Thirty one plus one by Hopeless Wanderer
Summary: Harry's only rejoice in these last few months is that he has his list. He would go down for sure, but before he does, he wants to make sure he gets to do everything on the list. To die without any regret. But what does Snape have to do with this?
Categories: Healer Snape, Teacher Snape > Professor Snape, Parental Snape > Guardian Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Dumbledore, Hermione, Pomfrey, Remus, Ron, Tonks
Snape Flavour: Snape's a Bully, Canon Snape, Snape Comforts, Snape is Evil, Snape is Kind, Out of Character Snape, Overly-protective Snape, Snape is Secretive
Genres: Angst, Drama, Family, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Tragedy
Media Type: None
Tags: Physical Impairment
Takes Place: 5th Year, 6th summer
Warnings: Abusive Dursleys, Alcohol Use, Bullying
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 18 Completed: No Word count: 107770 Read: 32628 Published: 29 Dec 2017 Updated: 05 Aug 2019
Number II; A trip to the seaside (p.3) by Hopeless Wanderer
Author's Notes:
this was supposed to be a double update but i got sick and i didn't want to hold this chapter off any longer than i should in order to finish the other one.
the following chapter would either be updated on Friday or Sunday, so be sure to keep an eye for that ;)

the suggested song for this chapter is 'Under the sea' from 'the little mermaid'.

read and enjoy.
Number II; a trip to the seaside (p.3)

I didn’t remember much of the night I got Hedwig back, but by Severus’s account of events, it went like this; he knew that the book he gave me would have to bear me out eventually, and the piling headache he was partly responsible for would most likely knock me out before the hour was up, so he waited until I fell asleep, inconspicuously got out of the house and drove /all/ the way to the main road just so he could apparate to the gates, go to the owlery and wait until Hedwig was back from hunting.

Then he found her cage in my dorm (I didn’t even ask him how he found it), and apparated back, driving all the way back just in time for dinner.
And I had slept through that.

Part of me wanted to ask him why he did it, I was looking for the ulterior motive, there must have been one, but something about the man’s stance made me change my mind, he looked oddly good spirited at dinner and the following day. Although there weren’t any differences between a pissed off Snape and a happy one, both had the same mocking sneer and the blank stoic face.

The telltale sign of the man’s happiness was in his willingness to lift my probation and take me outside for a walk around the cottage, when I respectfully asked at breakfast.

Ecstatically enough, he agreed. /After/ I took my potion like a good lad.

“Blah!” Hedwig wildly flapped her wings on my shoulder, her claws gently digging into my shirt. I made a sour face, resisting the urge to puke.

“It didn’t taste this awful the last time!” I blurted out defensively upon Snape’s unimpressed stare. Hedwig’s hoot followed in agreement.

The man shrugged, sipping his own cup of coffee. “Must have been the jitters; is the glow of your new found freedom already fading, perhaps?” he asked with a raised brow. Scowling, I reached back to pet Hedwig; she was very /enthusiastic/ to see me again.

“Or, it could just be that potions taste horrible?”

“Or that you are overly dramatic.” Snape deadpanned. “It is not unheard of, in the Potter’s line. It has never skipped a generation.” His eyes shadowed. My hand abruptly stilled in air, leaving Hedwig to fondly nibble on a cuticle wedged on my thumb.

“Well, it’s about to be demolished in a few months sir, so I bet that’s a cause for celebration.”

“Rest assured that it’s not,” Sev huffed out. “Your little fans and the pureblood society would be very sad by your death indeed.” He continued loftily, and I ate my amused grin as I pursed my lips.

-It might have seemed weird for me to think of the potion master as ‘Sev’ at the time, but the truth was, I /can’t/ bring myself to address the man as my teacher and not something more as I’m writing this. Although the idea must have been harder to digest than it was now, a little part of me had already warmed up to the concept of being Snape’s friend even back then.-

“You are treating my death very rationally sir.” Hedwig’s beak found a soft spot in my hair. She gave a thrilled hoot that rang down my ears and grasped the thinned thread of hair in her beak, furrowing her face in it. If I wasn’t so glad to have her back again, I would have been worried about her ripping my hair out in small tuffs. My hair’s structure was unbearably fragile after ruthless treatments.

“As are you Potter,” Snape’s reply was thoroughly laced with amusement. “Ever since we arrived I haven’t heard you crying even once.” Narrowing my eyes, I gently persuaded Hedwig’s nibbles to my fingers.

“I wasn’t necessarily crying about /that/.” I said after a beat, referring to that night in the infirmary. “I was just sort of … crying.” My face heated up like Ron’s. A deep, embarrassing shade of red that immediately gave me away.

“Whatever you say Potter.” the potion master dismissed me. “Whatever you say.”

I swiftly changed the subject from there, telling the man that I had little difficulty whilst reading the ‘Hitchhiker’s guide’, not that I have read much. I had just reached the tenth page, but I felt as if I needed confirmation, just to see if our views on those first ten pages were the same or not. It wasn’t really that farfetched to double check myself after almost drowning.

