Moonscapes by shadowienne
Summary: Harry’s Halloween trip to an art gallery leads to shocking surprises for both him and Snape.
Categories: Teacher Snape > Professor Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Dudley, Hermione, Original Character, Petunia, Vernon
Snape Flavour: None
Genres: Drama, Fantasy, Horror
Media Type: None
Tags: Alternate Universe, Snape-meets-Dursleys, Vampires
Takes Place: 6th Year
Warnings: Abusive Dursleys, Violence
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes Word count: 7549 Read: 3498 Published: 31 Oct 2015 Updated: 31 Oct 2015
Moonscapes by shadowienne

“Have you put your name in the lottery drawing yet, Harry?” asked Hermione, plopping her school bag down next to the plushy chair in the Gryffindor Common Room.

Harry Potter shook his head, still pulling his finger down the index page of “One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi”. He’d seen the Bentwhistle entry just a moment ago… Where was it?

“Aren’t you going to try to win the field trip tickets to the art exhibition?” Hermione persisted, leaning forward to peer at her friend over the top edge of his thick book. “Wouldn’t it be neat to see the Moonscapes paintings in person and meet the artist, too?”

Harry frowned. “I’m not really that much into art, to be honest,” he replied. “And I’m not thrilled at the idea of meeting a vampire.”

“You said it, mate,” Ron stated, nodding vigorously. “Who needs to see the paintings live and in person? They’ll publish photos in the winter edition of “Godric’s Gallery”, you know. They always do, whenever they have a fall exhibition in London. Just wait for the magazine to come out, and they’ll have full-color photos of all of the paintings.”

Hermione huffed. “First of all, they won’t publish ALL of the paintings, just a select few. Secondly, full color won’t really work, will it, when the paintings are mainly in shades of gray and black. Not to mention, the photos will be tiny, compared to the full-sized canvases. I don’t understand why anyone wouldn’t want to go, if they got a chance. The opportunity is better than a Hogsmeade weekend, Ronald Weasley, so stop trying to dissuade Harry.”

“HA!” Harry took his quill and made a thick mark by the Bentwhistle entry on the index page. “Found it.”

“Harry?” Hermione said, an edge to her voice. “Are you even listening to me?”

The black-haired boy’s green eyes turned toward her at last. “Of course, but like I said, I’m not really that keen on going.”

“But you’ll put your name into the drawing, won’t you, just in case?” she persisted. “If you win a ticket and I don’t, you can give it to me. And if we both win, we can go together.”

“Hey! What about me?” Ron complained immediately. “You two are just going off leaving me all alone?”

“You don’t want to go at all,” Hermione reminded him.

“Well, neither does Harry,” countered Ron.

“And besides, there are over four hundred students at Hogwarts and only forty tickets available, so we might not get to go anyway,” Harry said reasonably.

“But you will put your name into the drawing, please Harry?” Hermione insisted. “Please?”

Harry sighed, brushing his fringe off his forehead for a second. “Yeah, sure, Hermione. Anything for you.” He gave her a crooked grin. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“Thanks, Harry!” The bushy-haired girl beamed at him. “I knew I could count on you.”

From the depths of the other plushy chair, Ron huffed impatiently. “Yeah, and I’m just chopped thestrel spleen.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and Harry laughed. As far as he was concerned, at ten to one odds against them, they wouldn’t have to worry about winning the tickets at all. He shoved his books into his bag and climbed the stairs to the Sixth Year boys’ dormitory.

-:- -:- -:-

Harry stood, hesitating, before the large copper box located in the entrance hall of Hogwarts castle. Students who wished to enter the drawing for the Moonscapes tickets needed to put their names into the copper box by noon today. He shuddered involuntarily, thinking that this process reminded him all too much of the Goblet of Fire, which he had NOT put his name into, but it had come out anyway, forcing him into competing in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. In reality, he truly didn’t want to go to the Moonscapes exhibition, but he had promised Hermione that he’d put his name in for a chance at winning a ticket.

“Ten to one… “ he muttered to encourage himself.

“Talking to yourself, Potter?” sneered a familiar low voice.

Inwardly, Harry groaned. Snape. Just what he needed at this moment.

“Not really, Professor,” he said, forcing a nonchalant tone.

“You could have fooled me,” Snape continued, sweeping his robes into full view as Harry stood before the copper box.

“I was just calculating the odds of winning a ticket,” Harry said, semi-truthfully. “Ten to one, I don’t win a ticket.”

“Then why bother at all?” Snape asked with more than a tinge of sarcasm. “Or do you expect the lottery to make a magical exception for the Boy-Who-Lived?”

Glaring at Snape, Harry quickly stepped up to the box and shoved the small slip of paper bearing his name into the slit in the copper top. “I don’t expect anything, Professor, except to not win a ticket. I’m simply entering to give Hermione an extra chance of going to the exhibition. I promised her that if she didn’t win a ticket of her own and I did, I’d let her have mine.”

