Lily's Lost Boys by chrmisha
Summary: SEQUEL to “The Last Will and Testament of Lily Evans” and “Lily’s Last Wish.” Harry is kidnapped and tortured, and Snape is left to try and pick up the pieces and prepare Harry for the final battle. This is the third story in the series.
Categories: Healer Snape, Teacher Snape > Trusted Mentor Snape, Parental Snape > Guardian Snape, Teacher Snape > Unofficially teaching Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Albus Severus, Draco, Hermione, Ron
Snape Flavour: Snape Comforts
Genres: Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort
Media Type: None
Tags: Injured!Harry, Kidnapped!Harry
Takes Place: 6th Year
Warnings: Rape, Torture, Violence
Challenges: None
Series: Lily's Boys - The Saga
Chapters: 34 Completed: No Word count: 88197 Read: 105342 Published: 17 Aug 2017 Updated: 26 Jun 2018
Chapter 19 by chrmisha

“Let’s take a look at what you gathered today,” Snape suggested.

Harry poured his basket out on the table, pawing through the various bits and pieces and sorting them into like piles.

“How many of those items can you identify?” Snape asked.

“Well, these are acorns,” Harry said, pointing to a small pile, “and I think this is dogwood…”

“Correct,” Snape said, nodding at the flexible red twigs.

“These are milkweed pods,” Harry said of the curved, characteristically shaped pods. “Pinecones, of course…”

“Sort those by size,” Snape instructed, and Harry quickly did so.

“And the rest of these I’ve seen a lot, but I don’t know what they’re called,” Harry finished. “But they looked interesting, so I picked them up.”

Snape studied each of the piles for a moment. “These are sweetgum seeds,” he said, gesturing toward the hard, spiky balls. “And these are the seeds of a weed called velvet leaf,” he said of the fragile many-sided star-shaped pods that Harry had needed to cast a hardening charm on so they wouldn’t fall to pieces. “Field grass,” he said of the pile of tall, pale grass. “And false winter anise,” he said, pointing to the starfish-shaped seedpods.

“Why false winter anise?” Harry asked.

“Because it looks like Chinese anise, or Illicium verum, which is used to make the star anise spice. But Illiciumm verum grows only in warm climates.”

“So it isn’t of any use, then?” Harry asked.

“On the contrary. Its star shape will look very festive on the tree.”

“I was thinking I could make it bigger,” Harry said.

Snape made a hand gesture to encourage Harry.

Pulling one of the false winter anise seedpods toward him, Harry pointed his wand at it, keeping the size he wanted in mind, and said “Engorgio.” The star grew to take up his whole palm.

“Would you like to make any other modifications to it?”

Harry studied it. “I think I’ll make it gold.” Setting it back on the table, he pointed his wand and said “Aurum.” He picked it up again and looked at it. “I like it,” he said. “I think I’ll make the rest of them that way.”

“What of the others?” Snape asked.

Harry picked up the spiky sweetgum pod. “I could enlarge this to the size of a normal Christmas ornament. I could make them different colors.” Glancing at Snape mischievously, he added, “I could make them sing Christmas songs at the top of each hour as well.”

“You could,” Snape said, studying a large pinecone he had picked up. “But I don’t imagine they’d last long if you did that. They make great fire kindling, after all, if I was so persuaded. Or forced, as the case may be.”

Harry snorted. “Point taken, sir.”

“You have the raw materials here to make these into anything you wish. Whether that be keeping them in their natural state, charming them to do something special, or transfiguring them to resemble ornaments you’ve seen elsewhere, the choice is up to you.”

“And you can teach me any spells I need?” Harry asked.

“I can, but I suggest you refer to your textbooks first.”

Harry opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it. Snape had set him up. All of this, all that they’d done so far today, it was all a lesson in one way or another. Gathering and learning about plants—Herbology, slicing and preparing the fruit—Potions—and there was brewing yet to come, Harry knew. Changing the appearance and qualities of the soon-to-be ornaments—Charms and Transfiguration. All in the guise of doing something other than book learning. And they were far from done yet.

