, should he desire to. Severus, however, was quite assuredly not a kind man, and the events of the day had left him feeling less than charitable. He therefore continued to sneer unkindly down at the little brat. Served him right for disrupting Severus’s hard earned peace.   

Potter meanwhile seemed to have activated his singular functioning brain cell to come to the conclusion that something was amiss. His expression turned cold and suspicious as he raised his wand toward Severus. “You’re acting weird. Who are you?” His voice stuttered slightly, and he came across much like a toddler attempting to negotiate a later bedtime. He had all the intimidation of a pygmy puff. Christ, was this the child the Wizarding World was to pin their hopes upon? Severus felt slightly vindicated as he allowed himself a long suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Professor Snape, clearly, I thought even you could use your questionable intellect to figure that out.” Severus sneered. 

Potter’s eyes remained narrowed, his wand hand shook slightly and his eyebrow flickered upward. “Prove it. How did you first realize that my mom was a witch?” the boy questioned evenly. 

Severus could not imagine how his alternate self could have possibly shared this information with Potter, but he begrudgingly felt impressed that the boy was taking safety precautions. After what had occurred with Barty Crouch Jr. last term, they could all do with additional caution. 

He hesitated only a moment, “I saw her jump off a swing in the park near our houses when we were nine, she floated down by magic.” Severus reluctantly explained. 

Potter slowly lowered his wand, his face returning to the look of a kicked crup. 

“Oh, right.. you’re you, I guess.” He sighed, looking downcast before glancing back up at Severus with pathetic looking eyes. “Did I..did I do something wrong? I don’t understand.” Potter shook his head and ran his hand through his hair, an action that reminded Severus so much of Potter Sr. that he felt a well of disgust rise in him.

“Your entire existence is wrong, Potter.” He spat cruelly. Again, if Severus had been a kinder man, he might have felt slightly guilty at the devastated look on the boy's face. Expression turned to such hurt that Severus felt his chest tighten inexplicably. It was nothing, Severus was not a kind man, not sentimental, and the slight twisting in his stomach was likely indigestion, nothing more. He was sure his stomach troubles were not caused by the reminder of an identical pair of eyes looking at him with such unabashed hurt. 

It was certainly not a sense of guilt that led Severus to explain the situation to the distraught teenager. He told him the facts to the best of his knowledge prior to his alternate self scurrying off in a state of panic. The story sounded even more ludicrous when spoken aloud than it had in his mind. To Potter’s credit, he listened without interruption, nodding along and seeming to accept the explanation rather quickly. 

He ran his hand once again through already unruly dark locks. “So, let me get this right, we’re in an alternate universe where you still hate me.” The boy sighed and rolled his eyes upwards. “Just brilliant, I really needed this right now.. wait, where are our “other” selves then?” Potter looked around the dim hallway, clearly not spotting the offending individuals. 

Severus sneered at the idiotic child. “My counterpart seemed highly distressed by the knowledge that yours is residing safely coddled behind blood wards, and has gone to collect him.” The image of the man’s pale concerned face leapt into his mind unbidden. What could he possibly be so worried about? It wasn't as though the Dark Lord could march into Number 4 Privet Drive and snatch the boy.

Potter's face did a similar contortion, looking all at once very sad. 

“Oh, I see.” He said simply. His posture deflated slightly, Potter finished the journey up the stairs and into the kitchen. Severus observed him for a moment, before following close behind. The boy began to move around the kitchen with ease, filling the kettle and puttering about, easily locating everything he would need for tea. He pulled out Severus's favourite tea cup as well as a second one Severus never used. Delicate, with a slightly faded blue floral pattern. It had been the preferred cup of Severus's mother.

“What precisely do you “see” Potter?” Severus drawled. He attempted to not dwell on the strangeness of this particular boy moving about his home comfortably, touching his mother's tea cup. 

The strange version of Potter turned around, a blank expression on his face. It reminded Severus of his own reflection whenever his Occlumency shields were a little too strong. He spoke directly, meeting Severus’s eyes without hesitation or awkwardness. 

“In my universe, I haven’t lived with the Dursleys since I blew up my Aunt Marge before third year.” 

Severus could recall this incident clearly, the ridiculous brat had performed illegal underage magic in a blatant assault on his muggle relatives. The Minister and Headmaster had let the boy go with a mild lecture and three full weeks of freedom in Diagon Alley. Another obscene example of the brat getting away with every scheme and misbehavior without any consequences. Just like his father before him. 

“Where, pray tell, do you live then?” Severus was curious in spite of himself, and more than a little worried about the answer he suspected was forthcoming. 

“Well, here, with you of course.” Potter shrugged, tipping his head to the side inquisitively, eyes bright again as he considered Severus. “Where did I go after I ran to the Leaky Cauldron if you didn't pick me up?” 

Severus uncharacteristically was given pause at the question. He was left reeling from this revelation. He supposed it made sense that Albus could have sent him to retrieve the boy wonder from Diagon Alley that day. Bringing the idiot teenager home with him seemed quite a step too far. What had driven his alternate self to such a dramatic action?

“The Minister and Headmaster decided to allow you to stay in Diagon Alley until the start of term, and you returned to your relatives as usual the following summer.” Severus was unclear as to why he felt he owed Potter an explanation, but something about his earnest expression had compelled him to speak.

A strange expression crossed Potter’s face, he seemed especially keen on examining the kitchen’s old granite countertops. “So I still never moved in with Sirius.” He said quietly, the sound barely making it across the kitchen to Severus's ears. Potter’s shoulders slumped and the blank expression returned to his face. Severus quickly tired of looking at the forlorn boy, and moved one long finger to poke between his shoulder blades. What was needed now was clear action, not sentimental reflection.

“Let’s get moving Potter, there's no time for tea, we need to owl Professor Dumbledore now, you can sulk later.” Potter obeyed the command silently, moving to open the doors to the exit kitchen.

He held the door open in one hand, but turned back to Severus for a moment, opening his and closing his mouth twice, clearly hesitating to say something, “Erm, Severu..

Whatever the teen had been about to say was cut off by the opening of the front door. Two figures appeared, the smaller one leaning heavily against the taller. 

“Come on now Harry, let's get you into the sitting room so I can take a look at you.” The other Severus’s voice was pitched low and gentle, a softness around the edges that Severus was fully convinced his vocal chords were not capable of creating.

Potter, the version currently being held up by his counterpart, looked both incredibly confused, and as if he might keel over at any moment. His evident confusion deepened when he glanced up the hallway, his eyes landing on the second Severus-Potter combination. 

“Sir, what…?” 

“Hush, I’ll explain in a moment, come sit down” Other Severus gently guided Potter into the sitting room, settling him lightly onto the sofa while Severus and the alternate Potter followed closely behind. 

“How is he, Severus?” Alternate Potter stood nervously in the doorway of the room, gazing at his other self, expression steeped in pity. 

“Not great Harry, I found him in the cup- that is, in your old bedroom.” Other Severus's face was thunderous as he looked over at the pair, but his eyes took on a touch of softness in the corners when he took in the boy standing in the doorway. The expression looked entirely foreign and out of place on his face. 

“I suppose you followed me into the lab then?” He said lightly. Alternate Potter gave a small grimace.

“Yes, but I swear I wasn't looking for trouble, I just couldn't find you.” The boy repeated the explanation he had delivered to Severus upon his sudden appearance, sounding very young and looking contrite. The eyes of his counterpart's face softened further. 

“Of course, the Vilagre is very strong when activated, you would have been pulled through with me when you encountered it, the fault is entirely mine.” As the other Severus reassured the boy his shoulders relaxed and he smiled softly. 

“Er, just wondering..is anyone going to explain what's going on here?” Potter was still sitting on the worn couch, his eyes flickering between the three others in the room, seeming as put out by their counterparts' friendly exchange as Severus himself was. 

Severus watched his alternate self calmly explain the situation to the small boy seated slumped on the sofa. It was during this observation that Severus noted the fact that this universe's Potter was indeed small. At the very least, he seemed to be 3 inches shorter and at least 5 kilograms lighter than the young man beside him. He was dressed in ragged clothing that looked large enough to cloth a small elephant. By contrast, the alternate Potter looked healthy, well fed, dressed in fine robes, edged with green stitches. Even his glasses were different, the familiar round lenses were still present, but with delicate gold rims. He gave the overall impression of a well cared for teenager, while the Potter on the sofa looked closer to a street urchin. 

Severus’s pensive thoughts were disrupted by a soft voice across the room. “So, what else is different about your universe then? I mean other than the fact that you seem to, I dunno, not hate me or something?” Potter inquired of his counterpart after the explanation had ceased. 

“I should hope he doesn't hate you, he adopted me two years ago after all.” Potter's counterpart stated calmly from the doorway, smirking slightly and slowly moving toward the sofa, sitting down next to him.

Adopted? Severus watched Potter's jaw drop open, sure that had he not had the hard won ability to control his expression, he’d have had a similar one etched on his face.

“You adopted me?” There was something odd about Potter's expression as he questioned the other Severus, something that could have been mistaken for longing, had that particular emotion been within the realm of possibility. 

“Yes of course, remaining with your Aunt and Uncle was not an acceptable option, and the only solution at the time was to come live with me. Adoption seemed the natural course of action soon after that.” He waved his hand through the air dismissively. 

Severus personally felt that there was absolutely nothing natural about this situation, but held his tongue. 

“You make that sound so simple.” Potter sighed, the impossible longing look returning to his face.

“It was simple.” Alternate Severus stated firmly, looking suddenly very serious. “It was simple then and it's simple now. I'm sorry that no one has removed you from that home, but I assure you I will be rectifying that atrocious error before we return to our own world.”

“Professor Dumbledore said it would be impossible.” Potter spoke so softly that Severus barely heard this plaintive statement. 

Alternate Severus moved his hand as if to place it on the boy's shoulder, retracting it immediately when Potter noticeably flinched. The man grimaced slightly. 

“My apologies. We can speak more about this later.” He moved to face the pair of Potter's, addressing the unfamiliar one with a direct tone. 

“Harry, I could use your assistance, I believe we are in need of some healing potions.” 

Alternate Potter nodded shortly, shaking his head as if dislodging water from his ears before he quickly moved to access his book bag. “Right, yes, let's see, I've got a calming draught, blood replenisher, headache draught, and something for pain, what have you got?” 

“Mostly the same, I have a salve as well but I can’t use it with the pain potion, it won't mix well.I didn't have my full kit on me when I activated the Vilagre…It was rather on a whim.” He grimaced, and Severus thought he may have heard a quiet, “bloody idiot.”

Both counterparts then turned their eyes to Severus, raising uncomfortably identical eyebrows at him.

“I have an emergency potions kit downstairs of course, but I must ask, what do you need them for?” 

The three others in the room exchanged glances. Potter looked positively ill, a flush crawling up his pale neck, while the two counterparts looked at each other and sighed. 

“We have to tell him.” Alternate Potter said apologetically, directing this toward the young man seated beside him. 

“There's nothing to tell.” Potter stated tonelessly.

His counterpart scoffed, “obviously I already know everything so don't be like that, just tell Severus where you are hurt so we can help you.” 

“I imagine I'll need to get you on a course of nutrient potions before we leave as well.” The other Severus was casting appraising eyes on the boy beside him. Potter kept his eyes adverted, sinking further into the sofa while under the keen gaze.

The other Severus let out a soft sigh, he sounded weary.

“Listen, Harry, I know that you have some injuries, and I realize you have no reason to trust me. However, I promise I won’t share this with anyone who doesn't need to know. Please allow me to help you.” 

Potter remained silent. 

Another sigh. “ Alright, the alternative is that I bring Poppy here to take a look at you.” Potter looked frantic at this statement. 

“No no, please don't get Madam Pomfrey, I'm fine. I don’t need any help.” 

“It seems there isn’t a universe in which you are familiar with the definition of fine. However, I'll offer you a deal. If you allow me to heal your injuries without any more fuss, I'll ensure that you get that snake from the Magical Menagerie that you so desperately want. If not, I'll be forced to involve Madam Pomfrey.” 

“..er, what?”

“Surely this universe is not so different that your obsession with that snake has dimmed?” The other Severus said with amusement. 

“Oh, yes well I do want her of course, you’d really get her for me? What would happen when I go back to school though, I can’t leave her with my relatives.” There was a brief flash of something in in Potter’s eyes that Severus could not identify. It was replaced quickly by a glimmer of excitement. 

“You’d bring her with you naturally, Salazar Slytherin ensured in the formation of the schools charter that it was written a Parslemouth could never be denied the presence of a bonded snake at school. Although I can hardly imagine the reaction in Gryffindor tower when you walk in with it. 

Potter stared at the man for a long moment. 

“That’s brilliant!” he enthused. He seemed to fall into a silent moment of contemplation before a determined look entered his eyes.

“Okay, fine. If I let you help, you really promise I can get the snake?” 

“Yes I promise.” 

Alternate Potter muttered something under his breath, to which Severus’s counterpart gave him a stern look. 

“Yes, Harry you will still be required to score well on your OWLs before you will be permitted to get the snake, and I suggest you adjust your attitude and reconsider muttering about the unfairness of the situation. Unless of course, you’d rather be in his position?” Alternate Potter looked embarrassed at the chastisement and ducked his head muttering softly, “ oh yea, right, er sorry.” 

Severus was morbidly enthralled with the parental tone that his counterpart had taken on. To say it was disconcerting to hear his own voice speak in such a way would be an understatement. 

Instead of voicing this frankly concerning thought he inquired, “Tell me, what exactly is so special about this snake?” 

“Oh she’s just brilliant!” Both Potter's spoke in tandem, then turned to one another, laughing. 

“She’s got this lovely colouring, and she's so clever and funny, you wouldn’t believe some of the things she comes out with.” The alternate Potter enthused.

“Did she ever tell you the story about when she escaped from the Menagerie and managed to make it all the way into muggle London?” 

“Yes! Then she rode the tube and tried to crawl up that woman's skir-”

“Ahem.” The alternate Severus did not even attempt to hide his amusement at the two excitable boys next to him. Indeed, his expression was fond, and even somewhat indulgent. How unsettling.

“I believe that's quite enough, can I assume we have a deal?” 

Potter sighed, losing his mirth immediately. 

“Yes I..I suppose so, just, you swear you won’t tell your Slytherins or something? Malfoy would never let me hear the end of it.” Potter directed his question at both Severus’s. 

“He won't tell.” The alternate Potter cut in firmly. 

Potter gazed intently at his counterpart, as though he could discern the truth of the statement through the strength of his stare. Whatever he was looking for in the identical eyes across from him he must have found, for he nodded once and said, “Alright, fine I'll let you help.” 

Potter squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, looking all at once like the bullheaded Gryffindor Severus was familiar with. It was an oddly comforting sight.

“Excellent choice, now Severus, go get the potions, and whatever medical supplies you have on hand.” The other Severus didn't spare him a glance as he commanded him into action without so much as a glance in his direction. Had he been in anything less than a state of shock, Severus may have fought against being ordered around in his own home. As it was, he numbly turned on his heel, exiting the room in a billow of black robes. 

Severus slipped back downstairs, suddenly feeling hesitant to send that owl to the Headmaster. He didn't exactly want Albus involved in the scenario playing out in his sitting room. The other Severus was making quite a fool of himself with his open affection towards Potter. It was a sight that was sure to make that annoying knowing twinkle come into the old man's eyes. 

As he gathered up the supplies, Severus attempted to squash down the unpleasant little voice in his mind that started to question him.

“Why was the boy supposedly hurt?” or perhaps more importantly “who hurt him?” Severus simply refused to accept the implications that the boy had been injured in his home. That he was potentially being abused to such an extent that a version of Severus had felt the need to remove him from the safety of the blood wards. It was a ridiculous notion, the boy was spoiled, arrogant, incorrigible. Surely his relations had fostered this horrendous attitude by coddling the famous boy.

“Petunia always was terribly jealous and nasty though wasn't she?” The pesky voice whispered. No, thought Severus firmly, the boy was an exact clone of his father, parading around with his obnoxious friends, holding court in the Great Hall.

“He did always seem a bit thin at the start of term, didn't he? Rather quiet at meals, with Granger always fussing over him, piling food on his plate and coaxing him to eat.” 

The thoughts stuck unpleasantly inside his mind, seemingly impervious to his desire to stuff them far down beneath his Occlumency shields. Severus preferred such thoughts to be parceled out in private, preferably while stirring a steaming cauldron.

Nevertheless, Severus was nothing if not a practical man. He set his mind to the task at hand. Retrieve the potions, deliver them to his counterpart, send the impossible pair back where they came from, promptly forget about the entire affair. Potter was fine, if something was amiss, the Headmaster, werewolf or the mutt would have noticed. Minerva certainly would have noticed. 

“Professor Dumbledore said it would be impossible.” 

No. Surely the boy hadn’t told the Headmaster and been dismissed.

“Yes because he listened so well when you came to him with your home troubles didn't he?” Great, the voice had grown into its unhelpful sarcasm stage of development. Severus was tempted to hit himself with a confundus, if only it would cause the voice to shut up. 

Deciding that arguing with his own thoughts was probably not the most dignified strategy, Severus refocused on his plan. A sensible plan would allow him to return to some semblance of control over his reality. 

Regaining control of the situation, as it turned out, was a fool's errand. As Severus returned to the sitting room he was greeted with a sight that caused that quiet annoying voice to begin screaming.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three: Professor Honey

There were many times in which Harry had imagined being removed from the questionable care of his Aunt and Uncle. His early childhood had been difficult, when he’d required more care and couldn't fend for himself. Aunt Petunia was especially vicious in those days, frustrated by a child who couldn’t yet perform any useful chores.

Fantasies of a different life were understandable, he reasoned, for a small, hungry, and lonely boy. 

In his most unlikely daydreams as a small boy, he had pictured his faceless parents pulling him out from his cupboard, holding him close, and whisking him away. He had no concept of what they might be like, only the surety that anything was better than the Dursleys. Embarrassingly, Harry still occasionally dreamt of this scenario, while lying in the Gryffindor dormitory, sleep evading him. 

When he was in primary school, and realized that in fact, his parents were not coming to collect him, he began to imagine a different scenario. 

It began after reading a story called “Matilda” while hiding from Dudley in the school library. It was the only place where Dudley and his gang were too frightened to follow him. It is after all a universal truth that librarians are the fiercest of all imaginable beasts. 

It was there that Harry read and re-read about Matilda Wormwood, a precocious young girl with strange, seemingly magical powers. Unappreciated and neglected by her family, she was eventually adopted by her beautiful and kind teacher, Miss Honey. For obvious reasons this story struck something of a nerve in Harry, and thus began his campaign of finding his own Miss Honey. Surely there was some kind teacher out there desperate to adopt a pathetic little boy? 

Whenever a teacher looked at him a little too closely, questioned him about a bruise, or punished Dudley for his bullying, Harry would begin to create a fantasy in his mind. The teacher would swoop in, trick his relatives into signing him over, and they'd live happily ever after picking wildflowers and baking pies together. He’d make his best attempts to appear sweet and likeable, despite his unkempt appearance and strange ways. Harry would smile and offer assistance during breaks to teachers he thought were the most likely candidates to take him in. 

It was, of course, merely a fantasy. The bruises would be explained away by rough housing, the bullying forgotten.

Assurances of “he’s just a troubled child you know, parents died in a car accident, never was quite right afterwards,” seemed to suffice for most concerns. Aunt Petunia was an adept liar, and Harry was apparently not quite likeable or normal enough to warrant further investigation. 

These let downs had not deterred Harry from trying, he had always been quite the single minded child after all. 

At one point, he had actually followed his year three teacher Mrs. Anderson home, attempting to slip in unnoticed through her garden door. He imagined that once inside her home, she would be forced to see what a perfect son he could be if given the chance. How polite, how helpful he would be to his wonderful new family. 

He was naturally discovered and returned home promptly. She scolded the Dursleys for their inattention and called into question his poor eyesight, clothing, and general thinness. However, even Mrs. Anderson had been easily swayed by Aunt Petunia’s excuses. What a martyr she must be, taking in a child who clearly had so many problems. 

The memory of the consequences of his little detour still occasionally caused Harry to wake up twisted in his sheets and shaking. 

Following the incident with Mrs. Anderson, Harry finally gave up on any fantasies, determining that they were childish. Obviously his situation at home wasn't that bad, even Professor Dumbledore had said that he needed to stay there when he'd begged to remain at school for the summer after first year. If a wizard as powerful as Dumbledore couldn't rescue him, no one could.

No one except, apparently, Snape.

This was how Harry found himself years later sitting on the worn and dusty sofa in a strange house, listening to his most hated teacher explain how simple it had been to remove him from his home. How very natural it had been to adopt him. He’d even rescued him in two separate universes. Harry had thought he was hallucinating when the door of his cupboard had opened and he’d been gently lifted out. Harry still wasn't convinced he wasn't hallucinating. 

A version of himself had uncovered a Miss Honey after all. Only, she bore a striking resemblance to Harry’s notoriously evil, bat like, potions professor.

Harry had always thought that the universe had a bit of a cruel sense of humour when it came to him. That said, the wildflower picking and pie baking was definitely out, even if it did create an amusing mental image that Harry resolved to share with Ron. 

With thoughts of fantasy lives pushed aside following a particularly disturbing image of Snape in a flower patterned apron, Harry had to focus on reality. As much as he knew it would be humiliating to have his injuries healed by the potions master, a small quiet part of him still held onto his long suppressed dreams, of being cared for, of being helped. Did it matter that the person had turned out to be Snape? Harry wasn’t sure. It certainly itched at him that if Snape of all people could see his home life for what it was, why hadn’t anyone else? 

Harry kept his eyes down as he slowly removed his shirt, grimacing as the shirt caught on the dried blood from his marred back and chest. He was glad that the Snape from his universe had been dismissed from the room, his presence would have been far worse than the unfamiliar Snape with his sympathetic eyes. He fixed his gaze on the wall in front of him, determined to go through with the process with some dignity intact. 

A small intake of breath was the only indication that Snape had seen the state of him. Harry himself had not yet seen a mirror, indisposed in the cupboard as he had been. He did know, however, from experience that the way his body currently felt would have been translated into a rather horrific looking image. He suppressed a flinch as Snape finally spoke. 

“Alright then, let’s start with your back.” Snape's voice was strangely even, seemingly unaffected, as he started to work.

Severus had witnessed some truly unspeakable atrocities in his time with the Dark Lord. However, he had always been able to maintain a cool, distant demeanor regardless of any scene playing out in front of him. 

Despite this, it seemed there was one sight that could cause Severus to gasp aloud in a manner most undignified. 

Harry Potter sat on the sofa in Severus's childhood home, with countless marks covering his small back and chest. There were bruises imprinted onto his arms, distinctly in the shape of fingertips. Open welts that could only be explained by the use of a belt criss crossed in a gruesome pattern. 

Severus’s mind desperately attempted to uncover an explanation for the injuries that wouldn't result in a complete shattering of his entire world view. He could not summon a single solution, he knew well that a child did not come by these types of injuries in any accidental, innocent way.

He stood numbly, unable to move from his position in the doorway, staring dumbly at the scene. The alternate Severus was quietly casting spells rhythmically over the back of the boy, Severus watched as the delicate skin began to knit together, he allowed himself to become swept away by the rhythm of the soft voice, the sight of carefully healing wounds.

“Do you intend to stand there like an imbecile, or can I expect those supplies sometime before I die of old age?” The other man's cutting voice snapped him out of his stupor. He didn't miss the slight smirk that settled on Potter's face. Even in this situation, the boy was still an incorrigible brat.

Severus, however moved swiftly towards the sofa brandishing the potions and supplies in front of his body like a shield. Alternate Severus snatched them from his hands without stopping his spellwork. Once he had finished, he nodded shortly once before he raised his eyes to the other Potter, who stood awkwardly on the corner, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor, looking green. The alternate Severus glanced at him with concern clear in his features. 

“Perhaps you’d like to go upstairs and ensure that there is somewhere suitable for Harry to take a short rest in, after the potions he will need to sleep for a time.” The man addressed the other Potter firmly, adding, “and take him with you if you would, I don’t want him underfoot.” It took Severus a moment to realize that he was the one being referred to as if he were an errant toddler or particularly annoying kitten.

Alternate Potter nodded gratefully, moving to exit the room, pulling on the robe of Severus's sleeve on his way out. Perhaps Severus had become accustomed to the level of disrespect he was receiving in his own home, because he obeyed the command and followed the teenager out of the room.

“Or maybe you just couldn't stand to be in that room for one moment longer?”

The irritating voice was back. Fantastic. Severus took one glance back into the sitting room, seeing for one unguarded moment a look of incomprehensible grief on the face of his alternate self. Severus was unaccustomed to seeing his face so openly expressive. He had hidden his own expressions behind layers of Occlumency for as long as he could remember. 

Pushing aside any further thought Severus followed the boy as he moved through the home, heading confidently up the staircase. They walked in silence and when they reached the second floor alternate Potter turned to the left and entered into Severus's childhood bedroom, which had remained essentially in the same state since he had left home. 

Severus hovered by the door, observing the boy as he walked about the room. It consisted of a single bed tucked into the corner, a thick blue quilt laying atop it, a small writing desk, a wardrobe, and not much else. Light filtered through the small bay window that looked out over the garden. The wallpaper was faded and peeling, as it was in much of his house. Severus never claimed to be much of a housekeeper. He spent so little time in this home, most of it in his lab or bedroom. Yet, he felt a little defensive as he watched. Of course this pathetic bedroom would hardly be to his standards.

The boy in question was humming softly to himself, gently running his hands over the quilt on the bed, the top of the wardrobe, padding over to the windowsill and sitting down awkwardly, twisting his body on the small ledge. His expression was unidentifiable. Severus did not know what to say, it was not often that he found himself at a loss for words. So instead he scoffed, 

“You’ll mess up your back sitting like that.” 

The teen in the window chuckled softly, keeping his gaze fixed outside. Severus could see his smirking face in profile. 

“You know, when I first moved in here, Severus hated that I would sit in this window. He kept banging on about how he had provided a perfectly serviceable desk, and how I was going to get a crooked back sitting here all scrunched up. But, I refused to stop, I liked sitting in the window and it had the added bonus of annoying him.” His face had taken on a distant look, lost in the memory, fondness pinched in the corners of his eyes.

“Then one day, maybe a week later, he takes me to task about it, sends me down in the lab, cleaning cauldrons for nearly three hours. I was furious. He finally allows me to come upstairs and I come in here.. .” He broke off, looking up at Severus for the first time since entering the room, smiling slightly.

“He’d built me a proper window seat, expanded it out into a bench, cushioned and all. He even added a small bookcase, a little lap table here for writing.” He gestured vaguely at the windowsill as he described the changes. 

“All he said to me was, ‘well Potter, I couldn't very well send you back to Hogwarts with a twisted up back and schoolwork written from a broken windowsill.’ Then he walked out, he never mentioned it again.” 

Severus remained silent, continuing to look at the boy sitting in the window. He couldn't imagine himself doing such a ridiculous thing for anyone, nevermind an annoying teenaged Potter.

“Have you ever read Roald Dahl? Matilda?” Severus blinked at the non-sequitur, but nodded.

Alternate Potter continued, “I read it a lot when I was small. I’ve never told Severus this, but I had always had this little dream that I'd get adopted by a teacher, just like Miss Honey.” He smiled wryly.

“Only, obviously I did get adopted by a teacher , but I'm sure you're aware how different the image of the teacher in my mind might have been. I pictured this sweet young woman, who would tuck me in at night, sing while she made dinner.” Severus was assaulted by mental images of himself doing such things, it was disturbing to say the least. 

Potter continued speaking despite Severus’s silent discomfort. 

“Here's the thing, when I saw this window seat, I thought, this is better.”

Severus was so taken back by this statement that he suddenly felt urged to speak. “How could being placed here have been better in any way?” Severus scowled while Potter looked at him intensely. 

The boy sighed at him.

“Because it was real. Because it wasn’t a nice sweet teacher who’d taken me in. Someone who would have been kind to any pathetic little kid she’d come across. No, I got someone who hated the position he'd been put in, who hated me, who had no reason at all to do nice things for me, and yet he still did it... for me. I can’t explain to you how much more that meant to me, still means. Maybe a silly little bench wouldn't mean that much to some other kid, but for me, it was everything.” He kept his eyes locked on Severus throughout the short speech, green and vivid, fierce. He opened his mouth to interrupt, but was stopped as the strange Potter continued.

"I know that you think you don't care about the version of me that's sitting down there. I know exactly what you think of him, that you believe you know who he is. You won’t believe me if I tell you that you’re wrong. That doesn't matter right now.. right now, I need you to believe this. When given the time, you are capable of so much kindness, so much loyalty, love, and compassion it puts Miss Honey to shame.” His face was stone, eyes flashing with the strength of his emotion. 

They stared at each other for a long moment. Alternate Potter finally sighed, standing up from the window sill and investigating the bed. “This will be fine, can you just cast a cleaning spell on it?” His voice was toneless, defeated almost. 

Severus ignored him, still stuck on his last statement. 

“You don’t know the things I've done, you would never say anything flattering about me if you did.”

The boy scoffed, “oh please, you mean about the prophecy? I've known that for ages. So you repeated some words you overheard in a pub sixteen years ago. You didn't know what it would cause, and you’ve more than made up for it. I don’t care, it doesn't matter what you did in the past, I can forgive that, it's over. What I won’t be able to forgive is if you continue to treat my other self like the dirt on the bottom of your shoe. You can’t change the past, but you can keep your promise to my mother's memory. You can help him, I know better than anyone that you're capable.”

Severus stared at him in shock. He had never expected absolution from this boy, and he certainly wouldn’t have imagined it being shouted at him. There were many things he might have thought to say in this moment, however all he could manage was, “My counterpart has not kept much from you.” 

Severus was shaken by the teenager's words, but managed to keep his voice even. He wasn’t sure how else to respond. Another voice joined them from behind Severus. 

“No I have not, especially when it comes to things he has a right to know.” Alternate Severus drawled from the doorway, accompanied by Potter, eyes rimmed red.

Severus was really off his game, he hadn’t even heard the other pair approaching. 

His counterpart guided the tearful boy toward the bed, pushing him gently down toward the pillows, and pulling the blankets over him, handing him a vial of dreamless sleep. He spoke softly, “Just a small sip. No arguments, you need to rest.” 

The boy obeyed, taking a small drink and falling immediately into a deep sleep, breathing evenly. 

Severus watched with curiosity as his alternate self tucked the blankets closer around the boy and gently pushed his hair back from his forehead. The action was so tender and real that Severus almost felt embarrassed for the man, as if he was intruding on a deeply vulnerable and private moment. 

“I'm so sorry Harry.” He spoke in a whisper, running his hand once more over the sleeping teen's head. He gently wiped a tear from Potter's cheek with his thumb. He looked as if he wanted to say more, to linger, but clearly decided against it. He glanced at the other Potter, who was still standing near the window, flushed red after his impassioned speech. 

The man then stood from the side of the bed and walked over to the other Potter, placing a guiding hand on his shoulder and moving them both from the room. He glanced back at Severus, his eyes filled with emotion.

“You are capable of so much kindness, so much love, loyalty, and compassion.” 

The earnest words echoed uncomfortably in his mind.

If Severus took a few extra moments to observe the sleeping boy before following the other pair downstairs, that was no one's business but his own.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four: Take Care of Him

Soft voices floated up the stairs as Severus finally tore himself away from the small bedroom. He had lingered staring at the child in the bed, thoughts fluttering through his mind in unorganized panic. When he made it halfway down the staircase he stopped to listen in, curious about what the pair might be discussing.

“I know I'm being daft.” Alternate Potter’s voice was shaking slightly. 

“It is a perfectly reasonable reaction, Harry.” Severus’s counterpart returned gently.

“It’s just, I always thought, if you hadn’t taken me in.. I thought Sirius would have done something.” The teenager said brokenly. A show of vulnerability Severus had never had directed at himself. 

“I know he hasn’t been great sometimes, but I thought it was just because he didn't approve of you. I can't believe he didn't help me, even here.” 

The alternate Potter’s voice lessened in volume as he got to the end of the sentence.

Clearly, the rabid dog had been just as useless in their world as he was in the present one. It gave Severus a sick sort of satisfaction that he may be less than proud of if he examined it too closely. Severus heard his alternate self sigh heavily. 

“As much as it pains me to say, I know your godfather has let you down, but he cares about you. That much is obvious. He just, perhaps, isn’t capable of being who you need him to be. He isn’t a perfect person Harry, but he loves you. He loves you enough to not take you away from me. That isn’t a small thing."

Severus felt pain himself, hearing his own voice speak anywhere nearing kindness in regard to the stinking mutt. The praise was useless, the boy dismissed it immediately. 

“Then why was he still with the Dursleys? Sirius is always going on about how I should be living with him…” 

“I can’t speak to what has gone on in this universe, circumstances may have been different. Don’t dwell on this.” 

“I'm not dwelling.” The boy’s voice sounded wet as he sniffled. 

“Clearly.” The other Severus drawled without venom.

“It’s not just Sirius…I..It’s also the other you, I know it's not really you, but the way he was looking at me, he..he said my existence was wrong. It's just hard to think about before when you hated me. I had sort of forgotten.” Severus refused to feel guilty about his early behaviour; if the boy couldn't handle a simple barb, he stood no chance against the Dark Lord. 

“He is a very sad and lonely man, Harry, weighed down by the constant pain and regret for his choices. He does not know anything about you, if he did he’d know nothing about you is wrong. I for one would not change a hair on your ridiculous mop of a head. Now, stop this crying before you make me descend further into sentimental foolishness, it's unbecoming.” The boy chuckled wetly. 

At this, Severus decided he’d heard enough and made his way down towards the pair. He found them near the bottom of the staircase, standing poised to enter the double doors of the kitchen. 

Severus's counterpart was running his hands soothingly up and down the teen's arms.

Severus coughed lightly to announce his presence, feeling oddly like an intruder in his own hallway. 

“Ah I see you’ve decided to join us.” The man smirked at Severus, leaving him with the unsettling feeling that he knew exactly what had delayed his arrival downstairs. Perhaps he had spent more time than he had realized staring at the messy haired teenager asleep in his childhood bed. He was only ensuring that the insufferable child didn't have a bad reaction to the potions. Nothing more. 

Severus suddenly felt sympathy for the unsuspecting students who he had subjected to his knowing smirk, it was unpleasant being so perceived. 

Merlin, was he really going to start feeling sorry for idiotic, troublemaking students now? 

Severus decided to not dignify this with any response, if he made excuses for his lingering, it would only further prove the smug man’s point. 

The alternate Severus seemed unmoved by the inner turmoil he was experiencing, focused far more acutely on the teenager whose arms he was still gently holding.

 “Why don’t we go have some tea while we wait for the Headmaster?” He glanced briefly toward Severus again, raising an eyebrow. He squeezed the boy's shoulders once before releasing him, and turning them both toward the kitchen. 

Avoiding Albus forever was obviously not an option, however much Severus wished it were. Hopefully he would send the two intruders back where they came from. Ideally he would take Potter and his pathetic sad eyes to headquarters where he belonged. 

Severus nodded shortly, strolling to the sitting room where he penned a brief missive, sending it off with his eagle owl, Darius, who gave him a stern look, and nipped his finger none too gently as he tied it off. It seemed everyone was determined to disrespect him in his home today. 

He took his time watching the owl fly off, still reeling from the overwhelming revelations of the day. To think, he had started this morning off thinking of a relaxing day in his potions lab, replenishing the hospital wing stock in advance of the new school year. 

Taking a deep bracing breath, Severus moved to return to the kitchen, hearing voices filtering through the doorway. He found the pair chatting amicably while Severus’s counterpart sat at the small round table by the garden window. The alternate Potter was moving about the kitchen as he had before, pouring the boiling water into the teapot, pulling milk out of the cold cupboard, fixing three cups of tea.

He brought one over to where Severus was standing, handing it to him with a wry smile and a raised eyebrow. Severus took a sip and found it was unnervingly made to his exact preferences. The small reminder of how well this boy wearing Harry Potter's face knew him set his teeth on edge. 

Severus silently crossed the room, ignoring the boy and joining his counterpart at the table. He sat heavily and pressed the heels of his hand into his eyes, as if in doing so he could erase the images of a small boy with belt marks across his back out of his memory.

Worse still, the replaying image of large green eyes, staring unflinchingly at him, demanding that he honour his vows to the woman whose death Severus was responsible for. It was a horrific irony. Severus had always thought that the universe had a bit of a cruel sense of humour when it came to him.

They sat silently, alternate Potter had perched himself on the kitchen island, leaning back casually on one hand, sipping tea from the blue floral tea cup. Typical, disrespectful, insolent brat. His nonchalant presence in Severus's kitchen was an affront against nature if he’d ever seen one. Severus scowled at the teenager, and opened his mouth to scold him. 

“Harry, how many times do I have to tell you not to sit on the counter like a delinquent?” Alternate Severus was faster on the reprimand, giving the boy a sharp pointed look. 

“Would you prefer I sit on the counter in some other way?” The brat replied, smiling cheekily, but obediently getting down and joining the pair at the table.

“I know this has been a difficult day, but do not delude yourself into thinking I'll suddenly tolerate disrespect, we are currently in your Professor's home, not our own.

“So I'm deluded, disrespectful, and a delinquent.. the letter of the day is ‘D’ I suppose. Can I pick tomorrow's letter?” Alternate Potter dripped in sarcasm and started to roll his eyes.

“That's enough.” Alternate Severus' voice took on a sharp warning tone, stopping the boy mid eye roll. 

“Sorry, I'm..I'm just..” he stammered, losing his arrogant attitude immediately and looking down at the table.

“You’re just acting out because you’re feeling out of control of the situation? Yes I'm aware, so what should you do about it?” Alternate Severus did not break his intense gaze on the teenager, looking at him expectedly.

Instead of providing a verbal response, the boy closed his eyes for several moments breathing through his nose. When he reopened his eyes, they were dull and closed off. 

“Good, however you need to modulate your shields, they are too strong.” He punctuated this statement by leaning over the table and flicking the boy's nose lightly. 

Alternate Potter blinked his eyes several times before they began to lose the unnaturally glossy sheen they had taken on. He glared at Severus’s counterpart. 

“Oi, you didn’t have to flick me.” He rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand.

“My sincere apologies, shall I get some pain reliever and bruise balm for this most grievous injury?” Alternate Severus maintained a serious expression, but the corners of his lips were turned up slightly. 

“No, obviously not.” The boy grumbled, but quickly took a gulp of tea, unsuccessfully hiding a small smile. 

“You know Occlumency.” Severus finally broke his silent observation. Occlumency was no easy feat, the magic was so advanced and obscure, it took most grown wizards years to accomplish, even those with a natural predisposition to the mind arts. 

“Oh well deduced, ten points to Slytherin.” The other man sneered. 

“Didn't someone say something about being respectful just a moment ago?” Alternate Potter smirked. For this he earned another flick to the nose. 

“Git.” 

“Brat.” 

Both of them were smiling slightly. It was an incredibly disturbing scene. 

Severus was saved from his lamentable situation by the sound of the floo flaring. Later, he would assert that he did not scramble from his seat in an undignified way, and he certainly didn't flee the room. Severus was a hardened spy and death eater, he wasn't afraid of the emotional familiarity of a couple of interloping impersonators. Great, now he was thinking in aliterations. His life was surely out of his control. 

After Severus finished not fleeing the kitchen, the group made their way back into the sitting room to greet the Headmaster. He had stepped through the flames in a robe with so many conflicting patterns on it that it made Severus go crossed eyed. The obnoxious man in question took in the rooms three occupants, gaze flickering back and forth between the two Severus's, and the strange Potter. 

“I suppose this was why your owl requested my presence so urgently?” His eyes were twinkling merrily, as if he had unexpectedly stumbled into his favourite soap opera. 

“ I can hardly see the call for amusement Albus, this man here foolishly used a Vilagre to travel here, dragging along his universe's Potter with him.”

“Ah, how fascinating!” He clapped his hands together, smiling brightly. Fascinating was not the word Severus would have chosen. He bit his tounge to avoid snapping at the headmaster. 

“Yes, quite, we thought it best to discuss the variations between our worlds before they return home.” Severus was not afraid of the alternates, he simply wanted his house back for himself.

“Have you discovered any variations thus far?” Albus's eyes continued twinkling, as though he had already pieced the entire humiliating situation together. 

“In my universe, I have had custody of Harry since he turned thirteen. Our Albus sent me to collect him after the underage magic incident at his relatives, unlike here in which he was left alone in Diagon Alley for three weeks.” Alternate Severus gazed sternly at the Headmaster, seeming angry about the lack of attention the boy had received. He moved his hand toward his shoulder, as if itching to grab him and pull him closer protectively. 

“Is that so?” The old man's smile grew wider as he looked at the pair, eyes stopping on the half-way averted hand. 

The old man chuckled lightly, “I must say I'm quite surprised at you Severus, I seem to recall long speeches about this young man, what was it? Ah,

Mediocre, arrogant as his father, a determined rule-breaker, delighted to find himself famous, attention-seeking and impertinent…”

The Headmaster’s impression of Severus was unflattering to say the least. 

Severus could remember making this very complaint, pacing the headmasters office two weeks into the start of the boys first year. 

The Headmaster had said annoyingly, “you see what you expect to see, Severus.” Had the older man been right? Had Severus been so blinded by hatred of James Potter, that he couldn't see the child in front of him clearly? No, he decided himself, it couldn't be. Perhaps the child’s home life wasn't ideal. It didn't change the fact that he was an insufferable, arrogant bully now.

The generic propensity for trouble and misdeeds clearly could not be extinguished by a bad upbringing. Severus had heard of this phenomenon, children brought up in difficult circumstances became perpetrators themselves.

“Yes and I'm sure you could not relate to that at all.” The voice returned.

Alternate Severus rolled his eyes at the headmaster, “please spare me Albus, I get enough of your self righteousness in my own universe. Save it for this version of me who still needs it.” He didn't look over as he said this, and therefore Severus's returning glare was unseen. 

If possible, the Headmasters expression brightened further. 

“Quite right, has this change resulted in any other deviations I wonder?” 

“We haven't quite determined that yet, we’ve been slightly… occupied with another matter.” Severus explained his counterpart's swift action to remove Potter from his relatives home, but found himself unable to continue when it came to explaining the circumstances of the teen's removal, the marks on his body that Severus could not stop seeing behind his eyes. 

The alternate Severus saved him from his stuttering explanation. He outlined his impromptu rescue mission, explaining in depth the healing process and the current location of the boy. As the explanation went on, the Headmaster's face slowly lost its smug expression, settling further and further into one of immense despair. He suddenly looked much older, and very, very weary.

"I apologize for not contacting you prior to retrieving him, but you must understand that any additional time wasted in removing Harry from that home had potential for further injury.” The alternate Severus explained. 

“It is quite understandable, my boy.” Albus was looking at the ground as he spoke, his voice betraying a depth of emotion. 

They stood in silence for a few moments, the silence weighing heavily on the room. 

Alternate Potter suddenly clapped his hands.

“Okay, so I think that's enough sulking about my unfortunate life, I think we were meant to be having some kind of important conversation?” 

The adults in the room had the good grace to reign in their emotions and regain focus on the matter at hand. They began to exchange information about their respective universes. Ultimately much was the same in each world, besides the obvious. Apparently Pettigrew had still escaped from the Shrieking Shack after being followed by Severus.

Black remained a wanted criminal, the Headmaster had sent alternate Potter and Granger back in time to rescue him and a hippogriff of all things, much to the chagrin of all involved. Despite his best efforts, the boy had still participated in the Triwizard tournament, ending with Diggory's death and the Dark Lord's resurrection. 

One startling difference was the fact that Severus had not returned to the Dark Lord's service when called in June. The alternate Dumbledore had decided that Severus was more useful as Harry Potter's adoptive father than as a spy. The jealousy that coursed through his mind at this thought was somewhat unflattering. Removal from his unenviable position as a spy had never crossed his mind as a possibility. He was meant to serve the man without hope of redemption. 

They were interrupted by the soft padding of feet coming down the staircase. Apparently Potter had awoken early from his potion induced sleep. He entered the sitting room looking bleary eyed and impossibly young. 

“Oh, hello Professor Dumbledore,” he said by way of greeting. 

“Harry my boy, it's good to see you, despite the circumstances.” The Headmaster truly looked apologetic as he greeted Potter.

 Potter's face fell at this statement. He suddenly looked angry, turning to face alternate Severus. 

“You said you wouldn't tell anyone.” He snarled. 

“I said I wouldn't tell anyone who didn't need to know. Professor Dumbledore certainly is in the category of needing to know. I would advise you to listen closely to the wording of an agreement before you make it in the future.” The man held his ground, surprising Severus as he had been playing the part of a sappy sentimental fool all day. 

Potter huffed but wisely remained silent, not making eye contact with anyone in the room. 

“Severus is right Harry, it was essential that I was informed of the situation. I only wish you had told me.” Albus looked at the boy over the rims of his half-moon glasses.

Potter sighed, his gaze still averted. 

“I tried.” His voice was barely audible, even in the quiet room. Severus felt his stomach drop slightly at the confirmation that the Headmaster had known something was amiss in Lily’s sister's home. Albus looked apologetic, eyes flickering in recognition. 

“I'm very sorry Harry, I did not realize the depth of your unhappiness at home. I admit I did not wish to look too closely, I did not exaggerate the importance of the wards. Although, your suffering is too high a cost of course.” Albus looked truly pained as he admitted this. 

“I understand Sir, it’s okay, it’s not your fault.” Potter finally looked up, meeting the headmaster's eyes and offering him a small kind smile, clearly aiming for reassurance. 

The words stunned Severus, though perhaps they should not have. Potter's counterpart had all but shouted his forgiveness of Severus’s role in his parents death not an hour prior. Albus had once told Severus that the boy had an immense capacity for forgiveness. It was a trait that they did not share, Severus could and would hold onto grudges as if his life depended upon it. 

“That's very generous of you.” Albus smiled sadly at him. 

The boy simply shrugged. “S’ fine."

Albus tilted his head and looked at the teenager for a long moment. 

“We don’t deserve you, Harry.” He said seriously, keen eyes narrowed slightly as he gazed at Potter. The boy shifted his weight from foot to foot, not raising his eyes from the worn beige rug, warmth spreading up his cheeks. 

The Headmaster’s gaze turned soft and fond as he looked at Potter. Severus tucked away raging jealousy. He was no longer a young man in need of praise from the old man. It would have been nice, however, to have had such an expression directed at him when he had been that age. 

Albus clapped his hands together decisively. 

“That aside, we must discuss what is to be done now. We should allow our guests to return home, remaining too long in an alternate universe can cause some unpleasant side effects. I also believe that we should refrain from sharing the details of this little mishap with the others. I shall think on what to tell the Order, if you don't mind?” It was phrased like a question, when they all knew it was a command.

It was decided that Albus, Severus and Potter would go meet with the Order following the departure of the intruding pair. They had already planned for Potter to remain at headquarters for the remainder of the summer regardless.

Severus felt a rush of relief at the thought of removing all versions of Potter from his home. Looking at the waif-like child was beginning to create a strange tugging sensation in the pit of Severus's stomach that he did not care for. Yes, the sooner the teenager was out of his home the better. 

Severus was broken from his thoughts by the imitation of his own baritone voice. 

“I would like to speak to you privately before Harry and I depart, perhaps in the kitchen?” Apparently the conversation had ended without Severus's knowledge, the other occupants of the room were looking at him expectedly. 

“I, yes of course, we should speak.” Severus blinked twice and attempted to regain his composure once again. 

He followed his alternate self back into the kitchen, silently resuming their places at the table. Alternate Severus leaned heavily on his elbows, hands clasped in front of his nose, eyes closed. He did not speak for a long moment. 

“I need some assurances from you before I leave here.” He started, finally glancing up from his hands, looking intently at Severus’s face, studying him.

Severus raised an inquisitive eyebrow. 

“You will promise me, right now, that you will ensure Harry is taken care of.” He punctuated the statement with a long finger jabbed into the table top rhythmically. Severus did not like the direction this conversation was taking. His alternate self may have seen fit to coddle the irritating child, but he certainly would not be following suit.

“I'm not adopting the brat.” Severus asserted. He needed to nip the entire concept in the bud before it spiraled out of control. 

Alternate Severus clicked his tongue impatiently. “I do not recall asking you to. What I am asking, no, demanding, is that you ensure he is taken care of. It is of no matter how you achieve this. You saw the state of him today, you will make sure that Albus does not send him back there.”

 “Send him back? That’s preposterous, we just informed him of the boy's injuries.” 

“He attempted to do so in my universe. It was only through my continued advocacy that he relented. You must understand that is why I'm asking this of you. I can only trust you with this task. Trust myself, that is.” It was difficult, though not impossible, to imagine that Albus may be so short sighted.

“Fine. I will ensure that Potter is not returned to his relatives.” Severus relented. 

“You will see to it that he is placed somewhere appropriate.” 

“Yes, fine.”

“And you will buy him that snake.” 

“Fin-..” Severus started automatically before sputtering, “I will do no such thing!” 

“I promised him I would, however I do believe Albus is right that we should return to our world as soon as possible. Therefore I need you to take him to Diagon Alley for me. He will need some clothing as well as an eye exam while you are there.” 

“This is ridiculous.” 

“I expect you to see it that way. Will you do it anyway?” 

Severus felt taken apart by the other man’s unrelenting stare. He had the notion that the man did not intend to leave the table or indeed, Severus's house until he relented. As different as he found this alternate self to be, he appeared to retain the entirety of Severus's stubborn nature. It was clear he would not back down from this fight. 

Severus sighed heavily. “I will ensure he remains away from his relatives, in an appropriate placement, with clothes and eyeglasses.. acceptable?” 

“And the snake.” 

Severus sighed, rolled his eyes but confirmed. 

“And the bloody snake.”

“Excellent. As I said, I can trust no one else with his well-being.” The tone of this statement was almost threatening. The man eyed Severus closely, leaving him feeling as if he were a particularly interesting, yet disgusting insect.

Severus resisted the temptation to squirm in his seat like a chastised schoolboy. The other man seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. He nodded to himself, eyes still fixed on Severus. He felt the desire to deflect attention from the scrutiny, by asking the one question that had been pressing insistently against his skull. 

“Why do you care so much about the boy, Potter’s spawn? Do you think you can redeem yourself by posturing yourself before the brat? It's pathetic.”  

The other man smirked, before smiling knowingly at Severus. 

“I am hoping that you will soon learn that for yourself, how very easy it is to love him.” 

“You love him?” Severus barely managed to stammer out. It was incomprehensible. 

“He is my son.” He said, with unwarranted simplicity, as if such a statement could be anything short of absurd. 

Severus felt ill.  

“He is James Potter's son.” Severus corrected disbelievingly. 

“Yes, that’s also true.” 

“This is wrong, completely deranged. You have lost your mind.” 

“Ah, that would explain a lot.” The annoying man placed a pensive look upon his face. 

“This is outrageous, this.. this…” Severus sputtered. 

“If you're quite finished, we should depart. I’d like to return home, Harry is strong but I do worry about straining his magical core remaining here any longer at his age.” He stood from the table without warning, striding across the room in a dramatic flap of black robes. 

He hesitated in the doorway, seeming to wrestle with himself for an extended moment. His shoulder slumped slightly and when he finally turned around he faced Severus with a vulnerable expression. His fingers grabbed pointlessly at the wood of the door. 

“Take care of him. Please.” The voice was pleading, barely a whisper floating over to Severus' ears. It would have had less of an impact had it been shouted. As it was, it reminded Severus of the last time he could recall his voice sounding such a way, pleading and desperate. When Lily’s life had been threatened and he’d begged Albus for help. 

It was, however, not her pair of emerald eyes that crossed through his mind as he nodded once,

“I will.” 

Chapter Text

Chapter Five: You Don't Know Anything 

Harry sat in a dim, unfamiliar kitchen, flanked on either side by his two best friends. Hermione had nearly strangled him in a tight hug upon his arrival before Ron successfully pulled her away. Ron had always understood that Harry needed a bit more space than others when it came to affection. 

Harry both loved and hated Hermione’s tight squeezes. Harry’s relatives had handled him as if he were diseased, and refused to touch him unless absolutely necessary. Being wrapped in a warm embrace caused a strange tightness in his chest that always left him feeling a bit ill. 

“No one wants to touch freakish children.”

It was part of a series of facts that Harry secretly kept in his mind. Sometimes he felt they were more ingrained scars than the one that cut across his forehead. 

Freaks don’t deserve food.

Freaks don’t get to have friends.

Father Christmas only brings gifts for normal children.

On it went.

Harry knew that if he ever spoke these thoughts aloud, his friends would react dramatically. Ron would get furious, Hermione devastated and teary. It was the same every time he had accidentally let slip that things with the Dursleys were less than ideal.

He learned quickly that some anecdotes Harry thought were funny would cause Hermione’s eyes to narrow in suspicion and prompt a series of questions. In first year Harry had told the story of when his relatives had forgotten him outside on Christmas Eve and he had managed to scale the roof looking for reindeer.

According to Hermione, it was not normal to forget six year old children outside in the midwinter. Hermione just didn't understand. She operated under the impression that Harry was normal. 

Sitting at the table in the strange and frankly depressing kitchen, Ron had a casual hand slung around the back of Harry's chair, occasionally rubbing a thumb up and down on his shoulder blade. Ron did this so often that Harry had become accustomed to the action. Ron did it almost unconsciously, and Harry felt a little guilty about the fact that he liked the casual affection.

At Hogwarts and the Burrow, Ron had occasionally climbed into Harry’s bed after he’d woken from a particularly bad nightmare. He’d lay quietly beside him gently running a hand up and down his back until Harry had fallen back asleep. Ron confessed that this was something Charlie had often done when Ron was a little boy, frightened in the night.

Harry wasn’t sure if this fact made him feel more or less guilty about the situation. 

Freaks shouldn’t burden normal people with their nightmares.

The kitchen of number 12 Grimmauld Place was filled with members of The Order of the Phoenix, a group originally formed to fight Voldemort in the first war. Hermione had whispered as many details as she could while she pulled him from the doorway and into the kitchen. As it was, she and Ron knew very little, having been kept from the meetings by Mrs. Weasley. 

Sirius and Remus sat directly across from Harry, both darting glances at him when they thought he wasn't looking. Harry caught Sirius’s eye and received a cheeky wink.

Harry hated being observed like some creature in the zoo, but he ignored the feeling and smiled shyly back. Sirius looked better than when Harry had seen him last, though he still had some dark circles beneath his eyes, a scruffy looking beard. 

There were several others in the room that Harry didn't recognize, although he knew the appearance of Mad-Eye Moody, this man was a stranger. Harry had been introduced to Tonks, a pretty witch with bright pink hair, with an infectiously positive attitude. Several others lined the room, though Harry could not identify them and was too tired to attempt it. 

Dumbledore started the meeting off with a truncated version of what had occured at Snape's house. He succeeded in explaining that the alternate universe Snape had come into their world with information that Harry should be removed from his relatives' care early. He phrased it in such a way that it sounded as if the other Snape had provided Voldemort relevant concerns for Harry’s safety.

Harry was equal parts relieved and bothered by this explation.It was disquieting to witness the ease with which the Headmaster lied, or told half truths as the case may be. He was, however, grateful that his home life was not to be examined in the public forum. 

“So it’s settled then, Harry will stay here from now on.” Sirius was smiling. “Think of all the mischief we can get up to kiddo.” 

Harry felt something inside him stir, awakening an old longing that had been slowly making itself known since that other Snape had informed him of his adoption. The thought of finally being with Sirius, being a proper family was overwhelming. Harry tried to squash it down quickly.

He’d learned the hard way that nothing was more dangerous than hope. Still, the thought settled in his chest with a heavy weight; solid and stubborn, refusing to be dislodged. Or, perhaps it was a bubble, simply waiting to be popped with one wrong word. 

The wait was even shorter than Harry would have anticipated. 

“Harry will remain here for the rest of the holidays. We will need to revisit this conversation prior to next summer.” Dumbledore promptly pricked a hole in the hopeful bubble in Harry’s chest. He attempted to look less crestfallen and defeated as he felt. He scolded himself for the disappointment that overtook him. 

Freaks don’t deserve families. 

“That's ridiculous! He belongs here with me..I'm his godfather, what is there to discuss?” Sirius gestured wildly at nothing in particular. Harry nodded his head emphatically. 

“Harry’s safety is of the utmost importance," Dumbledore said with authority. “We will need to ensure his placement protects him.” Harry knew what that meant. Blood wards. The Dursleys. His heart sank. 

“Are you saying that I can’t protect him? How dare you?” Sirius stood abruptly, knocking his chair to the ground. 

“Sirius, sit down.” Remus grabbed hold of his sleeve and righted his chair with a wave of his wand. Sirius obeyed him, but did not lose his furious expression. Harry struggled to keep the fear out of his eyes. Dumbledore did not comment on the outburst, still looking around the room serenely. 

“There's also the matter of the underage magic hearing, Harry will need to be accompanied, as discreetly as possible of course.” Dumbledore continued as if he had not been interrupted. Harry felt his stomach drop, no one had mentioned anything about a hearing. 

“I’ll take him.” Sirius said immediately. 

“Sirius, you must realize that is impossible.” Dumbledore looked at him with a pitying expression.  

“Harry needs me there with him!” Sirius looked ready to topple his chair again.

“Excuse me..?” Harry attempted to get the attention of the adults in the room. His discomfort grew as the conversation forged forward without him. 

“We need to be cautious Sirius, we can’t have you barging into the ministry, you’re a wanted man. Be reasonable,” Dumbledore implored. 

“Er…?” Harry tried again. 

“I'm getting really tired of hearing about what I can and can't do, Albus.”

“Professor Dumbledore...?” Sharp blue eyes finally flickered in Harry’s direction. The occupants of the room all seemed to simultaneously remember that Harry was present. All except Snape, whose dark gaze had not strayed much from Harry throughout the conversation. 

“What is it Harry?” 

“Well it’s just, what hearing are we talking about, sir?” 

“Ah, yes, you would not have been at Private Drive to receive the letters. The Ministry has planned a disciplinary hearing regarding the underage magic you performed. They had sought expulsion from Hogwarts, however they have been persuaded to hold this hearing.”

“But I had to! The dementor was going to kiss my cousin!” Harry felt a sudden panic overcoming him. What would happen if he was expelled from Hogwarts? Would he be sent back to the Dursleys full time? His vision started to swim as he started to lose a grip on his emotions. He felt tempted to retreat into the quiet space of his mind. 

“Oi mate, stay with us here, yea?” Ron’s whispered voice broke through his panic and he was able to draw a ragged breath. 

“Do not worry, my boy, I'm sure it will be merely a formality.” Harry attempted to feel reassured by the headmaster's words as Ron resumed running his thumb along his shoulder blade, adding a few squeezes. 

The argument regarding who would accompany Harry to the ministry went on around him as he regained his composure. He was broken from his own thoughts by a startling statement.

“I think it may be ideal then if Severus accompanies him.” There were nods of agreement around the table. Harry abruptly realized he should have paid more attention to the conversation around him. 

A tense silence enveloped the kitchen as the collective held their breath for the inevitable- 

“Absolutely NOT! Snape has no business taking him. He’ll probably just toss him to Voldemort the first chance he gets.” Sirius was angry before. Now, he looked downright murderous. 

“Please Black, pull yourself together.” Snape drawled smoothly. “You’re embarrassing your wolf.” Snape spoke for the first time, lip curled as he sneered down his nose at Sirius. 

Remus had to hold Sirius back as he attempted to lunge across the table at Snape, snarling. Remus strained with the effort of keeping him still. 

Harry felt his body tense up and his palms started to sweat. The room didn’t have enough air for everyone to share. The desire to run grew too strong to ignore. He silently slipped from the table and out of the kitchen door.

They were going to make the decision without him anyway, and he couldn't stand to be around the argument if it got violent. He felt Ron and Hermione at his back, following him from the room. Their unshakable loyalty never failed to comfort him. 

He remained comfortably tucked away in his and Ron’s bedroom for the remainder of the afternoon, filling both his friends in on the bizarre happenings of the morning. He carefully left out the details of his abrupt departure from his relatives, as well as the circumstances of the adoption. 

“Snape, adopted you?” Ron was suitably disturbed by the entire prospect. “That’s bloody mad, mate.” Harry nodded seriously at him. 

Hermione, however, had taken on a reflective expression. Hermione was often too shrewd for Harry's liking. 

“I don’t know that it’s mad. A bit surprising, I'll admit.” Harry sensed that she had more to say on the matter, but had hesitated. Ron exchanged a look with Harry that usually meant he thought Hermione was out of her mind. His eyes widened as he mouthed ‘surprising?’

Thankfully, the subject eventually dropped and they carried on into their usual rhythm. Hermione sat with an oversized book on her lap, while Ron and Harry played a game of chess in which Harry was thoroughly trounced. Harry allowed the warmth and gratitude for his friends to ease him into a comfortable state of peace. 

Later in the evening, when most of the house had retired, Harry sat in front of the fireplace, warming his hands and allowing himself to drift away peacefully. Harry had long ago noticed that he had the ability to separate his mind from his body for a time.

He would unknowingly enter into a state in which he felt detached, as though he was watching the world through a shimmering curtain, his emotions, memories, and stress tucked away, perhaps belonging to another person. It was useful to him through many difficult nights locked in his cupboard, or in Dudley's second bedroom. He could lay in silence, not truly present in his miserable reality.

When at Hogwarts he would often lose himself for great chunks of time, seated by the fireplace in the common room, and would return only when shaken by one of his friends.

Ron referred to these episodes as “Harry on Holiday.” Hermione expressed concerns several times, emphasizing that it wasn't normal to “dissociate” as she called it. Harry already knew he wasn’t normal, so this was hardly revolutionary information. 

Harry’s state was interrupted by the slamming of the drawing room door. Loud voices entered the room, arguing. 

“Yes Snivellus, I do have a problem with your greasy head being anywhere near my godson.” Sirius’s voice rang out, loud and slurred. Harry cringed, and felt a chill up his spine. He hated when people drank near him. Uncle Vernon was always especially cruel after a few glasses of whiskey.

“Sirius, sit down before you fall.” Remus’s voice joined in firmly.

“Yes, please do keep your dog on a leash Lupin.” Sneered Snape. 

“Oh shut up Snape, if we wanted your abnormally large nose in our business we’d ask.” 

Sirius seemed to finally notice that Harry was present in the room. He stumbled to the fire, dropping heavily next to Harry and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Harry flinched and attempted to squirm out of his grasp.