Snape jerked his chin in disgust. “So very self-sacrificing,” he sneered. “So very Gryffindor.”

The Gryffindor Sixth Year simply shrugged. “Yeah,” he replied airily, “That’s me.” He turned his back on the man in black and stalked away toward Professor Flitwick’s Charms classroom where his next class was to be held.

Behind him, Severus Snape stood stock still, staring after the arrogant boy’s back. Just like Potter, he thought. To put his name into the drawing to help a friend. In all likelihood, someone somewhere would, indeed, make an exception when they saw the Boy-Who-Lived’s name, allotting him a ticket, which he would then give to the Granger girl.

The Defense teacher’s mouth twisted, as if he’d eaten a sour lemon. In a different lottery altogether, his own name had been drawn as one of the chaperones for the field trip to the art gallery. He supposed, if he were forced to spend a rare free evening in the company of dunderheads, that it would be preferable to have Granger in his charge, rather than Potter. Granger, on her own, rarely got into trouble, whereas her messy-haired friend attracted trouble like an electric magnet.

Snape’s upper lip lifted in a snarl as another thought occurred to him. Hopefully, the Weasley boy had no interest in art. If all three Gryffindors… NO! He would not even consider the possibility!

And with a final, decisive shake of his head, he sent his long black hair swinging as he whirled and headed for the dungeon stairs to seek refuge in his office.

-:- -:- -:-

Four days later, just after the start of breakfast on Halloween morning, Hermione was practically leaping for joy. Professor Albus Dumbledore had conducted the drawing in the Great Hall first thing that morning, and the forty tickets had been awarded for the field trip.

“Oh, isn’t it wonderful, Harry?” She dug her fingertips into his shoulder. “We both won! We get to go to London to see the Moonscapes paintings at the New Frontiers Gallery! I’m so excited!” She had to speak somewhat louder than usual to be heard over the elevated chatter of other excited students filling the breakfast tables. Here and there, she could see tickets changing hands, occasionally accompanied by a surreptitious exchange of galleons or sickles.

“I never would have guessed,” sighed her fellow Gryffindor. “Do you want my ticket to take one of your friends?”

“You ARE my friend, and I want you to see these paintings, Harry. Art is supposed to be good for your soul, and you need to have your soul enriched.”

“What!” Harry stared at her. “Why do you say that?”

“Because,” Hermione started in on him as he forked scrambled eggs into his mouth, “you have too much to worry about in the wizarding world, and you need a break from the everyday slog, and you—“

“All right, all right,” Harry said, shaking his head. “I’m sure you could publish an encyclopedia about all the reasons you believe I need to fill my head with art, but I still say a vampire’s paintings are some of the last things I would spend the day looking at.”

“But these are modern masterpieces!” Hermione protested. “Nobody has ever painted anything like them! You’ll enjoy them, I promise.”

Ron snorted past a sausage. “Just keep Harry away from that vampire, at all costs.”

Harry was less concerned about the vampire artist, Buddleia Vesper, than he was about one of the chaperones for the gallery visit. Dumbledore had announced that the forty students would be accompanied by Professors Filius Flitwick and Severus Snape. In Harry’s opinion, if anyone could absolutely ruin this trip for him, it would be Snape.

“Maybe I should just stay at the castle and go to the Halloween Feast instead,” Harry said thoughtfully. “I don’t really need to go to a gallery on Halloween night. Are you sure you don’t want my ticket to take another friend?”

“Harry Potter, you stop that! You are coming with me and the other lucky students, and you WILL enjoy yourself. End of story.” Hermione nearly thrust out her lower lip to complete the stubborn expression on her face.

“Okay,” sighed Harry. “If you insist.”

“I certainly do,” she asserted firmly.

Ron waved a forkful of fried tomatoes at his best friend. “You might want to wear a thick leather strap around your neck, mate. Just in case.”

-:- -:- -:-

The New Frontiers Art Gallery was quite impressive, Harry had to admit, peering through a broad, open doorway from the dimly-lit corridor where he had arrived. The throng of eager spectators moving about appeared to be a mixture of witches, wizards, and Muggles. Professor Flitwick had already explained before they left Hogwarts that a certain part of the gallery was open to the general public, while a different section was reserved for the magical viewers only, through this broad doorway, which had a Muggle-repelling charm cast upon it.

The Muggles could view certain Moonscapes paintings in their static state – they were charmed to not move in the presence of Muggles – and they could even purchase those paintings to be delivered at the end of the exhibition, if they so desired. When a Muggle bought one of the paintings, the charm would remain in effect as long as the painting stayed in Muggle surroundings. However, if a wizard took possession of a Muggle-owned Moonscapes painting in the future, the wizard could Finite the charm, restoring the painting to its natural moving state.