“Yes?” Snape asked, staring at Harry quizzically.

“Nothing, sir,” Harry said, arranging three stubby round pinecones into the shape of a snowman and using a sticking charm to hold them together. “I just realized that you are using all of this as an opportunity to teach me.”

“I am a professor,” Snape replied.

Harry took a red twig and some of the long grasses, as well as some twine Snape had set out, and fashioned a miniature broom for an ornament.

“Thanks for doing it this way,” Harry said. “It’s easier like this. For now, at least.”

Snape nodded, then got up to make tea.

Meanwhile, Harry picked up a pinecone and focused on an image of Hedwig. He bade his mind to envision each aspect of the snowy white owl’s anatomy, from her bright yellow eyes to the curve of her beak, and from the downy feathers on her breast to the longer speckled tail feathers. Concentrating hard, he said the spell. When he opened his eyes, he shrieked. There was a baby owlet poised in his palm, looking up at him with the most innocent eyes.

“Is there a problem?” Snape asked.

“I didn’t meant to pull a real owl from its mother,” Harry protested. “I just meant to transfigure my pinecone into a miniature replica of my pet owl, Hedwig.”

Snape slid Harry a mug of tea while he sipped at his own. “I see,” he said. “Do you know how to return this owlet back to its nest?”

“No idea,” Harry said, lifting the tiny owl to his face. “Hi sweet one,” he said. “Aren’t you cute?”

“I can return it for you, but I’ll need your wand,” Snape said.

Harry handed over his wand.

Snape held Harry’s wand in one hand and grasped Harry’s hand from beneath with the other, holding Harry’s hand and the owlet steady. “Ready?”

Harry stroked the soft feathers. “Bye, little one. Grow up to be strong, all right?”

With a wave of Harry’s wand, the owlet vanished.

“Why did you need to use my wand?” Harry asked on a sigh. It would have been nice to have been able to keep the owlet, but it was much too young to be away from its mother.

“In order to return the owlet to the proper nest, I needed to be able to trace the initial spell used to summon it. If I used my wand, I could have banished the owl, but I would have had no hope of sending it back from whence it came.”

That made sense. Picking up another pine cone, Harry asked, “What did I do wrong?”

“The spell you used was correct,” Snape replied. “My guess is that you infused your magic with too much emotion and too little practicality.”

“Meaning?” Harry asked.

“Meaning that you really wanted your pet owl, not some cheap wooden rendition of it.”

Harry sighed. “You’re probably right. I miss her. And my friends.” Setting down the pinecone, Harry said, “I miss pretty much everything about Hogwarts.” Harry lined up a set of smaller pinecones tip-to-tip before putting their tips together around a central point to form the shape of a star. “Well,” he said, perking up, “I don’t miss Malfoy. Or Divination.”

Snape snorted. He reached over and picked up one of Harry’s pinecones. A quick wave of his wand and a miniature carved version of Hedwig lay in his palm. “For your nest,” he said.

Harry looked at the figure in shock. How had Snape known so precisely what his owl had looked like? “Thank you,” he breathed.

“You’re welcome.”


It was nearly time for lunch as Harry sat at the table, threading pieces of twine through the ornaments he and Snape had made. He had begun to assemble items together in terms of not only how they looked, but how they smelled as well.

“This reminds of eating apple pie at Hogwarts,” Harry said as he tied cinnamon sticks to oven-dried apple slices. After he was finished with the apples, he poked whole cloves into the dried orange slices, making a rich and spicy citrus mix. Next, he hung the dried lemon slices with small pine cones that smelled like the trees they came from. It was a refreshing combination that offset the sweeter scented ornaments. Overall, the kitchen smelled amazing, and it made him realize just how much scents could affect one’s mood. Once again he associated this scent with what he imagined a true home would smell like.

The holly berries he’d gathered still sat in their basket, bright red and untouched. Snape had told him he had a plan for them that he would share after lunch. Speaking of which, Snape had just turned the cooker off. Harry jumped to his feet to set the table, carefully sliding the ornaments aside. Snape had prepared a pureed butternut squash soup along with fresh rosemary bread served with butter. Snape had also thrown together an apple pie for dessert after Harry had mentioned missing them earlier. The scent of lunch made his mouth water. He poured Snape a glass of water and himself a glass of milk.