“Harry! Hiya’ kiddo…I'm so glad you’re here… Moony come give ‘m a hug.” Sirius's breath smelled strongly of whiskey. Harry could feel his heart start pounding in his chest. 

“Sirius...” Remus said hesitantly as Harry continued to try to extricate himself from Sirius’s tight grip. Clammy sweat beaded on Harry's brow as he tugged uselessly at the arms around him. 

Sirius, oblivious to Harry's growing distress, spoke in a low, conspiratorial tone, “Com’ on, I'll teach you this jinx I found in one of those creepy books up in the library. It makes ‘m lose control of their bladder.. you can use it at school on those Slytherin snakes.” Sirius wiggled his finger for emphasis. “Bonus points if you do it in front of a girl they fancy…” Sirius laughed so hard that he began to hiccup.

Harry felt a twisting knot in his stomach. He shuddered, and Sirius wrapped a second arm around Harry’s front, boxing him in. 

“That sounds really cruel Sirius.” The knot in his stomach tightened further, memories assaulting him.

"Oh come on, James, you're no fun.” Harry felt his knotted stomach plummet. I’m Harry. A small, heartbroken part of him ached to say aloud. Just as it had when he was a small child and his Aunt would call him “boy.”

His name had always felt like something he had never quite earned- a coveted thing, now reserved for those who loved him. To know Sirius forgot it was more painful than his grip. 

Harry pulled himself forcefully back into the present moment. The trained part of his brain reminded him not to grow distant in the arms of a threat. 

Harry tried again to remove himself from his godfather's arms. Sirius continued to hold onto him, his mumblings becoming more nonsensical by the minute. 

“Black, let him go, he is attempting to flee from you.” Snape drawled from where he had settled himself into an overstuffed armchair. Harry had forgotten he was there. 

“SHUT UP Snivellus…” Harry cowered away from his godfather's shout. Sirius finally glanced down at Harry, noticing at last his distress. His glassy eyes were apologetic. Harry forced himself to remember that this was Sirius. Sirius loved him. 

“Sirius, come on let's go upstairs, Harry’s had a long day.” Remus tugged at Sirius arms, and pulled him from the floor. Harry sighed in relief.

“Kay, okay easy Moony, I'm up. Night kiddo, see ya tomorrow.” He winked and leaned over to rub Harry’s head, causing his hair to become even more unruly. 

“Night Sirius.” 

Harry allowed his shoulders to drop when Remus and Sirius had left the room. He rested his head on his knees as he attempted to flatten his hair again, which was, as usual, a pointless endeavour. He shivered slightly and returned to warming his hands, allowing his mind to drift again. 

“I'm surprised you are not interested in learning that curse, Potter. I'm sure it would be a fine addition to your repertoire for tormenting your school mates.”

Harry had forgotten again that Snape was still in the room. He spun around meeting the black eyes that were looking at him with an inscrutable expression. 

Harry felt rage at the thought rise up in him. 

“I meant what I said before.That curse sounds terribly cruel. That's an awful thing to do to someone." Harry spat. "I'm not Malfoy, I don't go around hexing people.” Snape hummed doubtfully but spoke no further. 

Indigance bubbled up in him at Snape's attitude. Harry's next words were spoken in a deadly, venom laced whisper.

“You…you think you're so clever, you think you know everything! You don't know anything, anything about me if you think I'd do something like that.”

Harry did not wait for a response, he jumped up from the floor and stormed out of the room. 

Pensive dark eyes followed his retreat.

Harry stood with his eyes closed on the other side of the heavy door, anger and embarrassment competing for dominance.

He allowed himself to drift back behind the shimmering curtains in his mind, where it was safe.

Chapter Text

Chapter Six: Not a Fool 

July 30th, 1995 

The morning of Potter's hearing came far too early for Severus. He had hoped for a reprieve from the incessant company of the boy after they had successfully returned their alternate selves to their own universe. Nothing could ever be that simple for Severus. He’d endured  scathing commentary from Black for the past two days each time he dared set foot in headquarters. 

It was not as if Severus wanted the dubious honour of accompanying the obnoxious brat. Severus wondered if the teenager even wanted his godfather to accompany him, following the disgusting display in the drawing room the night of their arrival. 

Potter's clear discomfort in the arms of the drunken mutt had twisted something uncomfortably in Severus' stomach. He’d felt the urge to pry the boy from his grasp, an instinct to pull him away to safety. 

Severus determined that this reaction must have stemmed from his own childhood. Severus could recall many times in his childhood in which his father would come home in a drunken stupor. 

On a good day it may have resulted in the kind of pawing affection Black had shown. More often, it ended with violence. 

Severus could not help but wonder what Potter's aversion to the attention had been. His complete panic had been obvious to anyone present with a functioning brain. 

Severus shoved the questions deep beneath his shields along with every other unsettling thought that attempted to rise up throughout the past two days. He lay in this bed reinforcing his occlumency shields and stuffing all visions of black haired, green eyed brats in a tiny mental box. He locked it tightly. 

When he could delay it no longer, Severus rose and began to prepare for the day. He was decidedly not looking forward to spending the day with Potter. It did not help matters that he would also be surrounded by government sycophants, many of whom would love to see Severus behind bars due to the mark on his arm.

Then there was the matter of obtaining clothing whilst in Diagon Alley. Severus abhorred shopping, and was sure that he’d be forced to endure insufferable whinging throughout the excursion. Children were annoying enough on an average day. 

There was also the consideration of the bloody snake. Severus had promised his counterpart that he would obtain the creature, however, the man was no longer around. Surely providing the boy with the needed clothing and eyewear would be sufficient for his moral conscience. The idiotic Gryffindor hardly needed a snake of all things. He likely wanted it simply to create mischief, or to torment the animal. 

Severus settled it in his mind. No, the last thing the child needed was to be coddled. He had a pet owl already, and did not require more special treatment. 

With this firm thought in mind, Severus felt more prepared to carry on with the day. He carefully dressed and apparated to Grimmauld Place. He entered the house quietly, hoping that Molly Weasley would be awake to offer him breakfast. Severus could do with a good meal, and he privately adored the annoying woman's cooking. 

As Severus approached the door to the kitchen, he heard hushed secretive words. 

“Harry, it’ll be fine. Look if we head out soon before anyone's awake we will be at the ministry before we are even noticed.” Black's voice was unmistakable. “Do you really want to go with old Snivily?” 

The useless mutt was really going to attempt to accompany the brat. Of course, Potter would be all too eager, an attention seeking stunt was due for him about now. 

“Sirius, be reasonable. It's way too dangerous to go out right now. If you get caught, you’ll go straight back to Azkaban, or worse!” Potter sounded surprisingly reasonable and measured. 

“Where’s your sense of adventure? James would have loved sneaking out like this, come on it’ll be fun.” 

“I'm not James.” The boy’s voice sounded odd. Hurt, his brain supplied unhelpfully. 

“I know that!” Black hissed. 

“Do you?” The question was whispered, tentative.

“Yes Harry, of course I know that.. look I'm sorry I keep messing up your name. You just look so much like him I forget. I swear, I know who you are.” 

Potter sighed and was silent for a moment. 

“It’s okay Sirius. Just, maybe I'm not as much of a risk taker as he was. I need you safe. Please.” 

“You’ve fought dragons, and werewolves and basilisks, how can you be afraid of a little outing with your godfather?” 

“That's different!! I had to do those things or die. It wasn’t some grand adventure, it was horrid, and terrifying. This is an idiotic risk to take just because you're feeling useless and can’t do anything for the Order!” Potter's voice had risen to a hushed shout. 

The room fell silent. Severus could hear the tapping of an anxious foot on the tiled floor. 

“Fine, Harry, if that's what you think.” Black’s tone had grown cold. Clearly his godson had struck a nerve. 

“Sirius…” Potter's voice was pleading. 

“No it’s fine, really. Go with Snape, have a great time.” The man took on a boyish sulk that caused Severus to cringe. Was he truly that immature? He scoffed internally. What an unnecessary question. 

The doors suddenly swung open, revealing Severus standing in the hall. Black's face twisted in disgust as he looked Severus up and down. 

“Of course you were eavesdropping on us, you slimy little snake. Is it any wonder you’re so unlikable?” Sirius smiled with false pity. “Poor thing, still haven’t got any friends?” 

Severus grabbed his wand, prepared to show the disgusting animal just what he had learned since their schooldays. He was interrupted by a firm but childish voice. 

“Sirius stop, you're being nasty.” 

“I’m being nasty? Are you really defending Snape right now?” Black sneered. “Greasy little git isn’t worth your breath, Harry.” 

“I said stop it.” The boy's face was unmovable, his eyes flashing in suppressed anger. Severus pushed away the memories of those green eyes on another face, defending him from this same despicable man. 

“It is of no matter, Potter, we have somewhere to be. Get dressed and meet me in the drawing room.” 

Severus spun on his heel and strode to the drawing room, standing by the fireplace rather than risk sitting on the dusty furniture again. 

He was not left waiting long as Potter entered the room. He was dressed in what was clearly borrowed clothing, slightly too large in the sleeves and ankles. Severus scoffed. Had no one seen to properly outfitting the child? 

“Come here Potter, we need to fix your robe before we leave, the hearing board will not take kindly to ill fitting robes.” How did seamstress duty fall to Severus? 

“Sorry sir, my trunk is still at the Dursleys, otherwise I would have worn my school robes. This one used to belong to Charlie.” Why had no one thought to retrieve Potter's belongings? Had he been simply using borrowed clothing for the past two days. It hardly seemed like Potter to do so without complaint. 

“We will have to see about retrieving your trunk Potter. For now, come here.” 

Severus made quick work of altering spells to shorten the sleeves and hem of the robe. He was no seamstress, but it would do in a pinch. 

“That's brilliant sir, thank you!” Potter seemed genuinely thrilled at the simple magic. 

“It is nothing. Let us depart.” 

Severus removed the portkey from his robe pocket, a simple worn down notebook with brown faded covering. Potter frowned at the object as if it had uttered an offense against him.

“Is that a portkey?” 

“No Potter, it's my diary. Yes of course it's a portkey, did no one inform you of our method of travel?” 

“No sir.” The boy had turned an ashen colour, glaring down at the portkey. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Severus heard him mutter, “you're a bloody Gryffindor, stop it.” Severus could not imagine what would have the boy calling upon his courage. It was only a portkey, he'd used them before.. 

It abruptly occurred to Severus what the issue was. 

“Potter. Look at me. This portkey is going to take us to the ministry, only there.” It pained him slightly to offer reassurances to him, but he couldn't afford for the teenager to have a panic attack before they even made it to the hearing. 

“I know that.” Potter said petulantly, crossing his arms in a childish gesture. 

“Good, then you won’t have an issue with using it. Grab onto the cover and hold tight.” 

Potter took one last deep breath and grasped the cover. For one moment before the portkey tugged them away, Severus saw a deep well of fear and grief in his eyes. 

They landed in the alleyway just beside the Ministry public entrance. Potter fell immediately to the ground on his hands and knees, breathing heavily. His face was flushed and he was trembling slightly. Severus debated how best to manage the situation. He certainly would not coddle a teenager too frightened to use a portkey normally. He ignored the slight twist in abdomen as he pictured the last time Potter had taken a portkey. Watching him return screaming and clutching at a dead boy had been unsettling to say the least. 

“Come along Potter, you can’t stay on the ground all day.” Severus handed him a vial of lavender potion, a stomach soother. The teenager eyed it wearily before downing it quickly at Severus's pointed glare. He allowed the boy a few moments to gather himself before hauling him gracelessly to his feet. Potter swayed slightly before righting himself and taking another steadying breath. 

Severus quickly guided Potter through the entrance to the Ministry, past the welcome witch and into the lifts. They were quite early for the hearing, but Severus wanted to take him down to the assigned room to wait. It would certainly look better if they ensured they were on time. Severus would not be accused of executing his task poorly. Black would be even more insufferable than usual if he did. 

They reached the doors of the waiting room with what should have been plenty of time to spare. However, as it turned out, they were nearly late, as the hearing had been moved up without their knowledge. Additionally, they were directed to courtroom ten, where Potter was tried in front of the entire Wizagamont. Severus was begrudgingly impressed that the usually impulsive teenager was able to reign in his notorious temper to calmly answer Fudge's asinine questions. His desire to slap the man increased as Potter began to tremble lightly in his chair. 

Severus had been concerned about the direction the trial was taking before Albus swooped in and managed to have the boy cleared of all charges. The Headmaster left just as abruptly, not sparing a glance for Potter. 

With the trial concluded, Severus guided Potter back out from the Ministry and toward the Leaky Cauldron. He was quiet, but smiling slightly, clearly relieved at having not been expelled from school. Severus stopped him in an alley and quickly downed a vial of Polyjuice potion. He grimaced as he felt his features shift into a younger man, perhaps a few years out of Hogwarts with sandy brown hair and blue eyes. Potter watched him closely but made no comment. Perhaps he possessed just enough intellect to understand that it was unwise for him to be seen purchasing supplies for Potter unaccompanied in Diagon Alley. 

“Let’s go, Potter.” Severus pulled on his arm leading him out into the street. 

“Are we going to Diagon Alley, sir?” Potter finally asked. His power of observation certainly needed work. 

“Yes, you need your school things do you not?” Merlin save Severus from idiotic school children. 

“Oh.” 

“Yes, oh indeed.” Severus said sardonically. 

Severus led the teenager first to Flourish and Blotts. He noticed Potter was glancing back anxiously, clearly wanting to comment on their destination. Likely, the prospect of books was far less interesting than dragging Severus towards the broomsticks and snitches across the street.  

Potter finally worked up the courage to intervene. 

“Erm excuse me sir, would it be possible to stop at Gringotts first? Only, I don't have any money with me.” Potter looked oddly nervous about such a request. 

“That won’t be necessary Potter.” Severus dismissed him. 

“I can’t get my school supplies without my money sir.” The boy began to fidget and continued to glance toward the bank. 

“And I told you, the matter is settled, the books will be paid for.” 

“By Hogwarts?” 

“It doesn't matter, Potter.” 

“It matters to me!” 

“Let it drop. Now.” 

“I can’t! Really sir, just if we could stop quickly at the bank I can get the money. I'll be very fast, I promise.”

“Stop this immediately, we are not going to the bank. Your supplies are paid for.” Severus felt himself beginning to lose his temper. 

Potter opened his mouth to say more, but wisely shut it with a snap at Severus’s most no nonsense glare. He ducked his head and nodded silently. 

They entered the bookstore and Severus began to gather up the required books from the fifth year book list. Potter followed behind him without speaking,  anxiously twisting his hands together. This was repeated at the next two stores as they gathered school robes and potions ingredients. Severus thought instructing the boy to pick out stationary would be a simple affair, however, he became even more distressed while looking at a selection of quills. 

Severus watched him grapple with himself, clearly wanting to say something. 

“What is it Potter? Is picking out simple stationary too arduous for your Gryffindor brain?” Severus sneered. 

“No sir, it's just.. I usually get some muggle notebooks and pens as well.” 

“That's fine, we need to stop on the muggle side of London regardless to get you some clothing.”

“Clothing?” Potter blinked at him, tilting his head in confusion. 

“Yes Potter, garments to put on your body, perhaps you are familiar with the concept?” 

“I have clothes already, they are in my trunk.” Potter stated, staring straight ahead. 

“I've seen the despicable rags you wear, Potter, we will be replacing your wardrobe. I assume you like to have some muggle clothes in addition to your robes? I have seen you wear muggle clothing during the weekends at Hogwarts.” Severus surveyed the teen who was examining his feet with an unreadable expression. 

“If we are going to do more shopping, we should really stop by the bank sir.” Severus bit his tongue to stop from snapping. 

“If you do not drop this topic Potter you will be the first to receive a detention prior to the start of term.” 

“But…!” 

“ That's enough.” Severus startled himself with the tone that emerged from his mouth. It was far too close to Severus's alternate self’s parental sounding reprimands. 

Thankfully, Potter stuck his head down and grabbed a small set of quills and ink. As they left the store, Severus inquired, 

“Do you have everything you need now?” 

“Yes, sir.” Potter replied quickly, then looked slightly abashed. 

“Well, actually, if it's not too much trouble, I need some things for my owl.” 

“Fine.” The insufferable child had to make everything more difficult than it needed to be. 

As they made their way to the Magical Menagerie, they passed by Fortescue's ice cream parlor. Severus was forcibly reminded of an early trip to Diagon Alley he had taken with a young Draco. The boy had screamed and dragged his feet along the ground when told he couldn’t have ice cream. Severus hoped Potter was old enough to abstain from such antics, but one could never be sure. 

Fortescue himself was sweeping the front of the shop as they went by. He caught sight of Potter and his eyes brightened, a smile stretching across his face. 

“Do my eyes deceive me? Could that be young Harry Potter?” The man called out to them. Severus scoffed; he had wondered how long it would take before fans descended upon the Boy-Who-Lived, demanding autographs. Severus braced himself for the rest of Diagon Alley to notice the celebrity. Severus would not allow the boy to strut about signing autographs and taking photos with his admiring public. 

Before Severus could intervene, Potter looked up toward the man and smiled brightly giving a small wave. 

“Hello Mr. Fortescue! It’s nice to see you, sir, how are you?” The boy walked closer to the older man, reaching out a hand. 

“Harry! How many times must I tell you, there’s no need to call me Sir?” The man said in a mock admonishing tone. 

“At least once more, sir.” Potter replied cheekily, hand still outstretched. 

Fortescue tapped the hand out of the way and gently pulled Potter closer to him, wrapping him in a warm embrace. He pulled back with his hands on the boy's shoulders looking him over. 

“Much too thin as usual. Come in, you'll have a sundae on the house, just like old times.” Fortescue said with a smile. Of course, Potter had been manipulating this kind man into giving him free things, despite a bank full of Potter gold. His hesitancy in accepting the money for school supplies must have been an act. How often had he used his celebrity status to trick unsuspecting businesses into giving him what he wanted? Obnoxious, arrogant brat. 

“I think Mr. Potter here can pass on exploiting his fame for free ice cream, I'm sure he can manage without it this once. We have places to be.” Severus sneered. 

Fortescue turned to Severus, frowning slightly before plastering on a false smile. 

“Oh! I think you have misunderstood the situation young man. Harry hasn’t taken advantage of anything. Quite the opposite in fact. Harry offered me his services for a few weeks, summer before last.” The man’s smile turned genuine. “ Truly a lifesaver during the busier times. Hard worker this boy is, but wouldn't let me pay him a sickle. He never turned down a nice ice cream sundae though.” The man continued to smile and pat Potter’s shoulders. 

“How could anyone turn down your ice cream Mr. Fortescue ?” Potter added smoothly. 

“Always a charmer this one.” Fortescue winked at Severus, as if he would find himself in agreement to this claim.

“How else would I get extra chocolate sauce?” Potter smirked.

The man chuckled deeply, smiling fondly at the boy in front of him. Potter gave the man a single pat on the shoulder and stepped back. 

“I'm sorry sir, but we really do need to get going. Thank you very much for the offer, perhaps some other time.” Potter nodded politely to the man, smiling gently. 

“Ah, that's too bad, you young ones always have places to be. You know you are welcome here anytime, Harry. This old man could use your company, I'll even throw in some extra peanuts if you’re good.” He winked at Potter and patted him once more on the shoulder. 

Severus pondered what it was about Potter that had so many adults fooled. The staff room at Hogwarts was constantly chattering about Potter being polite, humble, sweet. Even poor old Fortesque had fallen for the act, calling the boy hardworking and generous.

Severus was not going to be played for a fool. Potter Sr. had always managed to charm the adults in his life, while tormenting those he saw as lesser than. His son was surely no different. 

Oh, you don’t really believe that though, do you?  Severus attempted to shake the mocking voice out of his head. 

After extracting Potter from the old doting man, they made their goodbyes and continued on to the Menagerie. Severus was acutely aware of the lingering promise his counterpart had made. He was dreading the confrontation that was sure to occur when he told Potter he would not be getting the snake. 

Prior to the outing Severus would have predicted a temper tantrum, demanding that he be given the creature as promised. However, he had been surprised throughout the day at the distinct lack of complaining. Severus could only hope that this amiable attitude continued. 

The bell on the door jangled merrily as they entered the store. It was a chaotic place with sounds and smells that assaulted Severus's senses. Animals of various types were locked in cages, their bright colours, chirps, and growls overwhelming him. Severus lingered slightly in the doorway as Potter moved quickly through the store, gathering some treats and supplies for his owl. Severus observed him as he stopped in front of a tank, where a bright emerald snake lifted its head to stare at him. Potter leant close to the glass and whispered something to the inquisitive snake. The snake tilted its head in return and Potter laughed, shaking his head. 

The teenager then shuffled his feet, shook his head sadly at the snake and finally walked toward the cash register. Severus followed him to pay for the owl supplies. Potter looked sheepish, as he had at every store when Severus had pulled out his coin purse. 

The shopkeeper was smirking slightly at the boy as he tailed the purchases. 

“How's your little friend lad? I think she's still waiting for you to buy her.. won't let me sell her to anyone else. Last customer who was interested, she wrapped so tightly around his neck he started turning blue. You’ll need to take her off my hands eventually. Such a beauty she is but doesn't want not a soul but you.” Severus braced himself for Potter to begin his complaints that he had been promised the snake, however was taken by surprise when he simply shrugged a shoulder, smiled at the man and thanked him for his help with his purchases. He took the bag from the counter and gave a polite wave.

Severus noticed his eyes followed the emerald snake as he left the store, looking sadly at the creature. Still, he did not open his mouth to ask Severus to fulfill the obligation. Severus was somewhat taken back but refused to feel guilty. It was not as if he was the one who had made the promise. The image of Potter sitting on his sofa, making an exchange with his counterpart, eyes bright with excitement despite his injuries entered his mind. Severus shoved it away with a scoff. He would not turn into the soft pathetic version of himself he had met. The one that confidently referred to the boy as his son. Severus shook his head on disdain as he exited the store. 

They had one last stop to make before heading into muggle London. While the boy could certainly survive without a new pet, his counterpart had insisted that he needed new glasses. That was an obligation that Severus felt comfortable providing. The child needed to be able to see, if his insufferable squinting was anything to go by. 

As he guided Potter towards the eye clinic, he glanced back at Severus in confusion.

“Where are we going, sir?” 

“To get your eyes looked at.” 

“My eyes?” 

“Yes in the middle of your face, generally used to see? Surely you’ve been to a healer or doctor before to obtain those abominations on your face.” 

Potter shrugged and looked pensive for a moment. 

“I don't think so, Aunt Petunia got these out of the charity shop. She said there was no such a thing as an eye doctor...” Severus scowled at this, looking over at the aforementioned eyes and seeing no lie in them, only confusion. 

“Well you will get your eyes examined today and I will hear no complaints about it.” Severus stated sternly. 

“Yes, sir.” Potter whispered. 

They entered the clinic and were greeted by a cheerful receptionist. 

“Oh hello there! Welcome to Esoteric Optics. What can I help you with today?” Severus sneered at the overly chipper girl. 

“We need an eye exam for him.” Severus said shortly, gesturing to the teenager who was flattening his hair compulsively over his forehead. 

“No problem! Can I get your name young man?” 

“Oliver Hughes.” Potter cut in smoothly before Severus could answer. Did he have an alias prepared in advance? Severus would have thought the boy would wish to flaunt his status in the Wizarding world. Although, perhaps he was aware of the slander he was currently experiencing in the press. 

“Okay Oliver, I'll take you into an exam room and get you settled, the healer will be right with you.” She led them into a small room equipped with glowing orbs that floated across the ceiling flickering various symbols on the walls. A small examination bench was positioned in the middle of the room, spinning instruments fixed to the side. She had Potter sit up on the bench where he shuffled anxiously glancing wearily at the instruments. 

“Why did you lie about your name? Concerned that you’ve lost fans due to the bad press?” Severus inquired when the annoying witch had left them in the room. 

“No. I just don't like all the fuss.” Potter responded distractedly as he continued to look around the room anxiously. 

Severus raised a doubtful eyebrow at him. 

“I’ve never seen you complain about the attention before.” 

“Maybe you need your eyes checked too.” Potter said seriously. 

Potter was saved from the tongue lashing he was about to receive by the timely entrance of the eye healer. The healer was a middle aged wizard with chestnut brown hair. He was dressed in electric blue robes, a pointed hat with little pictures of eyeballs atop his head. Severus scoffed internally at the ridiculous ensemble. Perhaps he should have taken the boy to a more reputable establishment that wasn't run by obnoxious Hufflepuffs. 

Potter sat still as the eye healer waved his wand over him several times. He conjured a chart filled with complicated runes and floated it in front of Potter face, asking him to stare at them as they turned to a glowing gold one by one. 

His frown became deeper as the exam continued.

“When was the last time you had your eyes looked at, young man?” 

“I don't think I've ever had them looked at sir.” 

The man scowled deeply at that, glancing at Severus as if he were to blame. 

“Hmm, we must adjust your prescription, I can't imagine how you're able to see at all with the ones you have. They don’t match your prescription in the slightest. You must get terrible headaches.” 

“Oh, yes, I get a lot of headaches, I thought it was because of my sca… I mean, you think it’s from my glasses?” 

“A poor prescription can certainly lead to headaches, eye strain is very detrimental!” He looked over at Severus again, looking angry. 

“I must inquire, sir, why you have not sought out eyewear for your son previously, he is too old for this to be a simple lack of awareness.” 

“He is not my son.” Severus shuddered at the implication, he ignored Potters flinch. “I am a teacher at Hogwarts, he is in my care temporarily” 

The healer relaxed slightly, although still looked somewhat dubiously at Severus before turning back to Potter.

“No matter, we will get you sorted.” He cast a smile at the boy, who remained weary.  

The healer returned with several pairs of glasses, and had Potter try each of them on. It was evident when they had found the correct prescription as the boy's eyes widened and he gasped. His head spun around the room, eyes rapidly taking in the environment as if he’d never seen the world before. His mouth was gaped, opening and closing before snapping shut. 

The healer chuckled, “seeing things a little clearer?” 

Potter spun his head back around and looked at the Healer. His eyes darted about a bit wildly and his breathing grew rapid. The healer looked concerned as he placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. Potter flinched away from his touch. 

“There there, it's normal to get a bit overwhelmed.” The healer glanced at Severus for assistance, to which Severus returned a glare. A panicking teenager was hardly his specialty. Unless of course, one considered inducing their panic a specialty, which incidentally, Severus did. 

Potter raised his head to look at the Healer. He was still breathing uneveningly, but appeared to have pulled himself together slightly. 

“Thank you, thank you so much.” His voice came out steady, face betraying his sincerity. 

“It has been my pleasure Mr. Hughes. You will need to return to me at least once per year to have your eyes examined again. It should not have been left this long.” 

Potter nodded and was directed to select frames. He chose a simple pair, round, but with thinner, lighter, metal frames than his previous glasses. Severus was privately relieved that he hadn’t chosen the gold rimmed pair, they were far too similar to what alternate Potter had worn.

After they had paid for the purchase, they made their way toward the entrance to Muggle London. Potter was incessant throughout the walk, his mouth moving in constant chatter. Severus had not realized how blissfully silent the boy had been earlier in the day.

“Look at that sir! Do you see all the leaves on that tree? Wow, the colour of that building is brilliant! Have you ever seen something so blue? Oh! Look at the sky!” On it went, with Potter bouncing beside him like an overly excited puppy, pointing out mundane objects with unbound enthusiasm. 

Severus finally grew tired of the exuberant teen and snapped, “would you be silent, boy?” Potter immediately quieted, a stone mask settling over his face. He turned his head toward his shoes. 

“Sorry, sir, I'll be quiet.” He said tonelessly. He remained silent and ceased bouncing on the remainder of the walk and while they gathered his muggle clothes. Severus insisted on several pairs of sensible trousers, shirts, jumpers, socks, shoes, and to their mutual mortification, pants. Potter remained unnaturally still as they stood at the cash register, speaking only when prompted by Severus. His silence began to grate on Severus's nerves. If Potter wanted to sulk, let him, it was not going to make Severus feel badly about snapping at him. 

They stopped at a muggle stationary store where Potter picked out several pens, notebooks, and colour coded files. Severus could not imagine what use Potter would have for such supplies, it spoke of a well organized student, which Potter was most assuredly not. 

With great relief, Severus determined that they had purchased everything he needed. He was glad that he would soon be able to drop Potter back at headquarters and wash his hands of the matter. The boy had been cleared of charges, was outfitted with new clothes and glasses, and had all his supplies for the school year. With his obligations fulfilled, Severus could return to having as little interaction with Potter as possible. The sooner he was away from the child, the better. 

As they arrived at Grimmauld Place, they were greeted by a horde of red hair, all excitedly chattering about his aquittal. Molly Weasley moved her children out of the way and placed her hands firmly on Potter’s shoulders. 

“Let's get you some lunch, you must be hungry, have you had anything to eat? You skipped out on breakfast.”

“No I haven't, Mrs. Weasley, lunch would be great!” 

Severus felt an abrupt sense of guilt settle over him. The boy had not eaten all day? Why had he not informed Severus? It was nearly three in the afternoon. Severus knew that teenagers were notoriously hungry, given their rapid growth. Potter had not complained of hunger once throughout their day. Severus's guilt was compounded when Molly Weasley set her eyes on him, clearly furious that he had slipped in the obligation to feed the child while in his care. It was, admittedly, a rather basic requirement of the job.  

She said nothing however, and moved Potter toward the kitchen. He turned his head back as he was steered away, sending a shy smile at Severus.

“Thank you Professor, for everything. Sorry for being such a bother today.” His eyes flicked down to his shoes. Severus felt guilt clench in his stomach once more. 

Potter was shuffled into the kitchen before Severus could manage to conjure any meaningful reply. He silently left the house, accurately assessing that the lunch invitation would not extend to him today. No matter, he needed to pay a visit to Number 4 Privet Drive. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven: Best Friend

Upon his arrival back at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry was subjected to endless questions about his trial. He had been flooded with relief when the verdict was given. Cleared of all charges, returning to Hogwarts. Returning home. The thought of being sent back to the Dursleys in a permanent capacity caused him to shiver.

There was still the matter of next summer, whether he would be forced to return. Harry was seriously considering running away in that case. His previous runaway attempts had been more spur of the moment. 

Harry no longer felt bound to his promises to Dumbledore. Dumbledore was always insistent that Harry needed to return to his relatives, but couldn't even be bothered to glance at Harry during the trial. He tried not to be hurt by the lack of attention from the Headmaster. He had looked through him as if he were invisible. Harry had his fill of that treatment at the Dursleys.

Well, if he wanted Harry to go back there, he’d have to drag him kicking and screaming himself. 

Despite the early excitement of the trial, Harry’s mind was far more focused on the rest of the afternoon. Snape had acted strangely throughout the shopping excursion. The man had insisted that Harry shouldn't use his own money, which left a pit in Harry’s stomach. Aunt Petunia had always made it very clear that paying for clothes, school supplies, and glasses was a heavy burden. He felt his stomach turn at the thought of being in debt to Snape.

After Snape had been uncharacteristically nice to him all day, Harry had messed up and annoyed him. He never could have imagined how the world might look with proper glasses. His surroundings had amazed him to the point that he couldn't shut himself up. Snape had held his temper all day and Harry had gone and ruined it right at the end. He had forgotten the most important rule. 

“Freaks should stay silent, pretend they don’t exist.” 

Harry had mourned the fact that the other Snape had left before he could fulfill his agreement to buy the lovely Emerald Boa. Harry had adored the snake since the first time they had spoken. Ssyra, she had called herself. She had been thrilled to meet a speaker, and had monopolized Harry’s attention, frustrating the other snakes who had all wanted to speak to Harry. 

She was a unique creature, with a strong personality Harry couldn’t help but admire. She was bold and funny, always providing Harry with the latest gossip from the Menagerie.

Harry developed a soft spot for Ssyra after the shopkeeper explained that she'd been a rescue case. She was found in a raid of a squib's basement, full of desperately ill animals, including about one hundred other snakes.

The man responsible was an illegal breeder who used the snakes for their potions properties, without any care for their wellbeing. He had starved them and allowed them to suffer in neglect. Ssyra was much smaller than she ought to have been, stunted due to malnutrition and lack of light. 

Harry had cried when she told him how hungry she’d been. 

Perhaps, Harry thought, he would be able to go to Diagon Alley again sometime in the summer. If he could get some gold from Gringotts, then he could simply buy Ssyra himself. Hopefully, the rule about Parselmouths having pet snakes at school was true. Harry would ask Hermione when he had a chance. Surely it was mentioned in Hogwarts: A History. 

Once they had settled into the kitchen, Ron had requested a dramatic reenactment of the trial. Harry was far more focused on inhaling his lunch. He had to be careful with the amount he ate, even though Mrs. Weasley was a fantastic cook, he needed to pace himself.

His stomach was always sensitive after returning from the Dursleys, as he had limited food supply for several weeks. He developed the skill of eating neatly, but efficiently, Aunt Petunia would snatch his food away if he wasn’t eating politely enough. It never seemed to be an issue for precious Dudley, of course.

As Harry had finished up as much of his lunch as he was able to, he stealthy pocketed a roll from the table. He always felt better if he had some food tucked away for emergencies. Harry didn't like to think too deeply about the meaning of this action. He flattened his sweatshirt pocket nervously when he heard shuffling by the door.

“Hey Harry, could we talk for a minute?” Sirius poked his head into the kitchen, looking sheepish. It was a strange look for the normally brash and confident man. 

“Course, Sirius, just let me wash up first.“ Harry moved to take his dishes to the sink but was intercepted by Mrs. Weasley who tutted at him, batting his hands away from the dishes. She patted his cheek and pushed him gently from the kitchen.

Harry followed Sirius down the hall and up the stairs. He grew nervous as Sirius did not speak on the entirety of the walk. He led Harry out onto the roof of the house, it was a warm afternoon, a cool breeze ruffled the trees in the garden.

Sirius sat down and gestured for Harry to join him. They sat in silence for a few moments before Harry felt he could no longer stand the anticipation.

“Sirius, I'm really sorry about what I said this morning.” 

“It’s okay kiddo, I'm the one who should be sorry. I’ve been a head case.” Sirius reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of muggle cigarettes. He stuck one in his mouth and offered the packet to Harry. 

“Er, no thanks Sirius, Mrs. Weasley would have my head... and yours probably.” 

“Right, sorry. Sometimes I forget you’re still a teenager. You’re so much more mature than we were at fifteen.” He smiled wryly. 

“I’m not fifteen yet.” Harry smiled at Sirius, glad that this conversation was going well, after the previous days of tension between them. 

“True.” Sirius sighed. “I really am sorry, Harry. Getting drunk and falling all over you, mucking up your name all the time. I feel like an arse.” 

“It's okay Sirius, really.” Harry reassured him, ignoring the fact that it hardly felt okay. 

“When you were born, I thought your parents would name Remus as your godfather. James and I were closer, maybe, but I was never the responsible one."

Sirius smiled grimly. "The day I met you, I swore that if I ever needed to, I would step up, grow up, to do right by you.” Sirius put his head in his hands. “The first thing I did was chase after Peter like an idiot. I got myself locked up, and you got shipped off with Lily’s sister.” 

“Sirius...” 

“No Harry, don’t say anything. You’re a sweet kid, I know you’ll want to make me feel better. I’ve made so many mistakes." Sirius lifted his head and looked intensely at Harry. "I've been thinking all summer about having you here with me, and I’ve already ruined it. I'm a mess kid. I don’t know how… how to do this right.” He gestured vaguely at Harry. 

Harry didn't know how to respond. He hesitated for a long moment, before he shuffled slightly closer to Sirius. He put a tentative arm around his back. Sirius dropped his head to Harry’s shoulder and began to cry, his body shaking. 

“It’s okay Sirius, I'm here, I've got you.” He reassured his sobbing godfather. 

“Now look at me, I come out here to apologize to you and you end up comforting me. I'm such a fuck up.” 

They sat together on the roof for a while, as Sirius’s breathing became even and he raised his head up off of Harry’s shoulder. He took Harry’s chin into his hand and rubbed his thumb across his cheek. It took a great deal of effort for Harry to remain in place. He could not think of many occasions in which having his chin grabbed had resulted in anything good for him. 

“You’re a good kid, Harry. Your parents would be really proud. I know I am.” Harry felt his face flush and a pleased fluttering entered his chest. No one had ever told him they were proud of him before. He felt horribly aware that he would do just about anything to hear those words again.

Sirius smiled and ruffled his hair, saying roughly, “Alright, I better get you back inside before Molly finds us on the roof and wrings my neck.” He smiled and winked. 

Harry’s chest still felt tight as he and Sirius separated, and Harry went to his room to have a lie down. The day had been emotionally and physically exhausting. His bed looked incredibly appealing. He stripped off his robes and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Little Whinging, Surrey was just as unpleasant as Severus had imagined. The streets were lined with identical houses and perfectly manicured gardens. The homes were completely devoid of any personal touches, as if the occupants feared even the slightest deviation from the norm. It was unnervingly exact and soulless, precisely the type of area Severus would expect Petunia Evans to reside in. 

Severus approached Number 4, examining for the first time Potter's childhood home. The garden was immaculate, hedges perfectly trimmed, garden manicured with obsessive precision. 

Severus shuddered at the idyllic looking house. He sneered at the white picket fence, as if it was a personal offense. Severus allowed himself to dwell on the state Potter had been in when Severus's counterpart had retrieved him. Beaten, dirty, and terribly small. A child like that should not have been carried out of a house that looked like this. 

He raised his fist to knock on the door. He waited several moments before determining that Potter's relatives were not home. Severus was not to be deterred, however, as he did not travel to this horrific muggle neighborhood to leave empty handed. 

He discreetly withdrew his wand and unlocked the door, slipping inside the house. His nostrils were overtaken by the smell of strong cleaning supplies, bleach and something lemony that made Severus’s nose twitch. The inside of the house was just as perfectly tended as the outside had been. 

Severus pictured the wild haired boy, outflying a dragon, fighting basilisks, and death eaters. Bold enough to talk back even to the most fearsome potions professor. 

It was difficult to picture that boy living here, in this plain, oppressively orderly home. 

Severus decided to humour his curiosity and take a look around the home. He was drawn to the living room, where tasteless sofas centered around a large television set. Every surface was covered in photographs of a chubby blonde boy at various ages. 

On the wall hung achievement certificates with the name Dudley Dursley across them. Upon closer inspection he noticed the achievements were completely ridiculous.

"Head Teachers Award to Dudley Dursley for Always Eating Up His Lunch,” and “Successfully Swam Half a Length of the Pool.”

Severus looked at the display with disdain. There was even an eighth place ribbon affixed to the wall in a shiny silver frame. 

Notably absent from the decor was any indication that another child had lived in the home for the past thirteen years. If it had not been for the photographs including Petunia's horse-like scowl Severus might have thought he was in the wrong house entirely. 

Severus continued to look for a glimpse of a messy headed boy amongst the many photos in the house, and found none. He was struck by how much this absence bothered him. He’d have thought he’d be overjoyed by the notion of the boy having never existed. 

He ventured finally up the stairs to search for Potter's possessions. He was beginning to get a strange feeling the longer he spent in the house. An instinct that caused Severus' chest to tighten slightly with anxiety. Something was decidedly off about this home. 

What appeared to be a guest room and the main bedroom were situated opposite each other at the top of the stairs. Both were well appointed with expensive looking furniture and ugly decor. Further along past the bathroom, Severus found two additional doors. 

One was covered in several padlocks and deadbolts that locked from the outside. A cat flap was installed on the bottom of the doorway. Severus felt his heart clench in his chest. He glanced into the other bedroom, knowing instinctively that it was not the room he was looking for. 

The bedroom was filled with electronic games, a large bed, and an even larger television. There was a mini fridge tucked beside the bed, which was well used if the empty wrappers surrounding the floor were any indication. Pictures of the large blond boy with his arms slung around friends were hung on the walls. Clearly not Potter's room. 

Severus took a bracing breath as he turned to the locked door. He waved his wand and quickly unlocked the door, pushing it open with his boot. Inside he found a bleak room, dim and dirty, with tattered mismatched furniture that looked on the verge of collapse.

The wardrobe door hung off its hinges, inside were carefully hung articles of clothing. All grey, ripped, and old. Concerningly, the small window had prison bars on the outside, a fact which Severus could not find the will to deal with presently.

The single mattress on the bed was threadbare and worn, with only a small ripped sheet and an oddly intact blue blanket that looked new. Severus picked it up and felt a strum of familiar magic emanating from it. Embroidered carefully on the blanket in delicate gold thread was “Harry James Potter, July 31st 1980.” 

Severus gasped and dropped the blanket. Lily had embroidered it, and clearly embedded it with a preservation charm. Her clever magic was still present on the article nearly fifteen years after it's creation. His heart took a momentary holiday from beating. 

Severus had to breathe deeply to shake himself free of memories and redouble his efforts to the task at hand. It didn't appear that Potter's trunk was stored in this pathetic room. As he stepped away from the bed, he disrupted a loose floorboard, and crouched to pull it up.

Inside, Potter had squirreled away various food items, mostly with shelf life capabilities. Chocolate frogs, individually wrapped pumpkin pasties, small boxes of cereal he recognized from breakfasts in the Great Hall.

There were several letters that appeared to be from Black, Granger, and Weasley which Severus pushed aside. Wrapped carefully in a piece of delicate cloth was a framed photograph of Lily holding a tiny black haired baby.

It was a muggle photo, unmoving, but the devotion etched onto her face did not require magic to convey. Severus’s heart flipped and he quickly shoved the photo to the side with the letters.

As Severus pulled the letters and food out of the floorboard, an unframed Polaroid photograph slipped out. It was a worn and old picture of a small grass snake, cradled gently in a tiny hand. Severus flipped the photograph over and written in childish script was, My Best Friend, Salcadith: 1988.

Severus continued to search through the floor and found more pictures, many of the little snake at various stages of development, hand drawn pictures in crayon depicting a small black haired boy and a gray snake on adventures to the library, to the park, tucked into the front pocket of the boys hooded sweatshirt. 

Severus wondered what had become of the little snake. Grass snakes typically lived at least ten years, longer if they were cared for and provided with food. 

Perhaps Potter had abandoned the snake when he’d been accepted to Hogwarts. Although, why would he have kept the photographs and pictures with his other treasures if he didn't value the animal? Severus dismissed the thoughts, it hardly mattered what Potter had done with his pet snake. Sitting in the depressing bedroom had caused Severus to think too deeply about the boy. 

Severus pulled himself up from the floor, shaking himself from his contemplative thoughts. The state of Potter's bedroom painted a specific picture of the type of childhood the boy had experienced. 

Severus had attempted to disengage himself from the reality of the injuries Potter had shown up to Spinners End possessing. He now realized that the past two days had been an exercise in deep denial. He had hoped against hope that the belt marks were the result of a rare occurrence, a singular episode of violence triggered by the threat against Dursleys son. This bedroom spoke of a much more sinister situation. 

Severus found himself frozen to the spot, unable to consolidate the image of the Potter he knew, insolent and spoiled, with the child who would have grown up in this room. Severus had experience dealing with children from abusive homes, he had seen no signs of abuse in the brash, confident Gryffindor. 

“You see what you expect to see, Severus.”

Severus felt his world tilting on its axis, unclear how to proceed now that he had more information. The alternative universe version of himself had been insistent that Potter not be returned to this home. He had also suggested that Albus would be opposed to permanent removal. Severus could not comprehend that Albus would consider such a thing, armed with the knowledge Severus now possessed. No child should live like this. 

He gathered up the meager belongings that Potter had hidden beneath the floorboards, wrapped them carefully in the baby blanket before he shrunk them and tucked them away in his robes.

He glanced at the wardrobe before considering lighting the offending thing and its ragged contents on fire. A quick search of the room determined there was nothing worth keeping. It eased the tension in his chest to know that he’d purchased new clothing for the boy already. 

Severus left the bedroom and descended the staircase, just as the front door opened, and a large mustached man walked in. He took one look at Severus before he began to turn red. 

“Who the bloody HELL are you?!” The man thundered, marching toward the stairs with a fist raised. His immediate response was a desire to curse the offensive man into the next month. However, Severus was determined to take a practical approach. 

Only a Gryffindor would approach such a potential learning opportunity with brash actions. 

“I’m Severus Snape, I'm a professor at your nephew's school. I've come to collect his belongings.” Severus stated coolly. This, apparently, was the wrong thing to say, the man turned an even deeper shade of red. 

“So you’re one of those freaks then. I should have known, barging into my house. Don't they teach manners at that freak school?” Severus felt himself bristle at the word, freak. It was one of Petunia's favourite insults for Lily and Severus. 

“Show me where you keep his things and I'll be on my way Mr. Dursley.” Severus was becoming impatient with the obnoxious man. 

“I don’t know what tales he has been telling, but I'll have you know I come home from work and he's disappeared, without so much as a by your leave. That old Dumblydoor tells me I need to keep him here, but if he runs off I won’t be held responsible!” 

The man scowled and shook his fist. “Good riddance, I say, you keep the little brat, don’t think of bringing him back here. Nothing but trouble that boy is. Nearly got my son killed!” 

Severus saw an opening. He had gathered information from far more difficult sources than this unfortunate creature. Perhaps commiseration would be the route to take.

“I completely understand, Potter is a uniquely unpleasant child. I admire your sacrifice in keeping him this long.” Severus found it surprisingly difficult to add the appropriate disdain to his voice. 

This was not usually a challenge when it came to discussing Potter. Severus feared what this might mean for his spying career. It seemed sufficient to fool the oaf in front of him however, as he gained a slight smile, thinking he’d found an ally.

“Oh ho, you don’t know the half of it! That boy has brought nothing but misery on this family since he was dropped on our doorstep. Always making freaky things happen, hurting my Dudley. Blew up my sister once! Did they tell you that? Dropped a cake on an important client too, very disturbed that boy is.” Dursley rambled on. 

“It must have been very challenging to raise him. I personally find it difficult to bring the boy in line. Most punishments just don't get through to him. The Headmaster is too soft to deal out any real discipline.” Severus felt he could speak truthfully in this matter, Potter was difficult after all, and the Headmaster allowed him to run rampant at Hogwarts. 

Dursley began rubbing his hands together happily, he spoke in a low conspiratorial tone. 

“We'll see, the trick is, you must take a firm hand with a boy like that, some don’t believe in strapping anymore but let me tell you, only thing that ever got through to the little whelp.” Dursleys tone turned possibly gleeful. “Wouldn’t believe what I've put up with. You know I've caught him talking to snakes, found him carrying one into my house and hissing at it once. What kind of normal child does that? Hissing...  I'm a saint, I am.”

Severus began to wonder again what had become of the boy’s little pet. He almost didn’t want to know the answer, but asked anyway.

“How unsettling for you. May I ask how you dealt with the beast?” 

Dursley smirked. “Tossed that thing in the fire didn’t I? Had to, wouldn't put it past the boy to bring something deadly into the house to set on me and my family.” 

Severus felt his heart drop into his stomach. He had no time to recover before the man continued with a laugh. “The boy screamed his head off at that, trying to grab the beast out of the fire. Burnt up his hands, never dared to bring a snake into my house after that though did he?” Dursley chuckled as he recounted the tale, as if sharing a humorous family anecdote. 

Severus imagined a small version of Potter, digging through flames and coals, burning his tiny hands to try to rescue the creature. The little snake that he had carefully photographed, drawn pictures of, carried everywhere. The creature he had referred to as, “My Best Friend.” 

Somewhere, far away, a straw landed on a camel's back. Severus finally saw the situation for what it was.

A reckoning.

Severus had one task he had thought himself devoted to since Lily’s death. Protect the boy. He thought of the framed photo of Lily tucked carefully into his pocket.

How spectacularly he had failed. 

The anger that had been simmering under the surface all day came to a boil. He forgot his resolve to follow the sensible path, drew his wand, pointing at sharply at the man.

“You will show me where Potter's things are, now.” Dursley looked taken back, clearly having forgotten that Severus was also a “freak” during his speech. He trembled slightly and put his hands up.

“Okay okay take it easy! I’ll show you!” He stumbled over his own feet in his haste to back away from Severus. 

Severus was led to a cupboard situated underneath the stairs. The man fumbled with a set of keys before unlocking the door and dragging Potter's trunk out with great difficulty. Severus did not feel inclined to offer his assistance.

He snatched the trunk and broom from Dursley, shrunk them and marched to the front door. He turned back to glare at the trembling idiot. He wanted to exact revenge on the blubbering oaf, but knew he would face the wrath of the Headmaster should he try.

“I will be back here, Dursley, I'm not sure when exactly. But if you value your life and your family, I suggest that you are not here when I return.” Severus used his most frightening tone, the one he reserved for the most troublesome of students. 

Dursley shook his head, eyes wide and unable to respond. Before he could lose control, Severus left and slammed the door behind him. He stood on the front stoop breathing heavily.

Severus would later attest that he took a complete leave of his senses at this point. He would claim he lost awareness of himself, his feet moving as if by their own accord. That he had felt himself apparate away from Privet Drive, his boots landing on cobblestone. His feet leading him through the streets, his actions on autopilot. 

When Severus finally returned to his senses he was standing out front of the Magical Menagerie, hands clutching a box that was hissing suspiciously.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight: Happy Birthday Harry 

July 31st, 1995

Severus Snape felt like a complete fool as he sat in his kitchen, staring at a box that was rattling and hissing. It was incredibly embarrassing for the Head of Slytherin house to be flustered by a snake. Yet to his eternal shame, he had been unable to open the box for the last hour.

He knew he could simply drop the box off with Potter immediately. However that would mean admitting that he’d gone directly back to the shop to buy the snake for him. This scenario was far more embarrassing to admit, especially considering that Severus had been in some kind of trance when he’d done so. What could he possibly say to explain himself?

“Here Potter, I went to your house, your childhood has been rather tragic, as it turns out. Here’s a snake for your troubles.”

It was ridiculous even within the relative safety of his own mind.

He rubbed his temples and contemplated an exit strategy. He could simply slip the serpent through the letterbox and claim ignorance. However, that action might be taken as an act of aggression. Or worse, someone could attack the unfortunate creature.

A dead snake on Potter's doorstep was not exactly the message of goodwill Severus hoped to convey. He scoffed at himself, goodwill for Potter? He was losing perspective rapidly.

Severus resolved himself to leave the snake where it was. He would deliver it in the morning. Severus had sent an owl to Albus insisting that he come to headquarters for a discussion. He needed to provide an update about his discoveries in the muggle home. He would hand the box off to Potter, and walk away.

Problem solved.

Severus spent the rest of the day in his lab, happily utilizing Occlumency and the meditative nature of potion brewing to distance himself from thoughts of Potter. The boy-wonder did not need to monopolize his thoughts. The mere fact that he’d spent any time at all dwelling upon the situation was unacceptable.

Why should he care about Potter's home life? He would simply be the one to communicate the situation to the Headmaster, it didn't mean he needed to overthink the situation. Potter didn’t grow up in a perfect household, fine. It did not mean that Severus was required to feel anything about it. He had a duty to the boy, he would fulfill it. That was all that his vows required of him.

Severus ignored the memory of his alternate self, begging him to take care of the child. He pushed aside any reminder of his personal failure in the matter. Self-doubt increasingly crept into his mind. Fulfilling the promise to care for Potter was proving more involved than he had anticipated. When was anything concerning Potter simple?

Severus waved his hand above his head as if he could vanish thoughts of the boy like a buzzing fly. Potter had infiltrated his thoughts, his home, his lab. He was cursed, surely. He would never be granted peace.

Severus found sleep hard to come by that night, plagued by nightmares. He woke up sweating after a particularly vivid dream.

He was locked inside a tiny room, fear shaking his body as he watched hundreds of snakes slither through a cat flap in the door. They slid up his neck, tightened into a coil, and squeezed.

The dream shifted, and he found his hands digging through an open fire, Lily’s pale hands slipping from his grip. When he finally pulled her from the flames she morphed into a tiny version of Potter. The child was crying, open wounds bleeding freely from his back.

After waking several times from such dreams, Severus felt frayed around the edges. He finally gave in and procured a vial of dreamless sleep, something he typically avoided if he could.

When he awoke, the sun was filtering heavily through his drapes, indicating he’d overslept. He glanced at the old clock radio he kept on his bedside table, which informed him that it was already half past twelve in the afternoon. Severus hoped the Headmaster had been delayed as well. He begrudgingly moved from the bed, and readied himself for the day.

As he was preparing to leave, he carefully tucked the hissing box under his arm, ensuring that he did not jostle the creature unnecessarily. He apparated to Number 12 and invited himself in. He dropped Potter's trunk in the entranceway with little care, Black’s decrepit house elf appeared immediately to whisk it away.

Severus moved toward the kitchen in search of Albus and Potter, hoping against hope that he would not need to interact with Black or Lupin.

Luck, as usual, was not on his side. When he entered the kitchen, he was greeted with the sight of various Weasleys, loud and rambunctious, gathered around the table. At the head of the table sat Black, engaged in vibrant storytelling with Potter beside him. Potter looked invested in the tale, as Black gestured wildly, eliciting a sudden laugh from Potter. Black grinned at the boy before noticing Severus in the doorway, a grimace falling onto his face.

“What are you doing here, Snape?” Black sneered.

“I have business with the Headmaster, not that it concerns you.” Severus enjoyed any opportunity to remind the irritating man that he had a role, a purpose, while Black sat uselessly in his sorry excuse for a house.

Black looked furious and opened his mouth no doubt to offer some idiotic attempt at a scathing response.

“He is in the drawing room with Mrs. Weasley.” Potter cut in.

Severus nodded, then hesitated. He quickly walked over to Potter and dropped the box in front of him saying briskly, “here.”

Potter looked bewildered, and cautiously opened the box, his eyes widening as he realized what it contained. He gasped and flicked his eyes up to Severus.

“You got her for me?” He asked incredulously, green eyes bright and glittering with excitement.

“You made an exchange, I was simply fulfilling it.” Severus refused to meet the boy's eyes when he spoke. “Now I must go speak with the Headmaster if you'll excuse me.” Severus nodded shortly.

“Really?” Potter let out a childish sounding giggle, red with a pleased flush. “I can’t believe it!” He said under his breath. 

Black stood from the table to interrupt Severus’s departure. “Now wait here, Snape. What the bloody hell is this? You can’t just drop a snake on my godson.” He glanced back at Potter,
“It’s probably poisonous Harry, don’t touch it. Is this some kind of sick trick?”

“Snakes are venomous, not poisonous.” Potter noted offhandedly, as he slipped his hand into the box pulling the green serpent out and wrapped it gently around his neck.

The snake immediately curled up around him, a forked tongue poking at Potter's cheek and nose. “Besides, boa's are not venomous, and even if she was, she’d never bite me.”

Black looked as if he wanted to protest further, but was cut off when Potter began hissing at the snake. Severus had not heard him since that fateful day in the dueling club. He braced himself, thinking of the Dark Lord, but found himself not able to make a comparison.

Sure, the language was the same, but Potter sounded gentler as he spoke, the sibilance rocking and low, as opposed to grating and commanding as the Dark Lord's was.

The other occupants of the room looked as if they were going to be ill. Black was gazing at Potter wearily.

“Merlin, that's creepy, Harry, I forgot you could do that.” One of the twins said with a shiver. Potter lifted his face from the snake, looking crestfallen.

“Oh sorry.” He whispered, grimacing slightly at the dismayed looks in the room.

“Oh no, Harrykins, we love the creepiness. Wonder if we could make a Valentine that spoke in your voice. It’d sell out in a second.” The other twin winked and ruffled Potter's hair affectionately.

“Harry, I don't like you accepting a gift like this from Snape.” Black was looking at Potter with concern and inching away slightly from the boa.

“It is not a gift.” Severus said dryly.

“What is it then, Snape? You barge in here giving him a deadly animal on his birthday and it’s not a gift? What are you playing at?” Severus had forgotten that today was Potter’s birthday. He felt foolish. Now it looked as if he had given the boy a birthday present. He had wanted to drop the snake off nonchalantly and disappear.

“She’s not deadly.” Potter muttered quietly, but no one paid him any attention as he wrapped a protective hand around the animal.

“I do not make it a habit to track insignificant birth dates, Black. Potter and I made an agreement and he followed through on his part. The creature is not a gift, it is the end of an exchange.”

“What kind of exchange? Harry, what did you agree to? If you've done anything to him I swear!”

“Nothing, Sirius. Drop it please.”

“Harry…”

“Please Sirius. He hasn’t done anything to me. I just don’t want to talk about it, okay?” Potter looked beseechingly at Black, and the man nodded with extreme reluctance.

“Well if that's the end of the dramatics, I'll take my leave.” Severus turned on his heel and strode to the door. He turned back and saw Potter smiling widely at him, mouthing ‘thank you’ behind Black's back. Severus gave him a single nod and left the room.

Severus took a moment to gather himself in the hallway. He leaned heavily against the wall, palms flat on the worn wallpaper behind him. It was one thing to see Potter’s smile directed at others, but it had never before been thrown his way in full until now. He noted with curiosity that Potter had dimples, though neither of his parents had.

Severus unwillingly recalled Lily’s father, a bright dimpled smile always plastered on his face. Severus tried to shake himself from memories of the past. He thought of the Evans family's kindness toward him when he was a child.

He had been such an unlikeable boy, moody, often unkempt and from the wrong side of town. Yet, they had always welcomed him into their home, fed him and treated him like family. It had been disorienting for a boy raised as Severus was. Mr. Evans would often sneak him extra pudding, even when they had just gotten through with a scolding from Mrs. Evans for some childish transgressions he and Lily had committed.

Severus had thought Potter had only inherited his eyes from Lily’s side of the family, placed in the exact copy of James Potter's face in order to torment Severus. Seeing Mr. Evans' smile across his grandson's face, directed in kindness and gratitude toward Severus, had put a pit of guilt in his stomach. The truth of his failure reared its ugly head above his shields again.

What had he truly done to protect this child? He’d taken a vow to protect him, all the while the boy was tormented in his own home. Severus had never checked, never asked any questions.

He’d returned Lily’s parents' kindness by getting their daughter killed, and failing to do anything of substance for their grandson. He knew with certainty that the time had come to do something.

It was with this thought in mind that Severus strode with purpose to confront the other culpable party, one Albus Dumbledore.

The Headmaster was seated in the drawing room, chatting with Molly Weasley while he sipped a cup of tea and nibbled on a biscuit. Something about his casual attitude grated on Severus's nerves. How could he be calm when Severus's world was crashing in on him. It had been since that blasted idiot version of himself had barged into his home unannounced, upending the careful peace he'd cultivated.

“There you are, Severus, I was wondering where you’d gotten to!” Albus said cheerfully as he smiled at him and got to his feet.

“I need a word, Headmaster, if you would,” Severus said without fanfare. The headmaster eyed him as if he were a mannerless child, despite knowing that Severus despised meaningless small talk.

“Of course, my boy. Molly, if you don’t mind our rudeness.” He smiled and turned to the Weasley matriarch with an apologetic expression.

The woman waved her hands dismissively, already moving toward the doors, “Oh no bother at all Albus, I'll check on the children in the kitchen. They may need some adult supervision, and I'm not sure that Sirius counts, bless him.”

When she had exited the room, Albus appraised Severus closely. “What is on your mind, Severus, you look morose.”

“It’s about Potter.” Severus admitted.

“Indeed? What about our young Mr. Potter.” Albus was smiling softly, looking smug.

“I went to his relatives home to retrieve his possessions yesterday afternoon. The situation there was concerning to say the least.”

“Elaborate, if you would.”

“Albus,” Severus hesitated, unsure how to properly convey the depth of horror he had witnessed at Number 4 Privet Drive. He directed his mind to the image of Potter’s bedroom, bracing himself to describe it.

“To start, the room they had for him was worse than a prison. Locks on the door, bars on the window. Bars, Albus.” Severus watched for a reaction from the headmaster. The man's face remained impassive. “Everything was in disrepair, there wasn’t even a proper blanket or pillow.” Albus nodded to Severus to continue.

“Then there was that horrid oaf of a man.”

“Vernon Dursley.” Albus corrected.

“Yes, him. He told me that he frequently takes a belt to the boy. He was proud of himself for that, Albus, very proud.”

“We knew from your earlier reports that it was not an ideal situation, was there any new information?” Severus felt himself losing control of his temper. How dare the old man dismiss the severity of the situation so easily?

“New information? Albus, the situation in that home was clearly abusive. We need to report them. At the very least, Potter needs to be officially removed and emancipated from their guardianship!”

Albus looked down and shook his head, “I see. I don’t think that's a good idea, Severus. It would require involving the Ministry, and we can not trust them with Harry’s welfare should they become invested in his guardianship. We may also need the goodwill of the Dursleys should we need to return Harry there at any point.” Severus was nearly bowled over with the shock of the statement.

“Return him?” Severus’s blood boiled. “You can not be serious Albus. I've just described the conditions there. You would truly send him back into that?” His voice had begun to rise to such a degree that he deftly cast a silencing charm over the door to prevent eavesdroppers.

“They are his only family, Severus. The blood wards are some of the only magics on this earth that can protect him from Voldemort.” Albus said seriously, a twinkle missing from his eye.

“I regret the necessity, but we would ensure the Dursleys are prepared to adjust before considering sending him back.” Severus’s face twitched as Albus continued to speak. “However, it is not necessary at this time. I'd like to keep the option available, however” Severus observed him coldly, considering his next words carefully.

“You never learn, do you?” Severus spoke in a deadly whisper. “You think that families will always work it out. You do not care who gets hurt in your mechanisms.” Severus felt his body tremble slightly.

“How long will it take you to get it? How many children will you leave to rot before you learn what becomes of them?” Severus was fuming with anger, and he stormed out of the room, not allowing the old man to formulate a response.

It was due to his lack of attention that he had the misfortune to stumble into Molly Weasley, who grabbed hold of his shoulders to stay upright. She greeted him with a warm smile that felt horrifyingly wrong in the face of his current mood.

“Steady there! Are you finished now with your chat? We are just about to start the luncheon for Harry's birthday. Come, everyone's in the kitchen and I won't allow you to run away young man.

Dread pooled in Severus’s stomach as he attempted to extricate himself from the woman. She nudged him toward the kitchen as if he were one of her red headed children. He protested several times which she did not appear to hear. The woman had far too much experience herding unruly boys to pay any mind to Severus’s protestations.

He breathed a sigh of relief and thought he could make a clean escape when he spotted Minerva headed toward them with a stern expression on her face.

“I was just leaving.” Severus looked at her as pleadingly as his pride would allow for. She smiled with cat-like mischief.