The static Moonscapes paintings were displayed in the general area of the exhibition hall, while the moving versions were shown only in the wizarding section. Buddleia Vesper would interact with all of her admiring public, traveling back and forth between both sides of the gallery, but only the wizarding public would know that she was a vampire.

The Hogwarts contingent had traveled to the gallery by Floo, with Severus Snape going first, and Filius Flitwick following the final student into the Floo. The Floo, of course, opened into a corridor on the wizarding side of the New Frontiers Gallery, and Harry and Hermione were waiting for the final few students to come through before Snape would allow them to venture through the open doorway next to where they were now standing in order to view the static paintings in the general gallery.

Hermione, of course, had already bought a wizarding version of the program, and she was avidly reading aloud so that Harry would grasp an understanding of why these paintings were so significant.

“Buddleia Vesper, now one hundred and twenty-seven, was bitten by a vampire when she was sixteen years old. She was a witch and a budding artist, but from that time onwards, she thought she could only paint indoors during the day because of the hazards of exposure to direct sunlight. She had already painted several landscapes and showed immense potential before she was turned into a vampire, so her parents hired tutors to help her develop her abilities, even though she painted first from sketches, and later from photographs, instead of en plein air.

“Then, just a few years ago, she got the idea of painting by moonlight, so she could enjoy painting outdoors again, and she developed her techniques for painting the pictures she calls Moonscapes. She would begin her paintings after sundown, paint through the night, and put her work aside before sunrise.

“She painted mainly during the gibbous moons, to have adequate light to see by, and the paintings themselves are charmed to reflect the passage of the moon, with shifting light and shadows in real time. If a Muggle buys a painting, the canvas would reflect a single image which would not change, but if a wizard buys the painting, the magical viewers can enjoy watching a gradual change in lightplay over twelve hours’ time before the cycle repeats itself. Also, anything in the picture that might move in real life, such as tree limbs and leaves blowing in the wind will move in the picture, as long as there are no Muggles present.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose as Hermione read aloud, impressed in spite of himself. He hadn’t expected to be turned on by moonlit pictures, but now it was beginning to sound quite interesting.

“Your attention, please,” said Filius Flitwick in his high, squeaky voice. “We will be entering the main gallery to view the static Moonscapes, then we shall proceed to the wizards’ gallery to enjoy the moving Moonscapes. You may wander at will, but you may not exit the building, and all use of magic is strictly forbidden, even in the wizarding gallery. I expect for you to conduct yourselves with decorum, and anyone who breaks school rules or otherwise misbehaves, will earn two weeks’ worth of nightly detentions, plus you will be banned from your next two Hogsmeade weekends. Understood?”

All of the students nodded silently.

“This way, then,” said Snape’s deep baritone, and he glowered threateningly over the forty students who were all dressed in their Muggle best.

Snape himself wore basic black – slacks, shirt, blazer, and a dark green necktie for a surprising contrast. He had pulled his long hair smoothly back into a ponytail, and Harry couldn’t help thinking that his nemesis from the Potions dungeon actually looked quite presentable. Not that Harry would dream of presenting Snape to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, but he certainly wouldn’t stand out as a misfit in a Muggle crowd.

The two grown wizards and their charges entered the main part of the gallery, and they split up into smaller groups to view the various moonlit paintings displayed on the walls. In deference to the subject matter, the lighting in the main gallery had been subdued for the exhibition, with pockets of shadow separating each section of wall where a Moonscape was hung. The overall effect caused the viewers to feel the nighttime surrounding them, much more so than if the gallery had been brightly lit throughout.

Some gallery employee had gotten into the spirit of the season and draped artificial cobwebs hither and thither, barely seen as they disappeared into the shadows on this Halloween night. The overall atmosphere emphasized the fact that spirits roamed the earth through the hours of darkness, retreating only when the first rays of sun would peek above the morrow’s horizon.

Ducking around a dangling spiderweb, Harry headed toward another wall of Moonscapes where fewer spectators were standing. It was hard to enjoy a painting when too many people were crowding around it. Now, standing alone in front of one of the eerie landscapes, he could study it at his leisure. Harry knew these versions of the paintings wouldn’t move, but in his mind’s eye, he could almost see the moon, which was featured in each of the paintings, slowly traversing the sky, causing the shadows to shift in its wake.

Each painting possessed a haunting quality, something beyond the chill of the gray landscape beneath a gibbous moon. The boy decided the paintings must reflect the desperation, the yearning to be outside, though the artist remained bound by indoor gloom during the long hours ruled by the sun. The feeling intensified as the Gryffindor moved from painting to painting, always seeking the ones where he could stand alone, or nearly so.

The dark shadows closed in on Harry, surrounding him as he gazed at the Moonscapes, and he was reminded strongly of the shadows which ruled his own life, especially on Halloween, when his parents had died to save his life when he was only a toddler.

