Severus Snape hated being on guard duty. As if it wasn’t enough having to deal with Potter during the school year, now Dumbledore expected him to keep an eye on him during the summer holidays too.

It could have been worse, he mused. At least he didn’t actually have to speak to the Potter brat. All he really had to do was sit here, invisible in his folding chair, and wait. He had taken over the shift from Hestia Jones, and the witch told him that Potter had been tidying the garden all morning.

The only break from the monotony had been at noon. Petunia Dursley had called her nephew to the kitchen door, handed him a plate and glass and screeched at him to not get mud all over the house. Harry Potter had just shrugged and sat down on the back step to eat. After finishing his food, he took his glass to the outside tap and filled it twice, gulping down the cool liquid.  

Snape grimaced, that couldn’t be hygienic.

Then the boy glanced around and, seeing nobody, went into the shed. The boy stayed in there for a few minutes, accompanied by some loud scraping noises and the sound of things falling over. Eventually he re-emerged with a lawnmower, and began mowing the lawn.

The boy was still there now, at 3 o’clock. Presently he was weeding one of the flower beds. Severus suspected the boy must have done something to offend his horse-faced aunt as she was the only other he had seen all day.

Throughout the day, the only place the boy went was around the garden and into the shed. Snape grew suspicious of the boy after he noticed his habit of looking for watchers every time he put anything away. The next time Potter did this, Severus stood up and made his way, silent and invisible, after him.

The shed was tidier than Severus had been expecting from the noises the boy had been making. Everything was in its proper place, and all of the tools were neatly stacked or hung on the walls.

Potter made a beeline for one of the corners, reaching out to move a tarpaulin which was covering an old garden table.

Underneath there was a small, lit camping stove, and on top of that, an old copper basin.

Potter was brewing potions.

“What on earth do you think you are doing?” Snape growled.

Harry span around to look at him, but of course he couldn’t see his teacher underneath his disillusionment charm. He quickly flipped the tarpaulin back into place and looked around cautiously. He reached out and pulled a shovel across the floor slightly.

“Uncle Vernon?” Harry said, inching towards the door. “I’m just going to dig out that rosehip, I came in to get a spade.”

“Potter!” Snape said loudly, “what the hell are you brewing? Of all the foolish things-“

“Snape?” Harry said, blankly. “What are you doing here? Where are you?”

“That’s Professor Snape, Potter. As you should be able to guess, I am disillusioned. Now kindly explain what exactly you are trying to accomplish with all of this.” Snape stalked over to the table and pulled back the sheet.

Harry looked sheepish.

“It’s just a bit of practise, Sir. I had some ingredients left after the end of last year, so I’m just using them up.”

“Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? Do you? Have you not learned anything in my class? And you are not even using a real cauldron!”

“I know, Sir. But I looked this all up! This thing,” Harry indicated the copper basin, “Is pure copper. Its base is even thick enough to meet cauldron regulations! Trust me, Percy went on about them enough. It’s safe. The gas burner is okay too, I think. As long as it doesn’t run out at one of the dangerous stages.”

“And what is it that you are attempting to brew?” Snape asked. Looking sceptically at the potion, which was simmering an opaque lilac colour.

“It’s um, just to use up the rest of my stuff up really-“

“Potter.”

“Just dreamless sleep, sir. Nothing interesting.”

There was silence for about a minute, and Harry took the time to carefully stir the potion. Then he picked up a tin of nails from a shelf and carefully dropped it before bending down and tidying up.

“What is it that you are having nightmares about, Potter?”

Harry looked up in the direction of the voice.

“I’m not having nightmares, Professor. I’m just p-“

“Don’t lie to me! You are not ‘just’ anything, Potter. Kingfisher liver, St John’s wort? Those aren’t a part of your potions kit. Do you think I am a total idiot? And Dreamless Sleep is not in the syllabus. It is not even in your textbook. You are clearly using it yourself, so why? Unless you are having more visions?”

“No! I’m not seeing anything!” Harry swallowed. “Alright, so maybe I am having some bad dreams. About Cedric, and the graveyard and… and Him- But this isn’t against the rules.”

“You think not?” Snape sneered. “Does this not look like misuse of magic, underage wizardry or misuse of muggle artefacts to you?”