“Oh no, Severus, I believe you will be staying. Don’t you still owe me a favour of my own choosing? You did lose that bet about the Slytherin-Gryffindor game, did you not?” Severus clenched his teeth and raised his chin as he accepted his defeat. He should have known he could not stand a chance against two terrifying and formidable witches.

As Severus sat at the kitchen table of the dingy kitchen, he contemplated the life choices that had led him to this moment. If he had a time turner surely he could go back and fix whatever he had done to earn this torture.

Surrounded by excited Gryffindor's, chattering away as they filled their plates. Celebrating Harry Potter's fifteenth birthday. The Dark Lord and the Devil would likely run screaming from the sadistic soul who had concocted this scene.

Harry looked around happily at the assembly of people gathered around the table for his birthday. His birthday. He felt slightly incredulous at that fact. Mrs. Weasley had put together an incredible spread of food and the kitchen was buzzing with pleasant chatter.

Harry portioned a small amount of each food onto his plate, not wanting to miss anything, but not wanting to be wasteful. Hermione was seated on his right side and moved to spoon more food onto his plate, his attempts to stop her useless.

Everyone looked in brighter spirits than they had the past few days. Perhaps there was something about a birthday party that brought out a good mood in people. Harry wouldn’t know, having never attended a birthday party. Unless one counted watching Dudley and his friends devour cake through the slates of his cupboard, which shockingly, Harry did not.

Most of the Weasley family was accounted for, excepting Percy, who Harry was informed was not to be mentioned. Sirius and Remus were laughing together across from Harry. Even Professor McGonagall was present, which was surprising, but far less so than the gloomy presence of the Potions Master.

Snape sat next to her at the furthest end of the table, looking as if he were attending his own funeral rather than a birthday party. Although perhaps to him, the former would have been preferred.

Harry was not sure what possessed the man to attend, but it sent a strangely warm feeling skirting through his chest at the thought. Even more so when he thought of Ssyra, tucked carefully into the pocket of his hooded sweatshirt.

He’d been informed that holding the creature around his neck during the meal may be off putting for some. He’d been blissfully happy ever since Snape had dumped the box in front of him earlier. Dodging questions about why exactly Snape had bought him a snake had been a challenge, but Harry had refused to explain.

He could hardly believe that Snape had really bought him the snake. It seemed so out of character for him. He must have gone back to the store after their visit yesterday, only to return on Harry’s birthday, insisting it wasn’t a birthday gift.

Harry privately thought sorting out the complicated situation with the dour potions master may take years and extensive work with a psychiatrist. Whatever the reason for it, Harry was thrilled to have the little snake in his possession.

The proceedings went on around him, and Harry slowly ate his food. He timed his bites carefully, minding that he didn't stuff himself too much. He had made that mistake once, the first day at Hogwarts. Being violently ill in the loo had been an unfortunate and embarrassing introduction to the dormitory.

After the meal had been cleared, Mrs. Weasley emerged with a cake. It was in the shape of a giant golden snitch, with fifteen candles flickering a soft light that shifted between several different colours.

The occupants of the room began to sing Happy Birthday, in varying degrees of talent. Sirius had a surprisingly strong baritone voice that carried through the room. Snape unsurprisingly did not join in the singing, instead crossed his arms and glared at the twins who were engaged in some kind of sporadic dance that was creeping closer to Snape with every passing moment.

As the song progressed, Harry started to feel slightly overwhelmed by the attention. To his complete horror, he began to feel a tightness in his chest, a prickling behind his eyes. He attempted to steady himself as the scene progressed around him.

He lost the battle with his emotions and was forced to reach under his glasses as fat tears began to fall down his face. He moved to swipe them away surreptitiously. It was a lost cause as he continued to cry, seemingly unable to stop himself in the face of overwhelming emotions.

The song stopped just as Fred and George were starting up For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow, as Mrs. Weasley rushed over to Harry in concern.

“Harry dear, what is wrong?” Her kind face was pinched with concern. “Goodness, why are you crying? Do you not like the cake?” She fluttered around Harry. “I wasn't sure what you normally liked for your Birthday!” She patted Harry’s head soothingly, running her fingers through his hair. This served only to make Harry cry harder.

“No, no…it’s lovely. It's really really brilliant. I’m sorry Mrs. Weasley, I don’t know what's come over me. I'm fine!” His voice came out slightly higher pitched than he would have hoped for as a young man of fifteen. His chest felt tight with emotion, and a long ago, deeply repressed longing for this very scenario.

Harry was unwilling to admit that this was the first time he’d had a birthday party like this, a group singing to him, a cake made just for him. That the thought of his usual birthdays alone, hungry, and ignored had welled up in him at the sight of the thoughtful cake.

Harry squeezed Mrs. Weasley's shoulder in an attempt to reassure her that he was alright. He calmed himself down by drifting slightly into his detached mind state, pushing down the feelings of longing and oddly, grief that threatened to escape through his eyes.

When he looked up, the group was staring at him. Harry felt warmth rise in his face, had he really just cried in front of everyone? He looked up to see the table looking at him in concern. Sirius seemed as if he wanted to jump up from his seat, but Remus was holding his shoulder placatingly. Snape was observing Harry with an unreadable expression

“Er, sorry, I don’t, er well.” Harry attempted weakly.

“Don’t worry, Harry dear, blow out the candles now.” Mrs. Weasley continued to pet him as if he were a spooked foal. He carefully blew out the candles, smiling as the flames jumped from the wick and floated up above their heads. Small examples of magic never ceased to amaze and excite Harry. Mrs. Weasley handed him a knife to cut the cake and he began to automatically serve it out onto plates, passing the first one to Hermione.

“Harry, you don’t need to serve up the whole cake, just make the first cut for luck. Besides, you should have the first slice, it’s your birthday!” Hermione said, smiling and attempting to pass the slice back to him.

“Oh, that's okay, I want you to keep it.” Harry pushed the plate back insistently. Hermione gave him an exasperated look and kissed him on the side of his head, rolling her eyes. Mrs. Weasley smiled and started cutting and sending slices of cake around the room with a neat flick of her wand.

“Ooooh, George, do you sense love in the air for our young Harrykins?”

“Looks that way, doesn't it?”

“Goodness, what an exciting development!”

Fred then began an uncanny impression of Rita Skeeter, pitching his voice higher and flicking back imaginary curls.

“Tell us Hermione, may I call you Hermione? How does it feel to be romantically involved with the Boy-Who-Lived? Many troubling things in the press right now, are you sure he is telling you the truth about his feelings?”

Harry looked at Hermione and they both burst into laughter. Harry was grateful for the twins' inherent talent to dispel awkward air following his unexpected tears. Hermione turned back to the twins and composed her face into a serious expression.

“Yes, let me assure you Miss Skeeter, Harry tells me that our love will be as eternal as your career.” She linked her arm through Harry’s and struggled to maintain her composure. Ginny leaned over to Fred and whispered something in his ear.

“Oh, breaking news from our correspondent Ginny Weasley. Sounds like our Mr. Potter may in fact be interested in a certain blonde Ravenclaw. Trouble in paradise Miss Granger? Our Harry certainly goes for the smart ones doesn't he?”

Harry lost his mirth immediately, a blush creeping up his neck. Fred and George grinned gleefully at his embarrassment.

“Oh, look at that George, he's gone all red. Our correspondent was right as always. Tell us more about the lovely Luna. What has she done to steal our young hero’s heart?”

“Loony Lovegood? Really mate?” asked Ron incredulously.

“Don’t call her that!” Ginny and Harry spoke at the same time. Harry narrowed his eyes at Ron, who raised his hands in defeat.

“Alright, alright, don’t get your knickers in a twist about it.”

“Luna isn't crazy, she’s just a bit different. I wish people wouldn’t be so mean to her. I think she’s a bit brilliant actually.” Harry flushed further at his own proclamation, but felt righteous anger spur him forward.

“No problem Harry, we get it. Who are we to stand in the way of true love?” George smirked at him, batting his eyelashes and sighing in mock romantic longing. Harry buried his face in his hands.

“Alright boys, I think that’s enough teasing. You can go fetch Harry’s gifts for him.” Fred and George apparated from the room without a word, ignoring their mother's cry of, “I meant walk!”
They returned with a pop, their arms full of gifts. Harry’s chest tightened as the fear that he may cry again overcame him. He took a deep breath, and plastered a smile on his face instead.

He carefully pulled the wrappings from each gift, taking care to slip his finger under the spello tape, not wanting to rip the paper. He folded each piece of paper and placed it to the side, not allowing anyone to vanish it away. He was teased relentlessly for wanting to save the wrappings.

“You know there are actual presents inside the wrappings right?” Teased Ron, although he knew Harry always opened presents this way, ever since his first Christmas at Hogwarts. The paper was stored safely in the bottom of his trunk.

Harry sometimes took them out and fondly remembered the people who had given gifts to him. People who cared about him enough to wrap up something selected just for him. It had not stopped feeling like an exciting novelty after four years in the Wizarding world.

The gifts themselves were wonderful. Hermione had naturally given him a book, one that outlined all the greatest seekers from the last century. Ron had outfitted him with enough Honeydukes chocolate to last the year. The twins had promised to give him his gift later, weary of interference from their mother and professors.

Sirius and Remus had even managed to procure pictures from Harry’s first birthday. They featured a chubby black haired baby with green eyes filling most of his face. There were photos of him with his mother, blue frosting smeared on them both, where his mother looked at him adoringly.

Other photos were of the whole group, Harry's parents, Sirius, and Remus. Harry had the distinct feeling that photos containing Peter Pettigrew had been purposely omitted. Harry had to be nudged in the ribs to bring him back from staring at the pictures.

He handed them to Hermione, who looked through them before passing them around the table. Harry noticed Snape glance at the photo on the top, one of Harry attempting to eat his mother's nose. She was scrunching her face and laughing fondly in an endless loop. He had a strange expression on his face before he shoved the photos down the table without looking further.

Harry glanced around at everyone, feeling overcome with warmth for the mismatched assembly. He wrapped his arms around himself, gathering his thoughts, although nothing seemed quite enough to truly convey his gratitude.

“Thank you all so much for this. It means a lot to me that you're all here, I know that everyone has a lot going on right now. I can’t say how special this is for me.

Thanks, Mrs. Weasley, for the food and the cake, and everyone for the gifts, I wasn’t expecti-” Harry suddenly felt rage replace his warm affection, as pain lashed through his skull like a hot poker driven through his forehead. He felt warm liquid rushing down his face into his eyes. Was he crying again?

Harry only had time to wonder vaguely who was screaming before his vision faded to black.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine: Aftermath 

Potter’s cloyingly heartfelt speech was cut short by a blood curdling scream. It rang out horribly through the crowded kitchen, piercing through the previously happy atmosphere. The group watched in horror as Potter clawed at his forehead, eyes rolling into the back of his head. 

He fell from his chair and onto the ground, writhing and screaming as blood poured down his face. Severus felt lost for a moment, the unrelenting screams seeming to tear at something within his core. He shook off the shock and jumped into action.

Despite being one of the furthest away, Severus somehow managed to be the first to reach Potter. He pulled Potter’s hands away from an attempt to remove the skin off of his own forehead. He struggled against Severus’s grip until he suddenly went limp, body shuddering. 

The kitchen was in chaos as several Weasleys attempted to scramble over to the unconscious boy at once. Chairs crashed to the ground, abandoned by their occupants too quickly to remain upright. 

Amidst the bedlam, the snake had escaped from the front pocket of Potter’s sweatshirt. The little thing was slithering about the floor licking at Potter’s face and hissing at Severus, as if beseeching him to help. Severus, not being well versed in parseltongue, simply cast a sleeping charm on the creature. He did so with only a small measure of guilt. It wouldn't do to have it getting in the way. 

Minerva helped the Weasley parents force the other children from the room as Black and Lupin tumbled ungracefully to Severus's side.

"Get off him Snape!” Black hissed. 

Lupin grabbed onto Black’s shoulders before he could lunge at Severus properly. 

“Sirius, calm down! He is helping Harry.” Black relaxed slightly in Lupin's grip. “Severus, do you know what's wrong with him?” Lupin asked, his voice laced with a cold fear that Severus could feel a dull mimicry of in his own mind. 

“I have no idea.” Severus answered honestly. Although, it could reasonably be predicted that when it came to this particular boy, it was most likely involvement from the Dark Lord. It was a frightening prospect, indeed, and one Severus did not feel like sharing with the anxious pair. 

Severus hesitantly cast an enervate at Potter, hoping it was the right choice. Potter’s eyes began to flicker open, and he groaned in pain as he attempted to bring his hands back up to his forehead. Severus grabbed his wrists and pulled them down to his side. 

“Stay still, Potter. Here, hold his hands down, Black.” The mutt looked as if he wanted to argue, but was stopped by a sharp look from Lupin. Black held onto the boy's wrists and whispered reassuringly to him. Potter struggled against the restraint, whimpering, “let me go, please, let me go.” Black looked at Lupin, stricken.

 Severus ignored them, as he was not moved by sentimentality toward the boy as they were. He pulled his emergency potions kit out of his robes and enlarged it. He held a vial to Potter's lips, but he turned his head to the side, refusing to open his mouth. Severus sighed in frustration as he took in Potter’s eyes, glossy with confusion. 

Lupin rubbed at his cheek, attempting to rouse him, “Harry, drink the potion, you'll feel better.” Potter's eyes slowly focused on Lupin's face. He glanced up at Severus, still cloudy with pain. He attempted to sit up, but struggled and immediately fell back. 

Severus put the vial back to Potter's lips and he obediently drank, coughing slightly. Potter relaxed back onto the floor as the pain potion began to take effect. Severus then gave him a mind strengthener as well, hoping that no irreparable damage had been done. 

His eyes lost their glossy appearance and Severus gestured to Black that he could release the small wrists. Potter more successfully managed to sit up, Black holding him by the shoulders. He was trembling, his small frame shaking like a leaf in the wind. 

“What happened?” Potter’s face was completely drained of colour, barring the red of the blood streaked down his face. 

“We were hoping you'd be able to tell us Potter, what do you remember?” Severus scanned his face, finding only confusion and stress. 

Potter shuddered. “Just that I felt angry, really angry, and I had all these weird thoughts.” He hesitated. “My head was on fire, then I passed out, I guess?” He leaned slightly back onto Black, looking fragile. 

Severus exchanged a glance with the two other men. It did not go unnoticed by Potter. 

“What, what's that look? What's wrong with me?” Oddly, Potter looked at Severus imploringly for reassurance. 

“I don’t know, Potter.” He admitted with a sigh. “We should see if Minerva has called for Albus.” He directed this at Lupin, who to his credit jumped up, and quickly left the room. 

Black glared at Severus as if it were his fault Potter had collapsed screaming. Severus conjured a flannel and dampened it with warm water. He began to wipe the blood from Potter's face absentmindedly. Black's glare intensified.

“I’ll do that Snape, move.” It was then that Severus realized what he was doing was an oddly nurturing act, he even had Potter's chin gently held between his thumb and forefinger.

He dropped the flannel into Black’s outstretched hand and let go of Potter’s chin as if burned. The boy's eyes were wide and confused as Black took over, wiping his face. 

Potter grimaced and Severus noticed that Black was being unconsciously rough with his actions, too busy glaring at Severus to take notice. He scoffed internally. Black couldn't take proper care of a crup, nevermind a teenager. 

The room was tensely silent until Potter gasped and startled upward. 

“What's wrong with Ssyra?!” Potter spotted the sleeping snake on the tiled floor and lifted it into his arms, cradling it close and hissing urgently. His face was pinched with distress, his slender shoulders shaking as he once again inexplicably looked to Severus for help. 

“She won’t wake up! Please, please don't be dead Ssyra, wake up, wake up!” His voice was panicked and desperate. Tears were already forming in his eyes. 

“The snake is fine, Potter, merely under a sleeping spell. The creature became distressed when you collapsed.” Severus adopted an air of boredom. 

Truthfully he felt slightly guilty that Potter had thought the snake was dead. He would, however, sooner die himself than admit that this was the case, particularly in front of Black. 

Potter sighed and dropped his face to the snake's nose. “Oh, poor girl, must have been so frightened.” Potter cuddled the snake close, appearing to have forgotten his own recent ordeal. “Can you wake her back up please?” 

Severus waved his wand and the snake began to wake. Potter let out a gust of air in relief as it wound itself around his neck and hissed something in his ear. Potter laughed and replied, colour returning to his face. 

The Headmaster entered the kitchen, accompanied by a ruffled looking Lupin. 

“Harry, my boy, what seems to be the trouble?” Albus crouched down next to Potter with surprising ease considering his advanced age. It did not escape Severus's notice that the headmaster failed to meet the boy's eyes. 

Potter seemed to take note as well, twisting his head around as if attempting to force eye contact with the man. He finally ceased his attempt and sighed, eyes focused instead on Severus. 

“I don’t really know, sir. Everything was brilliant, I was happy. Then I felt really angry, and my scar hurt like last time.” He glanced down at his toes, shaking his head. 

“Last time!” Severus and Black exclaimed simultaneously. The way they glanced at one another in tandem may have been humourous, in any other context. 

Albus lifted his head as Potter continued to avert his own eyes. He was clearly leaving the floor open for Albus to explain on his behalf. 

“Harry reported to me last summer that he’d had a strange dream. When he woke he felt pain in his scar.” Albus explained. 

“You did not think to inform me of this?” Severus hissed. Black did not look impressed with the headmaster either. 

“Perhaps I should have Severus, I did not wish to cause undue stress.” 

Severus scoffed but did not pursue the matter further. When Albus made a decision he felt was right, there would be no convincing him otherwise.

“Now Harry, are you able to think if you had any other thoughts or feelings. Perhaps you were angry at something or someone?” Potter looked as if he were preparing a lie, but gave up under Albus’s overwhelming presence. 

“Er… maybe I was mad at someone named Walden?” He began hesitantly. “I don't think I know any Waldens though. Probably not well enough to wonder about how he would scream if I took his skin off...” Potter glanced quickly between the men, looking as if he’d said more than he’d intended to.  

Albus sighed and removed his eyeglasses. Potter's face fell. 

“I swear, I don’t normally have thoughts like that!” Potter protested. Albus sighed again, glancing at Potter somewhere in the vicinity of his left ear. 

“No, of course you don't, my boy. I believe your thoughts are being influenced by Voldemort. Perhaps especially when he is feeling a strong emotion. Walden McNair is a Death Eater, you named him as being in the graveyard.” Potter's face went white.

“Voldemort is trying to take over my mind?” He questioned in a rasp.

“I do not believe he has any more control over this connection than you do. He may not even be aware that it exists. We should attempt to keep it that way.” Albus looked over to Severus, eyebrow raised in question.

“You can not be serious, Albus.” 

“I am completely serious. Harry must learn to protect his mind.” 

“Then you teach him!” 

“I do not think that would be wise, Severus. If Voldemort were to gain access to my mind through Harry, it would be a disaster.” Severus cursed the old man for his sound reasoning. Severus's mind was enough of a risk, he could not imagine the essential secrets tucked away in the headmaster's mind. 

“What exactly are we talking about here?” Potter chimed in. 

“Occlumency. You need to learn to shield your mind. There is magic that can be learned, although it is incredibly advanced, especially for a fourteen year old.” Severus lectured.

“I'm fifteen.” Potter stated with the sort of pridefulness that only youth possessed when discussing age. 

“Yes, and what a difference that will make.” Severus sighed, recalling Potter's counterpart's overzealous Occlumency at Spinner's end. “I did, however, witness your alternate self perform Occlumency successfully while in my home.” Severus admitted reluctantly. 

Albus clapped his hands together. “That’s excellent news! So we know he has some affinity for the art.” 

“It is just as possible that this other version of Potter had some traits that this one does not share.” Severus gestured vaguely toward the boy.

“Oh, Severus, you do not believe that.” Albus chuckled. “I’ll leave it to the two of you to work out a schedule for lessons. Although I ask that you start as soon as possible, I do not wish for Harry's mind to be unguarded for long.” 

“Fine.” Severus said through gritted teeth. Severus noted that Potter nodded his agreement.

His snake uncoiled slightly from his neck and moved toward the Headmaster, nudging its head against the long beard. Potter laughed as the snake turned its head back to him. 

“Has your new friend told you something amusing?” Albus inquired. Potter blushed and darted his eyes nervously.

“Oh well, it's a little rude, er...she wants to know why you keep a nest on your face and if you are intending on having hatchlings soon.” 

Albus chuckled and reached out toward the creature. She looked at Potter for reassurance before he nodded and she flicked her tongue out toward Albus. 

“She’s very lovely, what did you name her?” 

“I didn’t name her, but she’s called Ssyra. Snakes don’t like humans choosing their name for them.” Potter looked slightly indignant at the suggestion that he would have named the creature. Albus merely nodded sagely, as if he had known that all along. 

“Lovely to meet you Ssyra.” Potter passed the message onto the serpent. 

“She says that it's nice to meet you, however she urges you to build a nest on the ground, somewhere defensible. She is very concerned for the hatchlings.” The snake did indeed have an expression that could be interpreted as concern, glancing back and forth between Albus’s beard and Potter. He chuckled lightly. 

“I may be beyond my hatchling years I'm afraid. It is kind of her to share her concerns, however. Thank you for interpreting, you must have such fascinating discussions. May I ask how she came into your possession? 

“Erm, well...uh Professor Snape got her for me.” Potter looked at Severus guiltily. 

“Did he, now? How nice of him” Albus’s eyes shifted to Severus, shining, a smile spreading across his smug face. 

“It was not a gift.” Severus repeated his early assertion, belatedly recalling that he had not just been accused of such. 

“As you say.” Albus replied with a raised eyebrow.

Severus refused to explain himself further. The story of obtaining the snake was hardly one he wanted to repeat in present company. If given the opportunity, Severus would prefer to erase the past few days from his mind altogether. However, he now had the added problem of teaching Potter occlumency. 

The very thought of teaching the art caused Severus to feel as if he wanted to crawl out of his skin. Occlumency tutelage required the student and teacher to form a trusting bond. Hell would freeze over before that occurred between himself and the Potter spawn. He had absolutely no intention of bonding with the boy and that was final.

Severus, however, had endured many horrific assignments in his life, and decided he would face this one with his usual stoicism. 

“Potter should rest, but be monitored through the night. I will return in the morning to start lessons.” Severus did not wait for Potter to agree, and rose to leave the room.

Black had resumed his ministrations to the blood on Potter's face, gentler this time. Potter's ordeal seemed to catch up to him at last, and his eyes started to droop. Severus watched his head slowly fall forward onto Black's shoulder. He ran a gentle hand through Potter's dark hair, as he whispered into his ear. 

“I should take him up to bed.” Black murmured to no one in particular. He easily lifted the boy off the floor and guided him from the room, arms around his back and Potter's head still resting on his shoulder.

Inexplicably, the image of alternate Severus supporting Potter similarly as he arrived at Spinner's end flashed through his mind. He pictured the gentle way Potter had been settled into bed by his counterpart, the easy banter they had exchanged in his kitchen. His stomach twisted with strange unidentifiable emotion. 

He shook himself, it did not matter what odd relationship that other version of themselves had. Black was a far better and appropriate choice to provide parental support to the boy. Why on earth should he care? 

“Severus, it may be wise for you to stay overnight.” Albus cut into his musings. 

Severus sighed and dropped his head, allowing his dark hair the fall in front of his face. 

“Yes, of course. I’ll go home and retrieve some potions.” 

“Thank you, my boy.”

Severus gave the headmaster a nasty look. The man certainly was keen to pretend their earlier conversation had not occurred. Albus dipped his head and took his leave. 

Lupin shifted himself off the floor and slumped into a chair. 

“I can floo call you later this evening, if you’d like to get some rest before you return. I have a feeling this will be a long night.” 

“I don’t need your charity, Lupin.” Severus grumbled. 

Lupin shook his head in exasperation. “Not everything is an attack, Severus. I appreciate you helping Harry, that's all.” 

“Fine, I'll return this evening. Call if anything changes.”

"Of course, thank you again, Severus."

Severus grunted in reply and left the room. He apparated home the moment his feet were on the front stoop. 

When Severus returned to headquarters later that evening, the house was already quiet. The events of the day seemed to have placed a damper on the usually obnoxious group. 

Severus made his way up the stairs, and found his way toward what he believed to be Potter's room. He knocked lightly, and a freckled Weasley opened the door a moment later. He looked extremely dismayed to find his potions professor at his door. Severus allowed himself a moment to enjoy the universe functioning as it should. 

“Er, hi.” The boy said eloquently. Severus rolled his eyes. 

“Where is Potter?” Severus said without preamble. 

Weasley looked relieved, as if he had thought Severus was there to assign him a gruesome detention. 

“Harry’s in Sirius’s room tonight, it's just down the hall.” He gestured to the largest door at the end of the long hallway. “If he wakes up, could you tell him I have his snake? He’ll have a fit otherwise.”  

Severus turned on his heel without acknowledgement. When did snake custody issues become his concern? He braced himself, marching without ceremony toward the bedroom. He dreaded the amount of interaction with Sirius Black this evening would surely require.

As he raised his fist to knock, the door swung open, and Black’s scowling face greeted him. 

“Great, I thought I heard your voice. Why are you here, Snape?” Black snarled. 

“Albus suggested I stay overnight to assist with monitoring the boy.” Severus said cooly. 

“I don't need your help, Snivellus, Harry’s my godson, so you can stop stalking around him.” 

“Don’t call him that, Sirius.” Potter's voice floated out from beyond the bedroom doors. 

“Harry, you’re awake! Everything alright?” Black hurried into the room, leaving Severus feeling foolish as he stood on the threshold. 

He decided that nothing could be more ridiculous than loitering in the door, awaiting an invite, and invited himself in. He pushed his way into the room, where Lupin was already seated at Potter’s bedside. He smiled wearily at Severus, beckoning him closer to the large four poster bed. 

"Thank you for coming, Severus.” Lupin said softly.

“We don’t need him here, Remus.” Black sneered from his place seated on the bed next to Potter.  

Lupin cast a dark look at Black. “We discussed this, Sirius. Perhaps we can all put our past grievances behind us, for Harry’s sake.” The boy in question was looking between the three adults in the room with confusion. No one offered Potter any explanation, as the room remained tense with unexpressed feeling.

“Fine, Snape, what do you need to do?” Black did not do him the courtesy of looking in his direction

“Nothing significant, at the moment. There have been no more episodes?” Severus asked Lupin, pointedly ignoring Black. 

“No, he’s been sleeping until just now.” Lupin answered.

"In that case, Potter, take this.” Severus handed him a mild calming draught. 

Potter had downed it without hesitation before Black finished saying, “Harry, wait!” 

“It’s a calming draught, Black. I wouldn't poison the boy.” He smirked. “The ingredients are too expensive to waste.” Severus deadpanned. 

Potter laughed, then schooled his expression quickly when Black glanced at him in confusion. 

“Sorry, s’ a bit funny.” Potter mumbled. Black scrunched his nose in distaste. 

“I’ll be downstairs. If anything changes, do inform me.” Severus directed the room at large, before marching from the room before Black could say anything idiotic.

Severus made himself comfortable in a large armchair in front of the drawing room fireplace. He opened his latest Potions Periodical and settled in for what he knew would be a long, sleepless night.

He had just finished reading a fascinating article on plant substitutions when Lupin ran into the room.

“Severus, come quickly.” Lupin was breathless and red in the face. He turned and ran from the room before Severus could respond. 

Severus did not hesitate to follow him up the stairs as fast as he could manage. Heavy dread seeped into his mind, unsure as he was of what to expect. 

When they reached the bedroom and breached the silencing wards, screams greeted him. Potter was twisting in the bed, screaming, as blood flowed once again from his forehead. Black had him restrained, and was shouting, “Harry, it's a dream, wake up!” 

Severus rushed over to the bed, his potions kit in hand. He pulled a stronger calming draught and mind strengthener out of the kit. He drew his wand and cast a quick enervate. Potter continued to scream. 

“I tried that, Snape! He won't wake up!” Black began to shake the boy.

 “Damn it.”

After several attempts to wake the boy from his nightmare, the three men grew desperate. When ice cold water dropped on his head failed to stir him, Severus offered an unimaginable solution. 

“You won’t like this, but I may need to use legilimency.” 

“Absolutely not!” Black shouted, unsurprisingly.

“I suspect it is the very reason that Albus suggested I stay tonight.” Severus did not have the time to argue with the mutt. 

“He can come and do it then.” Black returned.

“It is not his best skill, besides, we don’t have much time.” Potter screamed as Severus finished speaking, highlighting his point. 

“Do it.” Lupin said firmly, placing a hand on Black’s shoulder. 

Severus nodded, and attempted to hide his nerves. It was not common practice to enter into a sleeping person's mind. It was even more uncommon to do so while said person was trapped in a Dark Lord induced nightmare. Severus took a deep breath and pried Potter's eyelids open. He dove into his mind with as much subtly as he could manage given the circumstances. 

As Severus was pulled into Potter’s mind, he became aware immediately that it wasn't entirely his own. He could practically feel the dark magic rotting the surface of his consciousness. The Dark Lord's presence was undeniable. 

Severus struggled to hold onto his own sense of being, as the Dark Lord's experiences were overwhelming his own. He was viscerally reminded of the time he’d become stuck in a riptide as a boy. The intense feeling that being pulled out into the sea was an inevitability. His mind faded into the background.

“You have failed me, Wormtail. Again. Explain to me, little rat, why I should continue to permit you to live?” Wormtail trembled in front of him, a pathetic weakling. His servants had once been something to be feared. 

Now, he had to settle for sniveling creatures that were better off as animal feed. He was forced to endure their incompetent behaviour at his side. A position of honour this particular cretin did not deserve. The sooner he could free his most loyal from the dementors, the better. 

“I’m sorry, my Lord. I will do better, I swear.” Wormtail whimpered. 

“Will you?” He sneered. 

“Yes, yes my Lord. I will get it for you! I promise.” Wormtail shuddered and pulled himself up onto his knees, before flattening himself, forehead on the ground.

“Crucio!” 

Severus felt immense power course through him, as well as terrible, soul-fracturing pain.

“Do NOT lie to me, Wormtail. Do not make promises you can not keep! Crucio!” 

“Please, my lord. The prophecy will be yours! I just need more time, please.”

Severus felt the edges of his own mind clawing at the back of his skull. He pulled his way back into his own consciousness as much as he could. He needed to get Potter out of here. This was no place for a teenager. 

He searched for some hint of him within the putrid expanse of the Dark Lord’s mind. Wormtail's screams continued in the background, but he tuned them out. He had more important matters to tend to. Find the boy. 

Finding Potter required Severus to use every Occlumency skill he possessed. He waded through the molasses of the dream, keeping alert for any sign of another mind. 

He finally found Potter’s mindscape tucked into a dark corner of the room. His mind was nothing more than a tiny wisp, trembling as it sat, unobserved by the Dark Lord. Small mercies. It had been hard to miss as an outsider. Potter's mind shone with a warm light, surrounded on all sides by a decaying expanse. 

Severus reached out with his mind and gathered the tiny wisp close to him. Come with me Potter, he whispered. The wisp curled into his mindspace. He envisioned Black's room in as much detail as possible, and tugged. 

Severus gasped as he found himself back on the edge of the bed. Potter’s eyes were open, he was trembling in Black’s continued grip, which shifted to a tight embrace. Black was whispering to him, as Lupin moved to Severus’s side. 

“Are you alright, Severus?” 

“I’m fine.” Severus shook himself and grabbed the potions from the bedside table. He handed them to Potter, who attempted to grasp them in shaking hands. Black took over and gently guided the potions toward Potter’s mouth. 

After he had finished the potions, Potter’s eyes glossed over, and he slumped further into Black’s arms. Black’s arms tightened around him, clearly restricting Potter’s breathing. 

“Too tight, Sirius.” Lupin whispered. Black looked slightly embarrassed as he loosened his grip, and Potter settled more comfortably into his arms. They were all still for a moment, staring at Potter, waiting for him to begin screaming again. The sound of it still echoed in Severus’s mind. 

“I don’t want to go back to sleep.” Potter murmured even as his drooping eyelids betrayed him.  

“Go to sleep, Potter. You should not return to the Dark Lord’s mind, I believe I was able to block out his influence.” Severus reassured. 

“Were you in my mind?” Potter looked less stricken at this thought than expected. Perhaps the calming draught was stronger than Severus had intended. “I thought I could hear you calling my name.” 

“Yes, we were unable to wake you, I had to go in to pull you out.” Severus waited for Potter’s anger. Severus would be furious if someone had dared to enter his mind without permission. 

“Oh, thanks, then.” Potter said simply, too tired it seemed to make a fuss. 

“We will meet tomorrow afternoon, to practice Occlumency.” Severus informed him. 

“Okay.” Potter’s eyes were nearly shut completely.

“Severus, thank you. If you want to go try to get some sleep perhaps you should.” Lupin said in his infuriatingly warm voice. 

“Right.” Severus glanced at Potter, as Black laid him down in the bed, warring with the desire to stay. He needed to walk away. Potter was with Black and Lupin, as he should be. It wasn't as if he needed Severus to stay and coddle him. As if he were even capable or wanted to do such a thing. 

He went back down to the drawing room, and settled into the armchair. He closed his eyes and attempted to sleep. He struggled to get comfortable, dark images behind his eyes each time he closed them. 

Every time Severus managed to slip into sleep, he was startled awake by dreams of a screaming child, just out of reach.

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten: Matters of the Mind

August 1st, 1995

Harry woke the next morning feeling decidedly awful. His head felt as if it had been placed inside a vice that was squeezing unrelentingly. He groaned as his attempt to roll off the bed was thwarted. There was a heavy weight settled on his feet, which wriggled when Harry moved. Harry smiled fondly when his sleep deprived brain finally informed him that it was Snuffles, curled up sweetly and snoring softly.

Harry reached down and stroked the soft fur of his godfather's Animagus form. He always enjoyed Sirius in dog form. As Snuffles, he was playful, easygoing, and all the parts of Sirius that made Harry feel safe. 

Harry enjoyed several peaceful moments before the events of the previous night came streaming in and his easy mood evaporated. The fear and torment of being trapped in Voldemort's mind was fresh in his memory. He could still feel the thick weight of Voldemort’s depravity coating him as if in a layer of filth. 

Harry felt ill as he remembered the desperate figure of his father’s former school friend writhing in pain. As much as he hated the man who had betrayed his parents, torturing Wormtail wasn’t exactly Harry’s idea of a pleasant dream. 

Embarrassment itched at him when he recalled that Snape had been present for the worst of the humiliation. Not only that, the man had been inside of Harry’s mind. He thought he ought to have felt a bit violated by that, but in the end, could only manage grudging gratitude. 

Nevertheless, Harry was dreading the upcoming lesson with Snape. Whatever Occlumency was, it sounded unpleasant and difficult. Harry knew it entailed some type of mind magic, and while having Snape in his mind in a crisis might be tolerable, it certainly wasn’t how he would prefer to spend his morning. 

Harry’s experience with Snape as a teacher had frankly never been good. The man had been determined to believe that Harry was an incompetent student throughout his four years at Hogwarts. Ever since that first potions class, Harry knew the man despised him, logically or otherwise. Harry wasn’t exactly unused to being the object of someone's unfounded hatred. 

Since then, Harry had deliberately not improved his skills in Snape's class. If there was anything he had learned from living with the Dursleys, it was that it was always safer not to succeed when someone who hated you wanted you to fail. 

Ensuring mediocre grades had always helped the Dursleys ignore him. He had made the mistake of winning a maths award in year two that included a public ceremony at the school. Aunt Petunia hadn’t let him eat for three days for the crime of outshining her precious Dudley. Harry had learned his lesson, as he always did, the hard way.

Besides, potions were dreadfully dull, and Harry typically preferred to focus on more exciting activities.

Harry was not sure planning to fail would work in this case. Clearly, it was very important that Harry learned to guard his mind from Voldemort. If he wasn’t safe from his influence while sleeping, he’d soon go mad from lack of sleep.

He would do just about anything to avoid Voldemort entering his mind again. The thought alone sent a shiver down his spine. Voldemort infiltrating him in such a way made him feel vaguely dirty. He was filled with horror at the thought that he could lose control of his own actions. If he hurt someone while under his influence, he would never forgive himself.

Harry steeled himself to give his best effort in the lesson, regardless of Snape's reaction. He had to learn Occlumency, there was no alternative. He took a deep breath and gently moved the large black dog off his feet. Snuffles rolled onto his back, tongue lolling out.

Harry dressed in his new clothes that they had purchased in Muggle London. He smiled as he donned the comfortable jeans and T-shirt that were soft and new and his. Harry wondered when the other shoe would drop and Snape would demand repayment for everything he had bought the other day. Harry hated feeling indebted to anyone, that person being Snape was simply an added insult.

As a finishing touch, he slipped Ssyra around his neck like a necklace. She had claimed the spot as her own the moment Harry had received her the day prior. She wound her tiny head around to hiss in Harry's ear. 

“Where are we going, little speaker?”

“We have to go to a lesson with my teacher.”

“Teacher?” Ssyra’s head tilted sideways in confusion. 

Harry searched for a snake friendly description. “The man dressed in all black.”

“The one that removed me from the clear prison?” 

“Yes, him.”

She rubbed against Harry’s cheek affectionately. “I like him. He delivered me here.”

“I know you do, Ssyra.” Harry sighed. “He doesn't like me, though.” 

“I think he likes you.”

“I doubt that very much.”

“If he did not like you, he would just squeeze you until you stopped breathing.”

“It's not that simple. Humans don't do things like that, Ssyra.”

“They should.”

Harry laughed. “ I guess some people do, but it isn't very nice.”

“You are small minded, little speaker.” Ssyra hissed with offense. “The sour one squeezes you, and you do not complain.”

“Sirius isn't trying to hurt me.” 

“I like the other one better.” 

Harry gave up on the clearly pointless argument. Snakes were wonderful, but sometimes lacking in solid judgements. Ssyra continued to hiss praise for Snape in his ear as he trudged downstairs and got himself a cup of tea. He stretched the muscles in his neck, causing Ssyra to hiss at him in annoyance when her perch was disrupted.

Harry settled in at the counter with his head in his hands, and waited for the potions professor to find him. He did not need to wait long before Snape's gloomy presence appeared in the doorway.

“Hurry up, Potter, I don’t have all day to waste on you.” Snape snarked immediately before turning on his heel and exiting the kitchen without another word. Harry supposed he wasn’t the only one suffering from a bad night's sleep. 

Harry followed quickly behind, sensing that disobeying direction would not make the lessons go smoothly. He followed Snape into the drawing room, and was directed to sit in an armchair by the fire.

Snape waved his wand at the door, casting silencing and locking spells, causing Harry to swallow nervously. Nothing good could come from being locked in a room with Snape where no one could hear him scream.

Harry distracted himself from his morbid thoughts as he looked around the room. He noticed a pensive in the corner of the room, and he burned with curiosity. Would Snape show him a memory as Dumbledore had last year?

Snape strode across the room and seated himself in the chair facing Harry. He gazed at him intently while Harry attempted to not squirm in his seat. Snape’s eyes flicked to glance at the snake around his neck, an odd expression on his face. It smoothed over so quickly that Harry was sure he imagined it. 

“Occlumency is an extraordinarily difficult skill, Potter.” Snape started. “I have never seen you demonstrate any particular talent for subtle skills or advanced intellect. Nonetheless, this is the task I have been given, and you will put your best effort forward. You will not embarrass me or waste my time by exerting the mediocre work you demonstrate at Hogwarts. Is that clear, Potter?” Snape's tone brooked no argument and Harry began to feel growing apprehension about his ability to learn Occlumency.

“Yes sir.” Harry attempted to remain perfectly still and toneless lest he draw Snape’s ire.

“Good. We will start today by attempting to clear your mind. It is essential that you are able to dispel your emotions. The Dark Lord will use them to enter your mind and to take control of it.” Harry shuddered at the horrific thought. The solution, however, seemed reasonable enough.

“I just need to clear my mind of emotions?” Harry inquired. Snape glared. 

“I despise repeating myself, Potter. Yes you must clear your mind of emotions, is that difficult to understand?” Snape sneered down his nose at him. 

“No, I understand, sir. I think I can do that.”

Snape looked at him doubtfully. “Very well, we shall see. Clear your mind.” 

Harry took a deep breath and allowed himself to drift. He carefully detached himself from his emotions until he felt as if we were watching himself and Snape from outside of his body. He vaguely heard Snape say, “Legilimens.”

Harry felt a pressure in his mind, as if someone were pulling him back into his body. He tried to resist but found it as difficult as wading through mud. He was brought back to the present abruptly with a concerned looking Snape towering over him shaking his shoulders roughly.

“Potter, Potter!” Harry blinked his eyes as he heard a name being called, possibly his own name if he recalled correctly.

“What?” Harry felt his senses slowly returning to him as Snape retreated a step back, eyeing him carefully. He returned to his seat across from Harry, looking at him with open confusion.

“What was that, Potter?” 

“You asked me to clear my mind, I think I did it?”

“I asked you to clear it, not separate from it! It was as if you’d actually left your mind Potter. I found nothing, absolutely nothing in there. I know I have implied that you have a vacant brain, but that was completely unnatural! What did you do?” Snape sputtered in a way that Harry had never seen him do before. The man was always controlled when he yelled at Harry, this speech was delivered as an unhinged rant.

“Sorry sir, I er, just do that sometimes?”

“What do you mean Potter? You do that sometimes?” Snape looked paler than usual. 

“I mean, I close off my mind like that. Then I don’t feel any emotions or anything. I thought that's what you wanted me to do?”

“You’re telling me you regularly dissociate?” Snape sounded angry, although Harry couldn't possibly imagine what he'd done wrong so quickly. 

“Dissociate. That's what Hermione always calls it. I don’t know what that means.”

“It means you separate from your emotions, thoughts, sense of identity. It is typically not intentional. It's often caused by traumatic experiences an-.” Snape launched into lecture mood, before he caught himself and trailed off.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Oh. Well I've always done it. Not usually on purpose though I suppose. Sometimes I just, erm, drift away?” Harry gestured with his hands in an attempt to explain. Snape looked at him with a momentarily terrified expression before it was quickly replaced by a cool mask.

“How often does this occur?” 

“Only once a day or so, not that big of a deal.” 

“Everyday? Potter, that's not normal. Did you inform your Mind Healer of that?” Harry was taken aback.

“My what?”

“Mind Healer, Potter. Have you not been to see one? Surely the Headmaster or Madame Pomfrey arranged something after-?” Snape observed him closely as he spoke.

“I don’t think so. Is that like a psychiatrist or something?” Harry felt slightly bewildered at the direction the lesson had taken. Was Snape accusing him of being insane? According to the Daily Prophet, Harry ought to be locked up for public safety due to his madness. 

Snape sighed, “Yes Potter, it’s like a psychiatrist or something.” He said in a slightly exasperated, mocking tone. “You will need to see one, it is irresponsible that you have not already. These dissociative episodes need to be treated.”

“I haven't gone mad.” Harry insisted hotly. He was sick and tired of being accused of that. Bad things happened around him, so what? It didn't mean he was crazy. Snape knew he wasn't lying about Voldemort's return, so what was his big issue? 

“I do not recall saying that you have. However, this needs to be resolved. It will only make your mind more vulnerable to the Dark Lord's influence.” 

Harry contemplated that seriously. He could understand how leaving his mind could leave him more vulnerable to an attack. He shivered again despite the warmth of the room. 

“I don’t think I know how to stop doing it.” Harry admitted quietly.

“Yes, I realize that, Potter, that is why I'm recommending a Mind Healer. They can assist you to deal with the issues causing the dissociation.” Oh that trauma Snape had mentioned. Seemed a bit dramatic but at least he didn’t mention the graveyard, his recent rescue, or latest embarrassment while outlining the supposed issues.

“It's really not a big problem, I’m fine.” Harry could not imagine speaking to a stranger about his life. He had enough invasive questions plaguing him as it was.

“I disagree. I will speak with Professor Dumbledore about arranging it.” Snape was glaring at Harry as if daring him to protest further.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, aware distantly that he may appear childish in this pose. He resisted rolling his eyes, not wanting to test Snape's patience so early in the morning.

Snape appraised Harry, before he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Potter, you have more problems than I am equipped to deal with.”

Harry felt his heart sink. He was well accustomed to his abnormalities burdening others. He hadn't expected to feel the sting of it with Snape. Why should he care what the dour potions master thought of him and his problems?

“Sorry, sir.” He whispered.

“What could you possibly be apologizing for now Potter?” 

“I'm causing you problems. You just said.”

“I said no such thing! I merely stated that I am not the right person to deal with your particular problems.”

Oddly this stung Harry even more than the previous comments. Right, of course Snape would want to push him off on someone else. He shouldn't feel upset about that, why would he want Snape to help him? 

Maybe it had felt a bit nice when that other version of Snape had healed him, when he’d settled him into the bed with a sleeping potion. Harry chastised himself, he wasn’t a little boy anymore, he didn't need to feed delusions like that.

He didn't need anyone now, he was fifteen and basically grown. Besides this was Snape , he hated Harry and Harry hated him right back. That was the natural order of things. The only issue being, Harry wasn’t entirely certain there was anyone else who would be willing to help him. 

No one had ever considered he may need new glasses, or clothes. No one else had bothered to go to Privet Drive and retrieve his trunk for him. Not even Sirius.

“There is no need to look so distressed Potter. You will see a Mind Healer, they will help you. Simultaneously, we shall continue with Occlumency instruction. Learning to clear your mind properly will aid in this process as well.” 

Harry was surprised that Snape would be continuing the lessons. He purposely ignored the warm glow that threatened to enter his chest at the thought.

“Yes sir.” 

“Good. Now you need to read the first two chapters of this book. Practice the exercises described before tomorrow morning's lesson. I will know if you have not done so.” Snape glared at Harry as he dropped a large and dusty tome on the coffee table. Harry glanced at it wearily. 

Snape strode from the room and Harry pondered if agreeing to Snape's plan had been a mistake. 

August 2nd,1995 

Severus stood in the hallway of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, awaiting the arrival of the Mind Healer. He had confronted Albus about the lack of involvement of a Mind Healer for Potter and the Headmaster had reluctantly agreed to procure one. This task was once again unwillingly assigned to Severus. Healer Xavier Rookwood was not an official member of the order of the Phoenix, he couldn't be. His father was a known Death Eater currently rotting in Azkaban. If Augustus Rookwood's son joined the Order, it would put everyone at risk. 

Xavier had been one of Severus's favourite students at Hogwarts. He was bright, talented in potions, and a perfect representation of Slytherin house. Severus had campaigned for Xavier to be named Headboy in his seventh year, and had witnessed the young man hold the role with great skill and dignity. He did not have his father's beliefs or temperament, and had opted to become a healer.

Had his father been around and the Dark Lord at large, Xavier would never have been permitted to pursue such a career. With his return, Xavier would need to tread very carefully indeed. The Dark Lord would certainly be seeking to recruit his followers' children as he returned to power. 

Xavier's willingness to assist with Potter was a further indicator of his character. Severus knew he could be trusted to act as a Mind Healer for Potter. He was discrete, loyal, professional, and importantly, a skilled Occlumens. Severus had contacted the young healer, and had him commit to several vows of secrecy before allowing him to meet with Potter. 

Severus was concerned about the reaction of the Order to his choice of Mind Healer. When he had first approached Albus about the matter, he had been apprehensive about hiring someone at all.

The concerns for secrecy and Potter's safety had been expressed by several Order members. Severus knew when he’d been tasked with finding a healer that the son of a known Death Eater was unlikely to be a popular choice. Black had nearly torn the house apart at the suggestion. It was only at Albus's insistence that Black had finally calmed down and agreed to allow Potter to meet with him and decide for himself.

Severus couldn’t care less about what Black thought of the arrangement. However, he did find himself slightly apprehensive of Potter's reaction to the Death Eaters' son. For reasons that Severus did not wish to examine, he wanted Potter to accept the healer. The thought that he might turn him out for his associations grated on Severus strangely.

Xavier arrived exactly on time, as expected. He had forgone his usual lime green healer's robes and was dressed in more casual, stylish blue robes. His wide smile greeted Severus. Xavier was one of the few people who had ever directed a genuine smile toward Severus, and he found himself directing a slight upturn of his lip back. The young man smoothed his perfectly combed dark brown hair before he reached out to shake Severus's hand. 

“Hello, Healer Rookwood, thank you very much for coming, and for agreeing to the level of secrecy that has been required.”

“Hello, Professor Snape, it is very good to see you again. No trouble at all, I'm glad to be of assistance.”

“Please come with me, Mr. Potter is waiting in the drawing room. I can fill you in more on the particulars of the situation as needed.” Severus began to lead the young man toward the appropriate doorway. Xavier stopped him before he could open the door with a light tap on his shoulder and a look of concern on his face.

“Thank you sir, but before we go, may I inquire if he knows who my father is? I like to be transparent with my patients, and I suspect he has more reason than most to be wary of me.” Xavier glanced toward his shoes in a gesture most unlike himself. Severus felt preemptive irritation with Potter build in him. If the boy rejected this kind man who wished to help him, he would crush the young healer’s spirit.

“He does not know. I felt it was appropriate that you be allowed to disclose that yourself should you desire to.” Severus informed him.

Xavier raised his eyes and nodded briskly.

“I appreciate that Sir. I’ll go see him now.” Severus noted that he looked slightly pinched around the eyes. Informing the Boy-Who-Lived that his father was part of the murderous cult that has stalked him since infancy was unlikely to be a pleasant conversation.

Severus could have apparated home for the duration of the appointment. He stayed to ensure at least the first part of the meeting went well. He half expected Potter to run out of the room after a few moments, declaring that he would have nothing to do with a Death Eater's son. 

For reasons all his own, Severus paced near the kitchen for nearly an hour before he saw the pair emerge. Xavier had a somewhat grave expression on his face, and Severus felt a small jolt in his chest.

Xavier spotted Severus and waved him over. Curiosity peaked, he strolled over, an eyebrow raised. Potter looked much as he always did, but would not meet Severus's eye.  Xavier raised his chin and adopted a professional tone. 

“Harry is old enough to consent to his own treatment, however I require him to pick a medical proxy with whom I can discuss anything of immediate importance that may arise during our meetings. He has asked for that person to be you, Professor.” Severus nearly dropped his jaw in shock. What would possess Potter to choose him of all people? 

“Are you sure about that Potter?” Severus looked at him doubtfully, Potter raised his eyes slightly and shrugged.

“Well, you already know a lot of things, everyone else will make a big fuss about some stuff and I'd just rather nothing else change. Is it okay… that I picked you, I mean?” Potter looked horribly self conscious before adding. “And would you not tell Sirius, please, he’d be absolutely narked.

Severus felt a strong sense of satisfaction at that. So, Potter didn't trust his Godfather to be his medical proxy, but he chose Severus. Regardless of the absurdity of the situation, getting one over on Black was always a thrill. He smirked to himself.

“That would be fine, Potter.” 

Potter pursed his lips as if attempting to hide a small pleased smile himself.

“Okay good. Xavier said he has some stuff to talk to you about, but I'm going to go have lunch if that's okay?” He looked up at Xavier questioningly.

“Yes, go on ahead Harry. It was a pleasure to meet you today. I shall see you soon.” Xavier smiled at Potter, eyes crinkled in fondness.

“Same here, thanks Xavier, see you soon.” Potter scurried off toward the kitchen.

Severus gestured for Xavier to reenter the drawing room with him. Curiosity itched at his skin. They settled into comfortably worn armchairs as Severus broke the silence.

“I can not imagine why Potter would choose me as his medical proxy.” Severus remained flabbergasted by the choice.

“I’ve worked with many children and teenagers, Professor Snape, they always have their reasons for things, however indecipherable it may seem at the time.” Xavier looked smug, although Severus could not reason out why.

“I suppose. I tend to find them mindless imbeciles myself.” Severus retorted.

“Yes, you were never very fond of them were you? It was an excellent choice to become a teacher, wasn't it?” Xavier smirked at him.

“I believe you had some matters of importance to discuss Mr. Rookwood?” Severus gave him an attempted stern look, but Xavier was far too accustomed to Severus to miss that he wasn’t truly angry. “How did Potter react to your parentage?”

Xavier shook his head, smiling in what appeared to be disbelief. 

“When I told him, he went quiet, I thought he was going to kick me out of the room.” Xavier sighed, before he met Severus' eyes head on. “He said that he thought I was very brave. He asked if I was sure I wanted to accept the risks of working with him.”

Xavier shook his head again. “Just like that. No one has ever reacted that way before. People look at me as though I'm diseased when they hear my surname. I thought he’d be disgusted, but he was only worried for me.” Xavier looked somewhat wistful as he said this, an expression Severus had not seen on the serious man's face before.

Xavier took a breath and continued before Severus could respond.

“That aside, I have many concerns about Harry’s well-being. I ran a general diagnostic scan on him and he is quite underweight. He would not explain to me the cause. Are you aware of any issues with eating? An eating disorder of any kind, perhaps?”

“Not that I'm aware of. He has always been on the thin side.” Severus scowled in confusion. 

“That's putting it quite mildly Professor. Harry's weight is dangerously low, and he is malnourished as well. I will provide him with a series of potions to address this, but he must eat solid food, as well as adhere to the potions regimen.” 

“I will ensure that he does so.” Severus would not put up with the boy’s picky eating habits. 

“Please see that you do. Typically I would refer him to a specialist, however I understand that this circumstance is unique.” Xavier frowned and shook his head. 

“The other matter is something that disturbs me greatly. It is my understanding that Harry was placed under the cruciatus curse in June?”

“Pardon me?” Severus felt a cold shiver through his spine. The cruciatus curse? Surely he would have been informed of such a thing.

“Harry informed me that the Dark Lord tortured him in a graveyard following the third task of the Triwizard Tournament.” Xavier visibly tensed. “Awful to think about isn't it?”

“Indeed, although it is the first I am hearing of it.” Severus felt distinctly ill. 

“I noticed some slight tremors in his hands. I suspect nerve damage from the curse. I do not keep the regeneration potion on hand, I can’t say I have a great deal of experience with teenagers who’ve been tortured in this way.” Xavier looked down at his hands, his eyes displaying an uncharacteristic force of emotion. He paused for a moment, seeming to struggle to find his next words. “Sorry, Professor, it's just, he's quite young isn't he?” Severus was taken aback by the sincerity of Xavier's distress.

“Yes, I suppose he is.” Severus conceded. “ I can provide him with the potion myself, I have some at home.”

“I thought you might. Thank you. I don’t want to see that go untreated any longer than it already has. I can not fathom why he hasn't already received any treatment. He said he informed Professor Dumbledore.”

“He informed the Headmaster?”

“So he says. Although I find it hard to believe that Professor Dumbledore would have acted so carelessly with that information.” 

“Hard to believe, indeed.” Severus felt a rage build from deep within him. If that was true, the old coot would have hell to pay.

Xavier sighed and looked troubled once more. 

“There's also the dissociation that you originally contacted me about. I witnessed an episode of it while he explained the ordeal he endured in June. I used some light legilimency to observe what is occuring in his mind. As you said, it's severe, which leads me to believe this is not simply a result of a recent trauma.”

“Mr. Potter has had an eventful life.” Severus stated vaguely.

“Yes, I suppose that is well documented, say no more, it's much better if I can get Harry to open up himself. My plan will be to extract the traumatic memories and help him to process them outside of his mind. It's a somewhat controversial technique, but dissociative disorders that have progressed to this extent can be difficult to treat with potions or calming spells.” Xavier sighed, looking older than his twenty-five years.

“I support your treatment plan. I will procure the nerve regeneration potion and ensure he takes the nutrient regimen. The Headmaster has leant me his pensive, you are welcome to use it.”

“Excellent, Professor. Thank you, I appreciate your expertise as always.” Xavier looked thoughtful for a moment, and opened his mouth hesitantly.

“Can I be honest with you Professor?” Severus nodded his agreement, curious about what could be troubling his young former student.

“I’m feeling a bit guilty about something. When I agreed to come here today, it was only out of loyalty to you. I had no interest in meeting Harry Potter. Actually I was completely dreading it. I was fully prepared to deal with a spoiled, arrogant little brat. I thought he’d throw my father's name at me, or refuse to work with me. I thought he’d be like every self righteous Gryffindor I've ever met who can’t be reasoned with.” Xavier sighed and leaned forward before continuing.

“But then… he wasn’t like that in the slightest. He was so kind to me straight away, and he was…” Xavier hesitated as though trying to find the right words.

“He’s the type of person you can’t help but like… you know? Humble in a sweet sort of way. Honestly, if I'd survived a one on one duel with the Dark Lord I'd brag about it until the day I died, but Harry downplayed the whole affair.” Xavier chuckled lightly before sobering. “I feel bad for prejudging him. Especially since I know how that feels.”

Severus felt his instinct to correct Xavier rise up in him. He needed to remind him that the boy was an arrogant bully and hardly humble or kind. How many times had Severus asserted as such to Potter's fans over the years?

However, in the face of Xavier’s assessment of Potter's character, Severus found himself unable to say anything at all.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven: Help Wanted 

Following his appointment, Harry found himself once again seated in the kitchen. It had become the popular gathering point in the house, as it was one of the few places that didn't feel as if it were coated in years of neglect.

Happily, Ron and Hermione were the only occupants of the room. Harry hadn't told anyone else about his appointment with the mind healer, but felt he could not hide everything from his inquisitive best friends. Hermione had been thrilled about the prospect when he’d told her the previous day, and primly informed Harry that it was, “ a really great opportunity to sort some things out.” 

Harry had privately thought that was a load of codswallop, not that he had been brave enough to share that with Hermione.

Once in the appointment, Harry had been pleasantly surprised at how easy it had been to talk to Xavier. When Snape had insisted on a mind healer, Harry did not picture someone young and cool like Xavier. He had imagined a stodgy old witch or wizard who smelt of mothballs and pinched Harry’s cheeks. Xavier, in contrast, almost reminded Harry of Bill Weasley, who was arguably the coolest person he had ever met.

It was an incredibly odd concept to speak to a complete stranger about his personal life. Despite this, Harry had found himself spilling out the entire story from the graveyard, a tale he had not even repeated in full to Ron and Hermione.

He found more words than he thought possible prior to the meeting, and barely stopped to breathe. Once he started, it was as if every horrible part of that tournament had simply been waiting for an invitation to burst forward.

Xavier had sat calmly as Harry described the torment he had experienced. It was somehow comforting to have someone to talk to who wouldn't get emotional during the retelling. Xavier had been sympathetic, even horrified at Harry’s experience, but he hadn’t panicked or pressed for more information than Harry was willing to give.

Xavier had also strangely acted like Harry was doing him some kind of favour, just because he didn’t care about his Death Eater father. Harry didn’t think it would be very fair to blame Xavier for something his father did. If anything, Harry felt quite bad for him. How hard it must be to have a father, only to have him sent away to jail for something so evil.

On reflection, Harry could not help but feel guilty that Xavier was putting himself at risk to help him. Harry had enough first hand experience with Voldemort to know that turning against him in any way was worse than a death sentence. There were few things Harry hated more than people being in danger because of him.

Once they had gotten past the oddly awkward conversation, Harry had felt very comfortable with the young healer. He hadn’t imagined that mind healing could include so much laughter, or be so easy. He was almost looking forward to meeting with Xavier again.

When asked to choose a medical proxy, Harry had hesitated. Sirius was the obvious choice, the man his parents had deemed responsible for Harry should anything happen to them. The problem was, Harry suspected the man his parents had known was an entirely different entity from the one Harry knew. 

Sirius had spent so long in Azkaban that it had surely impacted his personality and judgment. Harry adored Sirius, but he was difficult to predict. Unpredictable adults were typically not Harry’s favourite creatures. He felt guilty for even thinking it, but Harry was deeply unsure if Sirius could handle the responsibility of acting on his behalf. 

When Snape's name had tumbled out of his mouth, he almost wished he could retract it. He wondered if perhaps some strange demon had inhabited his body for a moment and caused him to choose Snape as his medical proxy. Harry imagined explaining this to Ron… to Sirius. 

Xavier had reassured him that no one else needed to become aware of the situation, or know that he was seeing a mind healer at all. While this gave him some comfort, Harry still felt somewhat weary about his decision. The truth of his hesitation lay with the information he hadn’t shared with Xavier. He had not probed Harry for information about the Dursleys, and Harry had not volunteered any. As much as he liked Xavier, he was not prepared to talk about any of it at the moment. Or better yet, ever.

Harry had always been determined to keep his home life as secret as possible. It was bad enough that Snape already knew some of Harry’s situation. He wasn’t sure what the strange Snape from the alternate universe had told him in private, but retained hope that some of his home life remained unknown. With Snape as his medical proxy, Harry feared the risk of being exposed.

Harry shuddered at the thought of Snape knowing all his deepest held secrets. In particular, he could only hope he didn’t know about his cupboard. Harry did not think he could bear the shame of it if he did. He was already extremely concerned about the amount of information Snape possessed, and what he could do with that information back at Hogwarts. Harry could only imagine the ridicule he would endure from the student population if they knew.

Harry pondered the impulsive choice as he put his elbows up on the table, unwilling to start the conversation with his friends.

“So…how’d it go?” Ron breached the topic, clearly seeing Harry wouldn’t do so anytime soon. 

Harry shrugged, then rolled his head back, knowing that he’d need to provide his friends with a bit more information, lest he risk a full blown interrogation. 

“It was fine.”

Hermione pursed her lips. Harry folded. 

“It was good, actually. Not as bad as I thought it would be.” Harry admitted with a groan. This seemed to be a more satisfactory answer.

Hermione smiled smugly at him. “I knew it would be good for you to speak to someone. You know, I have always thought it would do everyone a great deal of good to work with mind healers. In the muggle world there is a lot of stigma of course, but it really is very important.” Hermione lectured. 

“Righ-” 

“Harry, I do hope you spoke to him about more than just what happened in June. I know you don’t like to talk about it but honestly , you really do need to learn to open up more.” Hermione continued as if Harry had not interrupted her monologue. 

“Okay, Hermione, I get it.” 

“The way they treat you is just despicable, and that’s only what we can guess. It’s not as if you tell us.” She muttered with a slight eye roll.

“I know, I know. Can we stop now?” 

“It’s just tha-”

“Hermione, stop.” Ron nudged Hermione in the ribs, noticing Harry’s growing irritation.

“Sorry, Harry.” She muttered. “I just think it’s important.”

Harry nodded at her and she patted his hand.

“I know, Hermione, I promise I’ll try with Xavier.” She slipped a sandwich in front of him in a gesture of peace. Neither of his friends, despite their well documented bravery, seemed willing to breach the topic of his appointment again. 