Having viewed the majority of the static paintings, Harry decided that the snow-covered Moonscapes affected him the most. Just the idea of the artist painting in the freezing cold that she could no longer feel, capturing the frigid nocturnal world that had become her stalking ground – it literally gave him the shivers.

Like Remus Lupin, she had been turned against her will, but unlike the werewolf, Buddleia Vesper must hide from the threat of day, left with only the nighttime hours to vent her passion for painting the world as most people never bothered to see it – colors muted to shades of gray, warm sunlight faded to the moon’s pale reflection. How sad appeared the world of the vampire, how heartbreakingly bereft of the simple pleasures of day.

“Enjoying yourself, Potter?” Snape’s snide question from the shadow to Harry’s right caught the boy off guard.

“Yes, actually I am,” he replied without thinking.

“Why?” sneered the Potions Master-turned-Defense teacher.

Harry considered for a moment. “I guess I was thinking about how sad it must be for Buddleia Vesper to be a – you know. It really seems to show up in her paintings. Only being able to go out at night, painting in the freezing cold, which most people couldn’t do, the loneliness, the desperation… “ He broke off as Snape stared at him. “It just makes me feel sad for her, that’s all.”

After a very long moment, Snape muttered, “You have more than your mother’s eyes…” With a sweeping turn worthy of the robes he wasn’t wearing, the man departed, his black eyes now fixed upon a Ravenclaw couple who looked on the verge of snogging in a far corner of the main gallery.

“Harry are you ready to go to the other gallery?” whispered Hermione behind his shoulder, making Harry jump. “I really want to see the other paintings in their full glory.”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry replied, and he followed the girl through the Muggle-repelling doorway into the dim corridor leading to the wizarding gallery. “How come they can have two galleries here, anyway?” he asked.

Hermione waved a hand. “Didn’t you know? The entire gallery is owned by a wizarding family, but they figured they could make more income by showing Muggle art instead of limiting themselves to wizarding artists, of which there really aren’t that many, at least not ones who want to exhibit. So they have the main gallery for the general public, but they can also display moving pictures in the wizarding side from time to time, just to give our kind a place to show their art. Even so, the Moonscapes exhibition is a unique event, and they are so happy to have enough paintings to show Ms. Vesper’s work on both sides of the gallery. Speaking of whom… “

Hermione nodded toward the back of the wizarding gallery, where a slightly-plump, red-haired girl smiled kindly at someone holding out a program to be autographed. Although seemingly focused on the person who was speaking with her, Buddleia Vesper’s eyes swept across the room, pausing when she spotted Harry standing with Hermione. One of her eyebrows rose, then she nodded slightly in Harry’s direction, obviously having recognized him from photographs.

“That’s her? The vampire?” he whispered, staring. “She reminds me of Ron’s mum, but so much younger! I never would’ve suspected her of being a vampire.” He reddened a bit when the vampire nodded at him, not having expected to be singled out for any reason.

Hermione sighed, shaking her head slightly. “She was only sixteen when she was bitten. She never aged after that.”

The two students slowly circled through the gallery, admiring the moonlit paintings. Here and there, they could detect movement, such as the long, dark fronds of a weeping willow swaying against a silvered hillside. They paused for a good ten minutes in front of another painting to watch the moon pass behind the chimney of a rustic, backlit cottage. And in still another painting, they saw a shadow slowly creep up the side of a stone wall as the moon sank toward the west.

Harry and Hermione moved from painting to painting, taking their time studying them, but Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was always watching him. Whenever he turned his head to scan the dimly-lit wizarding gallery, he inevitably spotted the vampire’s gaze staring unwaveringly at him. He couldn’t help feeling unnerved at her attention.

“These are so magnificent,” Hermione breathed. “She truly has a special gift. And I’m so glad she found a way to paint outdoors again. I wish I could buy one of her paintings.”

The Gryffindors continued to drift from one display to the next, and at long last, Harry felt the hairs lie flat against the nape of his neck once more. He no longer felt the vampire’s scrutiny. His shoulders relaxed, and he heaved a sigh of relief. This was turning out to be a Halloween he would never forget. Ron was right. He should have worn a thick leather strap around his neck. The vampire artist had far too keen an interest in Harry for his peace of mind…

When another need arose, the black-haired boy began looking this way and that, craning his neck to see in the subdued lighting of the gallery.

“I think Buddleia Vesper might have gone into the main gallery,” Hermione informed him, misinterpreting his actions.

“It’s not that,” Harry admitted. “I was just looking for the men’s room.”

“Oh,” said Hermione. “I think I noticed a sign for the restrooms in the other hallway off the side of the main gallery. You might go check there.”

“I will,” said Harry. “See you in a bit.”

“Sure,” replied Hermione, but she couldn’t resist adding, “But you are glad you came, aren’t you?”

Harry just grinned at her and headed back through the door toward the main gallery. They must be doing crowd control, he thought, letting just a manageable number of people into the gallery at a time. The gallery guests looked highly enthusiastic, but the size of the crowd remained comfortable, not overwhelming, despite Hermione’s insistence that this exhibition was a major event, even in the Muggle world.