Harry paled, “I thought that just included spells?”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake. No, it is not just spells. What would happen if your aunt decided to cook with that pot after you are done with it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Of course you don’t know. And that is precisely why you are not allowed to use magic when an adult wizard is not present.” Snape said.

“I can’t sleep.” Harry said after a moment of silence. “The nightmares aren’t usually this bad, but I wake up every night and my… my family wake up too and they’re not happy either. This is the first chance I’ve had to try making this. But I’ve been reading up about it for ages. It looks fine so far.”

Harry took a few loud steps without moving, waited a second then did the same thing again.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Snape hissed.

Harry looked surprised, “I’m supposed to be fixing up the garden. I don’t want the Dursley’s to know what I’m doing- Uncle Vernon would kill me.”

“Are you unsafe here?”

The question was asked seriously, and Harry was surprised.

“Well, they’d be really mad if they found out. Like really mad. After what happened to Dudley the other day, Uncle Vernon would probably throw me out again.”

“Professor Dumbledore would not allow that. You must stay here for at least a month.”

Harry grimaced, “Well, in that case, I’d be locked in my room for the rest of the summer.” He glanced back in the direction of the house, “They’ve already replaced the bars.”

Harry saw the spoon move slightly, and assumed that Snape must be having a look at the potion. Then, to his horror, it started stirring the wrong way.

“Sir, what are you doing?”

“Be quiet, Potter, if you do not want anyone to hear us. I know what I am doing.”

The boy groaned. He hoped Snape wasn’t going to mess it up on purpose. He risked a quick glance out of the door to check that Aunt Petunia wasn’t storming across the lawn to see what was keeping him.

“Have you got any vials?” Snape asked.

Harry bit his lip, embarrassed. “Sort of? But the potion won’t be ready for hours.”

Snape frowned, “Exactly how were you proposing to be outside when it is ready? You have been out here since 8 this morning. Surely you will be expected to go inside eventually?”

“Well, I’m supposed to keep going until Uncle Vernon tells me to stop. He doesn’t get back until half five. Then, all I need to do is not take my shoes off when I go back inside and they’ll want me to stay out here until it gets dark. Easy.” He shrugged.

“Excellent plan.” Snape said sarcastically. “Luckily for you, I have a faster method than the one you were using.”

“Really” Harry asked, “what?”

“Essentially it requires stirring constantly in a clockwise direction, instead of occasionally clockwise. As such, this can be ready in ten minutes. As long as you have somewhere to store it?”

Harry nodded, “I’ll go fetch them.”

He disappeared out of the shed and went straight to the kitchen door.

“Aunt Petunia?”

The woman loomed up suddenly, brandishing a mop.

“Don’t you bring those muddy feet in here, boy.”

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Is there any more recycling? The bins do go out on Tuesdays, right?”

She reached out and grabbed a bag from next to the sink, thrusting it at Harry.

“Here, and make sure you sort it properly or you’ll have no dinner. And wash out those bottles, or you’ll attract rats!”

Walking away from his disgusted aunt, Harry carried the bag around the side of the house to where the bins were hidden from view. Glancing inside, he smiled. Jackpot.

He collected what he needed, and rinsed everything out. That was the best he could manage. He was a little worried about what Snape’s reaction was going to be, but that couldn’t be helped.

Heading back into the shed, Harry thought that maybe Snape had left. Everything was so still and undisturbed.

“What are those supposed to be?” A quiet voice asked from right beside Harry, almost making him drop what he was carrying.

“They’re bottles.” Harry said, defensively. “I know they don’t look like anything we’d use at school, but they’re the right size for a dose and the potion is endothermic anyway, so it’s not like it’s going to melt.”

Snape took one of the bottles out of the boy’s hand to examine it more closely. They were plastic coke bottles, smaller than the size of a can and with a tightly closing lid. Loathe as he was to admit it, Potter was right. They would do in a pinch.

“Fine.” He said eventually. “I will pour them out and you will get back to whatever work you have been given for your poor behaviour.”

Harry sighed and took the shovel out to attack the rosehip plant which Aunt Petunia had condemned as ‘ugly’ yesterday.