Harry could not blame them, he did have the tendency to fly off the handle when confronted with personal issues. Harry frequently wondered exactly what kept Ron and Hermione loyally by his side when he was such an inconsistent friend.

Harry offered them a small smile instead of a recap of his appointment hoping that they’d understand his need to wait before talking to them. Ron and Hermione smiled back with understanding, and Harry felt overwhelmed with gratitude and love for them. He distractedly nibbled at his sandwich, whispering quietly to Ssyra who had left her sleeping spot in his sweater pocket to curl up by Harry's ear.

He wondered what reaction she would garner when he returned to Hogwarts. After the rumours about him being the heir of Slytherin in second year, Harry knew that people would accuse him of being a dark wizard. With Ssyra’s comforting weight on his shoulder and her quick witty comments whispered into his ear, he couldn't bring himself to care what anyone else would think about it.

Besides, according to the Daily Prophet, Harry was a mentally unhinged liar, so adding a pet snake to the mix was hardly likely to make a difference to his reputation. 

Harry’s musings were interrupted by the opening of the kitchen door. Three heads snapped up as their fearsome potions master strolled into the room, scowling.

“Potter, a moment, if you would.” Snape looked down his nose at Harry, not bothering to acknowledge the other occupants of the room. 

Ron and Hermione looked ready to protest their expulsion from the room, but Harry simply shot them a glance, hoping to convey his desire for them to leave without a fuss, as well as his promise to fill them in later.

He knew it was successful when Ron sighed and stood, pulling Hermione with him out of the kitchen. Harry would not be surprised if he found them outside of the door, glasses pressed to their ears. Or, more likely, extendable ears.

Snape took a seat across from Harry, and remained silent for a moment. He looked as if he were struggling to choose his words, a state Harry had not previously thought ever plagued the serious man.

“You’ve met with Healer Rookwood.”

“Yes…” It was quite unusual for Snape to state something so obvious.

Snape cleared his throat awkwardly. “I understand he told you about his father’s affiliations?”

“Yes, he did.” Harry tilted his head at Snape in confusion. Everyone seemed awfully wrapped up in the business of Xavier's father.

“And you are unbothered by this?” Snape raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Why should I be bothered?” Harry asked, genuinely perplexed.

“His father is a known, incarcerated Death Eater. That does not concern you?”

“Xavier isn't his father, Professor.” Harry said pointedly. “Besides, he is trying to help me. Doesn't sound like Death Eater behaviour to me.”

“You are far too trusting, Potter.” Snape sighed, pinching the bridge of his long nose.

“What? So, you’re saying the healer you picked out for me, I shouldn't trust? That’s ridiculous.” Harry grumbled. 

“I…I am just surprised at your acceptance of him.”

“He’s nice. I like him, okay? You wanted me to see a mind healer so I am!” Harry bristled with frustration and righteous indignation on Xavier's behalf. The stress of the morning began to grate at his nerves.

“There's no need for dramatics, Potter.” Snape sneered. 

Harry sputtered at the hypocrisy. “You’re the dramatic one!”

“I suggest you revisit that statement.” Snape’s expression shifted to a deadly cold one. 

Harry conceded to the look, deciding this was not the hill he wished to die on. Possibly literally. 

“Fine, it’s okay, can we let it go?” Harry muttered halfheartedly. 

“Yes, fine.” Snape flattened the front of his robes of non-existent wrinkles.

Harry sighed in gratitude. The pointless argument had already drained his energy.

“Well then, I have spoken to Healer Rookwood about your condition. Although I can not understand your reasoning, as your medical proxy we need to discuss a few matters. You will follow the directions exactly, is that understood?” Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry, daring him to protest.

“Understood Professor.” Harry nodded.

“Very well. Healer Rookwood informs me that your weight is low, he is recommending a course of nutrition potions, to be taken with each meal. I will provide them to you, ensure that you take them, I will be most displeased if I find that you have not followed this instruction.” Snape pulled a lavender coloured potion out of his pocket, and thrust it toward Harry.

Harry blushed at the knowledge that he was underweight. He knew of course, that he was smaller and thinner than most boys in his year, but to hear it said by Snape was frankly humiliating. He once again questioned his sanity in choosing the man as his medical proxy. 

“You will take your first dose now, if you’ve eaten lunch?” Harry nodded, surely half a sandwich counted as lunch. He reached for the potion wearily, eying it with suspicion. Snape glared at him as he scrunched up his face before downing the potion. 

It was surprisingly easy to take, unlike most of the foul tasting potions he had encountered. Ssyra reached out her tongue and attempted to taste the vial, and Harry had to move it quickly out of reach. Snape made no comment but eyed Harry the entire time.

“I’ve also been informed that you have received no treatment for your exposure to the cruciatus curse, is that correct?” Snape tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at Harry, causing him to feel very small.

“There’s a treatment?” Harry could not recall receiving any type of treatment, although, the night he returned to the graveyard he was hardly in a state of mind to remember much. “Yes, Potter, there’s a treatment, the curse can cause nerve damage. Have you noticed a recent difficulty with your hands trembling? Difficulty grasping things?”

Harry had in fact noticed difficulty with his hands, he had been experiencing spasms and shaking ever since the graveyard, but he had not thought to connect the experiences. He nodded his confirmation at Snape, who looked at him with disdain.

“You did not think to inform anyone that you had been tortured by the Dark Lord? To ensure you were properly healed?”

“I told Dumbledore!” Harry half shouted. He felt indignant, tired of always being blamed for things that were not his fault.

Snape's face took on an expression of rage, he banged his fist down on the table. Harry instinctively flinched back at the force of his anger. He quickly stammered out an apology, unsure what he had done to anger the man, but sensing an apology may smooth the ruffled feathers.

Snape's expression flickered with surprise at the apology before settling into a cold mask.

“My anger is not directed at you Potter.” He muttered softly.

Harry looked at him with surprise, and tried to slow his breathing, but he was too far gone. He continued to struggle to control his breath, his chest was tight as the edges of his vision turned white. He heard hissing in his ear, but could not identify the source.

“Potter…Potter, calm down, you need to breathe.” Harry distantly recognized that Snape was attempting to talk to him. He paid no mind to the words, trapped as he was in his own distress.

“Listen to me, Potter, breathe slowly through your nose, come on!” Harry attempted to obey the instructions, inhaling through his nose in short bursts.

“A little slower, listen to me count…one, two, three, four. Now breathe out… one, two, three, four. Good, keep going.” Snape's steady voice started to connect to Harry’s brain as oxygen slowly returned to his brain.

When he returned to the present, it was to the image of Snape kneeled in front of him, stern face watching him with undisguised concern. Harry felt a flush burn up his neck when the reality of the situation sunk in. He had a panic attack, an actual panic attack in front of Snape. He resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. Instead he mumbled softly.

“Sorry about that.” Harry quietly told his knees.

“Do you have panic attacks often?” Harry flicked his eyes down slightly to look at Snape, who was still examining him closely, crouched on the floor at Harry’s feet.

“Erm... I guess sometimes?” Harry admitted with no small degree of humiliation.

Snape sighed and returned to his seat, though he continued to inspect Harry closely. 

“Is Healer Rookwood aware of this?” 

“I’ll tell him.” Harry asserted.

“You must, Potter. Clearly your mental state has been neglected for too long.” Harry bristled at Snape's dismissive tone. He already knew how keen Snape was to push Harry's problems off on someone else. Harry was unsure why this should bother him so much. He should want Snape out of his problems as soon as possible after all.

“I’m fine. I don't need your help, it's none of your business.” Harry spat, finally losing the cool polite tone he had mostly managed thus far.

“Oh yes, Potter, I can clearly see that you are fine." Snape sneered. He then huffed, schooling his expression into something that could pass as neutral.

“You named me as your medical proxy, unless you want to go back on that decision, then you have made it my business.” Snape sounded as if he were carefully controlling his tone.

“If you didn't want to do it you could have just said no.” Harry groused, feeling stung. “That is not what I said, Potter.” Snape looked at him wearily, causing Harry to feel slightly guilty for his attitude. “Perhaps it would be helpful to me if you explained why exactly you picked me?” Snape leaned forward, eyebrow raised.

Harry hesitated, unsure himself why he had chosen Snape. A louder part of his mind reminded him that he knew exactly why he had done so. Insecurity warred in Harry as he debated sharing this information with Snape.

It was ridiculous and daft to share private thoughts with the man. He had done nothing but torment Harry and his friends throughout his time at Hogwarts. Why on earth should Harry trust him now?

There was absolutely nothing to stop Snape from running off with Harry’s secrets and spreading them throughout the school. Then again, the potions professor already knew Harry’s darkest secret.

Harry was compelled to think instead about the strange version of Snape he had been interacting with lately. He thought about their trip to Diagon Alley, the glasses, clothes, and school supplies he had insisted on paying for. He thought of how Snape had gently wiped his face after he collapsed on his birthday.

Snape had arranged for a mind healer, had brought him potions and talked him through his panic attack. He especially thought of Ssyra, her comforting weight on his shoulders and the fact that Snape brought her, despite no real obligation to do so. With this all in mind, he resolved to answer the question honestly.

“When we were at your house, the other version of you talked to me while you were upstairs. When he…er… well when he was helping me with… you know.” Harry stammered, and tried to call upon his courage.

“He said that he was going to ask you to help me, to take care of some things I needed.” Harry hesitated. “He said that if I saw you were making an effort that I should… well, he said that I should let you try.” Harry awkwardly stumbled through the remainder of his explanation, feeling a fierce blush return in his cheeks.

Snape's expression remained unchanged. He was silent for so long that Harry was unsure if he would begin to speak at all.

“I don’t know how much help I can be to you Potter.” Snape said with a surprisingly genuine tone.

“You’ve already done more than anyone else has ever done.” Harry admitted, head ducked. He heard a small intake of breath from across the table. 

Harry glanced up just as Snape's neutral expression finally faltered.

Severus processed Potter's words. It was impossible that no one else had ever attended to his basic needs and requirements. The part of Severus's mind that was adept at spying noted that his counterpart would have never extracted promises from him if the boy was already properly cared for.

Locks, cat flaps, ill-fitting clothing, neglected furniture, and a beaten back atop skin and bones danced through his mind in a macabre parade. 

The part of Severus that still wished to suppress the reality of Potter's upbringing steadfastly ignored the facts as he grappled for alternate options.

Potter hesitated for a long moment. He shifted in his chair, eyes downcast. He looked ready to flee the uncomfortable conversation, but then, looking resolved, spoke without looking at Severus. 

“I think Sirius just wishes I was my Dad, or more like him at least.” He confessed in a quiet voice, as if letting the words carry would confirm them. 

He then scoffed with impatience, shaking his head. “I don’t even know how to be more like my Dad, I don’t remember him. I think Sirius just misses him so much, but I'm not him, no matter what you think.” Slight venom entered his tone at his last statement, leaving Severus feeling vaguely affronted. His response, however, spewed from his mouth without his consent.

“It is not your responsibility to help your Godfather in his grief.” Severus found himself surprised by his own words, and by his desire to reassure the boy seated in front of him.

The teenager looked so lost, and so small that he pushed down his temptation to assert that Potter was exactly like his father, and that Black was simply a drunk fool. Potter looked far from reassured at his words, although he did don an expression that indicated he was just as surprised by Severus’s words as Severus himself had been. The boy sighed heavily, not meeting Severus's eyes. 

“I want to help him, I really wish I could be who he needs me to be. I'm trying to help him. He said before that we could be a proper family, but I don't know if he wants to anymore. I have too many problems.” Potter had his arms wrapped around himself, his snake curled on his neck rubbing her head against her cheek in what appeared to be a gesture of comfort.

For the first time since his lapse into madness, Severus was glad that he had purchased the snake for Potter. He was at a complete loss for how to comfort the boy. At least he had provided him with a reassuring companion.

Severus had heard the echo of his own previous comments regarding Potter's problems and shrugged off the guilt. He decided to ignore Potter's comment, confident in the knowledge that anything he could say would surely make matters worse.

“Whatever the case Potter, if you are determined that I should act in your interests, then you will need to accept my medical advice. That includes panic attacks and the like. Do you understand?”

Potter nodded without looking directly at him.

Then hesitantly asked, “You won’t tell anyone, I mean, about my weight or whatever…and what you saw at your house?”

“I have had plenty of opportunities to share that information, Potter. I have no intention of doing so, now or in the future.” Severus asserted. Potter easily accepted this answer, surprising Severus once again with his reaction. 

“In return, I must insist on your discretion regarding my involvement in your life. I'm sure you can understand the precarious nature of my work for the Order?”

“You’re a spy aren't you?”

“Yes Potter. As such, you will not share this arrangement with anyone, not even those irritating little friends of yours.” 

“I have to tell Ron and Hermione!” 

“You will tell no one Potter. Do you have any idea what I would risk, if this information were to become public?” Snape exclaimed. 

Potter seemed to grasp this at last, nodding earnestly. “Oh, right. I understand, but Hermione will probably figure it out eventually on her own, and she won’t know to keep it secret from anyone else. If we tell her now, I swear she won't tell anyone.”

Severus sighed, keeping the arrangement a secret from Granger was sure to result in inquiries from Black and Lupin when she started nosing around.

“Fine, you may tell your friends. However, you may not tell another soul, nor allow for them to share it either. Is that understood?”  

“Yes.” Potter nodded quickly. 

“Yes, sir .” 

“There's no need to call me Sir, Professor.”

Severus was enraged, but then Potter glanced up at him with a hesitant look, and Severus realized there was humour in his tone. Severus was struck with the notion that the cheeky response was a clumsy attempt at friendly banter. It was a rare thing that someone truly joked with him. He made a quick choice, feeling somehow the manner in which he responded was of great importance.

“How very generous of you to allow that Potter.” He returned lightly. The boy raised his chin adopting a pompous tone.

“I simply strive to accommodate, Professor.” Potter grinned shyly at him.

Severus fought the urge to smile back. He decided he could feel appropriately disturbed about it all at a later date.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve: Fallout 

August 6th, 1995 

During the next few days, Harry fell into a routine of sorts. Having somewhere to be, surrounded by his friends, was comforting. He could almost pretend he was already back at Hogwarts, instead of stuck in Sirius’s dreary house. 

Each day, he had woken early to practice the meditation techniques Snape insisted he learn. Clearing his mind, practicing focused breathing, and looking inward. Despite his initial doubts about the purpose of the exercises, Harry had happily discovered that he quite enjoyed the meditation practice, and looked forward to it each morning. 

He often took to sitting out on the roof, following the patterns of his breath as he watched the sun finish its ascent into the sky. Although Harry loved company after his time in isolation, he sometimes found himself craving time alone. 

After his morning meditations, he then met with Xavier for his therapy sessions. Xavier had returned each day after their initial meeting, telling Harry that it was a good idea to have more intensive therapy. 

This schedule made Harry strongly suspect that he was being considered a complete head case.

Despite this, he had surprisingly found the sessions helpful. Xavier taught Harry to remove memories from his head and watch them in the pensive. They would then go through several relaxation techniques until Harry felt calm enough to discuss the memory.

It was a strange process, and unsettling, but Harry had been allowed to move at his own pace, selecting memories that were easier to view and discuss. He had yet to choose anything relating to the Dursleys, but Harry felt he was making progress.

Following his sessions with Xavier, Harry attended his Occlumency lessons with Snape. After their conversation following his first session with Xavier, Harry and Snape had fallen into a cautious truce. 

Both were careful with their words, neither pressing the agreement too far. It was a tense truce, but more than Harry could have ever anticipated having with Snape. Shockingly, when Snape wasn’t sneering down his nose at Harry or yelling at Neville, he was a decent teacher.

Harry found himself sitting as usual on a dusty armchair in the drawing room, suffering through an Occlumency lesson that was proving incredibly difficult. 

“Alright Potter, let’s try that again.” Snape said, exasperated.

Harry sighed. They had been working on choosing a shield that Harry was to use to guard his mind. The Occlumency book had explained that every person's shields would be unique. Snape explained that people often had success with the four elements. Fire, Air, Water, Earth. 

Harry had been experimenting with different elements, to frustratingly little success. Snape had been surprisingly patient with him, however Harry could tell that patience was starting to slip.

Harry had started with the element of air, thinking of his experiences on a broomstick. Snape had cut through the flimsy shield he conjured with ease. 

Water and Earth hadn’t been any more successful than air, and Harry felt that if Fire did not work, he was destined to never learn the art. 

Harry prepared himself for Snape to enter his mind, a feeling that had not lost its horrible invasiveness with each lesson.  

Harry took a deep breath and conjured the image of flames up into his mind, as he heard the word he was learning to dread, “legilimens.” 

Memories flashed through Harry’s mind as the flames were immediately pushed aside. He struggled to push Snape out, trying to utilize sheer force of will. The pressure was relentless, and short fragments of memory continued to flow easily. 

Harry felt Snape's presence withdraw from his mind. The man stood and paced the room. Harry sat panting, head aching and face buried in his hands. 

“Potter, you must try harder!” Snape finally spat out, frustration morphing into anger. 

“I am trying!” Harry protested. He wasn't sure how much harder he could try. He felt as if the strain of the lessons would soon pull him under. 

“Clearly not hard enough, your shields are pathetic, how do you expect to protect your mind from the Dark Lord?” Snape continued to pace. 

“You must understand, the moment he realizes this connection, he will use it against you, he will torture you without needing to get anywhere near you. You must try harder Potter. You put as much effort into this as you do into your schoolwork, you show no value towards my teachings!” 

Harry’s patience finally snapped, the weight of several days of failure crashing down on him. 

“Maybe if you actually taught me something I would be able to do it!” Harry shouted, louder than he’d intended. 

Snape looked thunderous. He approached suddenly and Harry could not restrain himself from a full body flinch. Snape's expression faltered and softened slightly. He drew a breath before speaking. 

“I will return when you've decided that your sanity is worth the effort.” With that he strode from the room, robes billowing behind him. 

Harry sat still, letting his face fall into his hands. Occlumency was impossible, and his fear of falling into Voldemort's mind increased by the day. 

He’d begun having strange dreams the past two nights. He woke covered in sweat, shaking despite the dreams being fairly tame. In them, he was obsessed with getting to something at the end of a long dark corridor. He could never quite get to the end before waking up, infuriated. 

Harry's instincts told him these were not ordinary dreams, however he had yet to report them to Snape. The thought of further disappointing the professor left a sour taste in his mouth. 

Harry glanced up from his hands for a moment and noticed that in his haste to leave Harry's failure behind, Snape had left the pensive unattended. Each day as Snape transferred memories into the shimmering bowl, Harry's curiosity had grown. He desperately wanted to know what Snape felt valuable enough to hide from him. Even Sirius had refused to share any information about the war with Harry and it was beginning to grate on him.

Clearly something was going on, and Harry felt he had the right to know. After all it was him Voldemort always seemed to be chasing after. It was him who had fought him in the graveyard. 

It was with this thought in mind that Harry found himself across the room standing in front of the pensive. A small voice in the back of Harry's mind declared that this was one of his certified, Very Bad Ideas. He deliberately pushed the thought down and focused on his righteous anger that he'd been barred from information about his own life. 

He threw his head forward into the shimmering water in the same way as one might jump into a frigid pool before losing their nerve. He was thrown into a memory of a surprisingly familiar location. Hogwarts, by the lake, in one of Harry's favourite spots. He realized immediately that this was not in fact a memory of secret war information, but perhaps something more private. 

He went to pull himself from the pensive when he spotted a woman with red hair and emerald green eyes. Exactly the shade and shape as Harry’s. His feet pulled him automatically towards his mother, drinking in her appearance, her movements. He longed to reach for her, despite knowing it would be impossible. Harry thought he could stay here forever, staring at his mother, young and joyful.

The moment was ruined by the scene that eventually played out. The next thing he knew, a young Snape was hung upside down, Harry's Father and Sirius laughing at him cruelly. Remus stood by silently, not intervening. Harry’s stomach was twisted in knots by the time Snape uttered the unforgivable slur at his mother. 

He then felt a firm hand on his shoulder, looking up Harry met eyes with a very angry, very much adult Snape who had him gripped tightly. Harry was pulled from the pensive and back into the drawing room.

Harry took a deep breath as he reacquainted himself with the real world. Snape was silent, and Harry could not bear to look at him. He waited for him to yell, to curse, to finally snap and hit him. 

When Snape finally spoke, it was in a low voice, devoid of any discernible emotion. 

“I’ll bet you enjoyed that didn't you? I'm sure you’ll have a great laugh about it with Black later. Such a hilarious prank your father played on me.” 

“No, no I-” 

You will leave this room Potter. You can forget about these lessons. You can forget asking for my help ever again.” 

Harry felt his heart drop into his stomach. He wanted to apologize, wanted to explain. 

“Professor... I-” 

“Was I unclear?” Snape sneered. “Leave. Now.” Snape didn’t look at him, his jaw was clenched and his eyes focused on the door. 

Harry scurried from the room, and hurried upstairs, locking himself in his shared bedroom. He stared at the four walls around him and felt like the biggest tosser on earth. 

After all this time of hearing about his father being an arrogant bully, he’d never actually imagined that it was true. Everyone has told him such shining stories about his dad. Only Snape had ever spoken Ill of him. Harry felt as if the world had twisted in on itself. Snape had been right. Not only that, Harry’s father had been worse than Snape had ever described. 

An odd spark of grief pierced through Harry. He felt as if his father had been taken from him again. He felt the loss more keenly than even his experience with the dementors. 

Besides that, what upset Harry the most, shockingly, was that Snape had apparently given up on him. He wasn't sure why this should bother him so much. It wasn't as if he and Snape had become best mates in the past few days. 

However, Harry had begun to feel some kind of growing warmth in this chest during their interactions. Snape had stepped up for Harry where no one else ever had. Now it was all ruined. All because Harry once again could not mind his own business. He wished he had been given a chance to explain. A chance to tell Snape that he understood, that he didn't agree with what his father had done that day by the lake.

Harry knew exactly what it felt like to be laughed at in a circle of onlookers. The unique pain of humiliation in front of one's peers. It wasn't something he would ever wish on anyone, not even Malfoy. Certainly not on Snape. 

The solution occured to Harry all at once. “An eye for an eye,” he thought morbidly. He could prove to Snape that he was truly sorry. Show him that he honestly understood. Harry jumped up from his bed and dug through this trunk until he found a small glass vial. He rushed downstairs and found Mr. Weasley sitting in the kitchen. 

“Mr. Weasley! Could you please help me take a memory out of my head?” 

Mr. Weasley looked surprised and a bit confused, but characteristically did not press for answers. It was a trait that he shared with Ron of which Harry was always deeply grateful. He put his wand to Harry’s temple and Harry thought hard about the memory he wanted to share. When Mr. Weasley finally drew the long silvery strand from him, Harry raised up the vial and collected the memory. He smiled at his friend's father. 

“Thanks so much!” Harry rushed from the room, leaving a bewildered Mr. Weasley in his wake.

He slowed his pace as he approached the drawing room. Harry hoped that Snape was still there, that he hadn't left after his declaration of never speaking to Harry again. He shivered uncomfortably at the thought. Harry pulled together all the courage he could muster, and took a deep breath, before slowly pushing the door open and creeping inside. 

Harry found Snape sitting almost completely still in the far corner of the drawing room. The man's elbows were resting on his thighs, his hands were steepled in front of his face and closed eyes. He looked more weary than Harry could have imagined. Guilt stabbed at his heart. Harry approached slowly, as though nearing a skittish animal. Snape’s head snapped up to glare at him.

“You really have some nerve, Potter.” Snape scoffed disbelievingly, hatred gleaming in his glare.

Harry put his small hands up in front of him placatingly. He continued to approach and gently placed the vial on the small table in front of Snape. 

“I didn't think it was funny.” Harry said softly. 

Harry did not wait for a response before he turned quickly on his heel and left the room. 

Severus could have strangled Potter when he returned to the room to find the cretin snooping around in his memories. White hot fury shot down his spine, as he attempted to gather up enough vitriol to spew at him. 

It was only the boy's frightened expression that caused him to dismiss him from the room without a further scene. It was the expression of someone expecting to be struck. 

Severus was many things, but he was not a man who would hit a child, even one as completely insufferable as Potter. 

He watched the boy flee the room at a breakneck speed, fear in his eyes. Severus had sat heavily on the armchair, lost in ruminations of his past mistakes, and all that they had cost him.

He ignored the creeping sense of betrayal that threatened to overtake him. He refused to feel hurt by the actions of a fifteen year boy wearing James Potter's face. When said boy had returned to the room not ten minutes later, Severus was nearly stunned into silence by the audacity of the idiot child. 

Severus now stared at the vial of memory that sat on the table in front of him. The swirling silver memory mocked him from the vial. He could not imagine what it contained, what could Potter have possibly wanted to hand over to his least favourite professor.

Severus continued to stare at the vial as if it had personally offended him, until curiosity burned at him uncomfortably. He had never been a man who could resist a puzzle. He snatched up the vial and made his way to the pensive. Severus dropped the silvery memory into the bowl, watching it swirl with trepidation. He steeled himself for what he might see in Potter’s memories. He plunged into the pensive without further ceremony. 

The world reformed as he landed in a nondescript primary school playground. Grey concrete dominated the scene. Children were running around him at breakneck speeds, causing Severus to swerve out of their way, sneering despite their inability to see or touch him. Severus craned his head about, searching for Potter.

It did not take him long to locate the boy. He was small, dressed in clothing at least twice his size, his worn trousers held up by a tight belt. The boy was making his way quickly towards the building in front of them. His eyes darted around, as if he were a rabbit avoiding predators. His tiny shoulders clenched up around his ears as he moved silently. Severus, spurred by his continued curiosity, followed him. 

Potter was stopped near the doors to the building by several children much larger than Potter himself. One of them Severus recognized from the photos in Number 4 Privet Drive as Potter's cousin, Dudley Dursley. 

“Oi, look who it is! Little Potty, where do you think you're going?” One of the boys jeered.

“Get out of my way Piers.” Potter demanded, his small voice shaking with suppressed fear. The other boys laughed mockingly at his weak attempt. 

“Piers asked you a question, Freak, where are you going?” Potter's cousin started to approach him, meaty hands grabbing at the collar of his oversized shirt. 

“Just inside to the loo, leave me alone!” Potter struggled against his cousin, as the other boys surrounded him. 

“You hear that boys? He needs to go to the loo. Poor little baby forgot his nappy, do you think we should let him in?” The boy called Piers cackled cruelly as Potter continued to attempt to escape from the grips of the larger boys. Dursley smirked at Piers and shook his head in mock thoughtfulness. 

“I don’t think we should! I bet he doesn't even need to go, just wants to kiss up to the teachers.” Dursley leveraged his weight against Potter pushing him to the ground. Severus felt the urge to intervene, despite the impossibility of such a thing. He watched in horror as Potter was held on the ground, struggling against boys twice his size.

“Should we find out if he’s wearing his nappy?” Dursley grinned nastily and began pushing down on Potter’s lower abdomen, and Severus felt his own stomach clench. Surely they would not be that cruel.

 Potter began to struggle harder, crying out in earnest, “stop it! Stop! Stop!” The other boys only laughed, ignoring his desperate pleas. “Someone shut him up, we don’t want teachers putting their nose in.” A tall, serious looking boy glanced around nervously, scanning the school yard despite what Severus discerned as a complete lack of adult supervision. 

Dursley ceased his assault on Potter's stomach and reached over, grabbing a pile of rotted leaves from the ground beside him and shoving them into Potter's mouth, gesturing to another boy to hold their hand over his mouth. Potter twisted his head back and forth, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks.

Two others joined in, holding the small boy down as Dursley resumed pushing down on his stomach. Severus watched, unable to tear his horrified gaze away from the scene, unable to help as Potter's trousers turned dark. He stopped struggling, and a distant look entered his eyes and tears continued to course down his face. The other boys laughed and released him. 

“Little baby Potter had an accident!” 

“Poor little baby” 

The boys continued to jeer and taunt until a teacher seemed to finally take notice and walk over. 

“What's happening over here?” He demanded 

“Nothing Mr. Sanders, Potter here just wee'd in his trousers.” The boy called Piers said with a charming false smile. Severus was disturbingly reminded of a very young Black and Potter, employing the innocent act. 

The teacher looked around the scene, at Potter’s tear streaked face, the boy spitting out clumps of leaves suspiciously. 

“Is that true Harry?” 

“Yes Mr. Sanders, just an accident.” Mumbled Potter. The teacher looked unconvinced, but sighed in defeat when Potter failed to incriminate the other boys. 

“I’ll ring your Aunt to bring you clean clothes.” 

“No, don't!” Potter looked stricken. “Please, don’t bother her, she will be busy at the house.” 

The teacher looked bewildered. 

“I, well if you’re sure… I think we have something in the lost and found. We will get you sorted.” 

He turned around, expecting Potter to follow him. Two of the boys smacked Potter across the head while the teacher's back was turned. Potter ignored them and followed his teacher, eyes downcast and rubbing the back of his head.

The memory ended and Severus found himself back in the drawing room. He sat heavily in an armchair, attempting to process what he had witnessed. He found himself once again in the position of feeling a profound sense of pity for Potter. It was an uncomfortable state, one he had spent far too much time in over the past several days. 

The scene Potter had given him had been incredibly difficult to watch. Severus was painfully reminded of his own childhood, only, on reflection, nothing quite so awful had ever happened to him. 

He had always been able to give as good as he got with Potter Sr. On the odd occasion where he was bested, such as the day by the lake, Severus had usually been able to enact his revenge. The small boy in the memory had clearly no such recourse. No parents at home to fight for him. No confidence to confide in a teacher. Severus felt the hopelessness of that seep into his own consciousness. 

Overwhelmingly, Severus felt sick. A deep, painful sensation that spread across his entire body. The memory had been so viscerally awful, Severus almost felt as if it had happened to him. That tiny shaking child, so horribly alone in his torment.  The memory of it would surely haunt Severus's dreams in the coming nights. 

He contemplated why Potter had chosen to share the scene with him. The memory was humiliating, something Severus would never have handed over to anyone. Not without a motive. It was clearly an attempt at an apology for entering Severus's own memories. Perhaps he thought by sharing an embarrassing memory Severus would forget his own anger, overcome with pity.

Severus shook his head, frustrated with himself for sympathy he had been ruminating in. This was merely a pathetic attempt at manipulation. He had known this boy for four years, the boy he knew would hardly be capable of such a show of true repentance. 

“You don't know anything, anything about me.”  

Severus shook the voice from his head. Everything he thought he knew about Potter had been turned on its head in the past week. The more he learned, the more Potter’s statement rang true. Severus did not know anything about this boy. 

Severus sighed and contemplated his next move. He could not make sense of the situation without interrogating Potter. He would wring out the truth from the boy if needed. Surely there was an explanation for the inexplicably vulnerable sharing. 

He took a steadying breath and went to locate Potter, expecting to find him hiding away in his room, or complaining to Black about Severus. 

Instead, he found Potter sitting quietly on the ground in the corridor outside of the drawing room. His knees were drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around himself. He was staring into the middle distance, that odd, blank expression firmly on his face. Potter looked small, curled up that way upon himself. Severus saw an even smaller boy with a tear streaked face and wet trousers in his mind's eye. 

“Potter.” 

Potter's head snapped up to meet his eyes. 

“Professor, I’m really really sorry. Please don’t give up on me, I'll do better I promise.” The planitive voice begged before Severus could open his mouth. Severus let a beat pass before saying simply, 

“Come with me.” 

Severus turned and returned to the drawing room. He heard Potter's quiet steps behind him. Severus gestured for him to sit down in the armchair across from him. He watched as Potter sat stock still in the chair. Eyes lowered toward Severus’s chin. 

Severus had noted with disinterest in the past that Potter never squirmed in his chair like an ordinary student. He always sat perfectly still when seated in Severus’s office, his eyes neither making contact, nor lowered too low as to be considered disrespectful. Were those more signs of a less than ideal home life that Severus had missed? 

“Why did you give me that memory Potter?” Severus returned his mind to the matter at hand. 

Potter finally raised his eyes up to Severus in surprise. Clearly he had been expecting a reprimand. He looked thoughtful for a moment, blinking his eyes rapidly. 

“I wanted to show you I'm sorry. I thought it might make you understand.” 

“Understand what, Potter?” Severus still couldn’t make sense of the boy’s reasoning. 

“That I didn't enjoy the memory I saw, like you said I did.” Potter hesitated. “I wanted you to know that I know how it feels, and it’s not right.” He added in a whisper. “ I didn’t think you had something personal in there.” 

“You didn’t expect to see something personal in my private memories?” Severus scoffed at the idiotic child. 

“No! I didn't think it was personal! I thought it was war stuff. I'm so tired of not knowing anything!” Potter’s face returned to the self righteous expression Severus was more familiar with.  

“Did you stop to consider that if it was war information that I felt the need to hide, you would have offered those secrets up to the Dark Lord on a silver platter in your unprotected, immature mind?” Severus scowled, growing frustrated with Potter anew. 

“I...wasn't thinking about that.” Potter said softly.

“You weren't thinking at all Potter, and that is precisely the problem with you! Jumping into everything with no consideration for the consequences!” 

Potter cast his eyes down and pulled his hands through his hair, tugging hard on the dark strands. 

“I know.” He whispered. “I just keep messing everything up.” 

Severus was taken back. He found himself in the unenviable position of once again feeling some sympathy for the boy. Severus was no stranger to poor life choices and regret, of course. He gazed at Potter, seated in front of him looking as lost as the kitten that had once turned up on Severus’s doorstep in a rainstorm. Pathetic, small, and absolutely impossible to leave out in the cold. 

“Alright Potter, let’s move past this. I will accept your apology if you answer some questions for me.” Severus decided to utilize the situation to his benefit. There were many things he wanted answers to. Unlike Potter, Severus was unwilling to offer up anything without getting something in return. 

“Oh, erm, alright, sir.” Potter looked relieved at the change of topic. 

“Why did you lie to that teacher?” 

Potter looked at him in surprise. “Mr. Sanders? What would he have done?” 

“Punished your cousin and those other boys, perhaps?” 

Potter let out a short bitter laugh. A sound that would have been more fitting on a much older, more jaded person.  

“Oh yes, that would have worked out so well for me.” Potter scoffed out a laugh again. 

“What would have happened?” Severus asked with trepidation, dreading the answer. 

Potter rolled his eyes and looked away.  

“Don’t roll your eyes at me. I told you to answer my questions. What would have happened, Potter?” 

The boy was silent for a long moment, appraising Severus seriously. When he spoke it was in a whisper so soft, Severus had to lean forward slightly in his chair to hear. 

“Dudley would have gotten in trouble.” 

“Yes, that's rather the point I would think.” 

Potter shook his head at Severus pityingly, as if he thought Severus was as naive as a first year.  

“My Aunt and Uncle wouldn’t like it.” 

“What would happen?” 

“They just, they just wouldn't like it okay? If it was my fault for telling on him, it wouldn't be worth it.” 

“Would you be punished?” Severus clenched his hands into fists. 

“Yes. Can we be finished with the questions, please?” Potter finally began fidgeting in his seat. 

“How would they have punished you?” 

Potter looked up at him, meeting his eyes head on, a haunted look in his green eyes that would go on in turn to haunt Severus's dreams further. Eyes that would fit better on a war veteran than on a fifteen year old boy. He pleaded again with Severus, silently conveying his desire to end the interrogation. Never had such a despaired look graced Lily Evans' identical eyes. Hers had always been alight with joy and warmth. Severus paused, contemplating the pathetic looking figure before him.

“Fine, Potter. Read the next chapter for tomorrow's lesson, I expect you to be better prepared.” 

"We are going to continue the lessons?" Potter asked with a pathetic amount of hopefulness. 

"Yes." 

"Thank you, thank you! I won't do anything like that again I promise!" Potter said with such an earnestly happy expression that Severus's heart skipped a beat. 

"You'd better not." Severus attempted his most stern voice. It came off sounding far more like Molly Weasley than he'd have hoped. 

Potter shook his head, a small smile forming. 

"And, the other stuff? You'll still help?" 

Severus sighed as he appraised the young man in front of him. Desperate need in his small face. 

Severus thought of all the times he had needed  forgiveness, only to receive none. He thought of the path that lack of forgiveness had led him down. A path he suddenly felt the immense need to prevent Potter from walking. 

"Yes, Potter, I'll still help." 

Potter's returning smile was blinding. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirteen: Trust 

August 7th, 1995

As he did most mornings, Harry found himself sitting quietly out on the roof. He watched the sun peak yellow over the horizon, enjoying the peace and silence only the mornings could afford him. The previous day had been completely emotionally draining. He could still feel the embarrassment of that day in the schoolyard as if it had actually happened yesterday. 

Sharing the memory with Snape was something Harry would never have considered even a week ago. It was one of his most private, closely held experiences. In his desperation to rectify the situation with Snape, he had failed to consider just how humiliating sharing his shame would be. 

Snape had reacted oddly, his personality adjustment seeming more and more permanent by the day. He had scratched too closely at Harry’s even more carefully protected memories of the Dursleys. Although Snape already knew enough from his dramatic arrival in the man’s home, Harry still dreaded him learning more. 

Harry leaned back on his hands and let out a long sigh. Thinking about this was not helping. Xavier had encouraged him to spend some time with difficult thoughts, and when it got to be too much, he could work through some breathing and meditation exercises. 

He was several minutes into his meditation when Sirius’s head popped through the window suddenly. Harry was so immersed in his exercise that he startled and grabbed onto the shingles. Sirius put his hands in front of him with a contrite look on his face. 

“Sorry, Harry! Didn't mean to scare you.” He stood awkwardly on the side of the roof, one foot in and one foot out. 

“Don’t worry, I'm fine.” Harry smiled at him encouragingly. 

“Can I sit with you?” Sirius asked sheepishly. 

“Course.” Harry scooted over to make more space for Sirius. The man dropped down beside him, a relaxed smile forming on his face. Harry smiled automatically, Sirius’s attitude was always infectious, for better or worse. 

They sat in silence for several minutes, not exactly comfortably, but not tense either. Harry was unsure if he was supposed to start talking, or if Sirius had something he wished to discuss. Sirius fortunately broke the silence just as Harry was about to say something to dispel the slight awkwardness. 

“I used to sit out here in the mornings too, when I was your age.” Sirius started. “Before I ran away to your Dad’s place, of course.” Sirius smiled at Harry as if they were sharing an inside joke. Harry felt as out of place as he always did when he learned things about his own family secondhand. 

“You ran away?” Harry couldn’t imagine running away from his mother and father, had he been lucky enough to have them. Then again, he had run away from the Dursleys on several occasions. So, perhaps he could understand the notion if given proper motivation.  

Sirius scoffed, and nodded with vigor. 

“Oh, yes. Well you’ve met my mother, haven’t you. As you could imagine, she didn't exactly love having a Gryffindor blood traitor son under her roof.” Sirius' gaze drifted into somewhere in the middle distance, looking lost. Harry wished he were ordinary enough to know how to comfort Sirius properly. 

“I’m sorry,” was all Harry could offer, solemnly. Mercifully, this appeared to break Sirius out of his haze, and he plastered on a large false looking smile. 

“Hey, living with your grandparents was great! I can’t complain.” Sirius laughed. “James and I had the best time that first summer I lived there.” His eyes took on that distant look again. Harry sometimes wished he could put Sirius on a lead as if he were a real dog. Perhaps, then, he would not be able to stray too far. 

“I'm sorry you never got to know him. Your mom too. They adored you. If they could see how good you’ve grown up…” Sirius trailed off. 

Harry said nothing. Missing his parents was a familiar, dull ache. It wasn’t exactly grief. How could you mourn what you couldn’t remember? It was more like a void, a piece missing from a puzzle he only knew was incomplete because everyone else’s seemed whole. 

When Harry shook himself from his musings, he glanced at Sirius, who seemed intent on examining his shoes. 

“I know Snape organized that mind healer for you.” Sirius fidgeted with his sleeve, still not meeting Harry’s eye. Tension thickened the early morning air. Harry struggled to find the right words, ones that wouldn’t disrupt their cautious peace. 

“Yeah, he said it would help with Occlumency.” Harry was well aware of Sirius’s protests about Xavier, but was determined to not start a fight. 

Sirius scowled, and shook his head. 

“You know, Harry, you don't have to do anything Snape says. If he is mistreating you in those lessons you can tell me.” Sirius added. “You can tell me other things too, if you want.” 

“Sure, Sirius. I already tell you loads of things.” Harry shrugged. “Snape is fine, too. I know you don’t get along, but he’s been really helpful.” Harry surprised himself with the truth of that statement. He purposefully avoided telling Sirius any further details. He knew that if Sirius ever knew that Harry had chosen Snape as his medical proxy, he would never trust Harry again. 

“I could help you, Harry, with whatever it is you’ve told Snape.” Sirius frowned at him, as if he knew something was being kept from him. 

“I haven’t told him anything.” Harry said with slightly guilty offense. 

“You know he was a Death Eater right? I just can’t understand why you’re trusting him, Harry.” Sirius refused to meet his eye. “He’s a greasy little worm, I don’t like him near you.” Harry bristled at the insult. The sting of learning that Sirius and his father had bullied Snape rose up in him. He couldn’t resist the urge to confront it. 

“I saw what you did to him, that day by the lake.”

“What day by the lake?” Sirius returned flippantly. Harry felt his anger grow. Sirius couldn't even remember that atrocious day? 

“When you and my Dad flipped him upside down.” Harry said stonily. 

“Oh, that.” Sirius laughed lightly. “Come on, Harry, that was just a schoolboy prank. Has he been telling you tales? He deserved that, trust me.” Sirius smiled as if recalling a fond memory. 

“No one deserves that, Sirius.” 

Freaks deserve it. Harry’s mind reminded him. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” Sirius sighed and finally lost his casual smile. 

“I want you to feel sorry for bullying him, admit that it was wrong! And…and I want you to try to get along with each other.” Harry remained firm, despite his desire to cave to Sirius’s whims. 

“It was just a stupid prank, we were fifteen, you don’t think straight at that age.” Sirius said dismissively.  

“I’m fifteen.” 

“Yes, well you’re the exception, Mr. Mature.” Sirius attempted to tease. 

Harry was undeterred. “Will you try? To get along with him?” 

Sirius looked him up and down, clearly wishing to argue this point further. Eventually he dropped his head. 

“I could try, no promises. He’s still a Slytherin git.” 

“Fine.” Harry said stiffly, with a slight glare in his eyes. 

Sirius hesitated, opening and closing his mouth a few times before sighing. Whatever he had been working up the courage to say seemed to die on his lips. He smirked instead. 

“You look just like your mum when you glare at me like that.” 

Harry sensed the bait away from the current conversation, but couldn't resist a rare tidbit of information about his mother, so he bit. 

“Did she glare at you often?” 

“Oh, yes. Fierce temper that one. Never could convince her to back down once she got something in her head. Especially about Sniv-” Sirius cut himself off, glancing down at his hands. 

“About what?” Harry insisted. 

“Nothing, I don't know what I was going to say.” 

“Sirius… I…fine.” Harry deflated, not having any more energy to argue. He tried to push down his annoyance. He hated feeling like people were keeping secrets from him. 

“Alright then, let’s forget about old times. Tell me about your Luna instead.” The abrupt shift told Harry that Sirius was just as keen as he was to avoid a return to confrontation. He shook his head at his godfather. 

“She’s not my Luna.” Harry protested, embarrassment replacing his previous anger. 

“No? Would you like her to be?” Sirius needled, gently poking Harry in the side, a smirk on his handsome face. 

Harry did not reply, knowing his bright red blush spoke on his behalf. He coughed into his hand awkwardly. 

“Ha! I knew it.” Sirius smiled, though it did not quite meet his eyes. The whole conversation felt a bit like a parody. Two messed up, broken people playing at being a proper family. Harry attempted to not feel the weight of their tumultuous relationship. Why could he never just be grateful for what he had?

Perhaps the Dursleys had been right in one way, Harry was a greedy little brat. Always wanting impossible things. Things he had no business wishing for. He was never content, and he hurt people in the process.

Sirius deserved a better godson after everything he had been through. All he got was Harry, who couldn’t even pretend to be normal. He sometimes felt like an imposter who simply put Harry’s skin on each day, a puppet pretending to be a real boy. 

“Harry?” Sirius nudged him, looking concerned. Harry realized he’d been staring blankly into space, lost in his thoughts. 

“Sorry, Sirius, I was just thinking.” Harry refused to elaborate, even as Sirius gave him a look to continue speaking. Sirius sighed and looked dejected. Harry attempted to loosen the grip of guilt that threatened to overwhelm him at that look. 

“Okay, Harry. I am going to go inside. Please, remember I'm here, if you ever feel like talking.” Sirius placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. He leaned over and kissed the side of Harry’s head. His breath smelled of last night's liquor, and the scent caused Harry to cringe. He forced himself to not pull away from the embrace. 

“I know you're here, Sirius.” How deeply Harry wished that felt like the truth. Trusting that Sirius could be there for him sounded amazing. It also sounded like a child’s fantasy. 

“Right.” Sirius looked like he might stay and press the issue, instead he thankfully stood and walked back to the window. “I’ll see you later.” 

“Yeah.” 

After Sirius left, Harry spent as long as he could before his session with Xavier sitting alone on the roof. Every conversation with Sirius left him feeling more lost than before. 

“Harry, I'd like to ask you a question, but I fear it will upset you.” Xavier started out their session that morning cryptically. Harry raised an eyebrow toward him in response. Each of their previous meetings had started with Xaiver inquiring what Harry would like to look at that day in the pensieve. He felt unsettled by the change in routine.  

“Er, okay?” Harry offered. “You can ask.” 

Xavier hesitated for a moment, looking unsure. “We have spent a great deal of time looking at your memories now, and I do believe we have made good progress in these sessions.” He looked directly at Harry, hands resting on his lap. 

“Yeah, I think I've been good, right?” Harry felt anxiety begin to creep in at the edges of his mind, he really hoped he hadn't messed up therapy already.

“It isn’t a matter of you being good or bad at therapy, Harry, I hope you know that.” 

Harry’s stomach sank, so he had messed it up. 

“So I am bad at it then?”

“No, no, that isn’t what i’m getting at, you are making very good progress.” 

“Alright… I don’t understand your question.”

“That’s my fault, I’m sorry, I haven't really had the nerve to ask it yet.” 

Harry felt unmoored by the possibility of a question so difficult that even cool collected Xavier was too frightened to ask it. Xavier smiled a strange smile at Harry, an attempt to convey confidence, Harry suspected. 

“The thing is, I have noticed that none of your memories are in your home with your Aunt and Uncle. I’d like to ask you why that might be?” The expression on Xaivers face shifted to, as always, gentle and understanding. It was as if he already knew Harry’s history. As if his broken childhood was planted so firmly in his mind, even a passing glance at his face would reveal it. 

Harry hesitated, unsure how to answer. The fear of sharing about his life with the Dursleys was so strong that panic attempted to overtake him when he was asked. He felt the familiar feeling grasp him in a vice, his lungs couldn’t get enough air, he would die like this, surely. 

He placed a hand over his chest, inhale, hold, exhale, hold. He repeated the breathing exercise Xavier had taught him several times, pleased with himself when he was able to bring himself back from the edge of a panic attack. He pushed down the voice in his head telling him to say nothing. 

You keep your mouth shut, you stupid little freak. We never asked for you, how dare you complain about us. We keep a roof over your head, food in your worthless mouth. If you say one word, you’ll live only to regret it. 

Harry shivered at the remembered lessons of what happened should he talk about his home life with strangers. He glanced shyly up at Xavier to find the man looking at him with concern and sympathy. Harry struggled to choose his words, wanting to answer Xavier, but dreading the conversation completely. 

“I don’t really like thinking about them.” Harry decided on after a long stretch of silence. It was about the limit to what he felt he could manage. 

“Could you tell me why that is, Harry?” Blue sympathetic eyes stared at Harry unnervingly. 

“They don’t like me.” He admitted softly. It was already more than he cared to share, and he hoped Xavier would stop soon. 

“I find that very hard to imagine, you are a very likeable person.” Xavier's smile was kind, but his words slipped off of Harry’s shoulders, meaningless. He shrugged in response. 

“Not to them. To them, I'm just a burden. They never wanted me, never asked for me. They have their own son to worry about.” Harry quickly grew weary of the conversation, 

“They don’t see you as a son?” Xavier asked as if in genuine surprise. 

Harry laughed. It was a cold, humourless thing. 

“I think they’d sooner choose an earthworm from the front garden as a son.” 

Xavier looked at Harry with those sad, pitying eyes that he despised. This was exactly why he never talked about his life with the Dursleys, he just couldn’t stand it. The risk of punishment was real, but the humiliation of the truth was far scarier. 

“Harry, is there anything I should know about your safety in your home?” Xavier peered at him, looking astute, and far too close to the truth for comfort. 

“Don’t call it my home.” Harry insisted, scorn in his voice. Hogwarts was the only home he’d ever known. Calling the Dursleys house ‘home’ was an insult. 

“Harry, it is important that we talk about this. I know it is difficult.” Xavier leaned forward, eyeing Harry. “Could you tell me why this topic upsets you so much?” 

“No. Just drop it please.” Harry began to squirm in his chair, growing increasingly agitated by the moment. If anything he said ever got back to the Dursleys, his punishment for the dementors would seem like a weekend picnic. Xavier did not relent. 

“Harry, we can’t continue to ignore this, your relationship with your family is fundamental to your mental recovery.” 

“They are not my family, stop asking questions.” Harry hoped he sounded stronger than he felt. 

“Why are they not your family Harry?” 

“They just aren't, stop it.” 

“Harry, I need to ask, have they ever hurt you?” 

“I SAID STOP IT!” Anger, familiar and comforting rose up in Harry as he stood from his place in the comfortable armchair. He wore it like a shield.

“Leave me alone…don’t…don’t come back here.” Harry stormed from the room, leaving a flustered and regretful Xavier in his wake. 

He rushed up the stairs and threw himself down onto his bed. His room was thankfully empty. He had no room left in his mind to speak to anyone, even Ron and Hermione. While well meaning, their concern could be overwhelming at times. 

Harry rolled onto his back as he began to settle down, heart rate returning to a normal speed. Ssyra uncurled herself from his pocket and slid up to his face. It wasn't until he felt her tongue on his cheeks that he realized he had been crying. 

"Where are you hurt, little speaker?" She asked. Harry smiled. He loved many things about snakes, their ability to see the world so simply was one of the top ones. If only physical pain was the only type a person could experience. 

"I'm okay Ssyra, just had an argument with a friend." 

"Should I bite them for you?" 

"No Ssyra, It was my fault." She looked skeptical but resumed licking his face. 

He felt incredibly foolish, explaining the fallout to Ssyra. Things with Xavier had been going so well, but he just couldn't take the interrogation. He lamented about how thoroughly he had messed it all up. He never knew that it was possible to fail out of therapy. Of course, Harry lived to defy what was possible. 

He lay flat and debated for several long minutes the idea of going back downstairs and begging Xavier to continue the sessions. When he stood and went to the door, he found himself frozen. The thought of resuming sessions caused his chest to tighten horribly. 

What if Xavier spoke to the Dursleys? What if social services became involved? The consequences of such a thing would simply not be worth it. 

Harry retreated from the door and moved instead to the small desk he shared with Ron. He pulled out a quill and parchment, penning a quick letter. 

Discontinuing this therapy by sending a note felt incredibly cowardly, but Harry felt the container holding his courage was particularly empty. 

He couldn't bring himself to go back downstairs and deliver it himself, the potential disappointment on Xavier's face was too much to bear. 

Harry remained in his room for the rest of the day, grateful that Snape had already cancelled his Occlumency lesson to attend to some mysterious Order business. He wasn't able to work up the courage to send the letter until early the next morning, pain in his chest.

August 8th, 1995  

“Harry has decided not to continue with his therapy sessions.” Xavier dropped into a seat across from Severus, looking weary beyond his years. It was early morning in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, the best time of day in Severus’s opinion. He was much more unlikely to be forced to interact with Black or the various Weasleys in residence. 

Severus looked up from his coffee at Xavier’s soft admission, sitting forward on his elbows with an elbow raised. He was taken aback by this news, by all reports, Potter had been having great success with his therapy, Severus loitered near the doorway to watch him leave each day, witnessing many amiable exchanges between the pair. 

“May I ask why?” 

Xavier tapped his fingers on the table for a few moments before he answered. “I inquired about his home situation, he refused to answer my questions, and became quite angry with me.” 

“Ah.” The pieces started to come together for Severus. He already knew how cagey Potter was about his home life. 

“I received a note from him this morning, very politely telling me he no longer requires my services.” Xavier continued. “I feel as if I've failed him. I pushed too hard and now he won’t continue with the therapy he needs.” Xavier sat back in his chair, averting his eyes as if in shame. 

“I am not unaware of his situation at home, it may have been a more sensitive topic than you were anticipating, I should have warned you.” Severus attempted to reassure his young former student. 

“It’s bad then?” Xavier asked sadly. 

“Yes.” Severus said simply. “I have made certain promises to not elaborate, I hope you can understand that.” 

“I do understand. I should have taken a different approach, and should have respected him like that.  Harry was making some good progress processing his memories, his dissociation was already improving.” Xavier's eyes met Severus's. Sadness and regret were plain in them. “ I suspected things were bad at home, and he told me so many times to stop pushing. I don’t know what came over me, I thought I was helping him. I thought I could make it all better for him.” 

Severus could not help but envy the young man’s naivety, to still believe the world could be so simple, that helping others might be the easy route. To feel enough hope to still be crushed by the weight of a disappointing reality. 

“Perhaps he will return to working with you given some time.” Severus could not help himself, giving into a foreign desire to comfort Xavier. Perhaps, not so foreign a concept, these last few days, Severus admitted to himself begrudgingly. 

“I don’t know, sir. He was really angry, yelled and stormed out and all.” Xavier sighed. 

“I’m sure he threw a proper tantrum. He isn’t exactly known for having a cool head. Potter's temper is legendary.” Severus felt a twinge of guilt at this description, then despair at the new sense of loyalty toward the boy he was feeling. Xavier gave him a slightly pitying look, and shook his head firmly. 

“This didn’t feel like a temper tantrum, sir, it felt like a panic attack. I don't know if he will trust me again after what I've done.” Xavier leaned forward and placed his head in his hands, sighing heavily. Severus cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the emotional display, but feeling a deep desire to remedy it. 

“I suppose time will have to tell then, Mr. Rookwood. You have done what you could for him and for that you have my gratitude.” 

Xavier glanced up from his hands, “Thank you, sir. If you happen to think he’ll consider resuming with me, could you let me know?” 

“I hardly think he’d confine such information with me.” Severus scoffed. 

Xavier smiled, looking at Severus as if he too, envied Severus’s naivety.  “I think you’d be surprised, Professor, how much Harry already trusts you. Don’t make a mess of that trust like I did.” 

After Xavier took his leave, Severus remained seated for a long time, wondering when Potter's trust had started to feel like a thing to be coveted. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen: Flight 

August 9th, 1995 

MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN: SIRIUS BLACK STILL AT LARGE 

The headline of the morning’s Daily Prophet caused Severus to sit stock still for several minutes. A mass breakout was something that the Order had been anticipating, but they had thought it would come with some warning. 

It had been over two weeks since the Dark Lord had last called for him. At their last meeting, he had assigned Severus several gruesome potions to brew. In the days to follow, Severus had mostly been left to his brewing, with lower ranking servants sent to collect the finished vials. 

Severus had not heard so much as a whisper of a plan to liberate the Dark Lord's most loyal and deadly followers. Severus swallowed a lump in his throat. Not only was the breakout situation dire, the Dark Lord had also not seen fit to inform him. 

It did not bode well if he was no longer trusted with such essential information. If Severus lost his position at the Dark Lord's side, the Order would be operating completely in the dark during the burgeoning war.

Severus calmed himself and read the article properly, scoffing as the obviously floundering ministry blamed Black for the escaped Death Eaters. Black wasn’t capable of tying his own shoelaces while remaining upright, he certainly couldn't mastermind a mass breakout. 

Severus had just risen from his chair with the intention of apparating to headquarters when his floo flared. He was unsurprised when Albus’s face appeared in the flames. His expression was grim.

“May I come through, Severus?”

“You’d better.” Severus sighed.

Albus stepped through the fire gracefully, brushing off his teal and orange polka dot robes, a combination that gave one a true sense of the seriousness of the day. 

“I assume you’ve seen the news?” Albus said immediately. The lack of pleasantries confirmed the severity of the situation to Severus. 

“Yes, Albus, I have. This is very troubling, there were no hints of this plan, he has not even called for me.” Severus felt the need to defend himself, always aware that he was viewed by many as an untrustworthy turncoat.

“I know that, Severus. I am well aware that if you’d had such information, It would have already been provided to me.” Albus nodded at him serenely. For all his many faults, at least the man trusted Severus implicitly. 

“Have you been able to secure a list of those who escaped?” Severus held onto hope that some of the worst offenders remained locked away. 

“Yes, indeed.” Albus dipped his head. “All of Voldemort's followers managed to escape last night.” 

Severus closed his eyes for a moment. 

“That is grim news, Albus.” 

“What is worse, I believe there to be a leak of information from headquarters.” 

“A traitor?” Severus was shaken, a traitor within the Order would cause chaos. 

“Indeed, disturbing though it is.” 

“Any idea as to who it might be?” 

“I can’t say for certain, Severus. Until we find the culprit, headquarters can not be considered as secure.” 

Severus at last understood the nature of the conversation. 

“Potter must be moved.” 

“Precisely.” 

Severus could not be certain what possessed him in that moment, but the words came unbidden from his mouth.

“He’ll come stay here.” 

Albus smiled sadly at him. “That’s very kind of you Severus, but his safety just can not be guaranteed at Spinner's End. “

Severus felt a pit grow in his stomach as he began to guess what Albus would suggest next. 

“No.” He started. “No, he will not go back there.” 

“Severus, be reasonable. It is the only location where we can ensure he is safe.”

“Safe? By whose definition?” Severus nearly shouted. “Those people are monsters, I've told you this!” 

“I understand your concerns, my boy. I’ve already spoken with the Dursleys, and they’ve agreed to take Harry back. They have made renewed assurances to me about his treatment."

“You understand nothing. You…you, short sighted, idiotic old man!” Severus resisted the urge to shake him until his brain settled back into the right spot. Albus gave him a wry smile. 

“I never thought I'd need to say this, Severus, but your sentimentality blinds you.” 

“Tch, sentimentality.” Severus spat like it was a dirty word. “What you call sentimentality, Albus, I call common decency. You’re proposing sending an abused child back into his abusive home. Have you any sense, or has your brain been afflicted by age?” 

“I came here to ask if you’d assist me in escorting Harry home. I suppose I have my answer to that.” 

“Yes, you do.” Severus replied coolly. 

“Will you interfere with his return?” 

“If need be.” 

“I see that your loyalties have changed once again, my boy."

“Have they? I don't recall making an unbreakable vow to protect your life.” Severus sneered. 

“Come, now, Severus. You have never concerned yourself with Harry’s home situation before, vow notwithstanding.” Albus said with a slight scolding tone. It infuriated Severus beyond measure. 

“That is because I believed that you were concerning yourself with it! I was misinformed, led by you to believe that the boy was safe there, coddled even.” Severus fumed. 

“You know, I’d be very proud of your turnaround with Harry if it were not affecting your judgement of the gravity of the situation."

 “I am not the one who has misunderstood the gravity of the situation, Albus.” 

They stood in silence for several moments, Severus glaring at the headmaster. Albus sighed with disappointment.

“I’ll take my leave. Please inform me if you hear anything through your channels.” 

“Fine.” 

“And, Severus, please consider allowing Harry to make this decision before you interfere.” 

“He will not choose to return.” 

“He will if he knows what is at stake.” Albus said, cryptically. 

Albus disappeared in the floo without another word, leaving Severus reeling.

Harry sat on the floor with Ron and Hermione around a coffee table in the drawing room. He was having an exceptionally pleasant morning. Which, in hindsight, should have been more than enough indication that something was about to go terribly wrong. 

A soft knock on the door had all three of their heads peeking up. It was unusual for anyone to knock, given the nature of the house as a war headquarters. People tended to float from room to room without ceremony.

“Come in!” Hermione called politely, as Harry and Ron exchanged confused shrugs. 

The door opened and Dumbledore strode into the room, appearing to Harry a bit like a circus performer.

“Harry, might I have a moment of your time?” 

“Oh, sure of course, Sir.” Harry replied, hesitant. 

Hermione jumped up and pulled Ron with her, determined as always to defer to authority figures. 

“We will let you speak in private, Headmaster.” She smiled and dragged Ron from the room as if he were a small wayward child. 

Harry stood up from the ground, feeling like it was likely rude to remain there while the Headmaster was in the room. The man gestured for Harry to sit on the couch. Harry did so with trepidation. 

Dumbledore sat across from him, his usual twinkle missing from his eye. 

“Harry, have you read the newspaper today?” 

“No, sir.” Harry has been pointedly avoiding reading the paper, after he saw his own face with the headline “Deranged or Delinquent?” one morning. 

“There's been a breakout from Azkaban, Lord Voldemort's followers have returned to him.”

Harry felt his chest tighten with fear. 

“That's not good.” He said, stupidly. 

“No, indeed. Things have become even more dangerous than they were before.” He continued. “Your security here at headquarters has become difficult to guarantee.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Harry, the only place we can keep you safe is with your aunt and uncle.” Dumbledore didn't even meet Harry’s eyes as he spoke. 

“No.” 

“Harry.”

“No, no I don't want to go back.” 

“I won't force you, my boy, however you must understand the consequences of that choice.” 

“What consequences?” Harry asked in suspicion. 

“If we attempt to secure you here, we will invite a potential Death Eater attack. I fear for the safety of everyone in this home if you stay.” Dumbledore shook his head, looking weary. Harry felt sick. 

“You think they’d attack here?” Harry could not imagine a more horrible outcome. 

“Certainly, if it is discovered that you are living here.” Dumbledore paused, pity in his eyes. “I have spoken with the Dursleys and they have given me their promises that you will no longer be mistreated in their home. I have no desire for you to go back into a dangerous situation.” 

“They won't follow that, sir, but thanks for trying.” Harry thought Dumbledore was awfully naive for a man of his age. 

“I do not intend to leave it to chance. I will cast several spells on you before you go, to ensure that they can not lay a hand on you.” 

Harry wished he could explain to Dumbledore that it wouldn't help much. Being hit hurt, of course, but it was a pinprick in comparison to the pain of being reminded everyday that he wasn't wanted, wasn't loved.