He spotted Snape, who also noticed him, and Harry cut right along the darkened wall of the main gallery, heading for the second corridor, which Hermione had indicated. Sure enough, he saw signs labeling the public restrooms, and he disappeared into the one with the male icon on the door.

Harry made use of the men’s room and had just returned to the main gallery when he encountered the last person he would have ever expected to see.

“Dudley!”

“You!” His immense cousin looked as startled as Harry felt. “What are you doing here, Potter?”

“Er, I’m on a field trip with people from my school,” Harry replied.

“Oh, yeah?” sneered Dudley, looking around and seeing only ordinary Brits walking about. “Doesn’t look like any of your lot are here. Don’t they all wear capes or something? What are you really doing here, Potter? Playing truant, are you? Maybe I should tell Mum and Dad. If you don’t want to go to that school of yours, they can always take you home and lock you in the you-know.”

The cupboard, Harry knew. But now he had another worry. “Your parents are here?”

“Sure. They took me out of Smeltings for this exhibition. Mum told the Headmaster it would be good for me to see artwork. I really don’t care, just so long as I got the trip.”

“Where are they now?”

Dudley pointed rather rudely. “Over there. Mum just bought one of the paintings. She’s having it delivered when the exhibition ends in December.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. Petunia Dursley was shaking the hand of what could only be the gallery manager, and he was handing her what could only be a receipt … for a Moonscape painted by a vampire! If only she knew! Truly, this must be Halloween, for only then could this happen!

“Did it cost a lot?” Harry asked, his brain half frozen with shock. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Of course it did, you brainless dolt! That’s why she bought it! So she could tell everyone how much it cost. And it cost plenty, believe you me.” Dudley huffed impatiently. “I didn’t know it would take this long to buy a painting. We’re meant to go to dinner afterwards, and I’m getting hungry.”

When wasn’t his cousin hungry, Harry wondered absently, looking worriedly toward his aunt. And, of course, there was Uncle Vernon, too. If they saw him… But Dudley was blocking Harry’s way from the narrow hallway into the main gallery, and he’d have to go through the main gallery to get to the door into the wizarding gallery where the Dursleys couldn’t follow. If only the subdued lighting played in his favor…

But of course it didn’t.

“BOY!”

Harry gulped, backing into the small, dim hallway again as Vernon began to stalk angrily in his direction. Maybe there was an emergency exit at the end of the hall? Hopefully? Harry turned tail and sprinted along the carpeted corridor, his worn trainers silent in their flight. He could hear Dudley gasping along behind him, and he could hear his cousin’s footsteps thudding in spite of the carpeting.

Harry ran the length of one hallway, turned a corner to his right, and ran until he reached the end of the second corridor, but instead of an emergency exit, he found only a pair of locked doors, one on the right side wall, the other on the end wall. Dudley slammed into him from behind, flattening Harry against the end door, the knob digging painfully into his midsection.

“Going somewhere, Potter?” Dudley demanded mockingly. “Dad wanted a word with you, and it’s very rude to run out on him. I guess they didn’t bother to teach you any manners at that school of yours, did they?”

Harry twisted slightly in his cousin’s grip, but he couldn’t break free. When he turned his head, he could see Vernon approaching, his heavy feet sinking into the thick carpeting, with a glimpse of what was probably Petunia’s skirt following in his wake.

Dudley’s weight was shoved off of Harry, and he managed to gasp for air before Vernon’s hand closed around his nephew’s throat.

-:- -:- -:-

Severus Snape frowned.

One side of his mind continued to monitor the Hogwarts students, while the other side replayed Potter’s comments about the Moonscapes paintings.

Surprisingly, the boy’s observations had proved quite astute. His words mirrored what his mother – Lily – would have said, had she spent time viewing the eerily-moonlit landscapes. Lily had always had a certain sensitivity toward things like that, and she would have empathized with the vampire artist, too. This Snape knew, without a doubt.

For all that he resembled his Gryffindor sire, young Potter had his mother’s sensitivity and empathy, something which truly surprised Snape. He would not have thought Potter capable of thinking of anyone beyond himself. Or, possibly, his two Gryffindor compatriots.

Speaking of Potter…

The black-haired brat had left the wizarding side of the gallery. Surely, he couldn’t have gotten bored so quickly… No, wait – he was headed for the restrooms. The boy couldn’t have remembered to go before leaving the castle…

Snape snorted quietly. Children were all the same.

He made another quick round of the gallery, dodging spiderwebs – what idiot would think to put artificial spiderwebs in an art gallery, for Merlin’s sake? He spotted the Ravenclaw couple chastely holding hands before a Moonscape, but they still seemed to have eyes more for each other than for the artwork.