“I’m not behaving any worse than usual.” He muttered, “They just wish they had their house elf all the time.”

 Ten minutes later, Harry had finished wrestling the plant into one of the wheelie bins and went to return his tools.

The bottles were sitting in a row on the floor. All filled to the exact same level, with no signs of spills on the wooden floor. The gas burner was switched off and back in its usual place too. The copper basin however was floating in mid-air.

Harry shook his head and reminded himself that Snape was invisible and the man was probably holding it.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Somebody had to make sure you weren’t going to poison yourself, Mr Potter. That would be an unexpected way for the Chosen One to die.”

“All the same, Professor, thank you.”

“Do not waste my efforts by having these confiscated.” Snape warned.

“Oh no, I’ve got a plan to get them upstairs.”

“Good. You insist you have read the instructions for this Draught? Then you understand you cannot take more than one a night, and no more than three in a week?”

Harry nodded, he knew he had to watch carefully how much he was taking. The potion was toxic if you took too much of it.

“I am confiscating this tub as well, Mr Potter.” The basin raised slightly as Snape held it up. “Whatever research you might have done, this is far too dangerous to be left here where muggles might find it.”

Harry looked at the bottles, there were only six of them. Just enough for two weeks. And according to Snape he still had at least three weeks at the Dursley’s.

“In two weeks’ time,” Snape continued, “I will find some way to deliver three more potions. There will be no need for you to brew again, do you understand?”

Harry nodded.

“And just to make that stick in your undeniably sluggish brain, I expect an essay on the properties required for a ministry approved cauldron, one foot. And since you are such an expert, you have three days. You can send it with that owl of yours.”

The boy groaned.

“You may send it to Hogwarts and I will collect it from there. Inform me if the potion is ineffective.”

“Yes, Professor. Thank you for the help.”

Snape grunted and the basin floated away through the door of the shed. Harry watched as it passed around the side of the house.

“Boy!”

Uncle Vernon was shouting from the conservatory. Excellent.

“Yeah?” Harry jogged over to the man. He glanced up at the beady eyes, hoping the man hadn’t seen anything or he was dead meat.

“Have you done everything your aunt asked, yet? Or have you been lazing about as usual.”

“I’m done.”

“Loafing about in the sun then? Suppose it never occurred to you that your aunt might want help with something else, did it boy?”

“I was just putting everything back.” Harry said defensively.

“Well then get a move on. Then you can just finish the dinner and let your aunt put her feet up for a minute.” He stared at Harry for a moment. “Well hop to it boy, you’re getting slower by the minute.”

The teenager ran back to the shed. He didn’t notice that the copper basin had made its way back into the garden during his conversation with his uncle, and he didn’t notice it leave again either.

Hours later, long after Severus Snape had left Privet drive in the capable hands of Kingsley Shaklebolt, the potions master was settled into his favourite armchair with a glass of firewhiskey and a copy of the Quibbler. Honestly he hated the paper, but at least he knew what was written here was rubbish. It was harder to tell with the Prophet.

His thoughts turned easily from the Plum Jam recipe in front of him to his meeting with the Boy Who Lived.

It had almost been a civil conversation, he thought. Potter had been his usual, foolish self. Arrogantly believing he had enough experience and skill to brew such a complex potion. Heavens only knew how much of the fumes the boy had inhaled that afternoon before Severus had stopped him.

Reluctantly, Severus had to admit that the potion had been competently brewed, especially given the conditions it was prepared in.

He took a sip of the whiskey and sighed, he pitied the boy a little. Severus knew what it was like to suffer from nightmares, and the child was clearly used to them. It did not sound as if his relatives were particularly sympathetic either. Potter looked exhausted and it was only a short while since term had ended. They were clearly not giving him a lot of time to rest.

Well, Severus was expecting the boy to send him an owl in a couple of days, so he would know how well the potions had worked by then. And he would be able to get some idea of how Potter was getting on as well. Something about the way Petunia and her husband treated their nephew didn’t sit quite right. Snape supposed he could stand to keep half an eye on it.

He drained his glass and sent the bottle back to the cupboard with a banishing spell, glad that he was due a few days of free time before either of his masters was due to call him.

At least the afternoon had not been quite as dull as he had been expecting.