He couldn't explain that, of course. What normal person would prefer to be hit rather than miss out on a few hugs? 

“If I go back, will my friends be safe here?” 

“Yes. I will ensure that the message of your return to your aunt's home is passed onto Voldemort's followers. That should make an outright attack less appealing.” 

“Through Snape?” 

“Professor Snape, Harry.” Dumbledore scolded halfheartedly. “But, yes, Professor Snape would pass forward the information.” 

“He knows then? About me going back to the Dursleys?” Harry was surprised to find that he cared deeply about the answer. 

“Yes, he has been informed.” 

Harry felt a knife twist in his heart. 

“Oh.” 

Silence filled the room, tense and cold. 

“Will you agree to return?” Dumbledore said finally. 

Harry nodded, his head dipped low. 

“I knew you’d understand, Harry. You are a brave young man. I promise you, you won’t be harmed in your home anymore. I am truly sorry that you ever were. I’ll wait in the kitchen for you to pack your things, we will leave when you’re ready, take your time.” 

Harry shrugged and nodded. He looked into the empty fireplace for a long while. When he looked back up, Dumbledore was gone, presumably having left while Harry stared into the void. 

When he came back into himself, cold, hard despair settled into his stomach. He really ought to have learned this lesson by now, going back to the Dursleys was always inevitable. Dumbledore could pretend all he wanted that he had listened to Harry, that he cared what happened to him. All it took was one threat, and he was willing to send him right back. 

At least in the past, Harry could pretend that Dumbledore was ignorant to his suffering. Now, without a doubt, Dumbledore knew. The betrayal of it hit Harry like a punch to his gut. 

Shortly after their conversation, Harry wandered up to his bedroom where he immediately dropped face down on his mattress. He remained perfectly still, numbness wrapped around him so tightly that blankets were unnecessary.

It could have been minutes or hours before Harry heard a soft knock on his door. He lacked the ability or desire to respond. 

“Harry, mate, it’s us.” Ron’s voice called from the other side of the door. Harry did not respond. 

A small squeak of the door hinges and soft footsteps followed. Harry felt the mattress dip, and slender fingers combed through his hair. 

“Harry, we heard what Professor Dumbledore said.” Hermione said gently, continuing to brush her fingers through his hair. 

Harry grunted and rolled over slightly. Of course his friends had been listening in on his meeting. 

“Yeah.” 

“You don't have to go, Harry. You don’t have to listen to him.” Hermione's willingness to directly disobey such an authority figure touched Harry's heart.

“I have to go.” Harry did not want to risk anyone's safety. He could endure the Dursleys for a few weeks. Thankfully, he hadn’t told Xavier anything about them, so hopefully his punishment for leaving wouldn't be too severe. 

“Dumbledore is off his rocker, sending you back to them.” Ron interjected. “I know you don’t like telling us anything about them, but we aren't daft, Harry.” 

“I know. I just, I have to go back, you don't understand.” 

“Then help us understand, Harry!” Hermione implored. 

“Dumbledore says if I don't go back, Voldemort might attack everyone here.” Saying it aloud caused renewed panic to set into Harry's mind. 

“Merlin, mate. How is that your problem?” Ron nearly shouted. 

“They would only attack here to get to me. If I go, everyone will be safe.” 

“You deserve to be safe too, Harry.” Ron said quietly. 

Harry didn't reply. His friends knew him well enough to know he wouldn't be persuaded. The room fell silent and Hermione resumed stroking his hair gently. Ron crawled into the bed next to Harry, allowing just his shoulder to press against him. The trio lay together in silence for several minutes, until Harry knew he could delay no longer. He was hesitant to leave the warm comfort his friends provided. 

“I think I'm supposed to pack.” Harry said finally, numb around the edges. 

Ron sat up and ruffled his hair. “Okay, mate, if you're sure. We’ll help you.” 

“Yeah, I'm sure.” Harry murmured, not sure who he was attempting to convince. 

After they had put together Harry’s belongings, he turned his attention to Ssyra, who was sleeping peacefully curled up on his pillow. Harry felt his throat tighten. There was no way he could risk bringing her to the Dursleys. 

“Could I have a minute alone?” Harry asked his friends. They nodded seriously at him and left the room, patting Harry on the shoulder as they passed by.

 Harry walked over to Ssyra, and picked her up from the pillow, rousing her gently. 

“Hi girl, time to wake up." 

“Why are you bothering me, little speaker?” Harry smiled fondly at her grumbly and sleep filled tone.

“Ssyra, I need to talk to you. I am sending you to the Menagerie again, for a while. I’m going back to my uncle and aunt’s home and I can’t bring you with me” 

Ssyra looked at Harry and nudged his face gently with her nose. 

“Why not?” She pulled back to ask 

“They don’t like snakes.” Harry shivered at the memory of his old friend. He would not let Ssyra meet the same fate.

“Those who do not like snakes are either weak or stupid, which are they?” Ssyra tilted her head in genuine inquiry.

“Probably both.” Harry admitted with a forced smile. 

“You should not share a nest with them.” 

“No, I shouldn't, but I have to.” 

“But I will not go where you are not.” Harry admired her loyalty, even if it was currently a hindrance. 

“I’m so sorry Ssyra, you need to go back.” 

“For how long? I despise the glass prison.” 

“I’m not sure yet, a while.” Harry sighed, wishing he did not need to be parted from her. She had already become so ingrained in his life that saying goodbye felt like losing a limb. 

Ssyra continued to protest the plan as Harry finished packing. By the time he placed her in the box she had arrived in, she had given up. Harry kissed her gently on the head and whispered, 

“Don’t worry, I'll come back for you.” Harry promised. 

He sat down and quickly wrote out a letter to Snape. Thinking about the man caused him to feel the sting of something that felt suspiciously like betrayal. 

Severus apparated to headquarters in time for Potter’s Occlumency lesson. He hoped he could speak to the boy before Albus managed to convince him to return to Petunia's home. Perhaps, if he could offer Potter a place to stay, he could avoid any further confrontation with the headmaster. Severus had the perfect spot in mind to house Potter in safety, even if it went against every fiber of his being to have what he considered to be a sacred space invaded.  

When he arrived in the front corridor, he realized immediately that something was wrong. He heard Black’s voice raised in anger from the kitchen. Severus hurried toward the voices and pushed through the kitchen doors. 

Black stood in his dressing gown, hair disheveled from sleep.

“I don’t care about the rest of this house. If I want my godson to stay here, that is up to me!” 

“Sirius, you must be reasonable.” Albus said calmly from the head of the table where he sat. Black began to pace.

“I think I've been quite reasonable! Might I remind you that this is MY house, and if I choose to fill it with a herd of erumpents, that is my choice.” Sirius shouted. “You can’t steal my godson, without my knowing, and whisk him off to Merlin knows where!” Severus suddenly grasped the meaning of the conversation, finding himself in an unsettling amount of agreement with Black. He moved further into the room, anger rising. 

“You sent him back?” Severus approached the loose group standing around the table. He ignored Black and Lupin in favour of glaring at Albus.

“Ah, Severus my boy. My apologies, I should have informed you that Harry would be gone prior to your appointment.” He said gently, as if their earlier conversation had been promptly forgotten. He spoke as if Severus’s inconvenience were the only concern, not the child likely being tormented as they sat here arguing. 

Severus slammed his fist down on the kitchen table, causing the glassware to tremble violently.

“That is the least of my concerns! I told you, he is not going back there.”

Black turned to look at Severus with wide eyes. Severus turned back and met his look with an unflinching expression. He wasted no time formulating his new plan. 

“I recognize you are Potter's true magical guardian. Do I have your permission to remove him from that house to safety?” Severus said sharply. 

“You’ll bring him here?” Black tilted his head in confusion. 

“This isn't safety.” Severus glanced at Albus, who was watching the exchange with poorly disguised frustration. 

“No, no, I don't want to be separated.” Black sounded like a petulant child. Severus curbed his pride and attempted to reassure the man. 

“It is temporary, Black. You have my word. I will shelter him somewhere safe. I'm sure you must suspect that his current location is untenable, and Albus will bring him right back there again.” 

Something in Severus’s expression must have gotten through to the man, and he closed his eyes briefly before looking back at Severus with determination. 

“Fine, Snape. I swear if you do anything to him.” 

“I do not give my word lightly, Black.” 

Albus attempted to interject, but Severus cast a silencing spell and body bind. For a wizard as powerful as Albus Dumbledore, he didn't expect it to last, but it would buy him a few minutes. 

Severus left the room quickly, intent on getting out the door and to Potter as soon as possible. Was this how his counterpart had felt, when he’d been informed that the boy was with his relatives? Had he been overcome with an icy grip consisting of equal parts anger and terror?

Severus shook himself free from useless thoughts and continued his exit. His path to the door was blocked by Potter's insipid friends. 

“Move.” 

“One moment, Professor! Please just take this.” 

Granger handed him a letter, quickly written in messy familiar handwriting. He couldn't resist the urge to read it, to gather some information about Potter. 

Professor Snape, 

I’m very sorry to ask this, but could you please return Ssyra to the Menagerie for me? I really do appreciate that you got her for me, but I need to send her back for now. 

I can’t take her with me to my relatives house, and I don’t think it’s fair of me to leave her with anyone else. 

Sorry to give you more work to do, and I know she was expensive. I’ve enclosed some money in the envelope. I hope she doesn’t give you too much trouble on the way back.

Thanks again, 

Harry Potter 

Severus resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands. He glanced up in time to see Weasley shove a box in his hands, even without the hissing, it was unmistakable. Severus had no time to think or argue. He simply took the box, and put it unceremoniously in his side bag, enchanted with an extension charm.

He heard Granger call out to him as he pushed past the pair. 

“You’re going to get him, aren't you?” The girl implored. 

Severus nearly didn't acknowledge her, but in a moment of insanity, decided to provide some comfort to Potter's friends. 

“I’m not leaving there without him.” He replied.

Harry and Dumbledore left for the Dursleys shortly after their conversation. Harry had not had the chance to say goodbye to Sirius as the man often slept late. Dumbledore promised to inform his godfather of where Harry had gone.

Still numb and distant, Harry did not think to protest the speed of his extraction from the house. 

He watched from a distance as Dumbledore knocked on the door, feeling much like he’d imagine a man would feel standing at the gallows. He had no idea what kind of welcome he would receive. It didn't matter how many spells the headmaster had cast over him prior to leaving the house, the Dursleys' creative cruelty knew no bounds. 

Harry watched Aunt Petunia answer the door, but did not process any of the conversation between her and Dumbledore. He wondered if someone had filled his head with cotton balls, dampening the world. 

Suddenly, Harry was standing in the front hall, with no memory of having arrived there. Dumbledore was no longer beside him. The only face was his aunts, glaring at him in open distaste. 

“Vernon!” She shouted through the house. “The boy is back, come deal with him!” 

Harry remained perfectly still, glued to the ground in anticipation. He dared to glance up slightly when his Uncle’s footsteps came down the stairs.

“Pathetic little freak, even the other freaks don’ want ya.” Uncle Vernon said in greeting. Harry knew no response was the safer option. 

“What? No smart comment? Did I finally beat some sense into you, boy?” He continued, approaching Harry like a lion stalking its prey. Harry refused to look at him. 

“I’ve decided something, boy. That Dumbledore says I'm not going to be able to hit you without some freaky things happening. Problem is, I think that’s the only way to shut you up.” Harry looked up and saw an evil smile creep onto his uncle's face. “So I think I'll have to find some other way to keep you from causing trouble.” 

Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry gently by the wrists, clearly afraid of enacting Dumbledore’s spells. Harry was too taken aback to fight. Before he could manage so much as a complaint, his hands were bound tightly behind his back by a length of rope. Harry was unnervingly reminded of the graveyard, bound, bleeding, and so terribly afraid. He began to panic and trashed his arms, attempting to get them loose. The action set him off balance and he tumbled ungracefully to the ground.

Uncle Vernon took the opportunity to bind his feet tightly, leaving Harry completely defenseless by the time a rag was shoved into his mouth, and taped over. Uncle Vernon stepped back to admire his handiwork. 

“See if you get up to any funny business now!” He laughed, before he lugged Harry into the cupboard, locking the door behind him. True panic set into Harry as he began to struggle in earnest. He heard footsteps retreating out the front door, before the sound of the car pulling out of the driveway reached him. Normally, his relatives exiting the house would be a boon, however, bound and helpless as he was, being alone seemed far more frightening.

Harry couldn’t say how long he struggled against his bindings, the ropes cutting into his skin with each movement. He persisted, fighting with all his strength to get out of the cupboard. What was he thinking, agreeing to come back? It was his fault for allowing himself to be talked into it. Nothing would ever change here, no matter how much Dumbledore insisted it could. 

What could have been minutes or an hour passed, before Harry heard the lock click on the cupboard door. Relief and fear fought for precedence. The door slowly opened and Dudley stuck his head in.

“Harry?” He said, looking pale. When he noticed that Harry was gagged, he quickly moved to remove it, ripping the tape in one painful movement. Dudley then helped Harry maneuver out of the cupboard, before untying the ropes. They both grimaced at the sight of Harry’s raw and bleeding wrists. 

“You gotta get out of here, Dad’s gone mad.”

“This isn’t new, Dud.” Harry argued. 

“I know, but he’s having trouble at work, he’s been drinking a lot. You aren't safe here anymore.” 

Harry resisted rolling his eyes at the notion that he had ever been safe in this home. Dudley had a point, however, he needed to leave. He’d live on the streets if he needed to. Anything had to be better than here. 

If Dumbledore protested? Well, he could spend his summer bound in a cupboard if he thought it was so grand. 

Harry wasted no time gathering his belongings. He rushed from the house, pulling his long sleeves over his wrists. He ran down Privet Drive, his destination unclear. His heart dropped into his stomach when he saw his uncle's car driving toward him. Aunt Petunia stared out the window at him, sticking her chin up as if he wasn't worth the bother. The car drove straight past him. 

Harry ducked into a laneway, his heart racing. He tucked himself behind a bin, shaking with shock.

Severus arrived at Number 4 Privet Drive with a fury coursing through him. Anger was a familiar friend of his, of course, but it had never accosted him in this way. He banged his fist on the front door, in a way that would surely alert the occupants that the person out front wasn't there to clean the eavestroughs. 

The door creaked open hesitantly, and Petunia stuck her long neck out. 

“Where is he?” Severus demanded without preamble. Petunia blinked her eyes, paling as if she’d seen a ghost. To her, Severus Snape was likely worse than a ghost. 

“The boy? He's gardening in the back. I don't see how it’s any business of yours, freak.” Her eyes darted around like a caged animal. Severus could tell immediately that she was hiding something. No one would be able to help her if she or her oafish husband had so much as laid a fingertip on Potter. 

“Get his things, and bring them to me. We are leaving. NOW.”

 She paled even further, fussing with the edge of the door as if preparing to slam it shut. Severus grabbed the door with such force he could have pulled it off its hinges. 

“Where is he?” Severus repeated, in a venom laced whisper. Petunia faltered under his gaze. She scurried away, returning with Potter’s belongings. Severus snatched them up, shrinking them and adding them to his side bag. He returned his deadly glare to the woman. She sputtered nervously. 

“I…well he ran away. It’s hardly my fault if the little brat doesn't want to stay put. You can tell Dumbledore that we tried. We can’t be expected to put up with that boy!” 

Severus released the door, and stepped back, heart pounding with adrenaline. 

“Which way?” 

Petunia pointed a boney finger and Severus wasted no time before he fled in that direction. 

“Point me, Harry Potter.” Severus said, without a thought in mind for his location in a muggle suburb. He needed to find Potter immediately, it was only a matter of time before the Dark Lord's followers would descend and whisk the boy away. Severus pushed away the pit in his stomach, he needed to focus, remain calm. Thoughts of Potter’s capture, likely torture, and death would be counterproductive to that goal. 

He followed the indication from his wand until he reached a laneway not far from the house. He rushed around the corner, and saw a small shoe sticking out from behind a large waste bin. He sighed with relief, and moved toward the bin, grateful to note that the shoe was indeed attached to Potter himself. 

Severus pulled the boy out from his hiding place, coaxing him gently to his feet. 

“Potter, we need to get you away from here.” Severus began to move the teenager to his side, intending to apparate him to safety. Potter jerked violently away from him, scrambling back to the edge of the laneway, back pressed firmly against the wall with the expression of a cornered animal. 

“No, no leave me alone. I'm not going back. I'm not.” Potter continued to struggle against Severus’s attempts to grab him, the danger of their being discovered increased with every passing moment. 

“Potter, come with me, we need to move quickly, it’s not safe.” The urgency of the situation did not seem to penetrate the boy's mind, as he continued to fight and snarl at Severus like a street dog. He grappled with him for a long moment before Potter finally grew tired of his resistance. Severus pulled him by the shoulders squarely to speak directly to him.

“Potter, I need you to listen, I'm getting you out of here, you're not going back to the Dursleys.” Reason seemed to slowly seep into Potter's eyes.

“I need you to trust me, do you think you can do that?” 

Against all reason, Potter nodded. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Fifteen: Not Your Ordinary Farm 

Snape and Harry appeared with a loud pop at the edge of a large property. Harry grasped his stomach, shaken by the unfamiliar and frankly horrible sensation of apparition. He barely managed to stay upright, by force of will and the desire for Snape to not see him collapse on the ground. Harry felt he had taken enough hits to his pride as it was.

When he had finally regained his senses, Harry began to take in his surroundings. When he’d agreed to go with Snape, he didn't have any idea where they were going. Even if he had attempted to imagine, it certainly wouldn't be a picturesque landscape.

They stood on the edge of an enormous span of land that was almost entirely green. Flat pastures stretched out further than Harry could see, even with his newly improved glasses. A few trees were scattered across the land in rows, as if placed deliberately to create division between plots of the green expanse. 

In the distance, Harry spotted what looked to be a large farmhouse. He squinted into the sun, and attempted to make sense of the strange figures he noticed moving at varying speeds across the horizon. Still shaken from the apparition and the events of the morning, Harry slowly straightened up, mindful of his queasy stomach. 

“Potter, are you able to walk?” Snape managed to inquire with very little sneering. Harry glanced up to see Snape examining him with shrewd eyes. 

“Yes, I'm fine.” Harry asserted. “Where are we?” Harry’s natural curiosity overrode any lingering stress from his departure from the Dursleys. At least that was what he planned to focus on. Snape looked unconvinced. 

“Ireland. I’ll explain later, we need to get inside the wards quickly.” Snape strode away from Harry without another word. 

Harry obediently followed the man up the path, both of them seeming determined to ignore Harry’s mild mental breakdown prior to their arrival. 

Snape did however, hesitant for a moment once they had passed through the wards. 

“Potter, are you injured in any way?” Snape returned to looking at Harry with a critical gaze. Harry hoped he wasn't about to start a full examination. He self consciously pulled his sleeves more tightly over his wrists. 

“No, I'm fine.” 

Snape paused for a long moment before shaking his head. 

“Hmm. Fine then, here.” Snape thrust Ssyra into Harry’s hands from whether he had been storing her. Harry, relieved to have her back in his possession, felt it unnecessary to question Snape further. She immediately found her place in his front sweater pocket, after whispering, 

“I missed you, my little speaker.” 

“I missed you too, Ssyra.” Harry replied, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders as he slipped his hand into his pocket to pet her head gently. 

As they walked closer to the farmhouse, Harry got a better look at the figures he now realized were animals. To his great delight, he identified Abraxans, their large wings tucked into their sides. Alongside them, moving at a great speed, were Grainians. Harry’s jaw dropped, they were breathtaking. He’d never thought he’d see one outside of a textbook illustration. 

“Professor, do you see that? Look at them! Are those really Grainians?” Harry felt his excitement overtake him, as he sped up. “Abraxians too!” He glanced back at Snape’s expression only to find his mouth set in a grim line. Harry reminded himself of his blunder in Diagon Alley. He had started to forget himself again in his excitement. 

“Oh, sorry sir. I’ll be quiet.” Harry lowered his voice immediately to a whisper. 

Snape’s face faltered. He let out a heavy sigh. 

“Potter, you are permitted to speak.”

“Oh, it’s fine.” Harry shrugged. Snape looked skyward, and Harry hoped he wasn’t praying for strength. 

“Yes, there are Grainians and Abraxians.” He said once he’d looked back down. “I believe there are also Unicorns and Thestrals around as well.”

“Really?” Harry perked up at the information, as well as the relaxed tone of Snape’s voice. 

“No, not really, I just speak to hear my own voice.” Snape said with an eye roll. 

“I had wondered.” Harry replied cheekily. 

Snape scowled at him halfheartedly. 

They continued toward the farmhouse in silence, Harry quietly enjoying his change in fortune. He was away from the Dursleys, and on a strange fantasy farm filled with interesting creatures. The fact that Snape was here too was much less of a detriment than Harry might have predicted. 

As they approached the front door, Harry admired the home. Painted in a cheery yellow, the large house had a gabled roof in a deep slate gray. Climbing roses hugged the sides of the house, lending it an appearance of a fairytale cottage. In the spacious front garden, magical and non-magical plants lived together in harmony. It was chaotic, yet gave the sense that perhaps the gardener understood its organization. 

When they stood on the doorstep, Snape moved to knock at the large, dark wooden door. A long thin metal tube popped out of the doorway, startlingly fast. Harry blanched as it appeared to slither near to his body, moving up and down his torso, seemingly inspecting him. 

After the strange object had its fill of Harry, it moved over to Snape, treating him to the same scrutiny. Snape appeared both unaffected and unsurprised by the strange object. 

The tube disappeared back the way it came as the door swung open, revealing an old smiling man. He threw his arms wide as the doors had opened and let out a soft and surprised “ah ha!” He had dark grey hair and warm brown eyes, which were twinkling in a way that reminded Harry of Dumbledore, and yet, put him at ease. 

“Well if it isn’t Severus Snape, up on my doorstep after all this time.” His eyes set upon Snape with a fond expression. “ Sorry about the inspection, can’t be too careful, scary times these are.” 

Snape nodded solemnly. The old man’s smile grew impossibly larger as he set his eyes on Harry.  

“An’ you’ve brought yourself a wain with ya as well, oh Maeve will be pleased, she will.” 

Snape did not look impressed, “Gerry, I think it’s best if I explain inside.” 

The man looked at Snape indulgently, as if he were a small boy asking for his third helping of pudding. “Of course, of course, come in then.” He waved his hands at Harry and stepped back from the doorway to allow them entrance. 

The home opened up into a modest but lovely entranceway, a large winding staircase in the centre of the round wood paneled room. Harry was busy taking in the clearly magical home, as bustling with independently moving objects and a feeling of magic as the Burrow. He failed to notice the man eying him closely as they moved in the home in his distraction. 

“Severus, don’t tell me this is Fleamont's grandson you’ve brought me” 

Harry’s head snapped up, the man gazed down at him with his large toothy smile

“Oh, now Maeve is really going to have kittens, you’re James’s boy is that right? That face is unmistakable!” 

“Yes, Sir, I'm Harry.” 

“Well I am pleased to meet you Harry, the name’s Gerry Campbell, I was a good friend of that old grand da of yours. Hardly can believe you’re visiting me, with my dear Sev at that! Can’t imagine how that came to be! I suppose that explanation can happen over a cuppa?” He did not wait for an answer and strode away toward what Harry presumed must be a kitchen. Snape pulled on Harry’s arm before he could follow. 

“Potter, Mr. Campbell is a very important man. He was my mentor when I was completing my potions mastery. You will not embarrass me here, none of your usual antics and pranks, am I understood?” 

Harry was perplexed by the sudden mood shift, but nodded his assent, desperately curious about the man who dared call Snape ‘Sev’ and lived to tell the tale. 

They followed Mr. Campbell into the kitchen as Harry greedily soaked up the odd and comforting decor of the home. 

“Maeve, dearest, you will not believe what ‘as turned up on our doorstep!” 

“I’ve no time for your riddles Gerry, I'm out to feed the animals now.” 

“Ah, you'll be wanting to see this Maeve.”

Harry and Snape stepped further into the kitchen where a small, white hair woman was standing over the sink, bright yellow gloves on her petite hands. She swung around to glare at Mr. Campbell before setting her sights on Snape. 

“Oh my is that our Severus Snape, my my let me see you!” She rushed over to Snape, and took his shoulders into her hands, running them up and down in an inspection that immediately reminded Harry of Mrs. Weasley. 

“You are looking much too thin, I'll be fixing that straight away my boy.” Her smile was stern when she looked Snape over and stroked his arms with motherly affection. Harry couldn't quite manage to suppress a short laugh as he took in the scene. Snape turned to shoot a vicious look at Harry. He quickly attempted to hide his mirth from the man. 

Snape would get his revenge quickly, however, as Mrs. Campbell turned to Harry next with a broad smile. 

“Oh, and a little one! Who might you be sweetheart?” Harry tried to push down his indigance at the fact that he was in fact fifteen and not five as the woman seemed to think. She was obviously kind, and Harry did not want to be rude to the couple that were his only salvation from the Dursleys. 

“That there is ol’ Fleamont Potter's young Grandson, if you’ll believe it!” Mr. Campbell shared with glee. 

Mrs. Campbell turned back to Harry, approaching him with her arms open. Harry forced himself to stay still as she wrapped him in a warm embrace. 

“What's your name wain?” She asked, thumb on his cheek as she held his chin still. 

“Harry, Ma'am” 

“Aren't you polite, sweetheart.” Mrs. Campbell cooed. Harry felt his face turn red. “Call us Maeve and Gerry, I’ll be offended if you keep on any other way in my home.” 

“Leave ‘m be Maeve, let's have us a sit and Sev can tell us why he’s turned up here without so much as a note.” Mr. Campbell shuffled to the table and eased himself slowly into a straight backed dining chair. He gestured for Harry and Snape to join him. The promised tea was forgotten in favour of an immediate interrogation. 

“Don’t leave us hangin’, then. What has caused us to be blessed with your lovely company?” Gerry clasped his hands eagerly. 

Snape glanced at Harry quickly, then back to the Campbells. 

“Potter needed to be moved to a more secure location.” Snape said vaguely, which did little to satisfy either of their hosts. 

“Surely the Order of the Phoenix had a better location than our old farm.” Gerry eyed Snape with a skeptical look. 

“We had to move slightly out of the knowledge of the Order.” Snape admitted. 

“You needed somewhere Albus Dumbledore couldn't find you, is that it?” Gerry looked a little smug at the concept. 

“Yes.”

“Don't suppose you're going to let me in on why that is?” 

“Not precisely.” Snape glanced once more at Harry. “He wanted to place Potter in an unsuitable environment.” 

“Well, as long as Harry is wanting to be here, I'll accept that answer.” Mr. Campbell turned to examine Harry keenly. “This isn't a kidnapping situation is it, wain? Blink twice if you need me to extract you.” 

“No, sir, Gerry, I mean. I’d like to stay here. If you don’t mind that is. I know it puts you at risk, my being here.” 

“Nonsense! Merlin himself couldn't get through my wards unless I wanted them to.” He patted Harry’s hand across the table. 

“If you’re sure?” 

“Never been surer. Now why don't we get you both fixed up with some rooms and we will have a little tour.” 

Harry was shown to a beautiful little room near the top of the stairs, Maeve insisted on changing out the sheets and adding several woolen blankets. Snape unshrunk his trunk from wherever he had been storing it, and set it down at the foot of the bed. 

Harry glanced around the modest, but lovely space. Light blue curtains covered a bay window that overlooked the front drive. The rug was soft, white and yellow daisies adorning it. Harry smiled when Maeve told him she had made the blankets and rug herself. Harry even had his own ensuite, something he had always considered to be a luxury reserved only for the poshest of people. 

“Will the room do for ya, Harry?” Gerry asked. 

“It’s brilliant, really. Thank you for letting me stay here.” 

“Ach, sure we’ll ‘ave ya. Most exciting thing to happen in this house in years” 

Harry smiled back at him, unable to believe his luck. 

“Now, let’s go to the stables.” Gerry said with a wide grin. 

Harry felt an equally large grin grace his face. He could not wait to meet all the interesting winged beasts that he’d spied earlier. 

“You like animals, Harry?” 

“Yes.” Harry’s smile grew. “Especially flying ones.” 

Snape snorted beside him, muttering, “how shocking.” 

Harry ignored him. Nothing could spoil his mood when the opportunity to meet, and hopefully, ride on, magical creatures was upcoming.

“You ever ride an Abraxan?” Gerry crouched slightly to ask, excitement on his wrinkled face. 

“No, but I've ridden a hippogriff.” Harry returned, enjoying the look of shock that crossed Gerry’s face. 

“Have you really?” Gerry giggled, while Maeve rolled her eyes. 

“ Two wains we have here, Severus.” She sighed, though her fond smile betrayed her. 

They made their way out to the stables, where Harry was thrilled to discover more than simply winged animals. Gerry gleefully showed Harry the various insects and creatures that he utilized for potions properties. Harry was pleased to know that he was gentle with the animals, and only used ingredients that didn’t hurt them. 

The Abraxans, Unicorns, and Grainians wandered around the property, shimmering with power and beauty. Gerry promised that Harry could take a try at riding them the following day, following a sharp look from Snape when he suggested it immediately. 

Harry had thought he couldn’t be happier, until he was led through the greenhouse, to a back room containing a number of glass enclosures. He pressed his nose to the glass of the closest one, seeing a beautiful boomslang inside. 

“You have snakes!” He enthused, still not believing his luck.  

“Of course.” Gerry chuckled, “ Best creatures alive for potions ingredients.” 

Harry did not hesitate to speak to the boomslang, offering a polite greeting. Gerry and Maeve gasped. Harry kicked himself, he always forgot that parseltongue was often considered a dark gift. He turned guiltily to look at them, hoping they wouldn’t send him on his way. He sighed with relief when Gerry pressed a hand to his chest and smiled at Harry. 

“Goodness, wain, you could ‘ave warned us. Nearly out of my skin, I am!” Gerry laughed. “I know what work i’ll be giving you, those ashwinders over there have been giving me nothing but trouble.” 

Harry let his shoulders relax, and he pulled Ssyra gently from his pocket.

“Sorry, I should have said. I have a snake too. I hope that’s okay.” Harry asked hesitantly. Ssyra hissed and wrapped herself around Harry’s neck. 

“Ach, she’s a beauty! Course it’s okay!” Gerry pat Harry’s shoulder encouragingly. “It’s a special gift you have, Harry, don’t let anyone tell you it’s wrong, or dark. They are jealous, is all.” 

Harry smiled at the man, grateful for his positive reaction. He couldn’t believe he’d found himself in such an ideal situation. He saw the rest of the summer stretched out ahead of him, full of opportunity. Harry was given the rest of the tour, and introduced to what would be his chores while staying. He’d never had such fantastic chores in his life. Even the worst chores, helping to clean out the animal stalls, would be enjoyable with the magical creatures. 

When they returned to the house, Harry went to his room to wash up for dinner, heart light and hopeful. 

Most people would have described dinner that evening as a pleasant affair. Maeve had outdone herself creating a beautiful meal for the unexpected houseguests. Conversation flowed warmly around the table, the elderly couple was thrilled to have company. Severus, however, did not have a pleasant evening. Watching Potter interact with the two individuals he owed the most to caused him to feel as if he were cast out to sea. 

At least he could take comfort in the fact that Potter seemed uncomfortable as well. He managed to remain exceedingly polite as he was quizzed on the entirety of his fifteen years of life experience. 

“Tell us, then, what’s your favourite subject in school? Is he a potions prodigy, Sev?” Gerry asked innocently. 

“I’m er, not very good at potions.” Potter admitted. 

“Ach, I can hardly believe that! Your grand da was a hand at potions. Maybe it’s the teacher?” Gerry winked cheekily at Severus. He scowled in return. 

Potter shook his head slowly, but Severus noticed a quickly suppressed smirk forming. “No, really, I’m a disaster at potions.”

“We’ll be needing to practice then together, hmm?” Gerry smiled. “Can’t spend a summer with two potions masters only to fail your OWL now can ya?” 

“I’d appreciate the help.” 

“Ah, see, it's sorted then.” Gerry confirmed. Severus made no complaints. Gerry was the most stubborn man he had ever met. If he’d set his mind on teaching the boy potions, well, it was lab cauldrons would be exploding in, not Severus's. 

“Nevermind all that, I heard a rumour that we have missed a young man’s fifteenth birthday.” Maeve cut in. 

“Did we now?” Gerry chuckled in mock surprise. 

“So we did, Gerry.” Maeve winked. 

Maeve pulled out her wand and summoned a large ribbon adorned box with a dainty flick. It landed gracefully in front of Potter, who looked at it with reverence. 

“You didn't need to get me anything!” He protested. 

“Nonsense! We couldn't go on without giving you a present, could we?” Maeve scoffed. “Besides, I only put it together today, it's just a little token.” 

“You really didn't have to!” Potter insisted. 

“Potter, open the gift, you're being rude.” Severus interjected. 

Potter cast his eyes down before obeying. He pulled the ribbon carefully off the box, rolling it in his fingers and smiling. 

“It's velvet.” He said simply. 

“So it is.” Maeve smiled with slight confusion. Potter flicked his eyes up to meet hers, before quickly returning to the ribbon in his hand. 

“Could I please keep it, would you mind?” He asked, hesitantly. 

“The ribbon? Of…of course, it's your gift, little one.” Maeve appeared perplexed. 

“Brilliant .” Potter rolled the green fabric into a tidy circle, before tucking it into his pocket. 

He then plucked off the top of the box and placed it beside him on the table. Instead of properly opening the gift, he simply stared at whatever the box contained. He hesitated for so long that Severus's curiosity won out. He leaned over and glanced inside the box. 

Inside, wrapped with care, was a handmade teddy bear. It had soft looking black fur, and huge green eyes. Severus resisted a sigh. It would have been an appropriate gift for a five year old. Perhaps Potter remained still due to the offense of receiving such an age inappropriate gift. 

“Do you not like it, Harry?” Maeve asked nervously. Her question seemed to snap Potter out of his trance. His eyes popped up to look at her. 

“Did you make this for me?” He asked in a whisper. 

“Yes! I make all sorts for the wee ones in town. I know you're a touch older, but everyone could use a new friend, I say!” 

Potter returned his gaze to the box, extending a single finger into it. He gently stroked the bear’s nose, lifted each of its paws, before withdrawing it entirely and holding it up to his face. 

“It looks like me.” He said, smiling next to the admittedly similar bear.  Maeve and Gerry let out huffs of relieved laughter. 

Potter then turned the bear over in his hands as if he were examining a precious historical artifact. He ran his hands down the fur, stroking the ears, and gently lifting one tiny paw in a mock wave. The smile directed at Maeve was blinding. 

“Thank you. ” 

“You're welcome, Harry.” Maeve patted his hand fondly. 

“I’ve never had one before.” Potter said while still staring at the bear. 

“You’ve never had a teddy bear before?” 

“I don't think so, maybe when I was a baby.” He hugged the bear close to his chest. 

“Thank you.” He repeated. 

Severus tactfully pretended not to notice as both Maeve and Gerry wiped a tear from their cheeks. Potter was oblivious to the effect of his words, enthralled with the bear as he was. 

Maeve turned her eyes to Severus with a stern look that he had no trouble interrupting. The type that told him he was in for a long evening of interrogation about the boy, and likely a lecture. 

Potter seemed to suddenly recall that hugging a teddy bear may be beneath him, and placed it gently back in the box, but not without a slight pat to its head. He thanked Maeve again, causing the woman to walk over to Potters chair and wrap him up in a soft embrace. He tensed slightly, before relaxing and reaching his arms around her slim shoulders. 

Maeve pat the boy on his head before releasing him. 

“Okay, now, off to bed with you. It’s been a very long day.”

Potter nodded slowly, and rose from the table without protest. He carefully gathered the box and bear in his arms, before turning to speak to Severus.

“Thanks for bringing me here.” He said quietly, his eyes conveying the breadth of that statement. Severus merely nodded in reply. “Go to bed, Potter.”

“Goodnight, Harry.” Gerry patted the boy on the shoulder and gave him a light nudge toward the staircase. The adults watched his departure in silence.   

Harry climbed the stairs slowly, cradling Maeve's gift under one arm. He was bone tired, the events of the day finally creeping up on him. The memory of fleeing from Privet Drive was still fresh in his mind. His uncle’s purple face, his angry grip. The time spent in his cupboard, bound and helpless. 

Harry went into the bathroom attached to his room and prepared for bed. He examined wounds on his wrists, raw and red. He grimaced at them, wishing he had struggled less against the binds, the damage was far worse than he’d hoped. Hopefully they would heal enough within a couple of days so that Harry could wear short sleeves. It would be difficult to hide the injury if he was questioned on his odd choice in summer clothing. He washed the wounds carefully, and changed into his sleepwear. 

When Harry was done, he arranged his bear on the wooden dresser next to his bed. He took a moment to fuss with its arms and put it into a natural looking position. He laughed at himself for his immaturity. 

Harry then sat on the edge of the comfortable bed, staring at the soft bear. He was much too old for such a toy. It was best if the bear remained a safe distance from him while he slept. The temptation to hold it close was strong. 

The bear seemed to stare right back at him, beseeching Harry to bring him over to the bed. Its big green eyes seemed quite sad. Well, Harry wasn’t the type to deny something so cute what it wanted, was he? Sleeping on a dresser was hardly comfortable, he imagined. 

He slowly made his way over, glancing around as if he were slinking around Hogwarts after hours, avoiding Filch. 

Harry snatched the little bear off the dresser and quickly returned to his bed, tucking himself and the bear under the sheets. Despite feeling slightly foolish, he had to admit that he found the little creature comforting. He plucked the velvet ribbon from where he had stored it on the bedside table. He tied it into a handsome bow on the bears neck, no longer caring about feeling childish. No one could see him in the safety of the room, anyway. 

As he drifted off to sleep, he tried to work out a strategy for sneaking the bear into the Gryffindor dorms without facing ridicule. 

Harry was fast asleep when his door opened, and a dark clad figure looked in on him. He didn’t stir when the man adjusted the blankets over his shoulders, tucking the bear more tightly into his arms. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Sixteen: Perfect Man 

There was silence around the table as Potter made his way up the winding staircase, the teddy bear tucked under his arm. Severus was determined to not think any further about it, and so he continued to sip at the last bit of his tea in silence.

Maeve stood up without warning and refilled the kettle. Severus sighed heavily. There was never a surer promise of a difficult conversation than a boiled kettle after a round of tea had already been consumed. Sure enough, when she returned to the table, Maeve got straight to the heart of the matter.

“Is that child being mistreated at home, Severus?” She said, both hands on the table as if she were ready to jump up at any moment. Her eyes were fixed on Severus with the most serious expression he had ever seen on her face. 

Severus hesitated, startlingly aware of his resolve to not overshare Potter’s home life with others. He knew, however, that he would be unable to get away with lying to the Campbells outright. He owed them too much to be dishonest, and they knew him far too well to be properly deceived.

Severus had stumbled into their lives as a young man, shortly after he had gone to Albus, begging for Lily’s life. He’d been offered the job of potions master at Hogwarts, but with very little documented experience. He couldn’t imagine how a job application would read after his time as a Death Eater post school.

Name: Severus Snape.
Teaching experience: None.
Past employment:  Potions Master for Evil Tyrant Inc.
Special Achievements: Created a potion that melts the skin from its victims in ten seconds or less. 

He couldn’t guess at why some parents may hesitate to leave their children in his care. Albus had recommended that he get some experience with an old acquaintance, a reclusive but brilliant man who lived far from civilization. It had sounded like an ideal situation to Severus. 

So, Severus had spent a summer with Gerry and Maeve, learning to be a proper potions master. Gerry was a gentle teacher, something that Severus had never experienced. He had come into their home with his guard up, ready to be kicked to the curb at any moment. He’d been greeted with such kindness and care that it had felt almost abrasive at the time. When Lily died, Severus found himself in their spare bedroom for months, unable to move, sleep or think. Maeve had ensured that he ate, Gerry got him brewing again. In many ways, the Campbells had saved his life.

When he considered what to tell them about Potter, Severus decided to be as honest as he could. “I’ve promised him I wouldn’t say anything.” He admitted. 

Gerry and Maeve exchanged tragic looks, as if his non answer had confirmed their fears. Maeve tipped her head forward, and took a deep breath.

“How worried should I be?” She asked, chewing on her bottom lip. Severus wasn’t sure if he could explain the multitude of ways that she should worry about Harry Potter.

“He’s safe now.” Severus asserted instead, attempting to feel reassured by the relative truth of that statement. He couldn’t bring himself to elaborate any further.

“Sure he is, we won’t let anyone hurt him here.” Gerry said with uncharacteristic seriousness, puffing up his chest.

“But he’s such a lamb, what kind of person would hurt him?” Maeve wiped tears from her eyes as she went to get the whistling kettle.

“He was living with Lily’s sister and her husband, the worst type of people you could imagine, I’m afraid.” Severus explained.

“Ach, his own kin?” Gerry turned red, and began to tap his fingers against his tea mug with agitation.

“As I said, I promised I wouldn’t say too much, but it’s enough for you to know that he could not remain there safely.” Severus looked at both of their faces, feeling as if it were his fault they were upset, like he’d done them a disservice by bringing an abused child into their home.

“They feed him enough? He’s awful thin.” Gerry asked.

“I’m not sure, he hasn’t told me much, however, I don’t think many of his needs were being met there.”

“Gerry… little wain has never even been given so much as a teddy bear, what does that tell ya?”  Maeve finished making the tea, and began pacing around the table, gesturing somewhat wildly with her arms. “How do you look at a sweet fella like that and treat him wrong?” She sniffled.  

Severus felt unwelcome guilt begin to settle in his gut. He could think of many occasions in which he had been less than kind to Potter. Maeve continued to mutter to herself as she paced, before she turned and stuck a finger directly at Severus’s nose.

“Now, you tell me Severus, what are you going to do with him? I won’t hear of you letting him go back there, forget what old Albus Dumbledore says!”

“Maeve, that’s why he came here, love.” Gerry patted her gently on the shoulder, encouraging her to sit down.

“Oh, right. Sorry I got caught up.” Maeve took a seat reluctantly.

“I’m glad you brought him here, Severus. I know there was no love lost between you and James. You’ve done the right thing.” Gerry assured him.

“For once.” Severus said bitterly. 

“You stop with that self-pity, it’s what always gets you in trouble. You can’t change the past, Sev, but you have that wain here now, and you’ll do right by him.” Gerry said firmly. “It’s what Lily would want and you know it.”

Severus bristled at Lily’s name. His grief had been horribly heightened ever since her boy had arrived on his doorstep. 

“What Lily would want? She would want to be alive. She would want to raise her own son! I stole that from her, from both of them!” Severus raised his voice to a loud whisper, fighting the urge to shout his frustration. “I shouldn’t be alive while she’s not, it’s shameful." 

Maeve looked at him in quiet contemplation before she spoke softly.

“If you continue to push away every scrap of goodness that comes into your life, if you push away her son… that’s what's shameful, Severus.” Maeve said with finality. She had a way of speaking that always made Severus feel like a chastised child. She was however, almost always right. Severus saw no point in arguing it further. He sat in silence for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

“I’m doing the best I can for him.” He said finally. “I’m not a perfect man.” 

Gerry and Maeve both smiled at him fondly. 

“Don’t we know it, Sev."

When Harry woke the following morning, the sun had just barely risen. Harry knew he was to be assigned chores in the stables, but Gerry had said he’d provide more instructions in the morning. He decided it was best to get up and get ready for the day. It was better to find something helpful to do, rather than be caught lying abed while there were chores to be completed. Harry dressed and made his way downstairs. He walked down the stairs as quietly as possible, adept at avoiding loud footsteps from years of consequences at the Dursleys. 

He crept into the kitchen, wondering if it was okay to start cooking. Touching food in someone else's home seemed like the wrong thing to do. He floundered for several moments before he noticed a small note on the countertop. 

Good morning Harry! 

Please help yourself to breakfast if you wake up before us. Anything in the cold cabinet or pantry is free to take. I’ll make you something proper if you wait for an old lady to wake up.” 

Maeve

The note was finished with several small shakily drawn hearts. Harry felt warm all over at the sight. He decided that the best solution was to make something for everyone. Harry was generally modest, but he knew he excelled in two areas, flying, and cooking. Flying, however, was hardly going to win him points with the Campbells, or Snape for that matter.

With that settled, Harry puttered around the kitchen, grabbing the ingredients he needed to make scones. He hoped that Mr and Mrs. Campbell would like them. His desire to prove himself useful to the elderly couple grew with every interaction. He moved mechanically through the steps and felt himself relax into the work. He didn't notice when Gerry walked into the kitchen and saddled up behind him to glance into the mixing bowl. Harry flinched violently and barely suppressed an undignified yelp.

“Sorry there, I didn't mean to startle you.” The man was smiling at Harry, with a slightly sad look etched into his features. 

“S’lright, I was just focused, is all.” Harry returned to stirring the mixture. 

“Aye, sure you’re grand, I’m right keen to try whatever it is you're cooking up.” Gerry continued to crane his neck in an attempt to have a peek in the bowl.

“Oh, It’s only scones. Sorry, I just started cooking, I should have asked before touching your food.” Harry shuffled from foot to foot, suddenly anxious. Gerry grinned at him, and took a step back. 

“Don’t be silly! Waking up to someone making me breakfast, how could I ever be angry at that?” Harry tried to relax at the man's gentle tone. 

“Okay, thank you. I won’t make a mess. I just wanted to thank you for having me.” Harry wanted to ensure that Gerry knew 

“You’ve thanked us enough, Harry. I want you to make yourself at home now.” 

“Okay.” Harry said, uncertain, but returned to his scones.

Harry returned to his work in silence, as Gerry moved to sit at the small counter. Normally, Harry would have felt terribly nervous having someone at his back while cooking, but Gerry hummed a gentle melody the entire time, setting Harry's nerves at ease. Harry was surprised after he slid the scones into the oven when the man began to speak. 

“You tell me you can’t manage in potions class. Looking at this I have a hard time believing you don’t understand potions!” 

Harry hummed non-committedly.

“Aye, you don’t believe me do ya, wain? Tell me, why have you frozen the butter for those scones of yours?” 

“So that it stays unmelted until it's in the oven.” Harry replied offhandedly. 

“Why would you want that?” Gerry continued. 

“Stops the scones from spreading too thin, keeps the inside soft and buttery.” 

“Why?” 

Harry held back a sigh, not understanding the line of questioning, but not wanting to appear rude to the older man. 

“Because, when the dough forms with the butter still intact, it forms crumbs with the flour. When it melts in the oven it creates air pockets inside the scone and that keeps it from spreading. The frozen butter also works into the dough better if you grate it up the way I did, so you don't need to overwork the dough and ruin it.” 

“Ha, a wee potion maker, so you are!” Gerry declared. 

“Huh?” Harry had no idea how they had landed on the completely unrelated topic. 

“You just described the specific way you would prepare and combine ingredients to get a desired effect. I'm sure you have an explanation for the oven temperature, timing and all. You also told me the logic behind each step. If that's not potion making, I don't know what is!” Gerry explained. 

“That's different!” 

“The ingredients, sure, the thought process is identical. We simply need to teach you the specifics for potions ingredients, and you’ll be as good as your gran’ da in no time.” 

Harry blushed and shook his head, he began to move around the kitchen, tidying up the dishes. 

“Ach, leave the dishes wain, come have a cuppa while we wait for those special scones you worked so hard on.” 

Harry felt distinctly uncomfortable sitting down while the kitchen remained dirty. He obeyed, however, unwilling to cause any problems with the kind man. He sat straight up in his chair, placing his hands neatly in his lap. Gerry poured him a cup of tea, fixing it just the way Harry liked it.

“No need to look so nervous, I’m not plannin’ on having Maeve cook you up for supper.” Harry attempted a laugh, it sounded tight and false to his ears. 

“Sorry, sir.” 

“None of that now.” Gerry scolded him softly, giving Harry a warm smile that wrinkled into the corners of his eyes. 

A long silence stretched between them. Harry wished he were better at making conversation. He always felt a bit out of place with adults, as if he were disappointing them with his existence alone. Gerry seemed unphased by the silence, flipping through his newspaper, occasionally muttering to himself. Harry felt himself relax finally, and he slumped slightly in his chair, fiddling with the table cloth. 

Gerry peered over his newspaper at Harry, a small smile on his lips. 

"You look just like James, you know." Gerry said.

“Yeah, that’s what everyone says. I’m told I have my mothers eyes though.” Harry added. Gerry nodded his head solemnly. 

“So you do. Beautiful eyes, beautiful girl she was.” 

“You knew her too?” Harry asked, keen as always to hear more about his mother. 

“I never had the honour, no. Heard enough about her from Severus, of course.” Gerry said casually, as if that were a perfectly normal statement. 

“...What?” Harry sputtered.

“Severus hasn’t mentioned?” 

“Mentioned what?” Harry’s suspicion increased by the moment. Gerry took on a slightly guilty expression. 

“Oh, well, I’m sure I'm getting myself in trouble now, if he hasn’t told ya. Sev and Lily were best friends as wains, weren’t they.” 

Harry felt a pit drop into his stomach. Snape and his mom were friends?

“I didn’t know.” Harry said softly, as he wondered why that fact should upset him. 

“I’m surprised Severus never told you, he loved that girl. Devastated he was, when she died. I was half surprised when he didn't try to claim you himself right then.” Gerry said, looking pensive.

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The image of Snape swooping into the Dursleys house and whisking him away was absurd. Well, perhaps not that absurd, he amended, thinking of recent events. 

“He wouldn’t do that, he hates me.” Harry said, nevertheless. Regardless of Snape’s unexpected rescues, Harry knew deep down that the man hated him still. 

“Does he, now? Doesn’t seem to hate you.” Gerry raised both eyebrows at him. 

“Well, he does.” Harry asserted. 

“Severus is a complicated man, Harry, but I know him well. He wouldn’t defy Albus Dumbledore for just anyone.” Harry mulled that over, considering the fact that it would take a lot to go against the Headmaster. He settled on addressing the other glaring fact of the morning. 

“He never even said anything about my mum.” Harry said, sounding much more childish than he had intended to. Gerry smiled knowingly at him. 

“Bit of a sore spot, i’d imagine. They had a falling out as teenagers, but I know he loved her dearly. Hard to see her have a child with another man, especially with your father, i’ll reckon. Not that it’s your fault, mind you.” Gerry chuckled. “Fate is funny sometimes, don’t you think?” 

An image of a child with Luna’s eyes and Malfoy’s face sprung unwillingly into Harry’s mind. It made him cringe in disgust at first, then soften at the idea of a child of Luna’s, or Hermione’s for that matter. 

“If someone I love had a baby, I think i’d love that baby no matter what. I wouldn’t care who the Dad was.” Harry asserted. Gerry smiled at him fondly. 

“Yes, well Harry, I can already tell you’re the special type of person, the kind who's got enough love in his heart to spare some for everyone.” Gerry took a long sip of tea. “Now, our Severus is more selective with his love, but once you have it, he’s as loyal as they come.” 

Harry was saved from responding by the ding of the oven timer, he jumped up and removed the scones, setting them on a cooling plate nearby. He finished preparing the cream and jam, before he brought them over to the table on a tray. 

Gerry wasted no time and snatched a scone off the tray, taking a bite immediately. He closed his eyes and hummed. When he opened them again, his eyes were directed at Harry again. 

“Now don’t you tell Maeve, but these are the finest scones I've ever tasted.” 

“You don’t have to say that.”

“You think I'm fooling with you? I wouldn't risk saying that aloud in this house if it were not true, would I?” 

Harry felt himself turn red. 

“I’ve embarrassed ya now. I'm telling the truth, so I am.” 

“Thank you.” 

“You won’t be thankin’ me once I have ya makin’ these every morning. May not let ya head back to school.”

Harry laughed and felt the warmth of the man’s affection fill his chest. Gerry smiled in return.

“Care te test my theory wain?” Gerry had a devilish glint in his eye. “Head down to my lab for a while?” 

“Oh, erm…okay.” Harry did not want to disappoint Gerry in his own home. 

“First, you need to eat something, Harry. I’m starting on my third scone and you haven’t touched them!” 

“Oh, well I made them for you and Maeve, you should have them.” 

“That’s the biggest load of nonsense I've ever heard! Who’d ever think of not sharing with the chef?” 

Harry hesitantly took a scone off the tray, and added some cream and jam. He took a small bite and was pleased to find that they’d turned out perfectly. He smiled, and continued eating. 

“Good, good. You eat up, then we will head down. No sense working on potions with an empty stomach.” 

Harry was finishing up his scone when Maeve and Snape entered the room together. They stopped their conversation suddenly, as if surprised to find the kitchen occupied. 

“What’s this, then?” Maeve said, investigating the tray of scones. “Don’t tell me you’ve baked Gerry?” 

“Ha! Don’t be at it, imagine the dentist trip that would cause!” Gerry laughed and kissed Maeve gently on the cheek. “It was our young Harry who ‘as baked, fine job he’s done as well.” 

“What a treat! I can’t remember the last time I had breakfast waiting for me.” Maeve glared mockingly at Gerry, though her smile shone through. She sat next to Harry and rubbed his hand, before she prepared herself a scone. She bit into it and sighed, closed her eyes and gently squeezed Harry’s hand. 

“Harry, how would you like to stay with us forever?” She asked with a smile. Harry squeezed her hand back and said, “that sounds brilliant actually.” Maeve chuckled and continued to eat the scone, a smile remaining on her face. 

“Severus, stop looking like we kicked your crup and join us for breakfast. Harry has gone to all this trouble.” Gerry called to Snape, who was looking at the scene with a sour expression indeed. He twisted his face, but obeyed Gerry, taking a seat at the table. 

Snape slid a potion across the table to Harry, which he immediately recognized as his nutrient potion. Harry downed it quickly, hoping that Maeve and Gerry wouldn’t inquire about it. 

Snape watched Harry intensely until he’d finished his potion. He didn’t shift his expression as he reached for a scone. Gerry and Maeve looked at him expectantly. 

“Well?” Maeve said.

“It’s passable.” 

“Oh, come now, Severus, that’s the best scone you’ve ever had, admit it.” Gerry needled. “It is fine.” Snape concluded. Harry smiled, it was as close to a compliment as he had ever received from the man. Maeve threw her hands in the air, muttering, “you are impossible, Sev.” 

When they had finished breakfast, Gerry clapped his hands together and rose from the table.

“Alright! Down to the lab we go, Harry!” 

Snape rolled his eyes and Harry felt his chest tighten. 

“Good luck with that, Gerry, the boy is a menace in the laboratory." Snape said flippantly. Gerry and Maeve both glared at him, swinging their heads in a singular motion. 

“That’ll be quite enough from you, Severus.” Maeve said, looking far more intimidating than a woman of her height ought to. Harry smiled with his head averted, lest Snape spot his mirth. He wisely said nothing and followed Gerry down into the basement. 

“So you see, Harry, turn your wrist out just a little more and you’ll have the perfect grip for this stir.” Gerry said gently. 

They had been in the basement laboratory for over an hour, an orderly but surprisingly cozy space. It was warm and light, with enchanted windows that made it appear as if it were above ground. Jars of strange ingredients lined the shelves, each with shaky handwriting on makeshift labels. Harry resolved to himself that he would send a muggle label maker to Gerry for Christmas.

“Like this?” Harry adjusted his grip and Gerry let out a cheer. 

“Yes! That’s it, that's beautiful technique, Harry.” Harry felt his heart swell with the praise, his face warming pleasantly. 

They carried on in this manner for the entirety of the morning. Gerry taught Harry how to stir various patterns, how to understand the difference in chopping directions and even how to tell the progress of a potion from smell alone. Harry was happy to find that with a positive teacher and a structured lesson, he wasn’t completely useless at potions.

Gerry was kind and considerate, always mindful of Harry’s space and never approached him from behind without warning. His hesitancy made Harry suspect that Snape had informed him of the details of their escape to the farm. Normally, Harry would be furious and mortified at such a conversation, however, something about Gerry and Maeve made him care far less about privacy. 

Gerry eventually tasked Harry with brewing a potion from a large and dusty book he had pulled down from the top shelf. 

“You’ll use all those tricks we talked about today in this potion.” He explained. “It’s a touch advanced, but I have faith in you, I do.” Gerry cautiously patted Harry’s shoulder and returned to his workstation. Determination filled Harry, as if he were in the middle of a quidditch match and had just spotted the snitch. He would not mess up this potion. 

Harry shifted all his focus to the brewing process, finding the chopping, stirring, and measuring oddly meditative. It was amazing how relaxing potion making could be in a calm quiet environment. 

The peace was broken as Harry was finishing the final stirs on his potion. Snape strode into the lab without knocking, nearly startling Harry into missing his last stir. When Harry glanced into the cauldron he was elated to find it looked like the precise aqua shade that the book had called for. 

“Potter, we need to start your Occlumency lesson. You’ve been down here for hours.” 

“Right, right. Sorry, I lost track of time.” Harry had forgotten all about Occlumency lessons in the chaos of the previous day. “Come look at my potion first, I think I got it right!" Harry wasn’t sure what possessed him, other than the desire to prove to Snape that he wasn’t a complete idiot at potions. He looked up hopefully at Snape, but the man wasn’t paying attention. He was focused on examining the bookshelf. Harry wondered if he’d heard his request.

“Professor?... My potion?” Harry said, a little louder. 

“What are you shouting about Potter? I’m sure your potion is likely to start spewing toxic fumes any moment now, I don’t need to be closer to know that.” Harry felt his hope deflate, and he glanced down at his shoes. “Right.” He said, feeling suddenly quite odd. 

He surprised himself when he felt the edges of his mind start to turn fuzzy. He hadn’t had any episodes since he’d been working with Xavier. He didn’t fight against the floating sensation that began to creep into his body, his vision turning slightly blurry. 

Harry watched from a distance as Gerry approached his cauldron and said something that must have been praise. Harry felt as if wool had been shoved in his ears. Suddenly, Snape’s face was in front of his, serious and drawn.

“Potter, you need to come back to your mind now.” He said firmly. Harry heard the words float over the part of his brain that remained somewhat conscious. Harry nodded numbly, his head weighing far more than he’d remembered. 

“Okay.” Harry said automatically. 

“No, Potter, clear your mind, come back to the present. You need to pull your thoughts forward." Snape sounded oddly worried, Harry thought distantly. Something was touching his arms, holding him steady. He leaned into the strong grip, feeling lightheaded. 

“You need to breathe, slowly, come on.” 

Harry focused on his breathing as he attempted to return to reality. He vaguely recalled advice Xavier had given him, to count things he could see, hear, feel. There were ten jars of frozen ashwinder eggs on the shelf, five simmering cauldrons, one pair of hands holding him tightly. 

Harry blinked several times as he began to realize where he was. His previous numbness twisted into a sick embarrassment as he took in the room with clearer eyes. His face turned red as he stepped away from Snape. Gerry paced nearby, looking at Harry as if he were on his deathbed. 

“I’m alright.” Harry attempted to reassure, but his voice came out in a shaking squeak. He lowered his head and sank into the stool at his workstation. He couldn’t understand why he’d reacted like that. Snape just didn’t want to look at his potion, it wasn’t the end of the world. 

Snape approached the stool and handed Harry a familiar looking potion. 

“Calming draught, take it.” Snape muttered, a slight flush on his face that Harry couldn’t understand. Harry accepted the vial and noticed that his hands were shaking. He had to hold the vial with both hands as he brought it to his mouth. He smiled at the instant warm relief that flooded his body. 

Snape coughed and looked away from Harry. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again and shuffled his feet. It was an odd look on the man, as he usually refrained from such insecure looking movements. 

“I’m, well-” He began. Harry looked at him expectantly. Gerry sighed and stopped pacing, moving over to join them. 

“I think what you’re looking for, Sev, is an apology.” Gerry said, patting Snape's shoulder encouragingly. “Try it with me, I’m sorry, Harry, for being a bleedin’ dope and insulting your potion, which by the way is perfect.” Gerry winked at Harry. Snape looked like he’d swallowed broken glass. He smoothed his robes but did not seem as if he were about to speak. 

Harry felt his mood suddenly shift, as it often did. Snape couldn’t even be bothered to muster up a proper apology, and it filled Harry with righteous anger. His mind swirled with every grievance he’d ever held against the man. 

Harry stood up from the bench and barely resisted the urge to swipe his cauldron off the table. How dare Snape dismiss him? It was always the same with him. No matter what Harry did or said, it was never enough for people like Snape. Harry could juggle four cauldrons while riding a broomstick backwards and Snape would probably just call him a show off. 

Harry clenched his fists, and felt his nails press into the soft skin of his palms. His words flew from his mouth before he could think better of them. 

“What did I ever do to you, huh? What is so wrong with me that you hate me this much?” Harry shouted, as his hands began to tremble. Snape tensed his shoulders, looking like he was preparing for a fight. “ You’re always like this! You’re always judging me!” 

“It was not my intention to upset you.” Snape said plainly. It was not enough. Harry felt the weight of five years of hatred drop onto his shoulders. It felt like fire clawing up his chest, fanned by hurt and indignation. 

Snape had decided he hated Harry from the moment he set eyes on him. Hated him for having the nerve to exist. At the end of the day, he was just like Harry’s relatives, and nothing would ever satisfy the man. Harry felt stupidly naive for thinking anything had changed. 

Even with the calming draught urging his body to relax, Harry still felt his heart beating wildly in his chest. 

“I’ve never done anything to you , I’ve never done anything.” Harry’s voice began to shake, his anger shifting again into despondence. “I’m just so sick of it, sick of everyone hating me.” 

Snape approached him slowly, his hands in front of him in a gesture of peace.

“Potter, I apologize. I should not have spoken to you like that. I… I don’t hate you. I’m not sure that i've ever truly hated you.” 

Harry felt the wind leave his sails as suddenly as they had blown in. He slunk back down into his stool. 

“You don’t hate me?” Harry asked, feeling embarrassed at the pathetic tone he managed to conjure. Why was he always so content accepting the bare minimum? Snape came a little closer to him, and looked him in the eyes for a moment. Harry was surprised to see genuine concern, if only fleetingly. 

“No, Potter. I don’t hate you. I may have misplaced some anger toward you.” Snape admitted, looking as if that was all he was planning to say on the matter. Harry, sighed, wishing he were better able to hold grudges. He tended to have a fiery temper that burned out quickly. He waited for several moments, unsure if he should continue the argument. Snape had been horrible to him for years, but Harry also couldn’t so easily dismiss all he had done for him this summer. Embarrassment over the whole incident started to take over. 