And yes, there was Potter emerging at last from the men’s room. Only to find his way blocked by a whale of a youth…

Snape’s eyes narrowed at the unlikely pair from across the gallery. They appeared to know each other, from the way they were speaking to each other. The blond whale pointed very rudely across the room, and Snape saw Potter’s expression change when he looked in the direction that the other boy was pointing. Snape looked that way himself…

It took him a moment to recognize the woman shaking hands with the wizard he knew to be the gallery manager. Petunia Evans! Or, rather, Dursley, since she was married to some Muggle of that name. So, the blond whale – was this her son? He only took after her in coloring. But that mountain of a man standing next to the pinch-thin Petunia, the one with the oily smile beneath his moustache… That must be Dursley himself. These were the people who raised Potter…

“BOY!” The man had virtually shouted across the room.

Snape’s sharp eyes flicked back to see Potter turn tail and run down the darkened hallway, with the blond whale lumbering behind him. The obese man and his scrawny wife followed suit. Something wasn’t right here… He took a few steps toward the hallway, felt something swish past his right elbow, but when he looked quickly to his right, he saw nothing. And that’s when he realized that Potter was in even more serious trouble than the whale of a boy and the obese man could offer.

“Potter!” Snape’s whisper was nearly a prayer…

-:- -:- -:-

“What are you doing here, boy?” Vernon demanded, squeezing until Harry’s eyes saw spots dancing in the dim corridor.

“A field trip, Uncle Vernon.” The words emerged hoarsely with a faint wheeze. “With other students and teachers from my school.”

Vernon’s head whipped around, and he stared suspiciously along the length of the deserted corridor.

“I don’t see anyone who looks like the usual freaks we’ve met in the past,” Vernon declared. He returned his attention to Harry. “I think you’re lying.”

“No, it’s the truth!” Harry gasped. “My professors and the other students are in the gallery, looking at the paintings.”

By this time, Petunia had reached the three males taking up most of the space in front of the end door. “What in heaven’s name is going on here?” she asked, her face paling a bit when she spotted her husband’s hand grasping Harry’s throat. “Vernon… “

“The boy claims he’s with freaks from his school, but I don’t see anyone but him,” Vernon said with a grim smile. “I think we need to take him home and lock him up to teach him a lesson about running away from that school.”

Petunia’s expression soured instantly. “We were supposed to go to dinner,” she complained. “And now we have to deal with him instead?”

“Apparently so,” Vernon said with a growl, and he grabbed Harry’s shoulder in a painful grip, still keeping a hold on the boy’s throat, and began to pull him roughly back down the lengthy corridor.

For a moment, Harry didn’t know what his best option might be. Should he struggle now, or should he wait and make a scene in the main gallery? Surely, someone would come to his aid if he did, but would they be inclined to believe Harry’s story about being abducted by his uncle, or whatever scheme Vernon managed to cook up to explain why he was dragging the teenager away?

Before he could take action of any kind, Harry suddenly saw his world fracture with the unexpected sight of Vernon Dursley’s thick neck caught in a stranglehold by a small, feminine hand. Vernon began to choke, his red face rapidly purpling when he could not free his neck from the newcomer’s grip. Harry suddenly found himself freed from his uncle’s strong hands as Vernon released him in order to try to pry the stranger’s chokehold from his throat. Petunia’s eyes bulged as she stared at the slightly pudgy red-haired female who held her husband prisoner in an inhumanly-strong grip.

“What are you DOING?” Petunia hissed, her head swiveling quickly to see if anyone else was witnessing the situation. “Who ARE you, and why are you choking my husband?”

Buddleia Vesper ignored the Muggle woman, and she kept her grip on Vernon’s throat while she turned her attention to Harry. “Are you all right, Mr. Potter?” she asked, her forehead creased with concern. “I saw this man trying to strangle you, and I thought I might lend a hand.”

Harry gaped at her for a moment. She had appeared literally out of thin air, moving with unseen speed to intercept his uncle. “Er, yes, thank you, Miss Vesper. I’m afraid my uncle wasn’t expecting to see me here with others from Hogwarts, and he assumed that I was playing truant. I think he planned to take me home and lock me away as punishment.”

“Vesper… “ whispered Petunia. “But you must be the artist herself… WHY are you choking my husband?”

Buddleia turned a cold look upon the horse-faced woman. “I saw that Harry Potter was being abused and decided to help him,” she stated baldly, tossing her mane of red hair over her shoulder, still maintaining her grip on Vernon’s throat. With great satisfaction, she watched the large man collapse to his knees on the thick carpeting.

“How do you know … our nephew?” Petunia groaned, obviously not wishing to admit publicly that she was related to Harry.

“Everyone in our world knows Harry Potter,” Buddleia said flatly. “He’s one of the most famous wizards alive today.”

Petunia gasped at the word, her hands rising to clap themselves over her mouth, as if to bite back a scream of horror. “You’re a… you’re a… “

“Vampire,” said Buddleia.

