Summer of Bonding by Magica Draconia
Past Featured StorySummary: It was the summer of love . . . er, no, not really. Left waiting for the Dursleys, Harry is found by the last person he'd expect to see. Written for the Summer Fic Fest 2015.
Categories: Teacher Snape > Professor Snape, Parental Snape > Guardian Snape, Fic Fests > #18 Summer 2015 Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required)
Snape Flavour: Canon Snape
Genres: Family, Hurt/Comfort
Media Type: None
Tags: None
Takes Place: 2nd summer
Warnings: None
Prompts: Bonding Experience, Abandoned
Challenges: Bonding Experience, Abandoned
Series: None
Chapters: 29 Completed: Yes Word count: 78164 Read: 212724 Published: 24 Jul 2015 Updated: 03 Jul 2019
Chapter 28 by Magica Draconia

Severus was the first downstairs the following morning despite the fact that, when he finally stumbled his way down, Harry didn’t look as though he’d slept very well. There’d been no screaming, so Severus presumed the boy had just been thinking too hard on the information he’d been given the previous day.

“Here,” he said, thrusting a bowl into Harry’s hands as he came back inside from the outhouse. “Eat this, then you can help me with packing the books away.”

Harry blinked at the bowl, seeming surprised at the obvious thickness of the porridge. “Yes, sir,” he agreed.

Leaving him to eat breakfast in the kitchen in peace, Severus retreated to the living room to begin organising the books. Usually, he would have just left them all behind, but if he was going to create a ward that worked against house-elves, then there were some that needed to go with him.

He also needed to Charm some of the more . . . active books to ‘sleep’. He’d once returned from Hogwarts to discover that one had all but eaten every other book on the shelf with it.

By the time Harry appeared beside him, Severus had a small pile of books hovering in the air.

“Here,” he said, handing another two books to the boy. “Take these and that pile there, and put them in that trunk over there.” He gestured to the small trunk that was sitting near the armchairs.

“Yessir,” said Harry, taking the books from Severus. He poked a finger at the hovering pile before obviously deciding they weren’t going to bite him, or fly at him, and picked them up. “Do they need to be put in the trunk in any particular order, sir?” he asked.

Severus shook his head. “No, the trunk will sort and shelve them automatically.”

“Really?” The boy peered into the trunk as if expecting to see tiny elves or pixies in there. Severus had to look away to stifle his amusement. “How do you fit more than two books in there?” he wondered upon seeing what, to Muggle eyes, looked like a trunk that wasn’t any bigger than the length of one standard-sized book. “Is it wizard space?”

“Of a sort,” Severus replied. “It’s an Extension Charm. Although you can’t see the dimensions of it, the trunk itself is actually capable of holding all of these books five times over.”

Harry’s expression turned appropriately awe-struck. “Wow! Is it a hard charm, sir?”

Severus handed him another handful of books. “The charm itself is not particularly difficult to learn; it’s managing to keep the space stable that is the hard part to master. In fact, I believe it’s one of the requirements for becoming a Charms Master – performing an Extension Charm that doesn’t immediately collapse.”

Gingerly, Harry lowered the books into the trunk. “Are you a Charms Master, sir?” he asked, giving Severus a curious look.

Severus snorted. “No,” he said. “Professor Flitwick is, but my Mastery is in potions.” He cast a quick glance over the remaining books, then flicked his wand to set the charm on the shelves. Harry blinked as something indefinable in the air abruptly stilled as the more active books ‘slept’. Turning, Severus flicked his wand again, and the trunk’s lid promptly snapped shut, a loud click signalling it had locked itself. “Now,” Severus said, looking at Harry. “Have you sorted your clothing into what is remaining here and what is going with you?”

“Umm . . .” Harry sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “No, sir,” he admitted.

“Then you’d better hop to it, hadn’t you?” Severus said, waving him towards the staircase. 


Once upstairs, Harry dumped all of his clothing onto the bed, then stood there, staring down at it. It was a much bigger pile than he seemed to remember Snape buying; more clothes than he’d ever even owned in his life. Up until a year ago, he’d lived in Dudley’s old hand-me-downs until they fell apart. Even once Hagrid had come to fetch him, and he’d discovered he had actually money of his own, Harry hadn’t spent much of it on clothes. The thought just hadn’t occurred to him.