“It’s okay.” Harry said finally. “Sorry for freaking out.” Harry refused to meet either man's eyes. Snape sighed and moved to glance into Harry’s cauldron.

“This is a very complicated potion, Potter.” He said with surprise.

Harry’s head popped up. “Is it good?” He asked hesitantly.  

Snape looked back into the cauldron, and gave it a gentle stir, an expression on his face that Harry couldn’t identify. 

“It’s very good.” Snape admitted, still sounding surprised, but genuine. 

“Really?” 

“Mhmm.” Snape continued to stir it, sending confused glances at Harry. 

“Told ya, we will make a potions master out of him in no time. He’s got a good instinct, he does. No technique to speak of at the moment, but we will fix that right up.” Gerry said, clearly trying to add some lightheartedness to the still tense room. Harry laughed halfheartedly, warmed by Gerry’s attempts to sooth him.

“Right.” Snape muttered, before he turned back to Harry. “You’ve done very well, Potter.” Harry beamed at the praise.

Snape hesitated before nodding to himself, and tapping his finger against the table. 

“The scones were outstanding.” Snape said, not meeting Harry’s eye. Harry’s chest warmed nonetheless.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seventeen: Stay 

August 10th, 1995. 1:00 AM 

Harry was running down a dark corridor, desperate to reach the end. A soft green light reflected off the black tiled walls, obscuring his sight as he rushed toward his goal. At every turn, every doorway, he found nothing. The thing he wanted most felt just out of reach.

Fury filled him, it gnawed at his skull, pulling his vision into black. His followers were useless, spineless, fools. He itched to cause pain, to enact suffering in equal measure to their failure.  

The world tipped. Harry was suddenly standing in the graveyard, Cedric dead at his feet. 

“Why did you kill me, Harry?” The corpse asked, head lolling back gruesomely. Harry scrambled away from the body, and fell backwards onto the rough gravel. 

He tried to push up on his palms, and felt his hand press into cold skin. Blank blue eyes stared at Harry from the freckled face of his best friend. 

“RON! NO!” Harry managed to crawl away from Ron’s body with a strangled cry. 

Every direction that Harry turned, he was surrounded by the bodies of his friends. Some of them stared soullessly, others turned to him with cold eyes, accusations thick in their glares. He pulled at the bodies desperately, begging for forgiveness. The corpses remained silent. 

“I should have expected as much from you, Potter.” Harry whipped his head around to see Snape standing with his arms crossed, disappointment clear on his face. He looked down at Harry’s pathetic form with a sneer. 

“I didn’t mean to kill them!” Harry pleaded for Snape to understand. “Please, you have to believe me!” Snape continued to glare at Harry, looking unimpressed. 

“You killed your parents, you killed your schoolmate, how long before I end up dead because of you?” Snape spoke as if he could not hear Harry’s pleas. 

“No, no! I won’t get you killed, I swear.” Harry felt his heart rate quicken, his voice trembled with fear. 

“Don’t you have any idea the risk I've taken, helping you? Helping an undeserving, spoiled freak?” Snape approached and pressed the tip of his shoe into Harry’s hand, digging in painfully. 

“No, please, I'll be better, I will, please, stop!” Harry cried brokenly. The faces of his aunt and uncle began to float around his head, jeering and mocking him. Harry’s parents joined in, faces twisted in disgust.

“Freak, freak, freak!” They chanted. Snape watched the ghostly figures with a cruel smile. 

“Tsk… it’s too late, Potter, much too late.” Harry reached toward Snape, still naively hoping to be pulled to safety. As his hands met Snape’s legs he began to disintegrate before Harry’s eyes, his skin burning like Quirrels had when he had killed him. Another death on Harry’s blood coated conscious. 

“No, NO!” Harry grabbed at Snape’s robes, thinking desperately that he could hold the man together. That if he could squeeze tightly enough, he could spare him. He quickly found himself clutching empty robes, Snape’s body had vanished. 

Harry felt his stomach fill with lead, grief and a sense of defeat overtaking him. He heard an anguished scream, and looked around in panic before realizing the sound came from his own raw throat. 

Harry awoke with start, trembling and covered in sweat. Hot tears flowed down his cheeks. It took him a moment to get his bearings and to realize he was safely tucked into his bed at the Campbell's farm. He grappled around for his bear, no longer concerned about the childishness of it. He had his face buried in the soft fur when his door shot open.

Snape moved quickly into the room, flicking his wand smoothly to light the candles on the desktop. He was dressed in a black nightshirt and a long hat, an absurd sight that would have caused Harry to laugh, had the situation been less bleak. 

“Potter, what is wrong?” Snape scanned Harry’s face, brandishing his wand before he moved onto the rest of the room, presumably checking for invaders. 

Snape finished his investigations and looked more intently at Harry’s face, finally coming to the conclusion that whatever had upset Harry was not lying in wait to attack. “Potter, are you well? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“N-nothing is wrong, I'm fine.” Harry said in a voice so shaky it rendered the words meaningless. 

“Yes, I can see that.” Snape rolled his eyes as he approached the bed and waved his wand over Harry. 

“Hmm, just an elevated heart rate.” Snape said simply before he swept from the room without another word. Harry sat up in his bed, shaking violently. His stomach twisted horribly and without warning he vomited over the side of the bed. 

He nearly began crying again when he realized that he had been ill all over Maeve’s lovely daisy rug. Mortified, he slid out of bed and dragged himself to the toilet. He emptied his stomach once more as he leaned over the porcelain rim. 

Harry managed to pull himself off the tiled floor, and dragged himself to the sink. He rolled up his sleeves to splash water on his face. The fabric caught on his wrists and he had to gently pry it from the sticky wounds. Once he peeled back the sleeves he examined his wrists and found they had turned a startling red, with white pus leaking from the sides.

“ Shit… ” Harry muttered. He knew the signs of infection well, and the wounds on his wrists had been worsening over the past day, despite his efforts to keep them clean. He quickly wrapped a cloth around each wrist and pulled his sleeves back over. He grabbed several towels from the cupboard, and pulled an all purpose cleaning out from under the sink. He took a breath before returning to the bedroom, he could only deal with one crisis at a time. 

When he stumbled back to his bed, Ssyra had awoken and emerged from her place beneath his pillow. 

“Ssyra, go back to sleep, everything is fine." Harry told her impatiently. 

She looked at the floor, examining his vomit curiously.

“You’ve been poisoned.” She concluded. 

“No, not poisoned, just an upset stomach.”  

“I’ll go find the man in black.” She slithered toward the end of the bed, intent on her mission. 

“He was just here Ssrya, you can go sleep, i'm fine.”  

She made a discontented sound but came back toward Harry. He wanted her to go back to sleep. She wanted to sit on his neck and monitor his temperature. Naturally, the disagreement ended with her happily cuddled into the side of his neck. She coiled herself as he leaned over, clinging tightly. 

She whispered into his ear as he began to clean the vomit from the side of his bed. He started to panic slightly when his efforts were ineffectual. With only two nights at the Campbells he had already ruined their belongings. Ssrya did not care for his worries, as she continued to report on his health. 

“Your temperature is very high, much higher than a hatchling should be.” She wriggled against his neck, licking at his ear anxiously.

“I’m a human, Ssrya, we run hotter.” Harry sighed, too tired to argue the finer points of human anatomy with a snake. 

Whatever retort she had in mind was interrupted by a low shout. 

“What in Merlin's name are you doing, Potter?” Snape had returned to the room, potions, tea, and leftover scones floating on a tray behind him. 

“Sorry! I just felt ill all of a sudden, I couldn’t make it to the loo.” Harry explained, with no small amount of embarrassment. 

“I mean, why are you cleaning in this condition?” Snape clarified with exasperation, as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Get back into bed.” He demanded. 

“But, but, the mess!” Harry protested. “I’ve ruined Mave’s rug!” 

“I’m a wizard , Potter, get back in bed.” Snape’s tone was firm, but Harry noticed a softer expression around his eyes. 

Harry climbed into bed, subtly slipping his bear under the covers to hide him from Snape's view. Snape dealt with the mess with an efficient wave of his wand, leaving Harry feeling quite foolish. 

The man approached Harry’s bedside, and withdrew a cool cloth from his pile of supplies on the top of the floating tray. He handed it to Harry with a brisk. “Put this on your forehead.” 

Harry watched as Snape sorted through the potions before he examined Harry closely with a clinical eye. He handed Harry several potions which he downed without protest. He gasped when a cool breeze blew through the sheets, drying the sweat from the bed and his pajamas. 

“Tell me what you saw.” Snape said firmly, as he thrust a tea cup into Harry’s hands. 

Harry took a steading breath. “I was back in that corridor again, I felt like him again. I don’t know what he is after, but I wanted it so badly.” Harry sighed in frustration and put his head in his hands, pulling at his hair in agitation. “I just want him out of my head!” He exclaimed. 

Snape made no response as he summoned the chair from the corner of the room. He eased into it carefully, and looked at him impassively. 

“Anything else?” He raised a sceptical eyebrow, as if Harry were hiding nefarious details from his explanation. 

“Well, I also was in the graveyard, but I think maybe that was a dream?” Harry explained hesitantly. “You were there…” He added. 

“It was definitely a dream then. I haven’t been with the Dark Lord in weeks now.” 

“Oh…right.” Harry had almost forgotten the very real risk of Snape being called by Voldemort. If he hadn’t already emptied his stomach, he may have done so at this realization.

“How long before I end up dead because of you?” 

Dream Snape's words weighed heavily on Harry's mind. Everyone was at risk associating with Harry, Snape more than most. He tried to not let that fact drown him in panic again. 

“Potter, you should occlude before you return to sleep.” Snape interrupted Harry’s silent contemplation. “Do you think you can manage?” 

Harry nodded and began to cycle through his occlumency exercises, feeling himself calm down and his mind settle after a little while. He opened his eyes to see Snape looking directly at him, unblinkingly.  

“Better?” Snape asked.

“Yes, I think so.” Harry knew he should go back to sleep on his own, but he couldn’t help but desperately wish that Snape would stay by his side until he fell back asleep. He couldn’t bring himself to make such a ridiculously embarrassing request. 

Snape stood from his chair and hesitated for a moment. He gave Harry a look that made him feel like an interesting potions ingredient. Snape looked like he may have said something, but instead he suddenly coughed and turned on his heel without another word, leaving Harry alone in the dark. 

Sleep evaded Severus for the remainder of the night. Waking to Potter’s screams had been unsettling to say the least. He was almost embarrassed at the speed in which he had gone to the boy's side. 

Severus felt helpless in the face of Potter’s nightmares. Ordinary night disturbances would be difficult enough to deal with, but it was obvious that there was some influence from the Dark Lord as well. This fact contributed greatly to his inability to sleep, plagued by the image of Potter’s mind lost entirely to the Dark Lord. 

Severus lay awake as the desire to ensure that Potter returned to sleep without incident grew stronger. He persuaded himself that it was best to create some distance. The boy had become too reliant on Severus as it was. 

Nevertheless, he’d nearly caved when he checked the strength of Potter’s shields and saw only the singular plea. 

Stay. 

Now, as he struggled to sleep, he wondered if he should have stayed. The more he turned the situation over in his mind the more conflicted he became. It was hardly helpful to give into the boy’s every whim. Yet, Potter hadn’t even been able to voice his request aloud. 

He was terrified, Severus, he needed you. 

He flipped onto his stomach, pressing a pillow over his head. The attempt to suppress his inner voice was futile. 

You orphaned him, the least you could do is provide some small comfort. 

Severus groaned into the pillow, then pounded it flat with his fist. 

Do you suppose he has ever been consoled after a nightmare? 

Severus gave up on sleep entirely. 

When he trudged downstairs the following morning, he found Potter sitting at the kitchen table, eyes red with purple circles beneath them. Severus attempted to push aside the guilt that threatened to drown him. Potter was likely furious with him for his failure to support him properly. 

The boy turned his head toward Severus and stunned him with a smile. 

“Good morning Professor.” He said softly. 

Severus stared at him for an impolite length of time. He watched as the smile dropped from Potter’s face. 

“Sorry, sir. I know I kept you up last night. Can I get you coffee?”  Potter said as he rose from his seat anxiously. 

“No, Potter, I’ll get it.” Severus turned his back and poured himself a cup from the kettle on the stove. He glanced at Potter when he came back to the table. The boy looked at him wearily.

“Good morning.” he said dryly, a peace offering not missed by the boy. Potter’s smile returned as he sipped at his coffee. 

“You’re a bit young for coffee, are you not?” Severus observed. 

“I’m used to it.” Potter replied nonchalantly. 

“I didn’t ask if you were used to it, I said you’re too young for it.” Severus scolded.

“Why does it matter to you?” Potter grumbled. “Are you going to tell me I can’t?” He challenged, with an unidentifiable question in his eyes. 

Severus found he couldn’t form an answer. Why did it matter to him? He found he had no trouble finding an explanation, just not one he’d be willing to share readily. Only the answering thought that had wormed its way into Severus’s brain and had made itself quite at home.

I worry about you.

“It doesn’t matter, just leave some for Gerry.” Severus muttered, feeling it was far too early for such dramatic truth telling. 

“Of course.” Potter said, sounding almost angry. Severus could not make sense of his reaction, and simply stewed in his discomfort. 

They were saved from the uncomfortable atmosphere by the arrival of their hosts. The warm energy of the couple erased whatever tension, real or imagined, that lay between himself and Potter.

“Good morning!” Gerry greeted them with a smile. “Fine day to go flying, it is!”

Potter’s face split into a wide smile. “Flying? Flying on what?” He asked, wiggling in his seat like a much younger child might. 

“Oh, wain, we will just have to find out which beast will let us!” Gerry clapped his hands in excitement, and gestured for the boy to follow him.. 

Gerry and Potter both headed happily toward the door, practically skipping away without another word. They were stopped by a firm voice. 

“Ahem!…You’ll be sitting down and havin’ a proper meal before I see you risking your necks flying on those ridiculous creatures.” Maeve said, one hand on her hip, the other gesturing with a spatula. 

The merry pair turned slowly back toward Maeve, looking like children caught with their hands in the biscuit jar. 

“Oh, Maeve, don’t spoil the fun!” Gerry whined. 

“ Sit .” The woman insisted, her tone breaking only slightly in humour. Potter scurried back to his chair, and sat quietly. Gerry made more of a show of his return, sighing dramatically as he took a seat. 

Maeve smiled gently at Potter, before she returned to cooking breakfast. By the time she had finished, Potter had refilled his coffee cup twice. 

“Harry, I don’t think you ought to be drinking coffee like that, love.” Maeve scolded softly. 

“Tsk, I’ve already told him, Maeve.” Severus interjected. 

“Hmm, it isn’t healthy for wains to drink coffee, is it?” Maeve fretted. “What if you get a stomach ache, or stop growing, or damage your brain?” She tutted and stroked Potter’s hair. He smiled at her and put down the coffee. 

“I’ll stop drinking it, alright?” He conceded. Severus felt an odd twinge of hurt. Why did the boy obey Maeve so easily? 

Severus was distracted throughout the meal, thoughts of his many failures turning over in his mind. 

The wind whipped through Harry’s hair as he flew above the green farmlands. He let out an ecstatic yell when the Abraxan dipped lower in the sky. He gasped when she tilted sideways toward the earth, executing a maneuver he would need to remember for his next quidditch match. 

The abraxan leveled out and spread her impressive wings. They floated forward with barely any effort. The sky stretched before him in a stunning display. Light blue contrasted with fluffy white clouds across the horizon. Harry allowed himself a moment to breathe deeply and soak in the scene. He was sure this memory would be one he could use in his occlumency and therapy practices. This was the kind of peace and freedom that could only be obtained above ground, in Harry’s opinion. 

They circled around several times, moving closer and closer toward the ground. Gerry appeared to be blowing a whistle, apparently a cue for the abraxan to land. Harry sighed in disappointment, but a smile remained on his face. He could hardly act sore when he’d had such a wonderful time. 

Even from a distance, Harry could see that Snape bore a pinched expression. When they landed the man rushed over, eyes examining Harry closely. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked immediately. Harry laughed in reply. 

“No, I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?” He jumped from the abraxan with ease, but didn’t miss the grimace from Snape as he did so. 

“Ridiculous boy, flying on animals… senile old man…” Snape muttered as he walked away. Gerry stepped forward in a much more jovial mood.

“A natural, you are!” Gerry exclaimed. “You see that, Maeve? Took to the air like he’s a sky horse ‘imself!” 

Maeve tutted nervously and checked Harry over, but seemed pleased enough with her inspection.

“You enjoy yourself, Harry?” She asked.

Harry nodded enthusiastically. He pet the mane of the beautiful creature, wondering if she’d tolerate being brushed. He'd love to brush her out, maybe even try a few braids Luna had taught him. 

With Snape far enough away to be out of earshot, Harry looked at Gerry with his best innocent look. “Can I please have another go?” Harry asked hopefully. Gerry smiled sympathetically. 

“Perhaps another time, I’m worried Severus is going to run a hole in my grass if he keeps pacing.” Gerry laughed and tipped his head toward Snape, who had ceased his pacing and returned to the group.

“I was not pacing , I was simply monitoring the boy as he risked his life.” Snape grumbled. “You’ll all recall that I am responsible for his well being.” 

“Yes, Sev, and no one is doubtin’ your dedication to the cause.” Gerry quipped and winked at Harry. "Perhaps we can get you up there as well one of these days." 

Snape scoffed incredulously, shaking his head. "You'd sooner find me giving candy to the students for completed school work." 

"Ach, we shall see." Gerry laughed. “Now, let’s see what’s for lunch, hmm?” 

August 11th, 1995

Harry woke before the sun the following morning. After a long day of excitement, Harry had fallen asleep immediately after tea, sent to bed by Maeve after nearly falling asleep in his pudding. 

He’d been dismayed to find his wrists continued to worsen through the day. Before bed Harry had quickly wrapped them with some gauze and resolved to pinch a potion from the lab when he awoke. 

Harry pulled himself from bed and made his way to the shower. He noticed as he stepped in that he was slightly unsteady on his feet. As the water ran down his body, it turned a light shade of pink. Frowning, Harry examined his wrists to find the source was a steady stream of blood leaking from the now reopened wounds. He tried not to look too closely, knowing it would be an unpleasant sight. He’d need to find some potions or a salve as soon as possible. 

Firstly, however, he needed to tend to his chores. Gerry had explained that Harry was to be responsible for the morning maintenance of the stables. Feeding and turning out the animals would be his first priority. Harry was surely not planning to be late on his chores the first day they were assigned. Treating his wounds would simply have to wait. 

Harry swayed slightly as he walked toward the stables. The sun was just beginning to rise above the treeline, illuminating the dawn in a soft yellow light. The cool morning air caused him to shiver violently. He pressed a hand to his forehead, wincing when he realized it was red hot. 

He knew that it was the beginning of a bad fever. With the worsening of his wrists overnight, Harry could only hope that the fever was unrelated. He was no healer, but he did understand that such a thing could be incredibly dangerous. 

All together, Harry felt rather miserable. He allowed himself a few moments to sit on the stoop of the stables cradling his head in his hands and feeling sorry for himself.

Harry considered for a moment returning to the house and summoning Snape for help. He quickly dismissed the idea as ridiculous and weak. He’d suffered through much worse on his own in the past. Snape’s recent coddling of him had turned Harry soft. 

After what he deemed a sufficient sulking period, Harry pulled himself up slowly. He needed to get his chores done. Experience told him that illness was no excuse for incomplete tasks. Gerry and Maeve were certainly kinder than his relatives, but he still didn't want to push his luck.

The morning was slow going, but he trudged forward, starting with the Abraxans whom Gerry informed him would be the most anxious to get their breakfast. After they ate, he turned them out into the field, admiring them as they galloped out into the burgeoning daylight. He ceased his self pity for a moment, enjoying his good fortune to be surrounded by such beauty. 

Harry sighed as he moved onto his other tasks. He turned out the rest of the animals, taking an extra pause to gently stroke one of the unicorns, attempting to drink in its purity as if it could heal his ills. He was cleaning out the Thestral stalls when a particularly concerning wave of dizziness hit him.

Harry pulled back his sleeves to examine his wrists. He grimaced when he realized they were even worse than he had thought. His options were limited, but he needed to do something before it became obvious to Snape and their hosts. 

Sighing to himself again, Harry returned to his task. Before long he began to feel the world swim before his eyes. He was fairly confident that Thestrals didn’t typically have two heads, although he couldn't presently say for certain. The rather absurd urge to ask the Thestral his thoughts on the matter crossed his mind. He decided it might be sensible to have a seat, and his eyes quickly grew heavy as he slumped onto the ground. 

Severus was not a patient man. He had been waiting for Potter to begin his Occlumency lesson for at least a half hour. He tapped his foot as he pondered an appropriate level of punishment for keeping Severus waiting. 

Had he not told the boy just yesterday that he was expected to be on time for his lesson? Surely he would have finished his chores by now. Severus pictured the incorrigible child jumping back onto one of the winged beasts when he thought no one was looking. The thought alone was infuriating. 

As half an hour bled into forty five minutes, Severus’s frustration began to shift into worry. By the time an hour had elapsed, Severus had worked himself up into a near panic. As much as his past self would never have admitted it, Potter was not generally tardy. Certainly not by a full hour. Severus attempted to persuade himself that perhaps the boy had simply forgotten. Some deeply buried instinct told Severus that this was not the case. Something was wrong. 

Severus hurried down the staircase, toward the open front door. He walked out to the front garden and spotted Gerry walking up from the stables, Potter leaning heavily into his side. His heart stuttered. He stood still for a long moment, increasingly familiar worry sitting heavily in his chest. 

“Severus, stop staring and come help me. I’m an old man now, you realize.” Gerry called out.

Severus jumped into action, shaking his head at his own foolishness. He rushed down toward the pair, taking Gerry’s place under Potter's arm.

“Don' feel good.” Potter mumbled lethargically. 

“You don’t feel well, Potter.” Severus corrected automatically before kicking himself internally. It was knee jerk comments like that which had prevented Severus from ever making friends with ease. 

“S’orry, I didn't finish my chores.” Potter continued, seemingly unaware of his surroundings. 

“Don’t worry about the chores Potter, for Merlin's sake you can hardly stand on your own.” Severus said as he practically dragged the boy up the driveway. 

“I’ll do em’ I swear.” Potter insisted with a droopy nod of his head. 

Severus ignored him as he carefully guided him toward the house. Potter seemed more listless by every passing moment. He began to mumble deliriously. 

Severus exchanged a concerned look with Gerry. 

“What is wrong with him?” 

“I’m not sure, let's get him inside and Maeve can take a look. Sure it’s nothing a potion can’t solve.” Gerry winked halfheartedly, genuine worry overtaking his face. 

By the time they made it into the entranceway, Potter was nearly unconscious. 

“Maeve! Maeve! Come quickly!” Gerry shouted as he left Severus and Potter in search of his wife. 

Potter, meanwhile, had begun to wriggle in Severus’s arms. 

“No, no, please, please I'll be good, I'll be good.” He moaned desperately. 

“Potter! What are you talking about, calm down and stay still .” Severus adjusted his grip, preventing him from squirming away. 

Potter ceased his movements as if he’d been petrified, but the whimpering continued.

“Please, don’t lock me ‘n, I s’wear I’ll finish my chores, I just needa sit for a minute.” 

“Potter, you’re delirious, no one is locking you anywhere.” 

“Please, Aunt Petunia, I'm sorry I got sick, I didn't mean to. Don’ put me in the cupboard, I'll sleep outside. Please!” 

Severus stopped restraining Potter, only holding him tight enough to prevent him from keeling over. He finally noticed the small broom cupboard to their direct left, tucked under the stairs, that Potter’s glassy eyes were examining with terror. 

Vernon Dursley had pulled Potter's things out of a similar cupboard. Dark thoughts filled Severus’s mind. 

Surely not . 

Severus did not have time to ponder whether or not Lily’s sister and her husband were cruel enough to lock a child in a small cupboard. He had that very child in his arms, delirious with fever. 

“Come on, Potter, you're not going in any cupboard, we are going upstairs.” 

“M’ sorry, m’ sorry, I'll do better.” 

Severus gave up on pulling Potter along and instead hoisted him over his shoulder. Severus was disturbed by how easy the task was, Potter didn't weigh nearly enough.

Severus climbed the stairs, Potter over his shoulder. He’d stopped squirming and crying, and had become a dead weight in Severus’s hold. By the time they reached Potter’s room, Severus felt numb with panic. He lay the boy down on the bed and began to cast diagnostic spells. A fever, as suspected, but dangerously high. 

Gerry and Maeve rushed into the room, their speed belaying their age. 

“Severus, what's happening?” Maeve asked, her face pinched with worry. 

“I’m not sure, his fever is extremely high.” Severus waved his hands uselessly over the child. 

“Let me have a look.” Maeve said, moving closer to Potter's bedside and waving her wand in intricate patterns over his shaking body. Severus stepped back, trembling slightly himself. He felt Gerry move to his side and clasp his shoulder. 

“He’ll be alright, you know Maeve is a genius with healing spells.” Gerry did not look convinced himself, which did nothing to soothe Severus. 

“I know.” Severus began to pace the room, anxious to hover over Maeve's work. She was waving her wand elegantly over the body, while Potter remained perfectly still. Unconscious, but breathing. 

“Fever is awfully high. Do you think he caught something?” Maeve inquired. 

“It’s possible, I don’t know!” Severus paced again, angry with himself that he didn’t know more about Potter’s condition. 

Maeve tutted and continued her exam. She began to pull Potter’s shirt up his arms to check his pulse by hand. She gasped and whipped her head to glare at Severus. 

“What has happened to his wrists?” She accused, looking far angrier than Severus had ever seen her.  

“Nothing that I know of.” He admitted with shame.

Severus stepped forward and looked over Potter’s pale and trembling form. His eyes landed on the gruesome mess that covered his wrist. 

“Shit..” The epithet flew from his mouth without thought. “What happened?” 

“I was hoping you would be able to answer that, Severus. These wounds are horribly infected!” Maeve shouted. “I’m concerned that he has become septic, poor thing.” She puttered around Potter’s body, murmuring healing spells under her breath. Severus watched as the infected skin was cleansed and began to knit together.  

“I’ll get potions, and a salve.” Gerry said, his face pale and drawn. Severus had never seen such a look of fear on the unflappably positive man's face. 

Severus, meanwhile, stood completely still, useless and weak. He watched Maeve work with careful precision, grateful for her many talents. When Gerry returned to the room, he handed the supplies to Maeve and then guided Severus to a chair. 

“Nothing to be done now, Sev, let Maeve work. She’ll have your boy right as rain before you know it.” Gerry reassured him. 

Severus opened his mouth to insist that Potter was not his boy, but found himself unable to speak. He sat instead and stared at the child who was decidedly not his, but who hardly had anyone else to claim him. 

After what felt like hours, Maeve stepped back from the bed, wiping her brow with a cloth. 

“I’ve done what I can for now.” She said lightly. “He’ll need to fight off the rest of this fever through the night I suspect.” 

“He’ll be alright?” Severus asked tentatively as he approached the bed. 

Maeve turned to him with soft eyes. She reached out and stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. 

“Oh, love, he’ll be just fine.” She smiled and pulled him into an embrace. “It’s nice to see you so worried.”

“Is it? Personally, I’d rather the boy wasn’t constantly at death's door.” Severus grumbled as he pulled up a chair beside the bed. 

“Love is a marvelously painful privilege, isn’t it, Sev?” Maeve said gently. 

Severus grunted in return, his eyes not leaving Potter’s chest. The consistent up and down soothed his nerves. 

He didn’t notice as Maeve and Gerry left the room. When they returned Severus realized that the sun had begun to lower in the sky. 

“Severus, have you been sitting here all this time?” Gerry asked. 

Severus blinked several times. “I hadn’t realized.” 

“Go get something to eat, stretch your legs.” 

Severus agreed and hurried from the room. He took one glance back at the sleeping boy before he left, reassuring himself that the chest still rose and fell. 

“Get out of here. He’s not likely to burst into flames while you eat, is he?” Gerry pushed Severus from the room. 

Severus ate, showered and changed as quickly as he could manage. He rushed back to Potter’s room in record time. 

“How is he?” He asked in a huff of breath. 

“Fine, same as he was fifteen minutes ago.” Gerry said, a small smile on his lips. “I suspect you won’t be persuaded away that easily will ya?” 

Severus dropped heavily into a chair at Potter’s bedside in lieu of answering.

“We’ll leave you to it then, Sev.” Gerry clapped him on the shoulder. “Maeve and I are just down the hall if anything changes.”

“He’ll need a change of bandages, if you think you can manage?” Maeve inquired.  

“Right. Of course I can.” Severus confirmed. After a moment's hesitation, he added with a curt nod, “Thank you.” He waved them off, grateful for their presence but happy to sit alone with Potter. 

He watched for any signs of change, any distress. The boy was mostly still, his face white with patches of red. Severus sighed heavily and thought for a long while about how he had once again failed this child. Considering he had taken a vow to protect him, he’d managed to allow Potter into life threatening situations with alarming frequency. The boy lay with wounds that had festered so badly he’d collapsed with fever. He had tried his best to prevent Potter’s return to the Dursleys, but what had he accomplished? 

Severus hadn’t thoroughly checked for injuries when they arrived, taking the boy’s word for it. He knew what those monsters were capable of and yet, he hadn’t ensured that the boy was unhurt. Potter did not even feel comfortable enough with him to tell him that he was injured. He had hoped that he had earned enough goodwill for that at least. Apparently not. 

Severus continued to stew in the weight of his many failures. When the time came to change the bandages, Severus pulled back the gauze with a grimace. He wondered again at the severity of the wounds, how exactly he had acquired them, why he hadn’t sought help. The answer to both those questions was likely the same. 

Dursley. Severus was momentarily consumed by rage. With a massive effort he calmed his mind, reinforcing his occlumency shields. Anger would do nothing for Potter tonight.   

He tucked the blankets more closely around Potter, and searched for his bear. He located it tucked under a pillow. He picked it up and cradled it in his arms for a couple of moments. He shook his head at his own ridiculousness, and carefully placed the bear under Potter’s arm. Severus set several monitoring charms, sighing as he settled in for what he knew would be a long night.

After a couple hours of uninterrupted sleep, Potter began to stir, his face pinched in discomfort. Severus examined him closely and noticed a sheen of sweat across his forehead. He conjured a cool cloth and placed it across Potter’s head. The boy ceased his movements and sighed contentedly in his sleep. Severus felt an odd sort of pride surge in him. 

He continued to fuss over the boy, adjusting his blankets, replacing the cloth when it grew warm, carefully moving strands of hair off his face when they seemed to irritate him. He carried on in this way for several more hours, attuned to every small movement, every sign of discomfort. 

Severus eventually stood to stretch his legs and empty his bladder. As he pulled away from the bed he was startled by a small hand emerging from the blankets to grab at his wrist. 

“Don’ leave.” Potter’s voice was rough with sleep, but the command was clear. 

Stay. 

Severus required no further prompting. Despite his sore legs and need to relieve himself, he didn’t move from the bedside for the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eightteen: The Beach

August 12th, 1995

Potter became increasingly restless throughout the night. In the early morning hours he became delirious again, his fever peaking. Severus attempted to soothe him to the best of his ability, replacing a cool cloth on his forehead, gently hushing him, but his efforts were useless.

The boy murmured nonsensically, his face covered in sweat, and Severus gave up. He was exhausted and out of ideas, becoming more concerned by the moment. He finally left the bedside, seeking out Maeve, his anxiety increasing. 

When he returned to the room, a yawning Maeve in tow, Potter was twisting violently in the sheets and muttering to himself. 

“ ….Snape…’ere are you?...Snape!” He called out weakly. Severus felt his heart stop. Potter attempted to crawl out of the bed, his hands reaching out blindly. 

“Go on, Sev, looking for you, he is.” Maeve smiled slightly, despite the concern in her watery eyes. 

“Right.” Severus felt bowled over by the notion that any child would seek him in such a way. He stood still for a long moment before Potter managed to pull himself toward the edge of the bed and was earnestly attempting to stand. Severus rushed over to resume his post. He gently guided the boy back into the bed, and forced him to lay back. 

Potter settled in but continued to shift slightly as he turned his face toward Severus. His gaze was cloudy, but focused desperately onto him. 

“Where'd you go?” He asked blearily, his voice soft and gritty. 

“I went to get Maeve, Potter, I've been only gone a moment.” Severus located and replaced the cloth that had been displaced from his forehead in the turmoil, pushing his fringe back gently. Potter did not reply, but continued to watch Severus as if monitoring his ongoing presence. 

Maeve came to the bedside and cast several diagnostic charms. She sighed with relief as she pocketed her wand and gently tapped Severus's shoulder. 

“He's just fine, I think the fever is breaking. It'll seem worse for now, but he is on the mend.” She explained as she pulled up another chair and gently persuaded Potter to drink a potion. 

“How long?” Severus asked as he attempted to keep his voice even. 

“I suspect he'll be begging to get back on that Abraxan by tomorrow morning.” She pushed back Potter's hair, the boy had closed his eyes, seemingly asleep again, the potion having worked its magic. 

Severus laughed lightly. “I can't say I'm looking forward to watching that again.” He admitted, pausing as he thought about Potter's various life endangering stunts. “I swear he has a death wish, did I tell you he faced a dragon last year?”

“Goodness, did he really?” Maeve clutched her hand to her chest. 

“Yes, it was that ridiculous Triwizard Tournament. He was tasked with defeating a dragon, and he did it. He actually fought a dragon...and won.” Severus coughed nervously. “He's had countless confrontations with the Dark Lord himself and come away unscathed.” Severus shook his head, a series of images danced across his mind, all the life threatening scenarios the boy could encounter in the coming years. He swallowed hard. 

Maeve watched Severus closely, likely noting the tense expression on his face. “No need to worry then, is there? Hardly a fever that's gonna do him in, is it?” She reassured him gently.

“I know that, I know.” Severus sighed, realizing how difficult it would be to admit his fears, even to Maeve. 

“There's so much ahead for him.” Severus explained. “This war, Maeve, he will be at the center of it. There is nothing I can do to prevent that, absolutely nothing I can do to stop him from being targeted.” Once he started speaking, the words began to tumble out. “I took a vow to protect him, and I'm trying…I'm truly trying now. It's so hard. I'm failing horribly.”

Severus was humiliated and nearly recoiled at the pathetic sounding voice he produced as his voice trembled in a rare display of external emotions. A single tear dripped down his nose, and he wiped it quickly away. Maeve wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and squeezed tightly. 

“You aren't failing, love.” She soothed. “You've taken on an enormous responsibility, and you're doing a fine job.”

Severus scoffed in disbelief. “He collapsed within two days in my care. I'm doing an exceptional job.” He said with an eye roll. 

“You can't help that he doesn’ yet trust you, he has been through a lot. He hardly seems like a young man who is likely to ask for help with his problems straight away.” She smiled fondly. “Sweet thing, he fancies himself quite independent, by my reckoning.” 

Severus paused, unsure if he should admit the root of the problem, his own shameful behaviour. He looked Maeve directly in her eyes, summoning all his courage. 

“I was cruel to him. When he first arrived at Hogwarts.” Severus admitted with a deep sigh, he found himself suddenly unable to continue meeting her eyes. 

“I'm told you're cruel to all your students.” Maeve teased. Severus hesitantly glanced back at her kind face, he found no judgment, only the same unwavering fondness he always found there. He relaxed a fraction. 

“That's true, but the little dunderheads deserved it.” Severus said with attempted levity. 

“Hmm, and Harry didn't?” Maeve needled knowingly. 

“Will you really force me to answer that?” Severus sighed. “ He doesn't deserve anything that has happened to him, least of all my mistreatment.” 

Maeve considered him seriously. “You can't change the past, Severus. You can only look to the future. If you want that future to involve Harry, I might suggest an apology is in order.” Maeve scolded. “He is owed at least that from you, is he not?” 

“He is owed much more than that from me.” Severus leaned forward and readjusted the cloth on Potter's forehead needlessly. The boy continued to slumber peacefully. 

Maeve eventually left the room, claiming she needed to check on the animals. Severus knew, however, that she was leaving him to stew in his self-loathing, an activity she knew he preferred privacy for. 

It was another several hours before Potter began to stir properly. Severus had remained close by, monitoring his temperature. He had continued to improve, and with each visit from Maeve confirming his condition, Severus felt his heart rate relax further.  

Severus was pretending to be immersed in a potions periodical when Potter finally lifted his head with clear eyes. 

“What time is it?” He asked.

“Just past three in the afternoon.” 

“What? I've slept through all my chores.” Potter began to pull himself up, seemingly in an attempt to leave the bed. Severus pushed him back with one long finger.

“Lay down, Potter, you've been asleep for over twenty four hours, the chores can wait.” Potter's eyes widened in shock. 

“Really? Did I have a vision or something?” He asked, crunching his brow in an attempt to remember.

“No, you neglected to tell me about a very serious infection in your wrists, as a result, you very nearly became septic.” Severus explained coolly. 

“Became…what?” Potter asked with a tilt of his head. 

“Extreme infection, you fool! It means those ridiculous wounds could have killed you!” 

Potter's eyebrows crept up slightly, a blank look of surprise on his face. “Oh.” 

“Yes, Oh. Would you care to tell me how you came by those injuries?” Severus asked, softer this time. 

“I got tied up, and tried to not be tied up.” Potter said simply with his now familiar blank stare. 

“By your uncle?” Severus asked, a chill running up his spine. 

Potter gave him a brief, pained look. Severus dropped the topic, he could paint the rest of the picture himself. 

Potter reached for his stuffed bear as Severus remained awkwardly silent at his side, the conversation having taken a dark turn. He grappled for a way to improve the tension, his skill in this area being extremely limited. 

"Did you ever name your frien- ahem, that ridiculous thing?"

"I've just been calling him bear.." Potter said automatically, before he blushed and added. “I mean, it’s just a toy, doesn’ matter.” 

Severus observed him as he placed the bear slightly to the side. It was almost endearing to watch the boy struggle with his desire to enjoy the bear while simultaneously feeling childish. That is, it would be endearing, if Severus were the type of sentimental fool to notice such a thing. "Hmm.. Maeve will want it to have a proper name. She'll think you don't like it and I'll never hear the end of it." He concluded, unmoved by Potter’s attachment to the stuffed toy. 

“You think so?” Potter looked pensive for a moment, then began whispering to the snake who had at some point coiled her way around his neck. He laughed several times and replied to the creature, occasionally shaking his head. Severus watched with fascination. The sight of Potter speaking so casually in Parseltongue had not ceased to be a marvel. 

“She says the bear should pick his own name.” Potter said finally, giggling slightly before suppressing the laughter with a hand over his mouth. “She's really offended that I wouldn't let him choose.” 

“That may present a problem.” 

“Yeah, probably.” Potter sighed in mock frustration, holding the bear up to Severus’s face, just inches from his nose. “Why don't you name him. Professor?” 

Severus pushed the bear back slightly from his personal space. "Potter, I have more important things to do than worry about the name of your toy." 

"But- you're the one who said…" 

"I am perfectly aware of what I said, Potter. I didn't mean I was to be the one responsible for the naming." 

"Alright…fine” Potter mumbled to himself quietly, looking on the verge of actually consulting the bear as suggested. Finally he glanced up at Severus with a devilish smile. “What is your favourite potion ingredient?” He asked without preamble. 

"What an inane question. No one has a favourite potion ingredient, Potter. I mean certainly one could have a preference, some properties are more effective than others. Really, I would need more context to even think of answering such a question." Severus found himself babbling, a strange thing to do in the presence of the Potter spawn. The boy in question watched him with a raised eyebrow, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. 

"Right...sure.” Potter observed him closely. “You sound just like Hermione, when you talk like that, you know?” Potter admitted, rather rudely in Severus’s opinion. 

"Potter…” He warned, before turning his attention back to his potions book. He had barely read one sentence before he was interrupted by Potter again. 

"Fine, fine. I’ll make suggestions. How about flob-bear-worm?” Potter chuckled, smiling cheekily at Severus. 

“Ridiculous.” Severus fought against the curving of his lip. 

“Oh. I know! Helle-bear!” Potter chuckled. “You know, like Hellebore?” 

“Yes, I got that…” Severus said in his most serious voice. Potter pitifully pretended to scowl, but it was immediately replaced by a bright smile. Severus again returned his gaze to his book, pointedly ignoring the boy. It was as ineffectual as the first attempt. 

I've got it!” He declared. “Bear-zoar!” Potter said happily, as Severus refused to look up, but snorted against his will. 

“You like that one!” Potter exclaimed triumphantly. 

“No, I was merely taken aback that you knew a single potion ingredient. Finally opened a potion textbook, did you?.” Severus retorted. Potter's face fell slightly. 

“Right… yeah.” He cast his eyes downward. Severus felt the now familiar guilt sneak into his awareness. He was tempted to return to his reading and leave the whole horribly friendly conversation behind him. It was only the reminder of his recent failure that caused him to speak up. He needed to build trust with Potter if he was to keep him safe. 

I seem to recall having a similar bear when I was a boy.” Severus paused. “I called him Georgie.” 

“You did?” Potter said hopefully. 

“Georgie Fairbrook to be precise.” Severus admitted with embarrassment. Potter's small smile felt like a worthwhile exchange. 

“Georgie.” He said while petting the top of the little bear. “Brilliant.” 

August 18th, 1995

Several days passed following Potter's most recent brush with death. Maeve's prediction that the boy would be attempting to mount a winged creature soon after he woke turned out to be ludicrously correct.

Severus, however, did not even consider letting Potter attempt such a thing for at least two days following the incident, ensuring that the boy had reached a full and complete recovery. It was a rule that caused both the boy and Gerry to pout around the farmhouse like toddlers.

Despite the setback, the household soon fell into a comfortable routine. Potter woke early each morning to complete his chores, spending a great deal of time tending to Gerry's many snake varieties. Then they would all convene for a beautifully cooked breakfast provided by Maeve, before, inevitably, Gerry would suggest some death defying stunt for Potter and himself to enjoy fifty meters above the ground. The man seemed to have absolutely no sense of danger, and Potter was an equally reckless partner. 

Severus was therefore extremely suspicious whenever Gerry started the day off with a mischievous smirk. 

“I've been thinking.” Gerry said abruptly one morning at breakfast.

“You know how dangerous that is, Gerry.” Maeve teased. 

“I've a grand idea.” Gerry continued as if Maeve hadn't spoken. Severus braced himself for the inevitably ridiculous idea. 

“Oh, out with it Gerry, we've no interest in your games this morning.” Maeve scolded. 

“Aye, Maeve, so you say. I think we will take a trip to the beach today!” Gerry declared with a smile. 

“Absolutely not.” Severus interjected. “We cannot ensure Potter's safety outside of this property.” 

“Oh, Sev, you can' keep him locked up here all summer!” Gerry exclaimed. “ A growing wain needs room to move!” 

“Yes, and there is so little space here.” Severus drawled sarcastically. “You’d think with your daily trips into the sky you’d be satisfied.” 

Gerry shook his head at Severus. “Come now, I know a special spot, I'll ward everything.” Gerry needled. “You know nothing gets past my wards.” 

Severus could not believe that he found himself actually considering the request. However, Gerry did have formidable warding abilities…Severus shook his head,  he simply still couldn't understand taking the risk. 

“I do not wish to see the boy die a horrible death, especially for something so frivolous." Severus returned lightly. 

“So you won't let him live?” Gerry retorted. “You can’ wrap him up all safe and never let him enjoy his life. Then they win.” 

“Ahem…” Potter interjected. “If my vote counts I'd really like to go to the beach.” He turned his face up to Severus with pleading eyes and a pouted lip. 

Severus had never viewed himself as the type to be influenced by such outrageous manipulation. He scorned the parents and teachers who caved to the children's whims with the bat of their eyelashes or a crocodile tear. Severus was not such a person. 

“Alright, fine.” Someone with Severus's voice conceded. 

“ Really?” Potter sat up straighter, a smile stretching his face. 

“Yes, fine, however, I expect you to ensure all your chores are completely finished first.” 

“They are!” Potter assured, his head bobbing almost comically fast. 

Severus sighed. “Go get ready.” 

Potter bounced up from the table and rushed away before Severus could say another word on safety. 

“Did you really need to suggest that, Gerry?” Severus groaned. 

“You could have denied him the trip if you really wanted to.” Gerry said in mock innocence. 

“You know that is not true.” Severus replied seriously. 

“Was your wee black heart melted by his sweet sad eyes?” Gerry goaded.

“Do not be ridiculous.” Severus resisted the urge to lower his head in embarrassment. Gerry had been too close to the truth of the matter. He stood from the table and strode away, muttering over his shoulder, “I thought we were going to the damn beach.” 

Harry had often wished to visit the beach as a child. He once saw an advert of a smiling family splashing in the water on holiday and thought it looked absolutely brilliant. The father played with his sons in the waves as their mother laughed from the shore. Harry thought that, perhaps, if his aunt and uncle went to the beach with him, they would see that they really were one big happy family.

This, of course, was another of Harry's more ridiculous delusions. 

Harry's past disappointments did nothing to detract from his excitement for the day, however. He could hardly believe that Snape had agreed to the trip and was positively buzzing with the thrill of it. He quickly changed into the only pair of swim trunks he owned and packed a large towel into a bag, unsure what else one might need for the beach. He apologized to Ssyra for leaving her behind, but she was more than content to spend the day curled up on the window, sunning herself. 

When he was finished, he rushed down the stairs two at a time, causing Maeve to shout, “careful, wain!” Harry grinned broadly at her, and apologized sheepishly. He felt rather foolish at his own obvious excitement, but allowed himself a moment to embrace the feeling. 

“I'm ready to go!” He announced. 

“Yes, I can see that. You nearly broke your neck getting ready, didn't ya?” Maeve ruffled his already messy hair. Harry blushed, but his smile did not dim. 

By the time Snape and Gerry were prepared to leave, Maeve had put together two baskets full of delicious looking food for a picnic lunch. The wicker baskets were filled to the brim as they floated along in front of the group as they made their way toward the edge of the wards. 

“Potter, we are taking a significant risk going on this trip today.” Snape said seriously as they finally came to a halt. “ You will listen to my instructions exactly. If I tell you we are leaving, you will be at my side immediately, do you understand me?” 

“Yes, Sir.” Harry nodded. 

“Good, fine, we should go.” Snape took out his wand and waved it several times over Harry's head, before he gestured to Gerry who followed suit. When Harry opened his mouth to question them Gerry said simply, “Just safety spells, Harry.” 

They stepped as a group outside of the wards, and Gerry gestured for them all to link hands while standing in a tight circle. Harry felt his stomach drop as they vanished from the farm and reappeared on an expanse of pale sand. Harry fought off the clawing nausea from their travels as he attempted to take in his surroundings. He was vaguely aware of Snape and Gerry circling a perimeter, their hands lifted high, muttering in strings of Latin. 

They had landed on a beautiful piece of beach, ensconced in a bay, carefully tucked away amongst a nest of trees. The water twinkled in the sunlight invitingly as sea birds flew overhead. Harry was certain that it was the most beautiful place he'd ever seen, except perhaps, the Scottish Highlands. 

“Well, Harry, here we are. Will it do?” Gerry asked teasingly. 

“It's perfect!” Harry replied earnestly.

Despite their heavy warding of the area, Snape still paced around anxiously, acting as though he expected Death Eaters to suddenly pop out of the picturesque scene. 

Harry wasted no time placing his bag down in the warm sand and running toward the ocean. He glanced back quickly to see if anyone would stop him, but Gerry and Maeve simply looked on at him fondly. He pulled off his shoes and socks and carefully stepped into the water, enjoying the feeling of the wet sand between his toes. The water lapped up to his ankles and he laughed in delight. Gerry followed his lead and joined him ankle deep in the water. Harry smiled at the man he’d grown to admire deeply throughout the past several days. 

“So, young Harry, what do you think of my beach?” Gerry asked as he squished his toes in the sand. 

“I love it.” Harry said earnestly. “Do you think I could go further?” 

“Severus is liable to have a heart attack if he sees you out too far, so stay close. Grumpy, he is, but I’ve grown rather fond of ‘im.” Gerry said with a smile. 

Harry turned around to gain approval to find Snape was already looking at him, a scowl on his face. “Do not go out too far.” He said, unflinchingly, as if he had read Harry’s mind. 

“I know.” Harry nodded innocently. 

“I mean it, Potter. The undertow can be dangerous, I expect you to be careful.” Snape continued. 

“I know!” Harry’s tone verged very close into a whine, to which Snape’s scowl deepened. 

“We could just as easily go back to the farm, if you refuse to take this seriously.” 

“No, no! I’m taking it seriously, I promise.” Harry assured, fixing his face into the most serious expression he could muster. 

“Fine, go.” Snape dismissed him without further comment. Harry resisted the urge to run recklessly into the water, fearing that it would result in his immediate removal from the beach entirely. He smiled as his feet once again met the shoreline and the waves lapped at his feet. He carefully stepped further into the water, flinching at the cold. He trembled slightly but attempted to move further out, splashing the water around himself, enjoying the feel of it despite the temperature. 

“A little cold, is it wain?” Gerry laughed. “Forgot you were in Ireland didn’ ya?” 

“It’s br-brilliant!” Harry replied unconvincingly. He returned closer to the shore, and amused himself by chasing the small schools of fish that covered the sand floor. Once the waves became larger, Harry became distracted by the thrill of throwing his body against the waves, in an attempt to ride them toward the shore. It was a great challenge, which had his face sore from the stretch of the smile across it.

By the time he had finished riding the waves and returned to shore, he was shaking violently. Maeve tutted and encouraged him to come sit on a large blanket, where the picnic baskets rested temptingly. He had barely sat down before he felt a large warm towel drop around his shoulders. He looked up to thank Maeve before he realized Snape was standing behind him, having draped the towel over him from above. Harry realized belatedly that the towel had even been charmed with a heating spell. He opened and closed his mouth several times, before he settled on saying simply. “Thank you, Sir.” 

Snape did not bother to respond, as he had already returned to his seat on a simple beach chair that seemed to have been conjured in his absence, pointedly ignoring Harry's thanks. The warmth of the towel seeped as comfortably into Harry's skin as the fact that Snape had given it to him did.

He contemplated how completely his life had changed, that he found himself warm with affection for the man dressed in full black robes on a beach in Ireland. Harry decided now was not the time to contemplate his complicated feelings about Snape, and instead he basked in the joy of the day. He looked around at the strange arrangement of people sitting around the picnic blanket. He could almost imagine they were the family from the adverts, happily enjoying the day together, as ridiculous a notion as that was. Harry suddenly remembered another aspect of those adverts that had appealed greatly to him. 

“Want to build Hogwarts out of sand?” He asked Snape. 

“Absolutely not.” Snape replied.

The day passed quickly as Severus observed Potter enjoying the beach. It was after several hours and at least ten attempts at recreating Hogwarts, fueled by the unflappable energy of Severus's old mentor and several of Maeve's famous sandwiches, that Potter seemed to finally run out of steam.

Potter flopped down next to Severus, directly in the sand. Severus was much more comfortable and sand free from his perch on a piece of driftwood he had transfigured into a low beach chair. Maeve and Gerry had taken off down the length of the beach some time ago, holding hands and giggling like teenagers.

Potter had a relaxed smile on his face, looking more at peace than Severus had ever seen him. The expression loosened the tight knot in Severus's stomach that he hadn't been aware existed until it eased. The risk of coming to the beach suddenly seemed more than worth it. 

“Having a good day?” Severus inquired. 

“The best!” Potter responded, glancing up at Severus with a carefree grin. The slowly setting sun cast a soft glow on his skin. His green eyes were twinkling. Severus felt his stomach loosen further.

“Good.” 

“I’ve never really been to the beach before.” Potter said, looking off into the distance. 

“No? Your aunt and uncle seem like the type to enjoy a beach holiday.” Severus baited, wondering if he could leverage Potter's good mood for more information about his so-called family. 

Potter laughed bitterly. “Oh, yes they are. Only they prefer their beach holidays with their real family.” 

“You are their real family, Potter.” Severus found himself once again filled with anger toward the pathetic muggles. 

“No, I'm not. You're too smart to still think that, Professor.” Potter said simply, sounding far older than his fifteen years.

“Touche.” 

“They found a baby on their doorstep one morning, and were forced to take me in. That's not family, that's a burden.” Potter leaned back on his palms, closing his eyes. His face took on a scrunched expression which had Severus almost regretting the line of questioning. 

Severus waited, hoping that if he left enough space, Potter would continue speaking. 

“They don’t want me. They never wanted me.” He said softly, pain etched into his expression, even with his eyes still closed.

Severus clenched his fists, perhaps tomorrow they’d find something more unsavoury on their doorstep than an innocent baby. He wondered if Hagrid still had any blast-ended skrewts on hand. 

Instead of enacting revenge plans, he said simply, “It's their loss, Potter.” 

Potter blinked at him in confusion, before he hid a smile in his lap. 

“Oh…thanks.” 

“Hmm.” 

“If I told you something, would you promise not to tell anyone else?” Potter asked, looking doubtfully at Severus.

“Of course.” Severus attempted to hide his surprise that Potter would trust him with private information. 

“It’s just, if my uncle finds out I've been talking about them, I'll be in trouble when I go back.” Potter twisted his hands together, his eyes wide and pleading. 

“Potter, you are not going back.” Severus said firmly. 

“You can't know that.” 

“Yes, I can. If you do not wish to return there, I will ensure that you don't. I could have taken you straight back when I found you, that is what Albus expected of me.” Severus reasoned. “I should think I've proven myself to you, in that regard at least.” 

Potter smirked halfheartedly. “Touche.” 

He sighed and started to fuss with the sand, tracing circles with his index finger. Severus patiently waited, watching the boy from the corner of his eye. 

“I don’t get hit all the time, you know, the way I was hurt when I came to your house that day.” He said finally, Severus closed his eyes as he pictured the battered state Potter had arrived at Spinners End in. 

“Alright.” Severus said, slightly confused about the purpose of the statement. “…is that what you wanted to tell me?” 

“No, I just thought you should know that.” Potter squirmed in the sand, refusing to look up from his hands. He waited for so long that Severus began to lose hope of ever hearing the boy’s confession.

“I don't eat very much.” He finally admitted. Severus flinched at the soft words, spoken with such simplicity, as if Potter were only commenting on the weather. The implication was clear, of course, Petunia and her husband were even more monstrous than he’d thought. He waited to respond, wondering if more information was forthcoming. When it appeared the boy had said all he planned to, Severus attempted a response. 

“I’ve noticed.” He began hesitantly. “Do you have trouble eating? It's not uncommon, many teenagers struggle with this.” Severus attempted to reason away the obvious cause. 

“No, not like that. I'm not worried about my looks or something. I’m just not used to eating a lot.” Potter said evasively, his discomfort with the subject obvious. Severus was tempted to drop the topic entirely, what was he thinking, playing at mind healing? Yet, he had started the conversation, and Severus was not the type to quit in the face of a challenge. 

“Why-ahem, why do you not eat enough?” Severus shifted on his chair awkwardly, willing himself to continue. Potter sighed and examined his hands as if they were particularly interesting.    

“My aunt doesn't like to waste food on me.” Potter said, without making eye contact.

Severus waited for a breath, willing himself to not speak in anger and frighten the boy.

“Potter, you know she's wrong for that, correct?” 

Potter shrugged. “She always said if I was good I'd get to eat more. I tried so hard to be good. It wasn’t ever enough for them.” He sniffed and ducked his head. 

“I wasn’t enough for them.” 

Potter made a small sound, not loud enough to be considered a cry. It was devastating in its restraint. Even more so when Potter covered his mouth, as if to stifle the noise. Severus very much doubted tears were permitted in the Dursleys household. 

Severus wished he knew more about giving comfort. It was a skill he hadn't often cared much for, but in this moment, he’d give anything for the ability. He leaned forward slightly and placed his hand on Potter’s back, patting between his shoulder blades twice, saying, “there, there.” under his breath. 

He conjured a handkerchief and handed it to Potter, who now had tears streaming silently down his face. He grappled for the right words. What did one tell a fifteen year old who had been starved by his only living family? 

“You deserve food, Potter.” Severus cringed at himself for the idiotic statement. 

“Yeah, I probably do. I forget sometimes.” Potter laughed wetly. “I'm so fucked up.” 

“Potter.” Severus said in warning, automatically responding to the language. 

“Sorry, I'm so fucked up, sir .” 

Severus couldn't contain the small, undignified snort that left him. He couldn't help it that the teenager was truly funny. 

A long moment of silence passed between them as they both stared at the setting sun, pink over the horizon. 

“I appreciate your honesty.” Severus said eventually, returning to the seriousness of the conversation. 

“Do you think if I eat properly and take those potions you give me, I'll grow a little taller?” 

“I thought you were not concerned about your appearance?” Severus teased. 

“Maybe I just want to reach things on the top shelf!” 

Severus smiled slightly before saying, “Yes, I think you might grow a little taller. I could alter the formulation of your potion to encourage growth.” 

“Really? You could make me taller?” 

“Top shelf height even.” Severus smirked. 

“That's brilliant.” 

They sat silently until the sun dipped below the horizon, shadows beginning to form across the sand. 

At some point Potter had moved closer to Severus's chair. He felt the weight of a warm, boney shoulder press into his knee. 

Severus stayed as still as he could, only moving a hesitant hand to squeeze the shoulder once, before resting it nearby on his knee. 

He glanced down at Potter, fighting the sudden urge to run a hand through his messy hair. The words his alternate self had told him during their strange, life changing visit suddenly came to him. They shot directly to his chest, bypassing his mind entirely. 

“I am hoping that you will soon learn that for yourself, how very easy it is to love him.”  

Chapter Text

Chapter Nineteen: Good Enough 

August 29th, 1995

“Tell me, Severus, why exactly are my followers so incompetent?” The Dark Lord paced in front of where Severus kneeled on the ground. The light marble floors of the Malfoy Manor’s drawing room contrasted starkly against Severus black robes. 

An ostentatious room, with creamy, adorned walls, high ceiling, and a great candle lit chandelier, it was once used to host lavish parties for the most affluent people in society. Now, it was depleted of its former glory.  No more carpets or furnishings, only a gilded chair used as a makeshift throne positioned near the fireplace. The room had been reduced to a dimly lit and oppressive base to the Dark Lord's operations. War planning and torture replaced high society parties, with Death Eaters and the paintings on the walls as the only witnesses to the atrocities inflicted there.

“They dishonour you, my Lord.” Severus replied. He had learned long ago precisely how to reply to such a question. He ached to leave and return to the safe comfort of the farm. He had enjoyed the respite from his duties for so long that the burn of the Dark Mark had shocked him awake just after midnight. 

“Indeed, they dishonour me greatly.” The man agreed as he sighed dramatically. “Ah, but not you, Severus. You seem to be the only one who does not continuously fail me.” The Dark Lord continued, finally gesturing for Severus to stand. He did so, keeping his head lowered in deference for a moment longer. 

“You flatter me, my Lord.” Severus kept his voice level and calm despite his rapidly beating heart. 

“The last set of potions you brewed for me were magnificent, Severus.” The Dark Lord drawled. “I particularly enjoyed this one.” He smiled maliciously as he pulled a vibrant green potion from his robe pocket. Severus flinched, recognizing the potion immediately. It had taken him months to perfect, but was certainly nothing to be proud of. The potion managed to mimic the effects of the cruciatus curse, while forcing the victim to remain conscious throughout. Severus swallowed his disgust, carefully shoring up his occlumency shields. 

“I'm gratified that the potion is to your satisfaction, my Lord.” Severus choked out. 

“I thought perhaps you'd like the honour of watching its debut.” The man said, arms wide as if offering a benevolent gesture. Severus suppressed a gasp, but he'd witnessed many atrocities in his service to the Dark Lord, he could handle whatever was ahead. 

“Of course, my Lord, you are too generous.” He preened falsely. 

“I am. However, in this instance, I feel you’ve earned it.” The Dark Lord smiled cruelly. “Let us greet our special guest!” He declared. “Wormtail! Bring him forward!” 

Pettigrew emerged from the shadows of the room, where he’d remained unnoticed by Severus. He dragged a figure along with him, bound and trembling. Severus struggled to remain standing when he realized it was a young boy, perhaps no older than fourteen. His dark, curly hair rested atop a pale face with wide eyes. Severus felt his stomach twist. 

“This boy thought it would be wise to trespass on my land. Don’t you think that is rude, Severus?” The Dark Lord asked as he pulled the boy toward himself with a rough tug on his hair. 

Several long moments passed before Severus realized he was expected to respond. It had been many years since he had been so immobilized in the face of the Dark Lord’s cruelty.

“Extremely rude.” He agreed, managing to find his voice before the silence stretched unforgivably long. One did not simply ignore a direct question from the Dark Lord. 

“Mhmm, that is what I thought.” The Dark Lord threw the boy to the ground, stepping harshly on his throat. “I think he needs to be punished.” 

Severus watched in frozen horror as the Dark Lord uncorked the vial of potion and forced it down the boy's throat. He sputtered and coughed before the room was filled with ear piercing screams. Severus attempted to retreat into his mind as the Dark Lord’s laughter filled his ears. 

The sky had already begun to show signs of daybreak when Severus finally was dismissed from the Dark Lord’s presence. He barely managed to apparate back to the Campbells farm without splinching himself, his legs giving out from under him as he attempted to make his way into the house. He stumbled on the driveway, falling to his knees with a crunch of gravel. His stomach clenched as he violently vomited, his body shaking with rage and disgust. 

The Dark Lord had allowed the torture to carry on for hours while Severus watched, and by the time the he had grown tired of the activity, the boy’s mind had turned into nothing but a puddle. His pleas for mercy became incoherent and filled only with raw pain. Severus attempted to banish the memories of the boy’s screams, how he had begged for death, how he had finally descended into madness. Severus felt only relief when the Dark Lord finally cast the killing curse, freeing the child, and Severus, from the torment.

Images of another boy, presumably safely in bed, leapt into his mind. As accomplished as he was in Occlumency, there was a limit to how much his shields could hold back. His mind decided to torture him with the ease in which it switched the image of Potter for the other boy. How easy it was to imagine him instead, tortured by a potion of Severus’s making. 

Severus shuddered and attempted to stand, dangerously close to falling into his own vomit. It was so unimaginably foolish, the position he found himself in. He’d allowed himself to entertain a notion that he could take care of Potter, be something for him that he lacked. How absurdly naive? How outrageously selfish? Severus tried to ignore the immense ache in his chest. What was he thinking? He wasn't able to be anything for this child.