Petunia reared back, clutching her own throat now, overcome with shock that the expected word – witch – had been supplanted with something so much worse than a mere witch.

Dudley burst out laughing. “You’re not a vampire!” he chortled. “There are no such things as vampires.”

“Dudley,” Harry warned. “You don’t know what you’re saying. Vampires are real. And she’s one.”

“Get real, Potter,” was Dudley’s rejoinder.

Without warning, Buddleia let Vernon drop flat on his face, and she grabbed Dudley’s fat cheeks in her small hands. “Want to make a wager, fat boy?” she whispered, and Dudley tried to scream when he saw the vampire’s fangs gleaming in the dim light of the silent corridor.

All that emerged from Dudley was a thin, high-pitched squeak, rather like a mouse, and the vampire pressed her advantage, drawing closer to the artery in Dudley’s neck which pulsed wildly with utter panic.

“No, don’t! Please!” begged Harry, his hands urgently trying to ward off the vampire’s attack without actually touching her. “He’s my cousin. He doesn’t really know anything factual about our world. My family wants to pretend magic doesn’t exist, and they didn’t even know that vampires are real. He didn’t mean anything by it, honestly.”

“That one knew,” Buddleia accused, jerking her head sideways at Petunia’s shaking form.

“She’s my mum’s sister,” Harry said quickly. “She picked up on a bit of it when they were girls, but she – they all hate magic. It’s just the way they are. Dudley didn’t mean any harm, truly. Please let him go.”

The vampire eyed the Muggle boy with distaste. “Only because Harry Potter wishes your life. Make the most of it. And count yourself lucky that I respect him enough to let you live.” Contemptuously, she shoved Dudley backwards, and his eyes rolled up in their sockets as his trajectory carried him all the way to the floor in a dead faint.

“Potter!”

Harry whirled around at the sound of Severus Snape’s voice. The carpeting was so thick, he hadn’t heard anyone else approaching.

“What is going on here?” Snape asked, cautiously eyeing the vampire, whose fangs were still on display.

“Um, a bit of a misunderstanding?” Harry ventured, not quite sure of how to adequately explain the situation.

Buddleia Vesper gave a snort, stepping away from the Dursley males. “I witnessed that boy” (pointing at Dudley) “chasing Mr. Potter down this hallway, and that man” (pointing at Vernon) “trying to strangle Mr. Potter while this woman” (pointing at Petunia) “watched without interfering. So I decided to help Mr. Potter in the face of his adversaries, whom he says are his relatives. I cannot explain their motivations. Perhaps Mr. Potter himself could shed some light on the situation. Meanwhile, I must return to the gallery.”

Harry stared at her for a moment before saying, “Thank you very much, Miss Vesper. I do appreciate your assistance.”

The vampire nodded once, then vanished as if she had Disapparated, but Harry caught the blur of her speed as she rounded the far corner of the corridor.

“Well, Potter? What do you have to say for yourself?”

Harry looked searchingly up at the forbidding countenance of Severus Snape. “Er, I was just on my way back from the loo when I ran into my cousin, and then Uncle Vernon came after me, and knowing my entire history with them, it seemed better all around to just run, so I ran down this hallway, but there was no exit, and then my uncle grabbed me by the throat and was choking me when Miss Vesper stepped in and overpowered him, and then Dudley laughed at her, thinking that she really wasn’t a vampire, and she bared her fangs at him and he fainted, and then you came… “

Snape gave a long-suffering sigh. “Are you sure you didn’t leave anything out, Potter?”

Harry thought for a moment, not realizing that Snape’s question was probably rhetorical. “Well, she accused Aunt Petunia of knowing that vampires were real… “

Petunia was still shrinking against the wall when something apparently occurred to her. “She’s a vampire! And I bought her painting?” Her voice rose almost to a shriek. “Vernon! What am I going to do? I can’t have that horrid thing in the house! And all the money we paid… Oh, nooooo… “

Snape’s mouth twisted in grim amusement. “Nice to see you haven’t changed, Petunia.”

The woman stared at him blankly.

“Don’t you recognize me, Tuney?”

Recognition came slowly, and then Petunia’s eyes widened in horror. “You’re that awful Snape boy!”

Harry snickered before he could stop himself. To hear Snape described as a boy, and an awful one at that!

“I am one of the professors at Potter’s school, now, Petunia. And it’s high time we returned to Hogwarts,” he added, turning to Harry.

“But the money… “ moaned Petunia. “The man said, no refunds. What am I going to do?”

Harry looked straight into Snape’s eyes, trying to project a possible solution. The dark man looked back, and his mouth twitched in understanding.

After quickly looking around to make sure that the corridor was still deserted except for the five of them, Snape withdrew his wand and pointed it at Petunia Dursley. “Obliviate!”

The thin woman’s face went blank, and she shook her head, as if trying to remember something important.