But now he wasn’t sure what he should be taking with him to Hogwarts, and what should be remaining here (at his new home!). How many T-shirts would do? Trousers? Jumpers? He just . . . didn’t know.

How do Ron and Hermione do this? he wondered in frustration. How do they know what to bring with them?

Oh, he abruptly realised. Their mums probably did it for them. Mrs Weasley probably had plenty of practice!

I could ask Snape, he thought, but then imagined actually going downstairs and asking Professor Snape to help him pack his trunk. Instantly, and involuntarily, his shoulders drew up, and he cringed. No, he didn’t think he’d be doing that.

Although if he dithered any longer, Snape would likely be coming up to see what the problem was, anyway.

In the end, he decided to be logical, and split the clothing into two equal piles. One then went back into the drawers, and the other was folded neatly into his trunk. The sight of his neatly packed trunk gave him a strange feeling in his chest that he couldn’t quite identify, but Harry had had enough of odd feelings for today, and he firmly shut the lid of the trunk.

It wasn’t until he came to take it downstairs that he realised the consequences of having so much more stuff. The trunk was now heavy enough that he couldn’t lift it more than a couple of centimetres. He dragged it over to the doorway, and then stopped to reconsider. He was fairly certain that Snape would not be pleased if he physically dragged the trunk downstairs, not least because of the noise it would make as he bumped it down the stairs.

He didn’t really have a choice. Leaving the trunk in the doorway, Harry made his way downstairs. Snape was standing in the middle of the living room, the trunk with the books now sitting on top of two others. Snape tapped his wand on the top of the trunk, and all three of them immediately shrank down until the professor was able to crouch down and pick them up.

Harry couldn’t wait to learn that spell!

Snape straightened up, and spotted Harry lurking at the bottom of the staircase. His gaze flickered past Harry, and he frowned. “Is your trunk packed?” he asked, sounding as though he thought Harry had just been goofing off upstairs.

“Yes, sir,” Harry informed him. “I, um, just need some help to bring it down? It’s too heavy for me to lift on my own.”

“Ah.” Snape’s expression cleared, and he flicked his wand over Harry’s head. Harry flinched, unable to help himself. He knew Snape hadn’t been going to attack him, but he was too used to having to avoid fists from Dudley and his gang. Snape’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but the only thing he said was, “I’ve placed a Featherlight Charm on it; you’ll be able to manage it now.”

A flush heated up his cheeks as Harry mumbled a thank-you and darted back upstairs. Well, that was embarrassing! he thought, cringing all over again. He had a nasty feeling that, once again, there was going to be a talk about things in the possibly very near future. He was not looking forward to it. If they’d just leave him alone about these things, then he’d get over them much quicker.

Lifting the trunk, he suddenly remembered all those weeks ago when Snape had first found him at King’s Cross, and how his trunk then had suddenly become much lighter and easier to handle than he was expecting. What did Snape say downstairs? A Featherlight Charm? Is that what he did to it back then?

Magic really was wicked!

Carrying the trunk downstairs, Harry placed it down beside his armchair. Snape had his cloak on, and was in full teaching robes. It gave Harry a small jolt; Snape hadn’t looked this much like a professor in a while, and he’d almost forgotten the whole ‘Dungeon Bat’ look.

“Here.” Snape passed Harry his own cloak. “Put this on and bring your trunk outside. We will be Apparating to Hogwarts, but I need to set the wards here, first.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, swinging the cloak to rest over his shoulders. Getting the trunk through the front door was a little awkward – it didn’t occur to him until he was already outside that he could have pulled it outside, rather than carry it – but once outside he was fine with holding it.

Snape left the house with a trunk of his own. He placed the trunk on the ground, then turned back to the front door and began tapping on it with his wand. Harry vaguely thought it was in a reverse pattern to the one Snape had done the very first night they’d arrived at Spinner’s End. Of course it’d be a reverse pattern! a voice that sounded a lot like Hermione huffed at him. He unlocked the spell that night; now he’s locking it.

Harry rolled his eyes at himself. He knew it was a stupid thought when even his own inner voice was berating him.