Severus could only imagine the damage he was capable of inflicting on Potter. A man whose soul was tainted black, caring for a boy so gentle and kind one look at his soul would surely blind you. That he could be a meaningful adult for him was as absurd as planting seeds in poisoned soil and expecting it to grow.

An image of the future stretched out in front of him. He thought of the upcoming war of which Potter sat at the very centre. He thought of his own precarious role as a spy, which was put more at risk with every passing moment he spent with Potter. 

Severus had needed the reminder of what he truly was. He was a man who only ever harmed the people he cared for. A man who was capable of creating a potion with such atrocious effects. It was hardly the first time he’d invented a brew or spell with disastrously evil results. Severus was the type of man who could stand by and watch a child be tortured for hours without intervention. There could never be a scrap of redemption for him. 

He had indulged for long enough the ridiculous fantasy of… well of whatever this strange relationship with Potter was. With the war once again rearing its ugly head, he could no longer afford to let this sentimentality grow. 

When he finally managed to walk up to the large farmhouse, he still could not bring himself to go inside. Severus felt the weight of his choices, past and present, pressing him into the ground. He sat down heavily on the front steps, and leaned his elbows against his knees. A long while passed, however he was eventually unsurprised to feel a warm body settle next to him on the stairs. 

“What has happened?” Gerry placed a hand on Severus’s shoulder. 

“The Dark Lord called for me.” Severus said without further explanation. Gerry had known Severus long enough to not push for further information when it came to his spying responsibilities. 

“Any injuries to report?” He asked simply. 

“No, I’m fine.” 

“I’ll have to trust you on that, then.” Gerry smiled gently before he withdrew a small vial of stomach soother from his pocket. “You’ll humour an old man by taking this little potion for me won’t ya?”

Severus saw no point in debating the matter, he needed the potion, and Gerry could clearly see the remnants of Severus’s stomach soiling his driveway. He took the vial with trembling hands and knocked back at once. They sat in silence for several moments, Severus leaning slightly against his mentor. 

“I know what you've been doing, Sev, and you know I can hardly hold my tongue when I’ve got an opinion to share. Whether or not you wanted that opinion has never mattered much to me.” Gerry broke the silence. 

“I'm well aware of that, Gerry.” Severus rolled his eyes. “Tell me, then, what it is you think I'm doing.” 

“I think you've been convincing yourself you don’t care about Harry.” Gerry slapped his hands down on his thighs and grinned as if he had just solved a complicated puzzle. 

“I have not.” Severus said, affronted. 

“No? Then you know you care about him, but have persuaded yourself that you shouldn't.” Gerry gave him a sly grin. 

Severus huffed, but did not dispute the claim. Gerry had known him far too long to be played for a fool.

“Ah, that's it then. Is there any talking you out of it?”

“Not likely, but you’ll try anyway.” 

“I don't know all of what Harry’s been through, but I've seen enough to know he needs somebody.” Gerry turned and placed his hand on Severus's arm and squeezed him firmly. “Sev, I know how scary it is for you, lettin’ someone in, but it’s worth a try.” 

Severus hesitated, seeing some truth to Gerry’s words, but was unable to erase the memories of the evening from his mind. He simply wasn’t suitable for the job. “He does need help, I know that much.” Severus paused, then confessed. “I'm not good enough to be what he needs. He deserves better than me.” 

Gerry studied him for a long moment, then huffed loudly. 

“He does deserve better.” Severus opened his mouth in surprise, tempted to snap back at Gerry, but was interrupted. “So be better, Severus Snape. Become the man who is good enough.” Gerry said with such earnestness it took Severus by surprise. It was said with the assurance of a man who truly believed that Severus was capable of such a feat. 

Severus found himself lost for words. He searched for a way to explain to Gerry the magnitude of his inadequacy, his floundering attempts to become someone he was not. He settled for a version of the truth, however ludicrous it was. 

“I was…visited, earlier this summer. It wa-” 

“Not the ghost of Christmas past again, was it?” Gerry chuckled. 

“I’m attempting to be serious, Gerry.” Severus scowled. 

“When are you anything else?” Gerry laughed and bumped his shoulder against Severus’s.

“As I was saying…” He started again, “I was visited by a version of myself earlier this summer, from a different reality…The fool used a Vilagre, and turned up at Spinner's End. He ruined a perfectly good day of brewing.” Gerry looked unimpressed by the mention of the use of a Vilagre, as if mishaps with ancient artifacts occurred everyday. Gerry always had a way of making the most absurd scenarios seem commonplace, a product of his longstanding desire to seek out the strangest and most unusual life experiences. 

“Hmm, and ruined potions aside, what was so disturbing about this other Severus?” Gerry asked, seeming to drive into the heart of the matter. 

Severus could spend an entire hour outlining how incredibly disturbing the other Severus had been. He decided to go with the worst of it. 

“He had adopted the boy.” Severus confessed with embarrassment. Gerry knew that Severus cared for Potter, that was bad enough. Now he knew that in an alternate reality, he had gone so far as to adopt him. The old man was unlikely to let such information go unnoticed.  

Gerry laughed heartily and slapped his knee. He then had the audacity to look terribly smug. 

“Had he, now?” Gerry smirked. 

“He persuaded me that Potter was mistreated in his home, dragged the boy to my house, and that is how this whole ridiculous affair began.” Severus sighed and leaned his head on his fist. 

“He was so confident, so much more equipped for this than I am.” 

“Ach, you are a special kind of fool, Severus.” Gerry gently smacked Severus’s shoulder. 

“How very comforting you are.” He sneered back. 

 “Truly, Sev. Only you could convince yourself that your own reflection is more worthy than you.”

“You don’t understand.” Severus attempted to find the words to explain himself. “I will fuck it up.” 

“I understand perfectly. You feel yourself getting attached to Harry and you’re doing everything in your power to persuade yourself out of it.” Gerry grabbed Severus’s chin and forced him to meet his gaze. “The only way you can ruin this is if you turn your back on him. I’ve seen how he looks at you. It wasn’t myself or Maeve he called for when he was ill, was it?” Gerry let his chin go mercifully. “He’s been following you around every chance he gets this past week. He admires you, Sev. Whether you like it or not, it’s much too late to turn back.” 

“Gerry, I…I just can’t.” Severus put his face in his hands, feeling the weight of his conflicting responsibilities and desires. Although he struggled to admit it, even in the privacy of his mind, Severus had begun to enjoy Potter’s company. They had spent the last several days practicing potions in the lab, an experience that had been shockingly pleasant. Severus could not recall the last time he had enjoyed another person's company so thoroughly. 

“You can do it, you can. And if you break that wain’s heart you’ll have Maeve to answer to, just know that.” Gerry continued, as he pulled Severus’s hands from his head. Severus looked up and attempted once more to explain his position. 

“He has been hurt enough, he doesn't need me to add to it by staying involved.” Severus reasoned. 

“I can tell you what to do all I like, but it's gotta be up to you in the end. Lord knows you’ve never done not one thing unless it was on your terms.” Gerry gave him a stern look. “But you've involved yourself in Harry’s life now. You owe it to him, and to yourself, to try.” 

Severus contemplated Gerry’s words as they sat silently. There was a part of him that wanted to believe that he could change, that he could fulfill his promise to Lily’s memory in more than just words. He had known for some weeks that his role in Potter’s life needed to evolve, even to simply to fulfill the most basic aspects of his vow. 

His vow, however, said nothing about a deeper attachment. Protecting the boy's life and limb was all that he had agreed to. Severus shivered at the thought of a deeper emotional bond with the boy. A bond like the one his Vilagre counterpart had clearly shared with him. Such a connection was incredibly dangerous. 

Sure, Severus could begrudgingly admit that he no longer harboured murderous intentions toward the boy. He might even agree that, on a good day, Potter was somewhat tolerable. He felt pity and fear for him, of course. His upbringing had been tragic and his future was uncertain. It was only natural to have feelings of sympathy and misplaced affection for such a child. 

Then, he thought of the panic that had settled in his chest when Potter had been ill. The risk of losing him seemed far greater than it ever had. He could only imagine the depth of pain that would arise if he entertained feelings such as the kind the other Severus had allowed himself to develop. Severus had no intention of suffering more than was necessary. He had already allowed himself far too much leniency with his feelings, moved by the nostalgia of his times spent with Gerry and Maeve. 

Severus felt the heavy weight of the knowledge he carried settled onto his shoulders. Everything he had learned about Potter's life in the past few weeks had become embedded in his mind, haunting him as surely Lily would be, if she could. Gerry was correct that Severus had involved himself beyond repair. Severus had learned too much, changed too deeply, to completely abandon Potter. However, there was still time to fix the attachment, to let the boy bond to someone else, someone truly better. Resolved to unload the burden, emotional and otherwise, Severus decided to break his promise to Potter. 

“I need to tell you something I have no business sharing.” Severus began, while Gerry looked at him curiously. “I'm sure you realize that the child has been abused.” 

“Yes, that much is clear, Sev.” Gerry looked confused for a moment. “Is there more you want to tell me?” 

“They were starving him.” Severus nearly choked on the words. “He told me when we were at the beach.” Severus started to explain all he had learned and found himself unable to control the stream of words that burst forth, the stress of holding such information finally catching up with him. 

He explained about the beatings, the cat flap and locks. He felt his anger begin to boil under the surface as he recounted the state of Potter's room, his clothes, and the obvious lack of care his relatives had for him. By the time he described the death of Potter's beloved snake, he had started to  tremble violently with fury. Gerry had gone pale during his explanation, his face stricken.

“Oh, Sev. Oh oh, the poor wain.” He said in a shaking voice, several fat tears dripping down his cheeks. “Don't you tell any of that to Maeve, her heart can’ na take it.” He took Severus's hand and squeezed it. They sat in silence until Severus managed to control his trembling. He came to a sudden realization. 

“I need to make them suffer.” He concluded. 

“Now, Sev, I understand how you feel, but that won’ solve anything.” Gerry reasoned, holding Severus down by the shoulders as he attempted to stand on shaking feet. 

“I don't care, Gerry. I've stood by for long enough.” Severus thought of the boy from the manor, his screams still echoing in his mind. 

“I need to do something.” Severus said firmly as he shook the man off of him. Ignoring Gerry's calls from him to return, he briskly walked away from the house with a purposeful stride. 

Vernon and Petunia Dursley would finally get what they deserved.

Harry rose with the sun and stretched his arms above his head. The light filtered in through the sheer curtains of his bay window. He'd been at the Campbell's farm long enough to start thinking of things as “his”. His room, his windows, his strange and unpredictable potions professor. It was a pleasant feeling, one that he'd never had outside of Hogwarts. The past weeks had gone by in a comfortable blur. Harry didn't think he'd ever enjoyed his summer holidays quite so much. 

Harry slowly readied himself for the day, before he made his way downstairs. He became aware immediately that something was wrong. The house was silent, and the front door was open. He crept toward the door, drawing his wand as a precaution. Voices reached his ears, Gerry and Snape, seemingly in some kind of disagreement. Harry froze, uncomfortable with the sound of potentially angry voices. 

“I need to do something.” Snape's words filtered through, loud and firm. Harry approached the doorway in time to see Snape striding away from the house, Gerry calling after him. 

After Snape had disappeared from view, Gerry slumped down on the steps, muttering, “ridiculous, reckless wain.”

Harry hesitated for a moment, considering the best avenue to exit the awkward scene. Without turning around, Gerry waved a hand into the air, beckoning him. 

“I know you're there, Harry, come sit.” Harry flinched, anxious about having been caught eavesdropping.

“You arn't in trouble, come sit with an old man, would ya?” Gerry noticed Harry's hesitance and offered him a warm smile. Harry stepped out from the door slowly, and settled down on the steps next to Gerry. 

“How much of that did you hear?” Gerry asked. 

“Just that he's going somewhere. He sounded angry.” Harry admitted, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Was he angry with me?” He asked. 

“No, no, Harry. He is mostly angry with himself, I would think.” Gerry replied cryptically. 

“Oh.” Harry said, as if he understood what that meant. “Where did he go?”

“He had a wee errand to see to. Don't worry yourself.” Gerry assured him with a smile. Harry felt there was something that Gerry was keeping from him, but did not want to accuse the man of lying.

“Should we tend to the snakes this morning? I'll let you have a break from the stables.” Gerry offered, further confirming Harry's belief that something was happening. Gerry knew Harry much preferred his chores in the greenhouse to cleaning the stables. However, he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth, or gift-abraxan he supposed. 

“Yes! I'll go get Ssyra. She promised she would finally try to meet the other snakes today.” Ssyra had been exceedingly jealous of Harry's involvement with the farm's snake collection. When he'd spent several hours one day persuading the ashwinders to part from their eggs, he had returned to a sulking Ssyra. She had refused to speak to him for two full days.

“Good luck with that, wain. Strong spirited, she is.” Gerry chuckled. “I'll start walking, I surely could use the head start.” 

By the time Harry had gathered Ssyra up in his arms and reached the greenhouse, Snape's mysterious errand had faded to a lower priority in his mind. He let himself into the back area of the greenhouse, grinning to himself as he did each time he entered the room. It was simply thrilling to see so many varieties of snakes in one area, particularly since he now considered many of them friends. 

The snakes were housed in a large airy room. Tanks lined the walls, the glass twinkled in the sun that streamed in through the skylights. Harry smiled as a chorus of hissy greetings filled the air. He had become immediately popular with them once the first of the snakes had discovered he was a speaker. 

“Why must I be here?” Ssyra whined. 

“Because, you are going to make friends before we leave.” Harry replied. 

“I don’t need these friends, I already have you.” Ssyra hissed in annoyance. “More than one friend is unnecessary, more competition.” She glared at the tanks of snakes, hissing rudely at each of them.

“Be nice, Ssyra, I meant you should make friends of your own kind.” Harry explained while Ssyra huffed. 

“That is an ignorant perspective, human.” Ssyra scolded. Harry flinched, she only called him “human” when she was especially peeved. 

 He sighed and brought her closer to a friendly boomslang he thought she might enjoy speaking to. 

“Give it a try for me, okay. This is Kaa, he is very nice.” Harry coaxed. Ssrya gave both him and Kaa a look of disdain. 

“If he is so pleasant to speak with, human, you can carry him with you instead.” She hissed haughtily and slipped from his shoulders and down to the table. Harry huffed and decided to give up on making friends for Ssrya. Her jealousy did amuse him, even if it meant he was unlikely to enjoy conversation with her until he returned to Hogwarts. 

“I wish I could speak to ‘em like that.” Gerry said as he popped out of the back room, presumably where he'd been tending to his more vicious plant varieties. 

“People usually think it means I'm a dark wizard.” Harry said dispassionately. Gerry jumped in mock surprise. 

“Ach! You should have said earlier! I had no idea what darkness awaited me, did I?” Gerry chuckled. “Do they think you're a dark wizard before or after you bake for ‘em?” Gerry continued, patting Harry on the back teasingly. “You know, I did catch you kissing a unicorn the other day, shoulda known you were up to something evil!” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Alright, I get your point.” He brushed away Gerry's hands. Gerry suddenly grew serious. 

“Be sure that you do, wain. I don't want you thinkin’ that you are anything but perfect, just as ya are.” Gerry turned Harry by the shoulders. “Don't cha let those bigheaded fools tell you speaking to snakes is dark, it's a true gift, so it is.” Gerry nodded with finality. 

Harry nodded back muttering agreement under his breath. The matter of Snape's disappearance returned to the forefront of Harry's mind. 

“Where did Sn-Professor Snape go, really?” Harry hedged hoping Gerry would answer him this time. 

“He'll ‘ave my head if I tell ya, won't he.” Gerry replied, then hesitated. “Alright, but don’ tell him I told ya.” He said without need for further prompting. “He went to pay a visit to those relatives of yours, give em a piece of his mind about how they've been treating ya.” Gerry confessed. 

Harry froze, his heart rate increasing. It did not bode well for him that Snape had gone to the Dursleys. Harry could only imagine what they might tell him, what he might find. He was half-way convinced that the man would return with a new perspective. The Dursleys were notorious for getting people on their side. Snape wouldn't be hard to sway, he'd hated Harry for so long. What did a few weeks matter, in contrast to years at Hogwarts? 

Harry attempted to suppress his growing distress down, using the techniques he had been working on in his Occlumency lessons. He was surprised to find that for the first time, his mind went into a numb space. It was as if he had suddenly put earmuffs on and had dimmed the lights. 

Everything was muted and much more tolerable. 

Who cared if Snape believed the Dursleys? Snape could do as he pleased, it was hardly Harry's concern.

Severus found himself standing once again in the sitting room of Number 4 Privet Drive. His previous visits to the depressing place had been more than enough for one lifetime, but Severus had come with a mission. 

The plan was simple. Arrive at the house, barge through the door, make them pay for their crimes. 

As he had walked down past the wards of the Campbell's farm, Severus had allowed the darker parts of his psyche to be unleashed. Severus Snape had not become a Death Eater without certain dark tendencies upon his soul, afterall. He imagined the unspeakable acts he planned to commit once he arrived. One could avoid legal retribution if they knew the right spells. 

Severus knew all the right spells. 

Ready to use each and every one of those spells, Severus had pushed his way into the house without preamble. 

It was deserted.

Severus immediately regretted his warning to Veron Dursley. He had made the foolish mistake of letting the man know he intended to harm him.  Perhaps the man had finally taken his threats to return seriously. If he had, the man was slightly smarter than Severus had credited him for. 

So, Severus stood in the middle of the sitting room, his bloodthirsty rage simmering below the surface. Without a clear target, his plans for vengeance went cold, and he in turn, froze. His mind swirled pointlessly with his plans of revenge. How could he possibly just leave this house now, without enacting his revenge?

Severus stood still, contemplating his options for a long while before he shook himself free of his stupor. He needed to take himself on a proper tour of the house.

He strode around the home, examining every corner, looking for further clues about Potter's life within the sterile walls. Without any muggle relations around to torment, Severus sought to gain something valuable from the excursion, namely, information. He had limited himself on his first visit, but now, with more information, he could enact a new plan to punish the foul beasts Potter was unfortunately related to. 

As Severus searched the main floor, he eventually found himself stopped dead in front of a cupboard under the staircase. Memories of Potter in his delirious state swarmed his mind. Potter had believed Severus would lock him in such a place, for the crime of being ill. He knelt down shakily in front of the cupboard, bracing himself for what he may find inside. Any evidence that the boy had truly been locked in there as a punishment was likely to push him over the edge. 

It took only a moment for Severus to realize the truth was far more horrific than he had imagined. The cupboard was cramped but contained a small cot pushed against the wall, old sheets and a tiny thin pillow atop it. In a cardboard box in the corner Severus found broken crayons, and what looked like tiny toy soldiers. On a beam above the bed, one tiny engraving, etched by hand into the wood that read, Harry's Room. Severus heard a sound escape his throat he hadn’t known he could make. Raw and furious, like an animal cornered into an impossible situation, with no option but to scream. 

Potter had not simply been punished in this cupboard. He had lived in it

He imagined Potter, as small as he saw him in many of his memories from the Occlumency lessons, laying in this space. A child, starved, unable to call for help after a nightmare, when he was sick, when he was scared. Severus's childhood had been far from perfect, but this was beyond the pale. No child should endure such atrocious conditions. 

Severus didn’t care about his wand, didn’t care that he was a wizard, or that one well placed bombarda would destroy the house in seconds. He dismissed everything except the single desire to tear the house to the ground. 

He ripped the hinges off of the cupboard, surprising himself with his brute strength. He stumbled through the sitting room, upending furniture as he went, ripping the upholstery from the sofa.  

Severus then turned his attention to the photographs on the walls. His vision turned red as he haphazardly tore them from their places, glass frames shattering against the ground. Frames containing family photos, a black haired boy distinctively missing. 

Severus prowled the house like a wild animal, stalking its prey. Nothing was safe from his rage. He pulled the dishware out of the cupboards, dishes Potter surely spent hours upon hours cleaning with no thanks. Once the floor was satisfyingly covered in broken porcelain, he glanced at the fridge. 

“Aunt Petunia doesn't like to waste food on me.” Potter’s voice echoed in his mind.

Severus called upon his strength and began to pull the fridge away from the wall. He gave it a firm shove and watched as it crashed to the ground. 

He continued to destroy the home with a single minded rage. He tore more cupboard doors from their hinges, emptied every drawer of its contents. The upstairs bedrooms were left in a mangled state, as Severus gave them the same treatment. 

He left Potter’s bedroom untouched, unwilling to desecrate a space that the boy may have lingering fondness for. The locks on the door received no such mercy. 

By the time he had finished, he stood in front of the fireplace in the sitting room, anger violently beneath the surface of his still exterior. The image of Potter digging through the coals, in an attempt to save his pet snake, assaulted Severus’s mind.   

The fireplace had to be destroyed. 

Severus at last pulled out his wand and cast the strongest blasting spell he knew at the fireplace. He watched as it exploded into fragments, not moving or caring when the shards of stone cut into his skin. 

Severus was breathing heavily when he decided to slow down and assess the damage. The house looked as if someone had set a pack of werewolves loose in it. Nothing had survived his bare handed wrath. 

Severus surveyed the destruction, thinking of everything he had now compiled about Potter's home life, about the despicable monsters who called this their home. He thought of the revenge he would like to enact on them.

“This is not good enough.” 

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty: Two Steps Back

After Gerry finished with his plants, Harry spent an enjoyable morning alone, tending to the snakes in the greenhouse. The sun through the windows offered a warm respite from the cool end of summer air. The snakes themselves were provided with magical warmth and could be found curled up on the flat rocks of their enclosures, sunning themselves. Harry took time to admire each of them, as he prepared to say his goodbyes.

Ssyra eventually offered him forgiveness for his crime of interacting with the other snakes. She had remained put out with him until she overheard the news that the others would not be traveling to Hogwarts. After he let Ssyra watch as he gently broke the news to a roonspoor she was particularly jealous of, she settled with a positively smug attitude onto his shoulders, her nose tilted into the air. Harry couldn't help but smile whenever he thought of his strong willed companion. 

Harry eventually moved on to the other creatures that needed tending, despite Gerry's insistence that he deserved a day off from cleaning the stables. He could not stand to watch the older man do such strenuous labour while he was perfectly capable. Besides, the time to return to Hogwarts was fast approaching, and time with the many interesting animals was limited. 

If stable chores helped to keep Harry's mind off of Snape's trip to the Dursleys, well that was simply a bonus. Harry tried to persuade himself that whatever was happening, it was of little importance to him. The Dursleys would say whatever they wanted to about Harry, Snape wasn't daft enough to believe it, was he?

Harry shook his head in an attempt to dislodge the unhelpful line of thinking. He refocused on his chores every time an unpleasant thought came to the front of his mind. 

Around mid-day, Harry’s resolve to ignore Snape’s absence was soundly disrupted by a loud shout. 

“Goodness, Severus! What’s happened?” Gerry yelled from outside the stables. Harry’s heart stuttered in his chest. He gasped and dropped the brush he was holding, causing the unicorn he was brushing to huff with impatience.

He rushed out of the stables and into the cool air, unconcerned about his somewhat desperate appearance, hair still filled with strands of hay. 

Snape walked up the gravel path to the farmhouse, ignoring Gerry’s calls. Harry watched from a distance as Gerry caught up to Snape with surprising speed. He grasped Snape by the shoulders and pulled him to a stop. 

Gerry examined Snape’s face closely before waving his wand delicately over it. Gerry shook his head at Snape and wagged his finger scoldingly. Harry strained his eyes to see what was happening as he ran up the path. 

When he got close enough he grabbed Snape by the arm and turned him around, casting his eyes over the man's face, looking for clues. Snape grimaced at Harry and shook him off. 

“Unhand me, Potter.” Snape said, his face twisting into a sneer as he said it. 

“What happened?” Harry asked, perturbed by Snape's cold demeanor. Clearly there was something that the adults were hiding from him. Harry held close to the hope that Snape would not be tainted by the Dursleys' influence, even as his stomach twisted with nerves. 

“Nothing, Potter, just go inside.” Snape said softly, his face pale. Harry tried to pull at his arms to force Snape to look at him. The man didn’t budge. Gerry finally intervened and guided Snape toward the house. Harry followed after them, feeling like a lost puppy.

Gerry and Snape whispered to each other as they walked through the door. Gerry did not bother to call out for Maeve, which struck Harry as more evidence that something strange was happening. Gerry always called his wife’s name when he came into the house. As Harry continued to walk behind them, he became even more frustrated with his exclusion from the conversation. 

When they entered the kitchen, Gerry gave Snape a gentle shove toward the table, muttering something Harry couldn’t hear. Gerry busied himself with the kettle while Harry followed Snape, and sat at his side. 

“Professor, what’s going on?” Harry asked hesitantly, embarrassed when his voice shook with his uncertainty.

Snape looked at Harry with an unreadable expression, his dark eyes filled with what appeared to Harry as anger. He suppressed a flinch, startled by the look in Snape’s eyes. He quickly withdrew his hands from where they had unknowingly been placed on the table, inches from Snape's. 

Harry cast his own eyes down, frustrated with himself. He had not realized he had come to know a version of Snape over the summer who possessed much softer eyes. 

“Nothing, Potter. You must learn to concern yourself with your own business.” Snape replied. His voice contained no hatred or anger, but it lacked any warmth. Harry was once again taken aback at how accustomed he had become to his Professor’s voice sounding kind. 

“You went to the Dursleys, Gerry told me.” Harry needled, tapping his fingers on the table anxiously. 

“Oi, Harry, that was a secret!” Gerry chastised lightheartedly from across the room, smiling at Harry regardless of his scolding words. 

“I did go to your relatives' home.” Snape said, expressionless. Harry felt his stomach twist. 

“What did they say?” Harry asked nervously, less sure by the moment of Snape’s unwillingness to be swayed to their side. 

“I believe I told you it was none of your concern, Potter.” Snape replied, giving Harry a stern look. Harry felt the familiar frustration of being kept in the dark. Everyone thought they could just keep secrets from him. 

“N-not my concern? It’s my life, you've no right to keep it from me!” Harry began to feel his temper rise at Snape’s standoffish attitude. 

Snape sighed with exasperation. “Potter, I do understand you are frustrated, but I am not changing my mind on this matter.” For the briefest moment, Snape’s expression softened, before it returned to a distant coolness so quickly Harry thought he might have imagined the brief respite from his cold exterior.

Gerry walked over to the table with a full tea service floating beside him. He waved his wand and the tea landed with a thunk on the table. Harry startled at the unexpected noise and both Gerry and Snape cast him concerned looks. This time, Harry was certain he caught a softer expression on Snape's face.

“I'm fine.” Harry said irritability. “If no one is going to tell me anything, I'll just go.” He said curtly, rising from the table. 

“Don’ run off wain, have some tea.” Gerry patted the seat next to him and began to pour Harry a cup. 

“No, thanks, you two want to talk about my life behind my back, don't let me get in the way.” He directed his words at Snape, who examined the tabletop as if it were particularly interesting. Harry waited a breath for a response before he stormed out of the room. 

Severus watched with a grimace as Potter fled the room, looking on the verge of tears. His resolve to distance himself from the boy was already proving difficult. Every instinct in his body had screamed at him to comfort the ridiculous child, to tell him that the Dursleys wouldn't be bothering him anymore. 

Severus wished he could tell Potter about the fury he had unleashed in their home, to share with him the undiluted hatred he had for the sick souls who had dared to hurt him. He comforted himself that this was the right thing to do in the long run, despite the short term pain it was sure to cause.

If it is the right thing to do, why doesn't it feel right? Severus's inner voice scolded him. 

“I thought we'd agreed that you weren't going to do this, Severus.” Gerry examined him over the rim of his tea cup. 

“We agreed to nothing of the sort.” Severus replied. “I am not obligated to take your advice.” 

“So you say.” Gerry continued to appraise Severus. “Your plan is what, then?  To suddenly block that boy out, make ‘im think he's done something wrong?” He tapped Severus on the shoulder. “You're just keen on hurting him, is that it?” Severus felt a twinge of guilt at Gerry's words. 

“No, I don't want to upset him.” Severus admitted. In fact, the sight of Potter's distressed face continued to haunt his mind as he spoke. 

“Well you're doin’ a mighty fine job at not upsetting him, so you are.” Gerry replied sarcastically. “I tried to tell you, hurt him anymore and Maeve will come after your hide.” 

“Only Maeve?” 

“Well, I follow her lead, don't I?” Gerry said seriously. Severus attempted to not feel betrayed by their obvious defense of Potter. However, they would not be the people he loved if they did not. He shook his head in frustration.

“So, in other words, you think I am being too harsh with him?” Severus asked, although he knew the answer. 

“Yes, Sev, you know you are.” Gerry replied predictably. 

“I can't afford to get any closer to him, you know how complicated that is.” Severus attempted to explain. 

“It's only as complicated as you make it, wain.”

August 30th, 1995. 

My Dear Severus, 

I do hope that this letter will reach you well. My many attempts to contact you have been thwarted by what I can only assume are Gerry Campbell's formidable wards. I have high hopes that this letter will reach you, as I believe I have finally determined the exact counter to his ingenious warding spells. 

Firstly, my boy, I must offer you an apology for the oversight of returning Harry to his relatives. In my exhaustive search for the two of you, I paid a visit to the Dursleys. Vernon Dursley's mind offered some disturbing insights, some of which have continued to cast a shadow on my conscience. You were right to disobey me in this matter, Severus, and it warms my heart to know that Harry is in such capable hands. Please convey my sincerest apologies to Harry as well.

I have arranged for Harry to spend the night with the Weasley's prior to his return to Hogwarts. The Order has organized an escort to King's Cross on the morning of September 1st. I trust that you will be able to deliver Harry to the Burrow by tomorrow evening. I can assure you that the Weasleys home has undergone some extensive warding, thanks to my newfound knowledge of complex warding spells. Do give Gerry my thanks for the education. 

Yours Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore. 

     --------------------

Albus, 

I will deliver the boy to the Burrow tomorrow afternoon. 

With all due respect, your apology is not accepted. As for Potter, generally apologies are given to the person to whom they are owed. 

Severus Snape. 

    -----------------------

Severus felt a sense of satisfaction as he folded up his brief letter and sent it off with the tawny barn owl that had arrived at the kitchen window over breakfast. One thing he could always be certain of was the nerve of Albus Dumbledore. The man was so self important that he thought his pathetic excuse for an apology would absolve him of his sins. His expectation that Severus should merely pass on his words to Potter was an insult. 

The choice to send the boy back to his relatives had caused injuries severe enough that the infection nearly killed him. Not to mention the psychological wounds that were not easy to heal with the wave of a wand. 

No, Severus would not be accepting the apology. 

As he returned from the window, Potter watched him with critical eyes. Since his impromptu trip to the Dursleys, Severus had attempted to create some distance from the boy. He had found this to be an incredibly conflicting task, which had caused him to flounder in his resolve several times. The result was a confused Potter and an embarrassingly frustrated Severus. 

He never would have imagined how great a task it would be to escape closeness from the Potter spawn. It should have been a natural process, to turn him away, but had instead taken a huge force of will to offer even a small measure of coolness. 

At some point, the ridiculous child had wormed his way into Severus's affections, completely without consent, mind you.

The previous day, after Severus's destructive visit to the muggles, Potter had continued to offer him soft smiles as they passed in the halls of the farmhouse, gentle jokes over the dinner table.

The argument that had resulted in Potter storming from the kitchen seemed almost forgotten by the boy. Severus had found himself in the most absurd circumstance of attempting to hide his returning smiles, his genuine laughter. 

“Who was that from?” Potter asked softly, bringing Severus's attention back to the present moment. He returned to his cup of tea at the table, and pulled on his Occlumency shields with something close to desperation. He needed to create a firm barrier, through which sentimentality would not leak, if he was to survive looking into Potter's pathetic eyes. 

“It is from the Headmaster, not that my mail is any of your business, Potter.” Severus said briskly. Maeve and Gerry both shot him stern looks. He sighed heavily. 

“Professor Dumbledore has arranged for you to spend the night with the Weasleys tomorrow. Afterwhich, you'll be escorted to King's Cross the following morning.” Severus explained. Potter's face held a mix of emotions, excitement, sadness, a little weariness. Severus cringed at his lack of ability to hide his feelings. The idiot boy was like an open book, ripe for his enemies to flip through. 

“Alright.” Potter said after a moment of contemplation. He leaned his head on his fist, looking a little solemn. 

"Aren't you excited to see your friends, Harry?” Maeve asked kindly, patting Potter's free hand. He pasted a false smile on his face and squeezed her hand. 

“Of course, I'm just sorry to leave here.” He blushed a little at the admission. 

“Not as sorry as we are to see you go, wain.” Gerry said as he poured Potter more tea and began to refill his plate. Potter smiled at him and sipped at his tea, but the smile fell from his face as he glanced at Severus. 

“Thanks, Gerry.” He said softly, not meeting Severus' eyes. He felt his stomach twist, guilt clawing at him internally. 

August 31st, 1995. 

Harry felt what could only be described as melancholy as he packed his belongings the afternoon he was to leave for the Weasleys. It took far longer than it would have normally, as he paused multiple times to gaze around his bedroom. He admired the lovingly made rug, the soft curtains, and Georgie, sitting serenely on the bed. 

His time at the Campbell's farm had turned out to be some of the best days of his life, outside Hogwarts. It was a new sensation, to feel sadness about returning to school, returning home. Was this how normal students felt? It was an incredibly conflicting feeling. 

Even more conflicting was his relationship with Snape, if he could call it that. The man had distanced himself further from Harry since returning from the Dursleys. He wasn't cruel, but his sudden coolness spoke volumes to Harry of what had happened there. 

“Potter, we need to speak before we depart.” Snape pulled Harry aside as soon as he had descended the staircase, dragging his trunk behind him. Snape sighed as the trunk clunked heavily down the stairs. With a wave of his wand, the trunk flew to his side, shrinking into the size of a coin, which he slipped in his pocket. 

“Alright…” Harry said hesitantly, weary of Snape's newfound attitude toward him. On second thought, Harry considered, it was more like a return to his normal attitude. It was naive to think that Snape had ever truly changed his opinions of Harry. 

“I'm sure you understand the delicacy of our situation?” Snape started cryptically, his tone serious and expression unreadable. 

“Our situation, sir?” Harry asked in confusion. 

Snape looked slightly uncomfortable for a moment, casting his eyes to the side. 

“The situation, Potter, is that no one can know we were here.” Snape said firmly. “The situation is that we have developed a certain familiarity that cannot be continued at Hogwarts.” 

Harry felt his heart drop into his stomach. The room suddenly felt very small and overly warm.

“Right.” He said, steel in his voice. Snape appraised him for a moment, seemingly unsure what to make of Harry's attitude. 

“If I were to show favouritism toward you in any way. Even if I were to suddenly act less than hostile toward you, that information would easily make its way back to the wrong ears.” Snape explained logically. 

Harry could understand in principle, but it didn't stop the lead that had settled into his stomach, making him feel as if he were on the verge of vomiting. He had known the relationship had an expiry date, of course. Harry had been through enough disappointment in this life to expect it. He just hadn't expected for it to hurt so much when that day came. Perhaps he had allowed himself to ignore reality too much, in a fit of childish hope that this time would be different. What an enormous fool he was.

“I'm not stupid, Professor, I understand. You don't have to carry on about it.” Harry said frostily. He turned toward the door, preparing to make his goodbyes to Maeve and Gerry. His heart ached to leave them, having grown immeasurably fond of them in the past weeks. 

“Potter.” Snape called out. “This conversation is not finished.” 

Harry's blood simmered with anger, he attempted to push it beneath his shaky, inexperienced Occlumency shields. 

“Oh, I think it is, Professor. You don't have to worry, I won't be bothering you anymore.” Harry said, coolly detached. He swallowed hard before continuing. “I know what is at risk, and I appreciate what you've done for me until now.” He added. He hesitated for a moment, unwilling to leave anything unsaid. If this was to be their last true interaction, Harry wanted to speak his piece. 

“Whatever you think you owe my mom, I'm sure she's satisfied now.” Harry said coldly. He had refrained from confronting Snape about his friendship with his mother, afraid of disrupting the tenuous peace that had formed between them. 

Now, it didn't matter what he said, Snape was finished with him regardless. The fact that Snape had still not shared such important information with him had been grating against the back of his mind ever since Gerry had let it slip. 

“I suppose Maeve told you.” Snape said simply. 

“It doesn't matter who told me. You should have told me.” Harry retorted before remembering his resolve to appear unaffected. “Whatever, let's just go.” 

“Potter, it's more complicated-” Snape started, before he shook his head, stopping mid thought. He coughed into his hand. “I mean to say, you'll need to report to Madame Pomfry for your potions regimen. I have remodulated your nutrition supplement to help your height.” Snape added. 

“Right, thanks.” Harry replied, wondering why Snape was bothering to keep up the pretense that he had any interest in Harry's life. 

“We will need to continue with your Occlumency lessons as well.”

“Why?” Harry bristled at the thought of having the man anywhere near his mind now that he wanted nothing to do with him. 

“Potter, I would think that would be absurdly obvious.” Snape looked down his nose at Harry. “As long as the Dark Lord continues to have the opportunity to access your mind, we are all at risk.” He lectured. “Furthermore, since you discontinued your sessions with Xavier, you need as much mental fortification as possible to prevent further dissociation.” 

“Alright, alright. I get it.” Harry grumbled. 

“Do you? You continue to act as if this is a matter of little importance. It could get you killed!” 

“I said I GET IT!” Harry shouted, bunching his hands into fists. “I get it, okay? I'll try to stop being such an enormous disappointment.” 

“Potter…” Snape sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “ I didn't mean…” 

“It's fine Professor. I shouldn't have shouted.” Harry admitted, feeling slightly embarrassed at his outburst. “Can we just go, please?” 

“Fine.” Snape said softly, before he strode out of the room. 

Harry followed him into the entry way where Maeve and Gerry were standing awkwardly, attempting to look as if they hadn't overheard the argument in the next room. Harry smiled at them fondly. 

“Thank you for having me.” He said politely.

“Ach, that won't do. You're family now, wain, speak like it.” Gerry scolded gently. 

Harry felt immeasurably touched by the sentiment, his face turning red with a pleased flush. 

“I'm going to miss you so much, I promise I'll write.” He said sincerely. 

“That's better.” Said Maeve as she scooped Harry into her arms in a tight hug. “I'll march into Hogwarts myself if I don't hear from you often enough.” 

Gerry nudged his wife out of the way and pulled Harry into an even tighter embrace. Maeve wriggled her way back in and pressed herself into the hug as well, the three of them cuddled close. Harry's heart filled with their affection, despite the minor suffocation risk. 

“Ah, thank you, Sev, for brightening up our summer with this one.” He turned to Snape to address him with a smile. Snape nodded tersely before he too was wrapped in hugs. 

By the time Gerry and Maeve finally released Harry and Snape from their grips, they were both ruffled with signs of being well loved. Harry flattened his hair and Snape fixed his robes as they walked away from the house in silence.

Harry looked back over his shoulder to see the Campbells standing in the front doorway, tears in their eyes as they waved frantically. 

“Come on, Potter.” Snape said when he noticed Harry lingering slightly. Harry ducked his head and shuffled to Snape's side, falling in step with the man. 

“Professor?” Harry said tentatively. 

“What now, Potter?” Snape sighed in a way that made Harry want to crawl into a hole. 

“It's just… I just wanted to say thank you, and… well, sorry, if I've done anything to upset you, I mean.” Harry stuttered awkwardly, wishing he could fix whatever strange tension had fallen between them. 

Snape stopped for a moment, and Harry swore he saw a flicker of pain flit across his eyes. 

“You haven't done anything wrong Potter, we just need to go now.” Snape said without looking at Harry. They continued past the wards and Snape held to Harry's shoulder tightly before they disappeared with a loud pop. 

They landed in the familiar front garden of the Burrow, the midmorning sun casting shadows on the wild disarray of plants. Harry smiled broadly despite the tightness that had settled in his chest during the trip away from the Campbells. The Burrow was a place where even the most dire problems felt lighter. 

The door slammed open and Harry felt his mood improve slightly. He hadn't realized how much he missed Ron and Hermione until they were running toward him, arms outstretched. And yet, he couldn't feel the full weight of the reunion, without a lingering sadness in the back of his mind. 

He rushed into his friend's waiting arms, wishing he felt happier to see them. He turned around to say goodbye to Snape, only to watch him disappear in a blur of black, leaving behind only the sting of betrayal. 
                                          

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty One: Home

The gates of Hogwarts loomed in front of Severus. He had hesitated in front of them for far too long, dreading his official entry back into reality. After he had left Potter with the Weasleys, he apparated immediately to the school, hoping to get what was sure to be an unpleasant conversation with the Headmaster out of the way. Despite assurances in Albus’s letter, Severus was sure that one did not simply abduct the Boy-Who-Lived without consequence. Severus felt he needed at least three more good nights of sleep before he dealt with whatever Albus had to say.

So, he stood in front of the black wrought iron gates like a coward.

After a long while, Severus finally began to feel quite foolish, standing as if frozen. Waiting in front of the school was not going to improve the situation. He forced his feet forward, stepping through the gates. The magic of the school sensed his magical signature and allowed him entry. Severus basked for a moment in the familiarity of the school's wards as they swept over him. He felt as he always did at Hogwarts. 

Home.

Severus's feet led him numbly up to the Headmaster's office. He barely registered the twirl of the gargoyle guarded staircase, his thoughts elsewhere. He kept returning to the same, furious thought. 

How dare he?

Albus Dumbledore was far from a perfect man. It had been a long time since Severus had been naive enough to believe so. However, never in his wildest imagination, would Severus have suspected the man of the atrocities he had committed against Potter. Ignorance was not a good enough excuse. 

By the time the doors opened into the office, Severus had worked himself into quite the fury. He originally had some intention of smoothing things over, perhaps a slight apology for his rash actions. Somehow the sight of the old man sitting serenely at his desk banished any thoughts of cordial apologies from his mind. 

“Hello, Severus, my boy.” Severus chose to ignore the greeting, confidently striding into the room and taking a seat in front of the desk. 

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” He growled. Albus sighed in frustration before he responded. 

“Severus, please, as I told you in my letter, it was wrong of me to send Harry back to his family.” Albus began. Severus was already convinced that the incoming explanation would not be satisfactory. “It was an oversight based in fear, something I usually do not allow myself to be overly concerned with. However, protecting Harry from Voldemort must always be my priority.” 

Severus took a steadying breath. In some ways, he could understand Albus's logic. He was a man constantly faced with incredibly challenging choices. He dealt in broad strokes, big picture decisions that could result in the deaths of hundreds if he made the wrong move. What was one child with an unhappy home life in the grand scheme of it all? 

Conversely, Severus was a man of the minutia. He'd spent his life absorbed in the fine details. He relished the small things, a single potion ingredient, one perfectly timed stir.

One tiny dark haired boy, locked away in a cupboard. 

Severus found he didn't much care for the big picture where Potter was concerned. He also found that he had no interest in sympathizing with Albus's position. The man had sent Potter back to that house, and the boy had nearly died in Severus's arms as a result. 

“Potter should be your priority.” Severus finally replied. “Not this war, not whatever role you have in mind for him.” Severus found himself shaking slightly, anger and helplessness filling him. 

“Harry is my priority, Severus, his safet-”

“Do not. Do not tell me again that you care for his safety. You haven't even asked what happened to him after you failed to listen to me and sent him back.” 

“I discerned some things for myself.” 

“Did you? I wonder what you discerned, Albus. Did you see the wounds on his wrists from where he's been bound by that oaf of a man? Did you see his body, skeletal because they don't believe in wasting food on him? Did you see the fucking cupboard they locked him in? DID YOU?” Severus rose to his feet and paced in front of the desk. He was overcome with the urge to swipe his arm across the desk and break the ridiculous magical knick knacks that sat on it. 

“Severus, please. I have admitted I made an error of judgment.” Albus looked at him beseechingly. Severus could see the weight of his mistakes echoing in his blue eyes, but felt no pity, and offered him no mercy. 

“An error of judgment? Is that what you are calling it? Is that what will make you sleep at night, knowing you condemned a child to return over and over again to torment?” Severus thundered. 

Albus lowered his head, fatigue and regret in his pale eyes.

“I know, Severus. I know. The things I saw in Vernon Dursley's mind, they were unimaginable.” Albus admitted.

"I don't have to imagine it, Albus, I was there."  Severus snarled. He gathered himself up into his full height. “So Potter will not return there.” Severus said, voice firm. 

“I don't suspect you'd allow it even if I tried.” Albus said with a small, sad smile. “I am glad to know Harry has a defender like you. I am too fallible.

“That’s an understatement.” Severus sneered quietly.

“I only hope Harry can forgive me.” Albus sighed, looking even older than his years. 

“Don't give me that self pitying act, you know Potter is ridiculously forgiving.” Severus snapped. 

“I suppose we both have to feel grateful for that.” Albus gave him a knowing smile. 

Severus lay awake that night, contemplating just how desperately he wanted Potter's forgiveness. 

It didn’t take long for Harry to start to feel the happiness of life at the Burrow seep through his poor mood. After all, it was fairly difficult to feel unhappy with the Weasleys and  his two best friends at his side. 

After a day of rambunctious quidditch and more food than Harry could manage, he found himself tucked into his and Ron's bedroom. Hermione had illicitly joined them, sneaking out of the room she shared with Ginny. The three hadn't had a moment alone, and both Ron and Hermione were positively vibrating with the desire to know where he had been. 

Ron and Hermione's faces cycled through a variety of expressions as Harry filled them in. Harry found himself repeating the same unbelievable sentence. 

“Snape was decent, really decent.” 

The reality was that Snape had been more than decent. He had been outright kind. Harry had begun to feel begrudgingly attached to the man. He failed to mention this horrifying fact to his friends, but they seemed to work it out for themselves. 

“Mate, it sounds a bit as if you like Snape.” Ron said, shuddering dramatically.

“I didn't say that!” Harry protested.

“No, but you've been mentioning him a lot, haven't you? How great he was all summer…” Ron replied, as if mentioning Snape in a positive light was a criminal offense. To be fair, a few weeks ago, Harry would never have dreamed that he'd have a single positive word to say about the potions professor. 

“Well, he was nice, alright!” Harry sputtered. “He rescued me from the Dursley's, he sat with me all night when I was sick, he, he…” Harry trailed off, suddenly a bit melancholic. 

“It doesn't matter, alright? He doesn't want anything to do with me back at Hogwarts anyway.” He admitted solemnly. 

“Oh, Harry. I'm sure that's not true.” Hermione said sympathetically.

“It is, he said so.” Harry retorted. “He said it would be too dangerous if anyone found out we were friendly.” 

“Friendly… with Snape.” Ron muttered in disbelief. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Yeah, sounds daft, I guess.” Harry said, ducking his head. 

“It's not daft, Harry. I'm glad he was kind to you.” Hermione said gently. She opened her mouth to say more but Ron shook his head at her. 

“What?” Harry said impatiently. He hated when his friends talked about him behind his back as if he was some kind of head case. Hermione hesitated, and Ron gave her a hard look. 

“Tell me!”

“Fine, Harry. It's just that, perhaps it might be good for you to have someone to talk to. You refuse to see Xavier, which you've still never explained what happened by the way. So, well, I just thought if Professor Snape is being kind…well…” She trailed off for a moment. “It might be good…” 

“You want me to spill my guts to Snape?” Harry asked in disbelief. His voice came out angrier than he had intended as Hermione's comment hit a nerve. Harry had spilled his guts to Snape, only to get rejected a few days later. 

“It was just an idea!” Hermione exclaimed in frustration. Harry felt guilt settle in his stomach. His friends cared about him, and he only managed to snap at them at every opportunity. 

“I'm sorry, Hermione, but it's like I said, Snape doesn't want anything to do with me.” Harry explained again, the cold reality of that fact making itself at home in his heart. 

“Right, well, it was an idea.” Hermione said non-committally. A touch of tension sat in the air. Harry hated it with a passion, he only had this evening left alone with his friends before they returned to Hogwarts. He resolved to fix the atmosphere, grappling around for an idea. 

“Come’ on, let's see how long we can play exploding snap up here before mum shuts us down.” Ron said before Harry could think of anything. Harry allowed himself to relax, grateful as always for his friends.

The following morning dawned early for the entire household. The home was filled with shouts and chaos as everyone rushed to pack at the last minute. Harry had always been the sort of person to keep everything in his trunk, never feeling fully comfortable with the idea of having his things strewn about haphazardly. Everything he possessed he viewed as precious, having so few things he considered truly his.  Ron, however, had no such qualm, and flew around their room like a tornado, gathering his things in a fury. Harry watched from his perch on the bed, his trunk already carefully tucked into the boot of the slick black car the Ministry had sent. Harry was frankly surprised that they had bothered to send a ministry escort, considering their current view of him. He suspected that Dumbledore had something to do with it. 

Harry pet Ssyra absentmindedly as he watched Ron buzz around the room. She had kept him busy with a constant stream of questions about Hogwarts, though she attempted to hide her enthusiasm in a misplaced show of decorum. She asked several times about Snape's absence. Harry gave her vague answers, which only served to heighten her suspicions. 

“Why are we not traveling with the man in black?” 

“Because he is a teacher, he goes to school early.” Harry explained.

“He should not be separated from you.” Ssyra insisted. This had been a major sticking point for her throughout the past several hours. The trouble was, part of Harry agreed with her. He felt a sense of safety with Snape nearby that he hadn't realized existed until it was ripped away. Harry tried to persuade himself that their falling out was inevitable and reasonable, but his heart would not cooperate with the concept. 

“That's just how it is.” Harry told Ssyra for the hundredth time that morning. 

She continued to whisper in his ear as they finally packed themselves into the cars. It was only when the driver gave him a sharp look of disgust that Harry remembered being a Parseltongue was not a widely accepted trait. He blushed and quietly encouraged Ssyra to tuck into the pocket of his hoodie. 

Harry felt his mood dip as they traveled toward King's Cross. He had tried to contain his disappointment with Snape into the confines of his mind, but had somehow brought the man into the conversation at every opportunity. His friends had grown exasperated with him quickly, not fully grasping the depth of his feelings. Harry didn't feel as if he could properly grasp the depth of his feelings. 

By the time they made it to the train, Harry was in such a strop that he didn't even notice the scruffy black dog following them down the platform. 

He gasped when he was pulled into a private room joining the platform on the muggle side of Kings Cross. 

“Merlin, Sirius, you scared me!” Harry exclaimed when the man morphed into his human form. “What are you doing here? Have you gone mad?” Harry was equal parts angry and happy to see the man. He had missed Sirius during the summer, but was furious at the risk.

“I had to see you off, didn't I?” Sirius said, pulling Harry into a quick hug. Harry sighed, feeling warm all over. It was difficult to ignore how good it felt to be wrapped in Sirius's affection. Despite the risk he took coming, Harry couldn't help but feel glad he was there. 

'Bit risky isn't it?” Harry said in spite of himself. 

“Couldn't let you go back to Hogwarts without saying goodbye.” Sirius retorted. Harry smiled at him. 

“Thanks.” He said simply, meaning it. 

“Course, kid, wouldn't miss it.” Sirius ruffled his hair playfully. “Besides, I had to hear all about your little summer adventures with Snape.” Harry grimaced, sure that Sirius was baiting him for information to use against the other man. Harry was sure there was a hint of jealousy as well, Sirius had expected to be the one to spend the summer with Harry afterall. 

“Listen, Sirius, don't get upset, but I really can't tell you where we were. It was safe though, I promise. ” Harry said slowly, watching doubt creep into Sirius's expression.  

“Did he hurt you? You can tell me.” Sirius said suddenly. “How safe could it be if you can't even tell me where you went!” 

“N-no! He didn't do anything. He was surprisingly decent.” Harry repeated his now go-to description of the man. “It's just not my secret to share, and I met friends there. I want them to be safe.” Harry hoped leveraging people who weren't Snape would help convince Sirius. It seemed to do the trick. 

Sirius looked as if he wanted to argue, but shook his head instead. “Alright, Harry, as long as you're safe, that's all that matters.” Sirius seemed to be talking mostly to himself as he said it. 

“Right, Sirius, i'm going to miss the train.” Harry suddenly realized, glancing at his watch. 

“Ah! Yes, you'd better go. Do me a favour and give the Slytherins a hard time for me would ya?” Sirius pulled him into one more bone crushing hug. Harry tensed up, but accepted it nonetheless. 

He nodded non-committally and backed away, waving as he did. 

“Bye Sirius.” He said, wishing he could linger for a moment longer. There was so much between them, so much unsaid that it felt wrong to part again. 

“Bye Harry.” Sirius's eyes told him he felt the same way. Harry smiled gently and turned away. 

Harry rushed into the train, finding Ron and Hermione waiting for him in the first corridor. 

“Come on Harry let's go! All the good compartments will be taken. “ Ron complained. 

“Where on Earth did you go, Harry! Ron and I were starting to get worried. We waited on the platform as long as we could. I thought you'd miss the train!” Hermione pulled him by the arm further into the train as the whistle blew, signaling their departure. 

“Snuffles followed us here, he wanted to see me off.”  Harry explained in a low voice. 

“What an idiot.” Scoffed Hermione. “Does he have any idea how dangerous that is?” 

Harry shook his head, frustrated with Sirius as he always seemed to be lately. Despite the frustration, Harry wasn't quite as angry at Sirius as he ought to be for such a risk. He couldn't explain it to Hermione, of course. She would never understand how it felt to stand on that platform year after year, watching everyone else's parents say goodbye with a dull ache in his chest. So, he said nothing, and followed her away from the train doors. 

They shuffled down the train until Harry slipped into an empty compartment with Ron and Hermione close behind him. He flopped down into the seat by the window, fully prepared to mope for the duration of the trip. Hermione sighed at his dramatics as Ron gently cuffed the side of his head. 

“Cheer up mate, it's giving me indigestion to watch you cry over Snape.” 

“I am not crying.” Harry protested. 

“Quite right, it's far worse than that, you're sulking.” Hermione chimed in unhelpfully. “Really, I know you're upset, but you mustn't let it ruin the start of term. If you get off to a bad start it could effect your grades an-”

“And it's OWL's year.” Ron interjected in an unflattering impression of Hermione's voice. “Merlin's beard Hermione, we are trying to talk him out of a cry, not bore him to tears.” 

Hermione and Ron then left Harry blissfully to his thoughts as they prioritized bickering with each other. He proceeded to enjoy a nice brood, until the door opened to reveal the only face that could put a smile on Harry's presently. 

“Oh, hi Harry!” Luna stepped through the door of the compartment smiling at him as she sat directly beside him without ceremony. Harry felt his whole body tense anxiously, while Luna greeted Ron and Hermione unselfconsciously. 

“Hi Luna.” Harry said shyly, glancing at her with a small smile. Harry was unsure if he should shuffle away from her or stay put. The entire right side of her body was so close he could practically feel her warmth. He tapped his foot anxiously, looking at Ron and Hermione for help. Hermione gave Harry a thin smile before she stood up, pulling Ron with her. 

“Sorry, we actually have to go for our Prefects meeting now.” Hermione said awkwardly, glancing at Harry as if his temper might explode any moment. Harry frowned at her attitude, disliking being handled as if he were fragile or volatile. 

Ron gave Harry a sympathetic look as he left the carriage, but winked slightly and nodded his head cheekily in Luna’s direction. Harry’s face burned with embarrassment. Luckily, Luna was far too consumed with a magazine that she had pulled from the oddly large pockets of her purple overcoat to notice his discomfort. Harry glanced at the front page and read, The Crumple Horned Snorkack: Slime or Horns? Experts Weigh In. 

Luna had become quickly engrossed in the magazine, and it took Harry several attempts to draw her attention. Somehow, he even found her inattention charming. He was well and truly doomed. 

“Sorry, Harry, I've been neglecting you.” She said dreamily when she finally glanced up at him. 

“No-no not at all.” Harry replied stupidly. “I mean, well, only, I wanted to ask about your summer?” He faded off pathetically at the end of the question, blush deepening. 

“Oh, it was wonderful, Father and I spent the whole time on our research, you can read all about it.” Luna seemed to brush past his awkwardness entirely, a trait Harry admired deeply. “Here.” She said forcefully, pushing the magazine toward Harry. He was unsure if she meant for him to read it immediately, or if he should hold onto the magazine and read it later. He paused with indecision, fiddling with the corners of the paper. She glanced up to see her looking at him expectantly. Harry quickly busied himself in the article, attempting to control his facial expression as he worked through the remarkably odd "research.” 

The fact that he could still feel Luna pressed against his side hardly helped with his concentration. By the time he had finished reading, his brain had been turned into a chunk of hormonal mush. When Luna asked him what he thought of the article his brain happily supplied only, “You smell nice,” a sentence he was glad he did not accidently blurt out. 

Luna graciously did not comment on Harry's lack of response, but simply smiled at him. Harry stared at her for a moment longer, wondering how long he could get away with not speaking. He finally braced himself for an attempt at the English language, a task he thought was quite valiant, given he was currently speaking with a very pretty girl. 

“I, think article- the article that is, it-.” Harry blushed, his ability to speak coherently decreasing by the moment. “Sorry, erm, Luna…I, well, I.” Harry stopped trying to speak, clearly incapable of anything resembling a normal statement. He cast Luna a look that he hoped conveyed his feelings. 

“That's alright Harry, I already know you fancy me, it's just the wrackspruts around your head that are distracting you.” Harry's heart plummeted into his stomach. He opened and closed his mouth, not finding himself capable of a response. 

“Oh, don't worry, I quite like you too.” Luna said without even a flush of her cheeks. Harry had no idea how she could speak so bluntly without a whiff of embarrassment. 

“Oh.” Harry said, averting his eyes and fiddling with the hem of his trousers. “You, erm, you do?” He stammered, forcing his eyes up to make contact with Luna's shimmering blue ones. 

“Mhmm.” She replied happily. “I’m just used to the wrackspurts, they tend to follow me a lot, so it doesn’t make it hard for me to speak.”

Harry felt the floor fall out from beneath him. He had only managed a few painfully awkward interactions with Luna the prior year, which he looked back on with embarrassment. Ginny had mocked him mercilessly when she'd introduced them. It was difficult to imagine that she had developed any kind of positive opinion of him. 

By the time Harry had reacquainted himself with reality Luna had seemingly moved on from the conversation, and was gazing dreamily out the window. He took a few steadying breaths before he relaxed and joined her in observing the English countryside. 

By the time they had reached Hogsmeade, Ron and Hermione had returned. Harry had exchanged only a few short sentences with Luna, however, their journey had been far from unpleasant. Sitting with Luna in silence had been nice, and had allowed Harry some time to think, to rebalance his emotions. Ever since Snape had returned from Privet Drive, Harry had felt like his feelings were out of his control, a painful knife stabbing him at unexpected intervals. Luna's presence was like a balm, soothing his ragged nerves. 

The warmth of her presence kept him calm throughout the carriage ride, and lingered during dinner, even as the horrible woman from the ministry spoke as if she were taking over Hogwarts. 

Harry only wished Luna could have been with him in his dorm, when Seamus began to berate him. 

“I'm just saying, he's no business being here! I'm not sharing a room with a mad man!” Seasmus shouted. He had been railing against Harry for some time. Ron had been valiantly coming to his defense. 

“He has just as much right as anyone to be here!” 

“My ma almost didn't let me come back to Hogwarts because of his lying!” Seamus continued, despite multiple calls for order from their dormmates. 

“Is that a SNAKE?” Seamus screamed as Ssrya slithered out of Harry's robes and made herself comfortable around his neck. “He's gone dark, what more proof do you need than that?” Seamus gestured to Ssyra with an impatient wave of his hand. Harry flinched, stung by this statement more than the others. 

“I'm not dark.” Harry said in a whisper. “And neither is Ssyra.” He added, gesturing to his companion, who was circling his neck anxiously. 

“Tell that to Cedric.” Seamus said coldly. Harry felt himself shrink, cut down by the truth of Seamus's words. 

“Oi! That's out of order.” Ron cut in, face turning red. Even Dean cast a hard look at Seamus, which finally caused him to back down. 

“Fine, you all want to defend him, that's on you.” Seamus went to his bed and pulled his curtains shut aggressively. Harry dropped into his own bed with a sigh. He put his arm over his eyes and tried to pretend that the conversation hadn't happened. Ssyra curled up on his pillow, already making herself at home. 

Harry felt the bed dip beside him, and knew that Ron had come to talk him out of a night of self depreciation. He was surprised when a different voice spoke. 

“He's wrong you know, for saying all that. I believe you, so does my Gran.” Neville said kindly. Harry moved his arm off his face to look at the shy boy. 

“Thanks, Nev.” Harry said softly. Neville patted his shoulder encouragingly. 

“Your snake seems interesting, what kind is she?” He asked, tilting his head to get a better look. 

“She's an Emerald Boa.” Harry explained. “She's really nice, I swear.” He felt defensive of his companion, she wasn't dark, she was wonderful. 

“Can I hold her?” Neville asked earnestly. 

Harry was so surprised by the request that he relayed the question to Ssyra immediately. Neville flinched when he spoke in Parseltongue. He gave Harry an apologetic look. 

“Sorry, Harry. I'm just not used to it.” Neville explained sheepishly. 

“It's okay.” Harry replied. He knew Neville hadn't meant to react that way, it wasn't as if he heard people hissing at snakes everyday. Harry patted him on the shoulder and encouraged Ssyra to slide up to his shoulder. She wound herself delicately around his neck, showing off her most polite behaviour. 

Dean finally approached Harry's bed, curious about Ssyra. After Neville had a turn holding her, she was passed around amongst the four boys. Once they had all grown accustomed to Parseltongue cheerfully allowed Harry to interpret conversations with her. Naturally, she charmed them all within the hour. 

They soon moved on to other pursuits, playing games and talking late into the evening. Harry felt his heart lighten, surrounded by his friends in his familiar dorm. 

As he lay in his bed fading off to sleep, Harry felt the comfort of Hogwarts seep into his body. Despite the difficulties of the day, Harry still felt as he always did at Hogwarts. 

Home.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Two: Harry

Harry was standing in the graveyard once again, bodies on the ground all around him. He couldn't bear to look at their faces, as he knew that he would find all his friends among them. Harry crawled over the piles of the dead that seemed to grow larger by the moment, until he began to be overcome by them, drowning in their depths. Cold, pale hands reached out from the pile and grabbed at Harry's ankles, dragging him down. Pure terror filled him, but his screams were caught in his throat. As his head started to dip below the surface of the bodies, he saw Snape standing at the edge of the graveyard, watching him serenely. The man slowly walked over to the ever growing pile of bodies and watched as Harry continued to thrash as he drowned. 

“Help, sir, please…. I'm sorry.” Harry cried out desperately. Snape looked on with a sneer. He shrugged his shoulders impassively. 