“Obliviate!” Snape’s wand pointed at Vernon Dursley, then at Dudley, who was still lying unconscious on the floor. “Obliviate!”

Harry grinned. “I guess that’ll do it, sir.”

“Obviously.” Snape whirled, and Harry could almost see the ghost of the man’s long teaching robes swirling in the width of the corridor. “Come along, Potter.”

“Yes, sir.” Harry followed Snape’s long strides along the silent carpeting as they headed back toward the main gallery.

Behind them, Petunia sank to her knees next to her husband and son, and they could hear her voice shrilling, “Vernon! Dudley! What has happened to you?”

Snape stopped short of the corner, then peered around it cautiously. No sign of Buddleia Vesper or any other threats that he could discern. He beckoned Harry to follow him around the corner, then stopped them both in the narrow hall leading back to the main gallery.

“What was really going on, Potter? Why did you run from your family, and why did they attack you?”

Harry stared past Snape’s black-clad shoulder at the gallery spectators milling quietly beyond the far end of the corridor.

“My family… “ he muttered. “My family died when I was not even two years old, Professor. These people are not my family.”

Snape sneered nastily. “Ungrateful brat. They took you in – “

“They were FORCED to take me in,” Harry returned hotly, his emerald eyes flashing in anger. “They never wanted me! They’ve always hated me, and they’ve always made it clear how much they despise me! ‘Magic’ is a forbidden word in their home, and I’ve been punished ever since I was small for being a wizard, even when I didn’t know I was one, and for doing accidental magic when I didn’t mean to do anything and had no control over it.”

Snape shook his head disbelievingly. “I seriously doubt – “

“You can doubt all you want, Professor, but I’m telling you the truth. The reason I ran was because Uncle Vernon had spotted me away from my school during the school term, and he would automatically think I was playing truant, and he was planning to take me back to their house and lock me up again.”

Snape stared at Harry. “Again?”

Harry stared back at Snape. “Yes, again. They’ve locked me up many times. They never wanted me to go to Hogwarts in the first place, and if there’s any way to keep me out of school, they’ll do it, starting with locking me up so I can’t get back.”

“But… “ Snape floundered for words. “They’re your only family, Potter.”

“Haven’t you been listening?” Harry demanded angrily. “I may be related to Aunt Petunia by blood, but they don’t consider me to be THEIR family. I’m just an unwanted burden, and always have been. Their house is not my home. It’s just the place I have to live when I’m not at school. Hogwarts is more home to me than I’ve ever had with them.”

For once, Snape looked shocked, his face growing even paler in the dimness of the carpeted corridor. “Does Dumbledore know how you feel? That their house is not your home?”

Harry shrugged. “He should. I’ve asked often enough to spend summers at Hogwarts, but he always refused. He says I have to go back to Privet Drive every year.”

The Ravenclaw couple dashed, laughing, into the corridor from the gallery, had a couple of quick seconds to snog, then spotted Snape’s tall, dark form at the end of the hallway. As quickly as they came, they left, their laughter fading into the large room beyond the claustrophobic confines of the corridor.

“I shall speak to Dumbledore,” Snape said at last. “For if you do not consider the Dursleys’ house to be your home, there could be serious complications concerning the wards on the property.”

After a long moment, Harry nodded, not really understanding, but realizing that Snape must know something that he didn’t. “If you could get him to let me stay at Hogwarts next summer, or at the Weasleys’ home, if he prefers, I’d appreciate it, Professor.”

The dark man gave a jerky nod. “We’ll work something out, Potter. Come along.”

Harry followed Snape back through the main gallery, casting one final glance over his shoulder at the corridor. Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley had still not emerged from the hallway beyond. Harry shrugged. The Dursleys weren’t his concern, not until next summer anyway. At least he’d kept Dudley from being bitten by Buddleia Vesper.

Harry stuck closely to Snape’s heels as the teacher rounded up the rest of the students in the main gallery and herded them into the corridor with the Floo connection. In the wizarding gallery, Professor Flitwick was taking similar action with the remaining Hogwarts students.

Hermione joined Harry as they stood waiting their turn to Floo back to the castle. “So, did you enjoy yourself, Harry?”

“Huh?” Harry looked at her with startled green eyes.

The girl’s own eyes went wide. “What’s happened?”

“I’ll tell you and Ron together when we get back,” he whispered. He’d just glanced through the doorway into the wizarding gallery and spotted Buddleia Vesper. She was staring at him in return, and he gave a deep nod to her, which she acknowledged with a smile.

Feeling his limbs beginning to shake a bit, Harry moved into the Floo and shouted, “Hogwarts castle, Great Hall!”

As he spun past fireplace after fireplace on his journey north, Harry kept his elbows tucked closely to his sides, thinking that definitely, this was one Halloween he would NEVER forget!

The End.


This story archived at http://www.potionsandsnitches.org/fanfiction/viewstory.php?sid=3274