“Come along, Pot– Harry,” Snape said, and gestured for Harry to stand next to him. “Hold on tight to your trunk,” he warned, and Harry tightened his grip, just as the sickening, twisting sensation of Apparation took hold. 


Instead of landing outside of Hogwarts’ gates, as they had done last time and as Harry expected them to now, they came out of the Apparation at Hogsmeade Station. Confused, Harry looked around at the eerily empty place.

“Sir?” he asked.

Snape heaved a put-upon sigh. “It was decided that even though you were coming back to Hogwarts early, you should still have the benefit of riding to the castle as your peers will,” he said, placing his own trunk on the ground. “Leave your luggage here; the house-elves will collect it and place it in your room.”

Harry slowly lowered his trunk to the floor. He wasn’t certain that he wanted a house-elf to be touching it, even if the chances of a Hogwarts elf being like Dobby were very unlikely.

“They will not tamper with it,” said Snape, apparently guessing his thoughts. “Hogwarts has very strict rules when it comes to its house-elves, both for their behaviour and their treatment.” The professor twitched his cloak straight and began to walk to an open area off to the side. “Come along. Our carriage awaits.”

Wondering just what mode of transport was actually waiting for them – he hadn’t seen how the other students were taken to the castle the previous year – Harry scurried after him.

Only to pull up short at the sight of the literal carriage that was waiting for them. It was black and wooden, with large wheels, but the sight that concerned Harry the most was what would be pulling the carriage. Hitched to the carriage were two creatures that, thanks to Snape’s figurines, he easily recognised.

Thestrals.

“They pull the Hogwarts’ carriages,” Snape’s voice echoed in his head. “Thestrals are mostly invisible, unless you have seen death.”

Harry hadn’t even given a thought to it at the time. He had seen death, hadn’t he? He’d seen Professor Quirrell die. He’d caused Professor Quirrell to die. Even if the man had allied himself with Voldemort, he’d still killed a man, however accidentally and in self-defence.

An unexpected hand on his shoulder caused Harry to flinch so violently he almost fell over. Snape’s grip tightened, keeping him upright. “Steady, Potter,” Snape said, calmly. His gaze flicked over to the Thestrals, before coming back to land on Harry. “I apologise, Harry, I should have thought to warn you of the possibility you’d be able to see the Thestrals. It always takes a bit of getting used to, the first time you realise you can see them.”

Harry’s gaze shot to Snape’s. “You can see them, too, sir?” he asked, and bit his lip at the way his voice wavered.

Snape nodded, once, briskly. “I can,” he said, and gently directed Harry towards the carriage door, which obligingly popped open for them. “Most people can’t, so people may look at you askance when it comes out that you can.”

“People will think I killed Quirrell,” muttered Harry.

Snape’s grip tightened even further on his shoulder, and he was pulled to a halt. “You did not kill Quirrell,” Snape said, firmly, and swung Harry round to face him. “Quirrell was tainted, not only by his association but by Voldemort’s possession of him. Your mother’s protection certainly injured Quirrell, but only because it was Voldemort within him. It was ultimately Voldemort escaping his body that killed him. Not you.”

Unconvinced, Harry stared down at his feet. Snape sighed, and gave him a small shake. “And besides, you would have already seen death,” the professor said. Surprised, Harry’s gaze shot up. “This is not common knowledge,” Snape warned him, “but Voldemort killed your mother in front of you. You more than likely don’t remember – and shouldn’t try to – but you had already seen death before the incident with Quirrell.”

“I—” Harry found he wasn’t really surprised by that information. It suddenly made the flashes he’d had, of green light and a high-pitched laugh, make a lot more sense.

“You should remember as well, most people will speak out of ignorance,” Snape continued. “If they know nothing of what happened, then their opinion does not matter. Thestrals are not evil; seeing Thestrals does not mean you are evil.”

“No,” Harry found himself agreeing.

Snape gave a small smile, then gave Harry a push towards the carriage again. “Now that we’ve wasted enough time, into the carriage,” he said. “They’ll be waiting for us at the castle.”

Harry smiled to himself as he clambered into the carriage. It appeared that Snape was done with ‘feelings’ for the day. 

The End.
End Notes:
Well, that wasn't where I expected things to go! xD One more chapter, I think, and this story will, at long last, be completed!


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