“It's just easier this way, Potter.” He said without feeling. “You didn't think I really liked you, did you?” Snape began to laugh, a cold cruel sound that reminded Harry of Voldemort. Harry continued to fight to break free of the hands that were grabbing at him, begging Snape with his eyes to save him. 

“Pathetic, Potter. Your own family doesn’t love you, what made you think I would care about you?” He laughed again, hysterically, as if the concept of anyone caring about Harry was absurd. “Oh, Potter, I’d almost feel bad for you, if you weren’t such a dreadful waste of space.” 

Snape’s laughter was the last thing he heard before the dead finally pulled him under.

Harry woke dripping in sweat and shaking. He shot up in bed and frantically tossed his blankets aside to examine his feet. He breathed a sigh of relief when he discovered that there were, in fact, no hands attached to his ankles. Once he fully regained consciousness, he felt quite silly about his panic. 

Harry glanced at his wristwatch and groaned when he saw that it was only half past four in the morning. It was much too early for breakfast, but there was no chance he would be able to fall back to sleep after the nightmare he’d just endured. He sat in his bed for a long while, before he decided he may as well greet the day. He took a long shower before dressing and heading down to the common room. He’d delayed long enough that he wouldn’t get into trouble for leaving, so he thought he’d take a trip to the owlery to see if Hedwig had arrived safely. 

Hedwig had spent the summer at the Weasley’s, as usual. After the summer of second year, Harry did not want to be stuck in a position ever again where he was unable to feed her or release her from the cage. Although he missed her terribly, it simply wasn’t worth the risk. 

Unfortunately, Ssyra and Hedwig had not gotten off to a good start when Harry had arrived at the Burrow at the end of the summer. Before meeting Ssyra, Harry had not realized that snakes could be quite so jealous. She attempted to bite Hedwig in the face after only a brief introduction. Harry had decided it was best to send her ahead to Hogwarts, if only to preserve the peace of the Burrow.

Despite their initial introduction, Harry was determined that his two animal companions should get along. He informed Ssyra as they slunk out of the common room that he expected her to be on her best behaviour in the Owlery. She did not say another word to Harry as they made their way through the castle, stubbornly giving him the silent treatment. Harry was far too tired to argue with her; his sleep had been fragmented by nightmares for the past two nights.

He begrudgingly remembered the few occasions in which he’d had nightmares back at the farm. Snape had run to him every time without hesitation, providing him potions, and usually staying by his side until he fell back asleep. Harry swore that one time he even felt a brush of fingers against his hair, which he later convinced himself couldn’t have possibly happened. Despite all this, Harry simply refused to cry about missing the man in the middle of the night. He was fifteen years old for Merlin's sake. It was childish, ridiculous, and most importantly, impossible to fix. 

Harry shivered when he thought of the cruel words dream Snape had spewed at him. He told himself he needed to forget about the man, and perhaps the entire summer. It did no one any good if he continued to sulk about something that couldn’t be changed. He knew all this logically of course, but it was difficult to get his heart to cooperate, especially on hardly any sleep. 

It took a great effort to climb the stairs to the Owlery, his tiredness making the task feel far more difficult than usual. Ssyra became increasingly agitated the further up the stairs they went.

"Why are we here?” She complained. “It smells of those horrible winged beasts.” 

“We need to check on Hedwig.” Harry explained patiently. 

“I don’t like her.” Ssyra said snootily, with an extra long hiss. 

“Don’t be jealous, Ssyra.” 

“How could I be jealous of her? She can’t even talk to you.” 

Harry once again gave up on attempting to persuade Ssyra of the merits of “winged beasts”, he had discovered that Ssyra’s jealous streak could be nasty, and she would not be easily convinced to like any creature that fought for Harry’s attention. Harry fretted over the dilemma all the way up the stairs, and when he spotted Hedwig in the rafters, he began to doubt his plan as Ssyra hissed threateningly. 

As it turned out, he needn’t have worried at all. 

As soon as Hedwig noticed Harry and Ssyra enter the Owlery, she swooped down from the rafters and grabbed at something on the ground. She cautiously hopped over to where Harry was standing and presented a rather fat mouse at his feet, hooting up at them both encouragingly. Before Harry could do anything about it, Ssyra quickly made her way down to the floor, and swallowed the mouse whole. 

Harry watched on in a mix of apprehension and confusion. As much as he wanted his animal friends to get along, he wasn't sure how either of them would react. Syra slid lethargically over to Hedwig, her abdominal swollen with her meal. She looked up and gently bopped her head against Hedwig's leg. She hooted happily and flew up to Harry’s outreached arm. Harry carefully leant down to pick up Ssyra, who amicably found her way back to his neck. 

“The bird can stay.” She concluded. 

A letter arrived with a familiar brown barn owl as soon as Harry entered the Great Hall for breakfast. The owl was waiting impatiently at Harry's usual spot at the far end of the Gryffindor table. How the little thing had known where he typically sat was beyond him. 

Dearest Harry,

Gerry and I were just wanting to write to let you know we miss you! It feels like a terribly long time since we've seen you. We had such a wonderful time with you this summer, you are just about the sweetest boy we've ever met. 

Be good at Hogwarts and mind your professors. Remember to write us back. 

With love, 

Maeve and Gerry Campbell

Accompanying the letter was a neatly packed parcel, which when opened caused half of Gryffindor house to perk up in interest at the incredible smell. Maeve had outdone herself with every dessert Harry had shown even a remote preference for while staying in her home. 

Harry felt an unfamiliar emotional surge up in his chest. It was a feeling of being so loved and so known that it nearly knocked him off his bench. Maeve must have started preparing this parcel the moment he had left their house, for it to have arrived so early. He fought back any unseemly urges to cry. It simply wouldn't do to cry over baked goods in the middle of breakfast. After everything had gone sideways with Snape, it felt incredible to know that the summer hadn’t been a complete waste, and that Harry still had people who cared for him. 

McGonagall came around with their schedules, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he saw he didn’t have potions until Friday. Double potions with the Slytherins, which dampened his relief slightly, but still, putting off any confrontations with Snape seemed to be worth it. 

The fifth year Gryffindors exchanged curious theories about the new DADA professor during breakfast. It was their first class of the morning, and discussion turned into a lively debate. Harry remained silent throughout the discussion, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he’d met her at his trial. Seamus refused to even sit anywhere within the vicinity of Harry, so he didn’t want to stoke the flame, in case other Gryffindors felt the same way as he did. 

As they headed toward the DADA classroom, Harry felt a presence step into his space and was pleased to see Luna’s bright blonde head walking beside him. She casually slipped her hand into his, as if it were an everyday occurrence. Harry felt his face turn red, but didn’t let go of her hand. Even when he felt his hand turn sweaty he held tight, worried that if were to let go now, he may never get her hand back. 

“Hi Luna.” He said, gratified that he could at least speak one coherent greeting. 

“Hi Harry, I’m just walking you to class.” She said confidently. “You don’t have to hold my hand if you’re embarrassed, other people might tease you.” 

“Oh.” Harry said in surprise. “I don’t mind if they tease me.” He smiled at her and they walked hand in hand toward the classroom. Her comment worried him, however. He knew that Luna often was the target for bullies, and it concerned him deeply. What if being seen with him made things worse for her? 

“I hope people don't tease you for walking with me.” He said. Luna smiled beautifully before she replied.  

“Oh, I don't mind if they tease me.” She echoed with a small laugh. “I'm used to it, you know? Besides, we may as well get teased together, it'll be less lonely that way.” Harry, as always, admired her resilience and lack of concern for the opinions of others. He felt bolstered by her confidence. 

“Okay, let's get teased together.” He agreed with a bright smile. 

They walked the rest of the way in silence, steadfastly ignoring the snickering of the other students. Harry's heart was beating hard in his chest, as he found it difficult to focus on anything other than the warm hand in his. He wished he could think of something clever to say to impress Luna, but nothing came to mind. Luckily, Luna was not the type of girl who needed to be impressed with charm or cleverness. She seemed perfectly content to be with Harry just as he was, gormless and truthfully a bit timid. 

When they arrived at the doors, Luna smiled and kissed Harry on the cheek. His stomach twisted in a strange but pleasant way. 

“Bye Harry.” She said and walked away before he could come up with a reasonable response. It was probably for the best, as Harry was unsure he even remembered where his mouth was located. He stared after her retreating form unmovingly until Ron rushed up and practically jumped on him.

“What the bloody hell just happened?” He exclaimed with a huge smile on his face. 

“I-I don’t exactly know. She just walked up to me and held my hand.” Harry said, his face burning with the stretch of his smile. “Then she kissed me.” 

“We saw.” Ron replied with a smirk. 

“Come on, we need to get into the class, we are about to be late.” Hermione said, rolling her eyes, but patting Harry on the shoulder encouragingly as she pushed him toward the doors. 

By the time the class had ended, Harry had earned detention for the remainder of the week and was red in the face with fury. The absolute cow had told the entire class that they didn’t need defensive magic, that Harry was a liar, and even worse, she simply dismissed Cedric's death as a “tragic accident.” Harry left the class seething with rage.

Harry had, predictably, been unable to hold his tongue. It was a mark of how awful Umbridge was that Hermione didn’t even bother to scold Harry as they left the classroom. 

“Something is going to have to be done about her. It’s unbelievable, we are all going to fail our OWLS!” Hermione lamented as they walked back to the Great Hall for lunch. Hermione continued to sigh in exasperation every few minutes while they ate lunch, annoying those around them as she muttered to herself about standardized testing protocols. She continued to express her frustration throughout the day, up until Harry was due for his first detention with Umbridge. She left him at the door to her office, still muttering under her breath about the curriculum. 

Harry knocked tentatively on the office door, weary about the strange woman who seemed to have it out for him.

“Come in!” A high pitched voice answered his knock. Harry entered the office slowly, shutting the door behind him before he approached the desk. The room was decorated all in a sickly shade of pink; photos of cats dressed in ribbons were scattered around the office. Harry shivered, there was something off about Umbridge, he was certain of it. 

When he left her office several hours later, there was no doubt about it, Umbridge was more than off, she was downright evil. Blood dripped from Harry’s hand as he attempted to wipe it away on the inside of his robes. He glanced briefly at the words carved into his hand by her horrible quill. 

I must not tell lies

Harry supposed he should have felt angrier about the whole thing. It wasn't a typical occurrence for teachers to force students to carve words into their own flesh. Harry was angry, of course, but he knew he should be outraged, that he should have run for help the moment the quill cut into his hand. Harry was suddenly reminded of something Xavier once told him that stuck out firmly in his mind. 

"Harry, are you aware that you accept things from the adults in your life that are unacceptable?” 

Harry had been irritated with Xavier for the comment at the time, even though there was truth to it. The thing was, knowing that he was messed up in the head, and doing anything about it were two different things entirely. 

Harry squashed down any residual anger and tucked his hand carefully away. Luckily he had experience hiding injuries. Unluckily, this particular one was on his hand, and difficult to conceal. Uncle Vernon was always careful to ensure that his cuts and bruises were easy to hide. 

As Harry made his way back toward Grynfindor tower, he was barely aware of his surroundings. The impact of pain and blood loss for the past few hours began to catch up with him. He felt wobbly on his feet and tried in vain to concentrate fully.

He was so out of it that he didn't notice the tapping of shoes following close behind him. 

“Potter!” A familiar voice shouted. “What on earth are you doing out of bed?” 

Harry turned around slowly, his vision slightly blurry. Even without his full powers of sight, he would have been able to recognize the look of absolute fury on Snape's face. 

“Well? Explain yourself?” Snape insisted. 

“I had detention.” Harry said, mustering up the focus to answer clearly. All he wanted to do was crawl up to his bed and sleep away this terrible day. 

“Detention?” Snape sneered. “Potter, it's the first day, are you so incapable of staying out of trouble?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture he made far too often in Harry's presence. 

“Sorry, sir.” Harry said softly. Snape looked at him closely. 

“Are you ill?” He asked, reaching his hand forward as if he intended to place it on Harry's forehead, before he drew it back with a flinch.

“No, sir, just tired.” Harry said. It was the truth, he felt as if he could collapse on the floor at Snape's feet. 

Snape sighed. “Go to bed, Potter, I don't want to deal with you right now.” 

Harry flinched, stung by the words. 

“I know.” He said, but Snape had already turned on his heel and walked away before he muttered the words. 

When Harry finally made it back to his bed, his sleep was fractured with nightmares. He returned to the mysterious green lit corridor he was desperate to reach the end of. He also returned to the graveyard, struggling to breathe as he was dragged down by the dead. 

This time, Snape placed his boot on Harry's forehead, pushing him down. 

As the week went by, Harry's condition became worse and worse. He hadn't slept a full night since the farm, and it was beginning to wear on him. His nightly detentions with Umbridge left him drained, and in pain. Physically and mentally, he struggled through every evening. Not to mention, every teacher seemed to have made it their personal mission to assign as much homework as possible. All in all, Harry felt completely awful by the morning of the first potions class of the year. 

His friends had noticed his poor mood, his slow movements, and the dark circles under his eyes. Ron had shook him awake the past two nights, having set monitoring spells on Harry's bed. Harry had thrown a fit, accusing Ron of all manner of things. He finally stopped himself when he found himself telling his friend that he must be jealous again. Even Harry had to admit, his accusations didn't make much sense, but he was too tired and raw to think it through properly. Ron took it all in stride. He had been cautious with his treatment of Harry ever since the Goblet of Fire debacle. Despite the many times Ron had apologized for how he had behaved toward Harry prior to the first task, the weight of that fight still hung between them at times. 

Harry had eventually apologized himself, embarrassed by his behaviour, but seemingly unable to control himself. Every day he woke up feeling more and more unsteady emotionally. 

Horribly, he missed Snape. He missed him in a way that hurt even worse because the man hadn't gone anywhere. Except that he had gone away– at least the version of Snape Harry knew over the summer had. That was the person Harry missed, as ridiculous as it felt. 

So, on Friday morning Harry walked down to the potions classroom, dread increasing with every step. He had been in such a sour mood all morning that Ron and Hermione followed him down to the dungeons in silence, unwilling to provoke him. 

“What's got you all in a twist, Potter?” 

Harry cringed as Malfoy's voice hit his ears. He'd managed for the first few days to avoid the other boy, but he knew it couldn't last. 

“Shove off Malfoy.” Ron turned around to confront him before Harry could open his mouth. 

“Do be quiet, Weasley, I don't have time for blood traitors, especially ones who can't even afford robes that fit properly.” Malfoy sneered. Ron's face turned red and he stepped toward Malfoy threateningly. Hermione grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back. 

“Stop it, Ron! He's not worth you getting into trouble!” She tugged him harder. 

“Mind your own business, Mudblood.” 

Harry's vision turned white with rage. He was barely aware of his body as he hurled himself at Malfoy, tackling him to the ground. The other boy punched him in the stomach, the angle awkward from his position, but painful nonetheless. Harry rolled off of him in pain. They both got to their feet and Harry shoved Malfoy away from him. Malfoy stumbled backward before he rushed forward again, grabbing onto Harry's robes. 

Suddenly, there was a loud shout from the door of the potions classroom. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Snape stormed in between Harry and Malfoy, his wand drawn. 

The boys separated from each other quickly, without Snape needing to cast a single spell. Malfoy straightened up first, brushing off his robes as if they'd been soiled from his brief tussle with Harry.

“Potter attacked me!” Malfoy said immediately, pointing a finger toward Harry's face. “He's deranged, Sir!” 

Harry sputtered with indignance. “Bu- but he called Hermi-” 

“I do not care, Potter.” Snape turned to Harry with furious eyes. Harry cringed back from him, jarred by the expression. “You attacked Mr. Malfoy in front of my classroom. It is completely unacceptable! We will discuss your punishment after class.” He turned away and strode back toward the classroom. He glanced back for a moment at the students gathered in the corridor, all of them stunned and unmoving. 

“Well? MOVE!” Snape shouted. The student scrambled to get inside the classroom. Malfoy purposefully bumped into Harry as he walked past, smirking at him smugly. 

Harry followed behind, fuming at the unfairness of it all. He knew that Snape couldn’t side with him publicly, but it still stung to see the genuine anger in his eyes. It took Harry right back to the old times, when Snape was simply a villain. At least in those days, Harry didn’t have to feel hurt that the man was unfair to him. Now, every interaction felt like a stab in the back, and Harry’s patience was beginning to crack. 

He shuffled into the classroom, offering Snape a glare. The man gave him a withering glare of his own, and Harry shrunk under the scrutiny. He walked to the back of the classroom to his usual seat and plopped down. 

Snape paced at the front of the class, instructions for the day already on the blackboard. Harry smiled slightly when he noticed it was a potion Snape had worked with him on during the summer. 

Snape noticed his smile and sneered. 

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Potter.” He said, as the Slytherins chuckled quietly, ready for a show down. “This potion is extremely difficult, I expect it to blow up in your smug face before the class has ended.” 

Harry squirmed in his seat, a mix of hurt and anger warring for prominence. 

“At least if it blew up in your face it would be an improvement.” Harry said without thinking, his hurt feelings getting the better of him. Snape looked furious, and strode closer to Harry's desk. 

“I suggest that you keep your mouth shut for the remainder of the class, Potter. You're already in enough trouble as it is.” 

Harry fumed silently, and continued to cast glares against Snape throughout the class. At least the man's cover as a spy wasn't at risk of being exposed, Harry thought bitterly. 

When Snape came to inspect his potion, Harry did indeed have a smug look on his face. His potion was perfect, a fact that he was sure Snape hadn't missed, as he made no comment and strode away. 

“Mr. Potter. You are not dismissed.” Snape said at the end of the class.

Severus watched as Potter's face twisted in anger. He dropped back into his chair with a loud thump, making Severus scowl. The other students who were quickly gathering their belongings fled the room, more than aware of Severus’s bad humour. Weasley and Granger lingered, naturally, before Potter gestured them away with a wave of his hand. They appeared reluctant to leave, but eventually joined the crowd exiting the cold potions classroom. 

Severus sat silently at his desk, while Potter remained seated at his workstation. His arms were crossed in front of his chest as he glared at Severus from the back of the room. The distance between them verged on ridiculous. 

Severus was bizarrely reminded of a western movie he had watched once as a child. Two rivals facing off along a long dirt road, neither willing to draw their weapon first. 

This town ain’t big enough for the two of us.

Severus was the first to break the silence. 

“I do hope you have an explanation for your deplorable attitude.” Severus spoke into the thick air.

Potter scoffed and slumped further into his chair, a vision of teenage petulance. 

“Tch, my attitude?” 

“Yes, Potter. Your attitude in my classroom was completely unacceptable. I can't imagine what has gotten into your thick head, but you've had detention every day your first week back, and now you've been brawling in the corridors. I want an explanation.” Severus listed off the boy's crimes in quick succession. Truthfully, he was worried about Potter. As much as he would have denied it in the past, it wasn't like him to act out quite so much. 

“You want an explanation? Didn’t anyone ever tell you? You can’t always get what you want... sir.” The honorific was spat out as if it burned his mouth. 

“Potter, I've had enough of this. I’m concerned about you. If you don’t wish to spend the next two months in detention, I suggest you rethink your current position.” 

“As if you’d want to spend that much time with me.” The boy replied, a small crack in his voice. 

“No, I certainly have better uses for my time than supervising a troublemaking student.” Severus began to feel frustrated. No matter what he did, they ended up back at square one. 

Something seemed to snap in Potter at this statement. He dropped the indifferent attitude, and stood abruptly from his chair, rage in his eyes. He left his table and walked toward Severus's desk. 

“Yes, Professor, I think you’ve made it perfectly clear just how little you want to do with me.” He reached the front of the desk and slammed his palm down, the sound of it slapping against the wood echoed through the empty classroom. “You think I don't know?” His voice trembled, betraying hesitance beneath the anger. 

“I know you think I'm dense, but I can take a hint.” He spat. “So just stop.” Severus stared at him in confusion. 

“Stop what, exactly?” 

“This ‘pretending to care’ thing. You don’t need to do it anymore.” Potter began to pace like a caged animal. “You think you owe me something? Is that what it is? In that case, it's fine! I release you from the burden.” He spat, flinging both of his hands in front of him. Severus sat still, unable to respond to the outburst. 

“Just assign my detention with someone else so you don't have to look at me anymore, how's that?” Potter muttered under his breath before glaring at him and marching toward the door. 

Severus barely saw the tears and devastation before he managed to hide them. 

Everything Severus had attempted to tell himself about the situation suddenly seemed to deflate. He finally realized that Potter's eyes, rimmed slightly red, had heavy dark circles beneath them. 

He's having nightmares again. 

He thought of Potter leaving detention the first night back. He’d looked ill, but Severus had pushed that thought away. 

Every time Severus's eyes had strayed to Potter this last week, he'd looked the same way, and so terribly, utterly lost. All of Severus's carefully crafted reasons for pushing the boy away cracked under the pressure of the truth. Once again, he'd completely misunderstood the situation, misunderstood Potter. 

Potter had needed him, and he'd left him alone. 

What have you done, Severus? 

The boy had his hand on the door handle when he spoke in a trembling whisper. 

“I know you don’t want me, okay?”

Severus knew then, that this was the moment that would go on to define the rest of his life. He had pushed the boy away, thinking it was for the best. Now he had a devastated teenager on the verge of a breakdown in front of him. He’d never felt so horribly unequipped for anything quite like this before. 

Yet, he owed it to the boy to do something, to be truly brave for once in his life. 

Despite his assertions of bravery, Severus's voice still came out tentatively, cracking slightly. 

“Harry…” The name felt strange on his lips. 

Harry paused in the doorway. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the handle. Severus scrambled for the right words, something to draw Harry back before it was too late. Before this tentative thing they shared was ripped away from him forever. 

“Harry, I…I do… want you, that is.” The words were pulled from Severus gracelessly. 

Harry stood very still in the doorway, rocking back on the balls of his feet. When he finally turned to look back, Severus felt his heart split in two. Unabashed hurt shone from green eyes, staring him down like the barrel of a gun. 

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.” Harry's voice was soft. He sounded like a much younger version of himself. A version that had already had so many disappointments, and so little love. Severus’s heart ached as a single tear dropped down Harry's cheek. The poor boy was even restrained in his devastation, as if his heartache wasn't worth the spectacle of proper tears. 

The room was silent, and Severus could hear Harry's ragged breathing, as well as the beating of his own heart, as they both attempted to control their emotions.

Severus had always been a man who thought before he leapt. It had kept him safe from all sorts of situations. Especially those that he felt were too emotional, too painful. Now, he didn't want to lose Harry, and he needed to let go of that fear. 

Become the man who's good enough.

Severus crossed the room in three short strides, gratified when Harry didn’t flinch. He gathered the boy up in his arms, immeasurably relieved when he wasn't pushed away. Instead, Harry melted into his arms bonelessly. 

Harry buried his face in Severus’s chest. Sobs shook his small frame as he frantically gripped the back of Severus’s teaching robes. There was nothing gentle about their embrace. It was messy and desperate, filled with pain. Aching, Severus raised his hand up to the back of Harry’s head, holding it against his chest. 

Severus would have thought that hugging Harry Potter in the doorway of his potions classroom would feel absurd. Had anyone been witness to the scene, they surely would have fainted from the shock. 

For Severus, however, it felt profoundly right. It was as if his arms had been weighted down for years, their true purpose left unfulfilled. It almost felt like an inevitability, as though somehow he had known that if he allowed himself even the slightest space in his heart he would end up in the exact position he now found himself in. All the fighting he had done had only lengthened the road it took until he was finally where he belonged. 

Severus began to gently run his hand up and down Harry’s back, murmuring nonsensical noises he hoped were comforting. As Harry’s cries finally slowed and turned into hiccups, Severus still did not loosen his grip.

If this embrace was to end, it would be when Harry was ready, and not a moment sooner. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty Three: Tea Talks 

When Harry finally got a hold of his emotions, he felt a deep sense of embarrassment wash over him. What was he doing, falling to pieces in Snape’s arms? He stayed in the embrace for a moment longer, delaying the humiliation of pulling back and looking into the man’s eyes. If underneath the humiliation he simply enjoyed the embrace, well that was his personal business wasn't it? 

Snape himself seemed to have no intention of loosening his grip, so Harry had to break the hold finally, gently pulling himself back and examining his shoes. He couldn’t bring himself to raise his gaze as he used the sleeve of his robe to wipe tears and snot from his face. He slightly prayed that he hadn’t left any unpleasant residue on Snape’s crisp robes. This lapse in judgement was humiliating enough as it was without spoiling his teacher’s clothing. 

“Don’t do that.” Snape said awkwardly, handing him a handkerchief. “Wipe your face properly.” He shuffled his feet slightly, not making eye contact with Harry.  

Harry was somewhat relieved by the fact that Snape seemed just as unsure what to do about the situation as he did. Harry took the handkerchief and took longer than necessary to clean his face, avoiding the confrontation that was sure to come next. He was surprised when the handkerchief vanished from his hand and Snape turned around abruptly. 

“Come.” He said, striding away from Harry without further explanation. Harry followed him in a daze, through the doors that led to Snape’s office. He supposed it made sense if there was to be a conversation, it would be best to have a touch more privacy. Snape, however, seemed to have no plans to stay in his office, as he quickly ushered Harry through the room and into a corridor that Harry had never been in. He squashed down his many questions as he followed the man to the end of the corridor before they stopped in front of a large portrait. 

“You will never speak of this place, to anyone, am I understood?” Snape said firmly, unwaveringly. 

Harry was dumbfounded, but responded nonetheless. “Yes, sir.” 

“Good.” Snape replied. He pressed his hand against the portrait and murmured something in Latin that Harry could not pick up. The portrait swung open and Snape quickly pulled Harry inside.

The room was simple, but nice. Harry was not sure exactly what he might have expected Snape’s personal quarters to look like, but he certainly would not have guessed that they’d be perfectly ordinary, almost plain. There was what looked to be a small kitchen, equipped with the basics, and two doors, which presumably led to the bedroom and the loo. Harry valued his life too much to ask for a tour, despite the curiosity that burned in his mind. Snape took Harry by the elbow as if he couldn’t manage on his own. He led him to a soft couch in the centre of the room, which was, shockingly, red. Harry sat when instructed and attempted to take in more details of the room. Other than the bookcases along the walls, there were no personal touches. There were no family photos or artwork, and it made Harry feel a bit sad. 

Snape left him there as he moved toward the kitchen, lifted up the kettle and said, “tea?” with a raised eyebrow. 

“Er, sure, thanks.” Harry replied, more unsure of the situation by the moment. He tried to ignore the reality of sitting in Snape’s private quarters, having tea. If he thought about it too long, the strangest fact was that he had just engaged in an extended hug with the man, a hug he had admittedly found very comforting. 

By the time Snape returned to the sitting room with tea service in hand, Harry had worked himself into an anxious mess. He sat on the couch, his hands pressed beneath his thighs to stop himself from fussing with his clothes. 

No one likes a fidgety freak. His brain happily reminded him. 

Snape sat in an armchair across from him, lazily waving his wand to light the fire. The warmth filled the room almost immediately and Harry relaxed slightly. He watched as Snape fixed himself a cup of tea, and then as he casually made Harry’s tea as well. When Harry took a sip he found it to be just as he usually took it, two milk, one sugar. A different type of warmth filled him when he thought of Snape memorizing how he took his tea, despite how small of a thing it was.

“We should probably talk.” Snape said after they both had tea in their hands. 

“Right, probably.” Harry replied, looking at his teacup intently.  

“I’m not entirely sure what to say.” Snape admitted. Harry glanced up at him, unsure. 

“Er, neither am I.” Harry confessed. The whole thing felt more like a horribly awkward mistake by the minute. 

“Right.” Snape agreed without elaboration. 

“We shoul-”

“Perha-” 

“Sorry, you go ahead.” Harry said.

“Perhaps you could tell me what happened with Mr. Malfoy.” Snape said calmly, steepling his hands in front of his face. Harry felt himself perk up with indignation. 

“He started it!” Harry protested. It figured that Snape would immediately take Malfoy's side, even after everything between them. 

“I did not ask who started it, I'm asking you to explain what happened. Surely you understand that I couldn't hear your side of things in front of all your classmates?” Snape reasoned. Harry did not want to understand. He wanted to be a normal person who could be defended. He wanted Snape to defend him, despite the lack of logic in that. Harry averted his gaze and rubbed at the back of his neck. 

“Ah, you do not understand. Perhaps that is our first discussion point.” Snape tapped his finger against his chin, as if coming to some kind of conclusion. Harry felt utterly daft. He knew that Snape couldn’t defend him in public, but it didn’t stop it from hurting nonetheless. 

“N-no, I understand, I really do.” He said quietly, wishing he could just be happy with what he got, without always becoming greedy for more. 

“You don't wish to accept it, however.” Snape observed him carefully, seeming to pluck the thoughts straight from Harry's mind. 

“No, I don't want to. It shouldn't be like this.” Harry was aware that he sounded slightly petulant, but he didn't care. Nothing in his life was ever fair. Snape gave him a long pitying look, he opened his mouth to speak, but glanced away before he managed to get any words out. He coughed into his hand and finally spoke. 

“Pot- ahem, Harry. I also wish things were different, that, that I could be different for you. I-if that helps.” Snape stumbled over the words. Harry was genuinely warmed by the notion that Snape did want to defend him publicly, but simply could not. 

“It does actually.” Harry admitted, embarrassed slightly that it took so little to make him happy. He must appear like a racoon, searching through rubbish bins, ecstatic to find treasures amongst the things others deemed trash. 

“Hmm.” Snape looked like he wanted to say something more on the topic, but stopped, closing his mouth. He said instead, “So, would you care to tell me what happened before class?” 

Harry took the opportunity to defend himself, bolstered by the idea that Snape might hear him out. “Malfoy called Hermione a muggleborn, only that's not the word he used.” 

“I see.” Snape muttered, a slight tinge of red blossoming on each of his cheekbones. It struck Harry as an odd thing to be embarrassed about, but Harry did not have time to contemplate Snape's strange reaction, still feeling defensive of his actions. 

“What was I supposed to do, just ignore him?” He crossed his arms over his chest. Snape leaned forward and looked at Harry seriously. 

“No, I can understand why that upset you. However, did you even consider reporting him to a professor before you flung yourself at him?” Snape inquired. 

“Well, no, I didn't quite get that far.” Harry blushed and ducked his head down. Snape reached across the coffee table and tapped Harry under the chin, forcing him to make eye contact. He held his chin between his thumb and pointer finger as he spoke. 

“Harry, you must understand the unique position you are in. Any of Mr. Malfoy's friends could have used this as an excuse to truly hurt you. You know very well who their fathers are. You must start thinking before you act.” Snape made unrelenting eye contact as he spoke, before he sighed and released Harry's face. 

“B- but, Malfoy sai-” 

“You've told me what was said, and although it is abhorrent, you need to start seriously considering your own safety!" Snape shouted, Harry curled back into the couch slightly, feeling his innate need to back away from an angry man rear up. 

“Bu-but…” Harry started. Snape ran a hand through his hair in agitation, before he pointed a finger at Harry. 

“I will not lose you because of some ridiculous schoolboy rivalry!” Snape emphasized his words with a wag of his finger. Harry blinked rapidly, not understanding the words. 

“Lose me?” He asked, tilting his head in confusion. Why on earth would Snape lose him? Snape leaned back in his armchair, looking at Harry as if he were a very small, stupid child. 

“Has it not been made clear today that I care about what happens to you?” Snape hesitated. “That is the entire reason for this conversation, is it not?” 

“I guess.” Harry conceded, he wasn’t exactly sure what they were supposed to discuss. Snape was surely just doing this to put Harry through the ritual of humiliation for daring to cry on his shoulder. 

“What on earth did you think we were here to discuss?” Snape sighed dramatically. 

“I don't know, okay!” Harry glanced down at the cream rug beneath his feet. “I thought 'cause we… er…hugged.” 

“Do you think I make a habit of hugging my students, or anyone for that matter?” 

Harry couldn't help himself, and let out a laugh that was louder than he had intended. 

“Sorry, no. No I don't think you do.” 

“So, perhaps, I may have a vested interest in your continued existence, hmm?” Snape raised an eyebrow at Harry, a small smile finally creeping into the corners of his mouth. 

“You mean like, you don’t want me to die?” Harry reasoned. It shouldn't have made Harry smile, but it did. 

“Correct.” 

“That’s nice.” Harry said, genuinely feeling grateful for the sentiment. Snape seemed perturbed by Harry's reaction. 

“Is your opinion of yourself that low? Caring if you live or die is the absolute bare minimum, Harry.” 

“It’s more than the Dursleys ever did.” Harry said simply. Snape sighed. 

“It worries me that you are accustomed to so little, that you will accept anything from me.” Snape said, looking slightly self conscious. “I’d like to be better than that.” 

“Alright…” Harry said hesitantly. “What does that mean?” 

“I’d like to take an active role in your life, if you’ll allow me.” 

“Active? Active, how?” Harry was somewhat shocked at the concept. 

“We will need to discuss that. I had initially thought that severing any ties between us would be the best course, but I see now that I was wrong.” 

“I thought you hated me.” Harry admitted. 

“That would certainly be easier.” Snape said simply, making ice settle into Harry's veins. 

“Oh.” He said softly, casting his eyes downward again. 

“No, no, Harry, I don’t mean that. I apologize, I am not skilled in this. I don't know how to be the type of adult you need me to be. I am stuck in my ways, I am worried I will continue to hurt you.” 

“But it actually hurt me when you didn’t want to talk to me.” Harry shared the vulnerable confession. 

“I realize that now.” Snape said gently. “That’s why I want to do better, be better for you. I will need you to be patient with me. I-I have not been truly close with anyone in a very long time.” 

“Like you were with my mum?” Harry asked hesitantly. 

“Yes.” Snape said, looking away from Harry's gaze. 

“Can you tell me about her?” Harry said hopefully. Snape shook his head, much to Harry's disappointment. 

“Some other time. We need to focus on a plan for the moment.” 

“A plan?” Harry asked, slightly suspicious of what the plan might be. 

“Yes, a plan. It is clearly important to both of us that we maintain a friendly… alliance. However, it still remains true that I can not be seen to have such a relationship in public.” 

“So, you still need to be an arse in class?” 

“I wouldn't phrase it exactly like that, but Yes.” 

“But, outside of classes, you'll be nicer?” Harry wondered, hope blooming in his chest. 

“Depending on my mood, possibly.” Snape smirked. Harry offered him a smile back. 

“Okay, we just need to pretend to hate each other in front of everyone else. Maybe we can have a code word so I know you're not being serious.” 

“I hardly think that is needed.” Snape dismissed with a wave of his hand. 

“I need it.” Harry said firmly, surprising himself with his surety. 

“Right.” Snape looked taken aback. “We will develop a code, and you will come to see me three times weekly, once for Occlumency, once for potions and defense, and a third time to have tea.”

“You want to see me once a week to have tea?” Harry asked, shocked at the familiarity of the offer. 

“Yes, did I not just say that?” Snape rolled his eyes before he became serious again. “Is that an agreeable arrangement for you?” 

“Yes, it's fine.” Harry said, glancing at his hands with a small smile on his face. 

Harry felt warm all over, secretly thinking the arrangement was not fine, it was brilliant. 

The following weeks passed in a slight blur. Despite the initial misunderstanding with Snape in the first week of class, Harry felt that, overall, his first month at Hogwarts was rather pleasant. He spent the majority of his time in classes, or with Snape in the dungeons, a fact which should have been horrifying. However, he found the days he had lessons with Snape were some of his best days. 

The initial “tea” day was quite awkward, but they had soon managed to create a comfortable atmosphere, something akin to their time at the farm. It was soft and comfortable, and completely bizarre. Harry wasn't exactly sure how it had happened, but it seemed with every exchange it became easier. Harry had at least stopped sitting stock still on the couch, not touching his tea. Now, he was more likely to start baking something for them both to enjoy with the tea. Harry privately enjoyed the fact that Snape loved his baking, even if the man never said so aloud. 

The only thing more enjoyable than his time with Snape was certainly the hours he spent with Luna. Harry had not seriously considered what it might be like to have a girlfriend, but when he had imagined it, the whole thing had seemed terribly uncomfortable. With Luna, it was as easy as breathing, once he got the hang of it. They spent most of their time tucked away in the library, talking and laughing and studying. Harry’s grades had never been better. As it turned out, becoming romantically involved with a Ravenclaw had some fringe benefits. 

After the first week, Harry had managed to avoid further detentions with Umbridge. He took Hermione’s advice and kept his head down. Being non-confrontational was not exactly in his nature, but he did have experience suppressing his true feelings from the Durselys. Although the detentions had ended, unfortunately, his hand had not yet recovered. Harry was forced to search the library for a concealing spell, which once he had successfully mastered, made his hand look perfectly normal. Underneath the spell, however, Harry was beginning to feel concerned about infection, and how badly it might scar. 

Other than his worries about his hand, Harry was settling nicely into his routine. Even the Gryffindor Quidditch team was looking good ahead of their first match with Slytherin. It was the first match up of the season, and the entire school was buzzing with excitement. Several Slytherin students had attempted to cast tripping hexes as he walked through the corridors. Harry figured they must be really scared, if they were resorting to underhanded tactics. He knew he’d been flying excellently at practices, better than he ever had thanks to a summer of nutrition and his experiences with Abraxans. More than anything, Harry was determined to see the look on Malfoy’s face when he snatched the snitch from under his posh nose. 

Malfoy had been increasingly hostile as the game approached, stalking Harry in the corridors to sneer at him and spit out insults. Snape had made it dramatically clear that Harry was not permitted to engage with Malfoy.

For once, Harry felt compelled to obey the man, fearing the look of anger on his face if Harry got caught brawling again. Perhaps more frightening, Harry imagined how disappointed Snape would be. It was a new feeling, to be so aware of a desire to make an adult proud. He'd sought the Dursley's approval throughout his childhood, to no avail. When he thought of Snape, however, he felt warm all over at the notion of making the man proud of him. 

It was this desire for Snape's approval that encouraged Harry to simply ignore Malfoy when he approached Harry the day before the match. Harry was headed down to the dungeons for his private potions lesson with Snape when the blonde boy accosted him

“Where are you off to Potter? Planning on hiding in the dungeons so you don't have to face humiliation tomorrow?” Malfoy sneered, Crabbe and Goyle looking menacing at his side. Harry took a deep breath and pulled up his occlumency shields to the best of his ability. 

“Go away Malfoy.” He said simply, ignoring the comments as he continued walking. 

“You don't want to talk to me? I'm hurt, and here I thought we were destined to be lifelong friends.” Malfoy mocked. “Well, I suppose I'm not up to the caliber of your usual friends, am I? Blood traitors and mudb-” 

“Enough.” Harry interrupted before the foul word could leave Malfoy's mouth. He resisted casting a silencing charm against the other boy, heeding Snape's warnings to remain neutral.

“Oh so you do want to talk!” 

“I told you to go away, Malfoy.” 

“I guess you are afraid of the match tomorrow. How cute.” 

“Pfft. Sure Malfoy. You're just afraid i'll make you look daft in front of your father.” Harry leant into the word with a mocking posh accent, sticking his nose up as he'd seen Malfoy do hundreds of times. The dig landed, and Malfoy's pale face turned crimson. 

“At least i'm not pathetic enough to not have anyone cheering for me in the crowd.” Malfoy returned callously. Typically the low blow comment about Harry being an orphan wouldn't have stung, but somehow it bothered him this time. 

“Shut up Malfoy.” Harry said, stupidly handing Malfoy the weapon of knowledge that his comment had hurt. 

“Oh, I'm sorry Potter. It's just so sad, isn't it boys, that Potter here doesn't even have parents to watch him play?” He smirked. “I mean, I doubt even if they hadn't been snuffed out they'd come. Who'd want to watch a loser like you?” 

Harry nearly lunged for the other boy before he heard Snape's voice mutter softly in his head.

Don't be reckless Harry. 

I won't lose you. 

Harry turned on his heel and walked away, festering with a novel emotion the entire journey to the dungeons. 

“Will Lucius Malfoy be at the game tomorrow?” Harry asked casually, as he stirred a handful of beetles into his simmering cauldron. 

“Yes, of course.” Severus glanced up at him in time to see Harry’s face twist oddly. Severus wondered if the boy was afraid of Lucius, a reasonable conclusion given that the man was a known Death Eater, not to mention, he'd been present in the graveyard as Harry had been tormented. 

“I will be sitting with him the entire time, he will not be able to harm you.” Severus reassured. 

Harry's face flushed slightly, and he refused to make eye contact with Severus. 

“Oh, right, thanks.” Harry did not seem reassured, and Severus was at a loss. 

“Was something else concerning you?” 

Harry shrugged and glanced at his toes, as he scuffed his shoes against the dungeon floor. 

“No, no that's it.” Severus felt out of his depth in interpreting teenage emotions. He ignored the itching at the back of his mind that said he was missing something important. 

There was silence between them for several minutes. The sounds of the simmering cauldrons and rhythmic chopping were the only thing that broke the oppressive silence. 

“What team are you cheering for?” Harry spoke quietly into the thick air.

“Slytherin, of course.” Severus said automatically. 

“Oh.” Severus glanced at Harry, dejection written all over his face. What did the boy expect from him?  

“I’m head of Slytherin house Harry, I can’t very well do anything else.” Severus reasoned, knowing Harry’s line of questioning was beyond reason. 

“You don’t have to cheer for Gryffindor,” Harry muttered. “Just… you know…for me, maybe.”  

“The Seeker is the most essential player on the team. To wish for your success is to wish the downfall of my team.” Severus reasoned. 

“Fine.” Harry’s voice turned flat. 

“Harry.” 

“It's fine.” 

Silence filled the room again. Severus grappled uselessly for the right words. He’d told Harry he didn’t know how to be this man. He wasn’t capable of such emotional displays. 

“I could perhaps wear a small pin under my robes in support.” 

“Yeah?” Harry said, heartbreakingly hopeful. 

“Something small.” 

Harry smiled widely. He reached beneath his robes around his neck and pulled out a hideous red and gold necklace. Severus suppressed a grimace. 

“You can wear this! Luna made it for me for good luck.” 

“I'm sure Miss Lovegood would be displeased to see you handing it away so casually.” Severus prayed to any God listening for the necklace to burst into flame. 

Harry was undeterred. “No, no, she’ll be thrilled. She’s always going on about how some jewelry would help clear the wrackspurts from your head.” 

Severus saw no way out of the situation. “If I must.” He sighed and reached for the odious thing. He grimaced until he looked up at Harry’s face. His grin was so wide it nearly split his small face in half. 

“Brilliant!” 

Severus hummed. 

“Now I'll know you're secretly hoping I'll win.” 

“I said no such thing.” 

“But you’ll wear the necklace?” 

Severus nodded, and slipped the necklace over his head. Harry’s smile grew impossibly larger as he returned to his potion. 

“You'd have done well in Slytherin, little manipulator.” Severus noted with a scoff. 

Harry grinned slyly at him. 

“The Hat certainly thought so.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“The Hat. It said I’d have done well in Slytherin, those words exactly.” There was no hint of a lie in Harry’s eyes, but there was definitely a mischievous glint in them 

“The Sorting Hat, wished to put you in Slytherin, and yet, here I am wearing a hideous red and gold necklace.” Severus glanced at the item in question with a grimace. 

“Yes, well, I talked it out of it.” Harry smirked, tilting his chin up proudly. 

“You mean to say you manipulated an ancient artifact into putting you in the house you desired.”

“Yup.” 

“That should have been evidence enough that you belonged in Slytherin.” Severus remarked disbelievingly. “Why did you convince it to change its mind? Had you already been persuaded that Sytherin is a house of pure evil?” 

“No! Well… maybe a bit. I met Malfoy on the train, he was awful, and reminded me of Dudley.” Harry admitted. 

“Hmm, Draco can be…difficult.” Severus agreed, unwilling to say more about the other boy, lest he fuel more conflict. 

Harry let out a surprised laugh. “That’s one way of putting it.” He continued to stir his potion, looking contemplative. 

“It was also because the Hat said that Slytherin would ‘help me on my way to greatness’.” Harry mimicked pompously. “ The thing is, I didn't really want to be great, I wanted to be normal.” He sighed. “Not that it mattered anyway.” 

Severus could hardly believe he’d once thought of this boy as arrogant and attention seeking. It was irritating sometimes to be reminded of how infuriatingly wrong he had been. 

“Hmm. I would have liked to see the expression on the Headmaster's face, had you been sorted with my house.”

“I would have liked to see the expression on your face.” Harry laughed, then sobered, glancing up to meet Severus's eyes. 

“Do you think you would have liked me better? If I'd been a Sytherin.” Severus could tell the boy was aiming for nonchalance, and failing. He considered his next words for a moment, wanting to get them right. 

“I’m not sure, Harry. I would have been surprised, and wary. I was…determined to dislike you, and I don’t know if that would have changed.” Severus admitted. “Perhaps it would have provided me the opportunity to know you better, sooner.” 

Harry looked at him seriously, considering. 

“You like me now though, right?” 

“Depends on how irritating I'm finding you that particular day.” Severus said with a smirk. 

“How about today?” Harry said, vulnerability in his eyes that told Severus it wasn't the moment to tease. He sighed softly. 

“Yes, Harry, I like you today.” 

Harry smiled into his cauldron. He spoke no further. 

They spent the remainder of the day in the potions lab, comfortably silent for most of it. The weight of the horrendous necklace remained warm on Severus's chest. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Four: The Big Game 

The morning of the first Slytherin versus Gryffindor game dawned bright and early for Harry. His nerves had been frayed the entire night, causing him to toss and turn, barely getting any sleep. He felt the weight of the entirety of Gryffindor tower on his shoulders. Everyone was counting on him to win the game for them. They were all confident in his ability to catch the snitch, so confident, in fact, that they had already planned the celebration party for afterward. 

Anytime he had walked through the common room, several students would follow him to wish him luck, and to tell him how high their hopes were for the game. It seemed as though the general distrust his schoolmates had started the year with had evaporated, at least temporarily. 

This all amounted to Harry feeling the strain of the pressure. He sat at breakfast feeling high strung and picking at his food. Eating always seemed like a herculean effort when he was nervous or upset, food turning to sand in his mouth with every bite. 

“You need to eat, Harry.” Hermione needled, pushing his plate toward him. 

“Yeah, mate, you won't be able to win the game for us on an empty stomach.” Ron added, patting Harry on the back. Harry felt a sudden surge of anxiety fueled anger pass through him. 

“I wish everyone would stop telling me that I have to win the game for them!” Harry shouted suddenly, loud and angry enough to perk the ears of several students down the length of the table. He stood from the table, embarrassed at his outburst, and stormed from the Great Hall. Soft footsteps followed him out the doors, a gentle hand on his shoulder telling him who had given chase. Harry pulled the hand into his own and turned to see Luna with the most outrageous lion hat attached to her head. Despite his distress, he couldn’t help but smile at the girl, feeling his anger lessen a little. 

“I like your hat.” He said, rather than address his obvious temper tantrum. Luna smiled and adjusted the large head of the lion to sit more comfortably on her head. It opened its mouth and roared as she did so. 

“Thank you, Harry.” She said, pulling his hand and leading him to a bench near the entrance to the Hall. “Come sit with me.” 

Harry obeyed and sat next to her without protest. She rubbed her hand along his back soothingly. “It’s okay if you don’t play in the match today.” She said seriously. “If you are upset about it.” Harry looked at her incredulously. Of course he had to play in the match, the entire house was expecting him to. He had to play, and he had to win. 

“I have to play, everyone is counting on me, they'll be so angry if I back out.” Harry told her seriously, and her face took on an almost pitying look in response to his words. 

“Hmm, is that what you think?” Luna said dreamily as she reached up and stroked the hair above his ear, Harry leaned into the touch like a cat, before he lay his head on her shoulder, the lion hat tilted dangerously toward him. 

“You don’t understand.” He said softly, after a few moments. He pulled his head up from her shoulder begrudgingly leaving the comfort of her touch. “Everyone has hated me since the beginning of the year. This is my chance to change it.” Harry explained. 

“If they only care about how well you play quidditch, then they aren't worth having as friends anyway, don't you think?” Luna kissed his cheek and stood up, pulling him with her. Harry took a moment to admire her, she was always wiser than anyone he knew, despite how she was teased for her differences. “Come on, you need to eat breakfast, you've got wrackspurts around your head, they'll go away with a full stomach.” 

Harry smiled at her, charmed as always by her unique view of the world. He felt the sudden desire to kiss her properly. He pulled her close and kissed her deeply. Their bodies were tightly pressed and Harry felt ran his hand up and down her arm gently. Luna sighed, igniting a strange fire somewhere in the pit of his stomach. 

"Ahem." 

Harry spun around in alarm to see Snape standing with his arms crossed, a scowl on his face. Harry gulped and felt a flush crawl up his face. Getting caught snogging his girlfriend by Snape was just about the most humiliating scenario he could imagine. 

"Sorry, Professor, i'll go. I think Harry would like to speak with you anyway." Luna said dreamily and floated away. Snape cast a furious look at Harry after she walked away.

"Get inside." Snape gestured to the classroom on his right. Harry was frozen on the spot, still humiliated by the interaction and by Snape's angry tone. Snape strode over to him and grab his arm roughly, dragging him toward the classroom. 

"You did not have permission to share our relationship with your little girlfriend." Snape said coolly, though his eyes flickered down to the wrist Harry was rubbing the ache out of. Truthfully, Snape's grip hadn't hurt, but he felt stung by the rough handling, far too reminded of his aunt and uncle's unrelenting grabs. 

Snape's face took on a pained expression when he noticed Harry's gesture and his eyes softened. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked quietly, gently pulling Harry's hand toward him with a critical eye before he could answer. 

“Er, no-not really, sir.” Harry stuttered out, suddenly feeling small and vulnerable. He ducked his head and lowered his shoulders, unconsciously taking on the defensive posture he was so accustomed to at the Dursley’s. Snape inhaled sharply through his nose. 

“Fuck.” He whispered, before he began casting several more healing charms than were strictly necessary considering Harry wasn't actually hurt. The expression on Snape's face was unusually easy to read. The man looked horribly guilty, devastated by an action Harry considered very mild. He wanted to reassure him, to fix that awful look on his face. 

“I'm really fine.” Harry attempted, forcing a small smile into his face. “Really, see?” Harry twisted his wrist around in front of Snape's face, demonstrating his well being. Snape sighed and gently pulled Harry's wrist back down from where he was flinging it about, holding onto it for further inspection. He did not raise his gaze from Harry's wrists when he spoke.

“I frightened you. I grabbed you, and it frightened you into sounding like a cornered animal.” Snape shook his head in frustration and took a deep breath. “I do not wish to be feared by you, Harry.” 

“It's okay, really, I've had way worse than that.” Harry reminded him. Snape was acting as if he had flayed him within an inch of his life or something. 

Snape held onto his wrist a moment longer, rubbing it softly with his thumb. Harry felt himself smile genuinely at the comforting gesture. 

“I know you have, I know.” Snape said softly. “I'm sorry.” He added in a whisper before he let go of Harry's wrist and gestured for him to sit down at a desk. Snape soon followed, looking absurd in the small desk, his long dark robes billowing out the sides. 

Snape was silent for a few moments, and Harry began to squirm in the desk, uncomfortable with the direction the morning had taken. He was already worried about the match, and now Snape was acting strangely. Harry took a breath and decided that he ought to explain himself, if only to break the silence. 

“I swear, I didn’t tell Luna anything. She is just, well, special like that I suppose. She always seems to know everything.” Harry’s words seemed to have very little impact on Snape, who continued to sit stock still, his head tilted toward the window. Harry opened his mouth to continue, feeling uncertain. 

“You do not need to defend yourself.” Snape spoke before Harry could. He let out a puff of relief at the man’s words, feeling more assured that he hadn’t made him angry. “I reacted poorly. If I ever grab you like a barbarian again, I suggest you curse me.” 

“Curse you?” Harry laughed uncomfortably, sure that Snape was joking. 

“I’m serious. If I ever put my hands on you again, you have my full permission to use whatever spell you need to make me stop.” Snape looked straight into Harry’s eyes, his expression earnest. 

“Sir, I am not going to curse you.” Harry responded in confusion, wondering if Snape had gone around the bend. “I wouldn’t do that.” 

Snape looked at Harry with an odd expression before he turned back toward the window. 

“No, no of course you wouldn’t.” Snape said quietly, tapping his fingers on the desk. 

“Right, I woul-” 

“You left breakfast.” Snape cut in, looking back to Harry and speaking as if their entire previous interaction hadn’t happened. “You need to eat.” He stood and called for a house elf, ordering more food than Harry could eat in a week. Within moments, a spread of breakfast food appeared in the classroom, and Snape gestured toward it with his head.

“Eat.” He commanded in a tone that Harry found himself compelled to obey. He gathered himself a small plate of food, as much as he thought he could reasonably stomach given that his insides were still twisting with anxiety. As he sat back down at the desk and lifted his fork he noticed Snape staring at him. 

“Er, Sir?”

“Is that all you plan on eating?” Snape asked, looking at Harry’s meagre portion with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Harry replied, putting his fork back down awkwardly. 

“You can’t possibly play a high intensity sport with that much food. You are fifteen, Harry, you can’t simply survive on the nutrient potions alone.” Snape snatched Harry’s plate up and began filling it with more food. Harry looked on with unease, sure that he couldn’t possibly eat it all. 

Snape dropped the massive plate in front of Harry without another word. He did not avert his gaze until Harry tucked in, and nodded his head in satisfaction before he returned to his own seat. Harry self consciously picked at his food as Snape watched. 

“Do you always eat so little?” Snape asked, breaking the silence. “I noticed at the farm, but I'm sure you ate more than this?” 

Harry shrugged his shoulders and considered answering honestly. He still felt a touch raw emotionally from their interactions and hoped to ease the atmosphere. 

“I slipped a bit of food in a napkin so Maeve wouldn't get on me about it.” Harry confessed. He glanced up hesitantly and saw Snape had a scowl on his face. 

“Why?” The man asked, looking uncomfortable. 

“I don't have a lot of room in my stomach after the summer.” Harry said quietly. “It takes a while to grow.” He let the implications of this statement hang in the air, not looking at Snape's face, unwilling to see the pity or disgust he was sure he would find there. 

Snape sighed and Harry dared a glance toward him. The man had his head tilted back, his nose pinched between two fingers. 

“I could kill them.” Snape muttered. Harry widened his eyes, shocked at the sincerity and intensity of the words. 

“What?” Harry pushed, wanting clarity on the outrageous statement. Snape leaned forward on the desk, making deadly eye contact. He bore the type of expression that Gryffindor's told horror stories about to first years in the common room. It was the look of a man on the verge of turning someone into a pickled potions ingredient. 

“I said, I could kill those disgusting muggles for what they have done to you.” He said with a slightly shaking voice. 

“Oh.” Harry said, feeling unsure of what a proper response would be to such a dramatic statement. “I reckon you shouldn't?” 

Snape let out a short bark of a laugh. “No, I reckon I shouldn't” He smiled at Harry, a sight that brought an answering smile to Harry's face. Then Snape began to laugh, somewhat hysterically. Harry awkwardly laughed along with him, faked laughter soon turning real as Snape continued laughing. 

“I-I have to tell you something.” Snape wiped tears from his eyes as he struggled to control this laughter. Harry stopped laughing and looked on in confusion. Snape was acting extremely strange. 

“Erm, alright…” Harry replied.

“I may have, slightly, vandalized their house.” Snape finally said, still chuckling lightly. 

“Y-you what?” Harry gasped, completely confused at Snape's pronouncement. 

Snape finally started calming this laughter and looked at Harry with an uncharacteristic shrug.  

“Well, I couldn't kill them, could I?” Snape began. “So I destroyed their house, tore apart everything that wasn't nailed down.” 

Snape took a breath and looked contemplative. “Actually, that's not true. I guess the hinges on the damn cupboard count as nailed down.” Snape added. 

Harry's mouth fell open in shock.

“You broke my- the cupboard?” 

“Oh, yes, as a matter of fact I did.” Snape confirmed. Harry sat back in his chair, glancing up to the ceiling, unsure of how to react. Snape had destroyed the Dursley's house, the cupboard, on Harry's behalf? It was difficult to believe, but somehow fit Snape perfectly. 

Well, I couldn't kill them, could I?

The absurdity of the situation hit Harry like a ton of bricks. He sat back up straight, looked Snape dead in the eye and said, "That's brilliant.” 

Then he burst into laughter, and Snape joined him immediately. They created the strangest tableau, sitting in an empty classroom, sharing a meal and laughing unashamedly. 

Harry forgot his nerves about the upcoming Quidditch game, and dug into his breakfast, suddenly feeling quite hungry.

The quidditch pitch loomed in front of Harry, looking larger and more intimidating than ever. The peace Harry had found in the classroom with Snape started to fade. He tried to remember what the man had said to him as he'd left the classroom. 

I'll win, you know, force you to be proud of a Gryffindor. 

I would think I'd remain proud of you, whether or not you catch some ridiculous flying ball. 

Harry had a small, secret smile as he thought of the words. Despite the reassurance, however, he still desperately wanted to win. 

Once the teams were in the sky, Harry felt the freedom of being airborne settle around him. He found such a sense of calm while flying, and tapped into the intense focus he could only enter when he played quidditch. 

As he circled the stands, high above the action, Harry found himself looking for Snape. He scanned the crowd looking for the man, temporarily ignoring his responsibility to look for the snitch. When he located him, Snape wasn't looking in his direction, rather following the Slytherin chaser who was flying toward the goal posts. Harry let out a huff of breath and tried to be rational. Snape couldn’t watch him the entire time, it would be far too suspicious. Still, Harry flew off with unreasonable anger flowing through him. 

As the game progressed it turned into a very close match. Both sets of chasers were working incredibly well together to put goals through. Harry cheered along as Grynfindor scored another goal. 

“Gryffindor scores, 150 Gryffindor, 140 Slytherin. This is a close one!” Lee Jordan called through the speakers. Harry knew in a game this close, it would all come down to the seekers. He needed to find the snitch sooner rather than later, before his team began to tire. 

Malfoy was incredibly easy to keep sight of, his platinum blonde hair acted like a beacon. Harry made sure to scan Malfoy's path, ensuring the other boy had no idea where the snitch was before he set his attention elsewhere. 

As he scanned the pitch he suddenly spotted a glint of gold near the goal posts. Malfoy was floating directly above it. Harry didn't dare dive toward it, lest he clue the other seeker onto its location. 

Harry casually pulled up beside Malfoy, acting as if he were simply coming over for their usual verbal spar. He kept his eye half on the snitch that flew tantalizingly close below them. 

Alright, Malfoy?” Harry shot out cheekily before he let his broom drop sideways into a barrel roll, grabbing onto the air in hopes that he had judged the distance correctly. 

Harry felt his fingers close around the snitch, cool and round. He turned out of his roll and raised his fist in the air, showing the snitch to the crowd. He smiled as the Gryffindors roared with victory. 

“Harry Potter has caught the snitch! Gryffindor wins 300-140!” Lee Jordan shouted from his booth. 

Harry attempted to catch Snape’s eye, but the man was engaged in conversation with Lucius Malfoy. Harry’s joy deflated, his victorious smile dropped from his face. 

By the time he noticed Crabbe swinging his beater's bat, it was too late. The bludger headed straight toward his head. Harry blinked, and the world turned dark.

The din from the crowd suddenly vanished, and was replaced by a low buzzing sound, disrupting any rational thought that clawed for precedence in Severus’s mind. The blue skies above the stands faded into nothingness, the area around the quidditch pitch disappearing from his awareness. The focus of Severus’s existence narrowed to a single spot. 

Even from a great distance, Severus could tell that there was too much blood surrounding Harry’s body. His head. 

His legs moved automatically, unconcerned as he shoved the people around him and he sped down the stands and onto the pitch, sprinting toward Harry's body. His breath came in short gasps as he ran obsessively, his heart pounding in his chest. 

Absurdly, he imagined the other Severus for a moment. When his counterpart had learned that Harry was still with the Dursley’s he had run to help the boy as if it were his life's purpose. Severus recalled how fast he had fled Spinner's End, the speed that Severus had thought his body incapable of. 

Severus felt in that moment he could outpace the other man with ease. Was this how he had felt? Had he been overcome with the same single minded panic that was currently clawing violently through Severus's chest? 

As he approached the prone figure, suddenly the world burst into colour. Bright red, surrounding Harry, vivid and horrible. Every reasonable thought left him, leaving behind only the repeating phrase that consumed his mind. 

Please be alive. Please.

As Severus approached, a crowd had begun to gather. Severus bodily shoved red robes out of the way. They startled and looked at him in a mixture of fear and confusion. He couldn’t manage the presence of mind to care that his actions were revealing far too much. 

“Move… MOVE!” He distantly heard his own voice. It sounded desperate, nothing like himself, but still familiar somehow. When he finally recognized the sound, it hit him in the chest like a brick. He sounded like Amos Diggory, his son, cold on the ground. 

When he reached the boy, he just barely recognized the worried face of several Weasleys. He didn’t care. His eyes raked over Harry's face, nearly dropping his wand as he moved to assess the damage.

Please be alive, please

His hand was red where it touched Harry’s brow. Severus shuddered. He steeled himself as best he could and began casting spells over the child. He started muttering to himself as he checked the most vital areas. 

Breathing, barely. 

Heart rate, weak. 

Alive. 

Severus nearly collapsed in relief. He resisted the urge to shake the boy violently, if only to spur his usual cheeky smile back into the pale face. 

“Come on Harry, come on child, wake up… wake up!” Severus could hear whispers around him, surely baffled at his overt reaction to Harry's fall. He ignored them, nothing was more important than this boy. His boy, if he was honest with himself. In the moment, Severus could be nothing but honest with himself, as flayed and raw as he felt. 

Severus continued to beg Harry to open his eyes as he started casting stabilizing spells. Enough to get him to the hospital wing.

“Come on…Harry, wake up!” He begged, gently shaking Harry's shoulders. Severus was at a loss when the shaking produced no results. He started tapping his fingers lightly on Harry's face, afraid of jostling him too much, but equally afraid that the boy wouldn't wake.  

If he died, Severus knew with sudden clarity that part of him would also die with the boy. 

“Come on, Harry, please.” Severus cried desperately, his taps turning into a stroking motion, his thumb brushing against Harry's cheek, wiping away a stream of blood that had dripped down his brow and onto his cheek like a tear. 

Finally, as despair began to fill him, Harry took a shuddering breath, and Severus felt his lungs fill in tandem. 

Alive.