Snape looked through Harry’s ornaments as they ate, making the occasional comment (“Is Quidditch all you ever think about?”), asking questions (“Is that supposed to be a Hippogriff?”), and adding the occasional suggestion (“Have you considered making it turn invisible when I am in the room?”). It was probably the most light-hearted conversation they’d had to date.

Afterwards, Harry cleaned up the dishes. Snape helped Harry finish adding twine for hanging the ornaments, and then, much to Harry’s surprise, Snape made a never-ending batch of popcorn on the cooker.

As the corn kernels popped into large white fluffy pieces, Harry finally had to ask.

“Er, are you still hungry, sir? That’s an awful lot of popcorn.”

“We will need it,” Snape said, not answering the question. He cast a spell at the stovetop to slow, but not stop, the production. Then he set one large bowl of popcorn next to where Harry sat at the table, and another large bowl next to his elbow. The round basket of Harry’s holly berries went in the middle, directly between them, where Snape cast a solidifying charm on them.

Snape reached into a bag and pulled out two very long needles and two spools of clear fishing line, giving Harry one of each. “Have you worked it out yet?” Snape asked.

“Garland?” Harry guessed.

“Correct. You will add two pieces of popcorn for each berry, like this,” Snape said. He threaded the large needle with fishing string and then added a berry from the basket. Two pieces of popcorn and another berry later, and the pattern was established.

Harry followed suit. The popcorn was a bit fiddly. It crumbled and broke apart if he wasn’t careful. The solidification charm made the berries much easier to work with. He could easily run his needle through, yet the berry didn’t squirt juice or pop at being handled roughly. Soon the strings of garland were in full progress. They looked quite pretty, alternating between red and white, and Harry imagined they’d look even better on the tree.

“Sir,” Harry asked. “Where did you learn to do all of these things?” As Harry was focusing on threading a piece of popcorn onto his needle, it took him a moment to realize that Snape had gone quiet. Glancing up, Harry noticed that all the color had drained from Snape’s face, and his hands and jaw were clenched. He was gazing over Harry’s shoulder, his mouth twisted in a grimace.

“Sir?” Harry asked. When there was no answer, he set down the garland and made to get up.

Snape’s gaze jerked back to Harry. “Sit,” he commanded.

Harry sat back down, feeling uneasy.

Snape took a deep breath, before returning to his own strand of garland. Finally, he said, “My mother.”

Harry knew better than to push the issue and was surprised when Snape continued speaking. “We were very poor growing up. We couldn’t afford much. So my mother took me out each year and we cut down a tree and brought it home. And then she showed me how to make decorations out of scraps and things from nature and anything else we could find.”

Harry held his breath, wondering if Snape would go on. He knew so very little about Snape, being that he was such a private man, that any bit of information felt like a very special gift.

“Sometimes she’d teach me spells and enchantments to liven up the tree. We’d have to take them off before my father got home, though.” Snape’s expression darkened. “The drunk bastard didn’t approve of magic, or holidays, or anything else for that matter.”

Each word was bitten out as though it cost him to say it. Knowing that Snape had somewhat of a similar childhood to Harry’s own—if his words and accidental Occlumency session glimpses were anything to go by—went a long way in explaining why the man had helped him when Harry had landed unexpectedly on his doorstep the previous summer.

Refilling his cup of tea, Snape said, “They are some of the best memories I have of her.”

Images of his own mum and dad—and what Christmases might have been like had they lived—made it hard for him to swallow around the lump in his throat. After a few moments, he said, “I’m glad you got the chance to make some good memories with her.” Harry wished he could have said the same for himself and his mother.

Snape set down his cut of tea, a frown on his face. “Harry.”

“Sir?” Harry said, looking up.

“I might not have liked your father, and I had lost touch with your mother by the time you were born, but I can guarantee you this. They both loved you very much. Of that, Harry, have no doubt.”

To be continued...


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