The wind blew pleasantly and the sun shone dimly in the blue sky, there wasn’t a single cloud in sight, much to my delight and Snape’s indifference. We started from the porch, both sitting on the steps, me with my borrowed book and him with his mysterious journal.

The smell of sea wafted above heads, and hit me in the face; that place was being unexceptionally sunny for April, considering that we were in Lynton or somewhere near that place. I had been expecting gloomy weather and gigantic clouds, rain storms and uncontrollable waves. I was sorely disappointed though.
It felt as if we were staying in a dystopian world where everything was just /perfect/. In my experience, perfect situations didn’t usually stay as such.

I remember being so restless that day, partially giddy that Snape had forgotten all about his supposed punishment, and equally wrecked that I couldn’t venture farther without pushing my luck. I recall now (nearly two months after that day, and a month before you read this), how sick I was getting of sitting on the porch and reading a damn book while the sea was less than thirty steps away.

Not that the book itself was uninteresting, if anything, I found it profoundly funny; Ford Perfect (the alien) was the perfect depiction of an oblivious wizard amongst muggles, clueless, hilarious and somehow, against all odds… lucky and able to fit in.

“What does ‘diurnal’ mean?” I asked crossly.

“Daily.” The man answered absently.

“Invariably?” I side glanced at the nonchalant man .

“Always.”

I frowned. “How… just how did Ford Perfect, convince that bypass guy...”

“Mr. Prosser, I presume?” the man asked dryly.

I hummed, picking at the yellowed paper I was reading. “Yeah, how did he convince him to /seat/ down in mud instead of Arthur, when he was the one trying to destroy the house…I have a feeling that’s not how these things work.”

“They’re going to wreck the house anyways. Stop psychoanalyzing a fictional book.”

I latched onto the analogy in hopes to talk the man into allowing me to venture farther away from the porch. “It’s fascinating though,” I falsely claimed. “Like how /one/ person could persuade /the other/ person to do something that /the other person/ doesn’t want the /person/ to do…” I chewed my lips for a few minutes after the man made a confused face, followed by an exasperated glare directed at my face.

“Alright,” I sighed insufferably. “I’ll stop analyzing it.”

I only needed to read half a page to be struck by another creative strategy.

Slamming the book shut, I stifled a sigh. I dared a hesitant glance at the man’s focused stare before cracking my knuckles. “The world is about to end.” I quoted ‘Ford’. Snape showed no indication that he had heard me.

“On a Thursday.” I continued informatively, finally stealing his glance away from the journal.

“Potter…”the potion master growled out in warning.

“Come on Professor!” Snape’s glare deepened. “The shore is like twenty steps away… and who knows, it’s a Thursday, the world really might be coming to an end. There could always be a flood; I could save myself by swimming then.”

Pinching the tip of his nose Severus closed his eyes. “I’d assure you that it would not…”

I cut him off with a protesting whine. “But you don’t know that.” I whined accusingly. “What’s the saying? Spend the Knuts instead of dreaming for galleons? I know that I was grounded but…”

“Potter.” despite his sneers and gritting teeth I could already see defeat shadowing his eyes.

So, I continued on with my rambling. “I would drown and die and you live in guilt while knowing that it could have been prevented if only…”

“Fine,” Snape slammed his journal shut with a scowl. “Go and fetch your swim trunk, just please stop with the post-apocalyptic nonsense.” He genuinely looked like he regretted giving me that book.

I gulped.

“Err- swim trunks?”

“You do have one, don’t you Mr. Potter?”

“Yeah, of course- what is your definition of a swim trunk?”

“A piece of clothing designed for boys to use when they want to swim. You must have one in your trunk if you dug in your things.” Snape said almost threateningly.

“But I’ve never been to the…” I snapped my mouth shut at his narrowed eyes. “I think I know what you’re talking about though,” I quickly blurted out. “Alright problem solved, I’d be right back.”

I dashed back into the cottage, half hoping and half dreading that Dudley’s oversized underwear would do the job. It was one of the few I had, as the boy was overly kin on wearing baggy shorts and trunks…swim trunks shouldn’t be that different from regular ones.

I griped the rails and lunged into my bedroom, zooming to my closet, out of breath. I thought I remembered packing Dudley’s clothes there the day before, so I knew where to find the said item.

“Swim trunks, of course Potter. How else were you supposed to /swim/?” I muttered under my breath, rummaging through my neatly folded clothes. No amount of neatness would have made those hand-me-downs any less horrible or shabby though, but I was beyond caring that day.

In less than five minutes I had three of Dudley’s horrid shorts spread out on my bed. Thankfully they were elastic shorts (with horrible designs though), and could be passed off as board shorts adequately enough. One of the three was too ridiculous to wear; I could practically fit two of myself in its waistband alone. The second one had a huge tear in one of its legs, which left me with the least worst one out of three.

Grimacing, I eyed the sky blue garment with distaste.

“Snape better not make fun of me.” I grunted.

Severus, did, in fact, make fun of me.

“Potter, what is that?” the man barked. “I thought I told you to find your swim trunks, not rummage in the garbage can.”

Extending my hands down to smooth my shirt, I defensively glared. “This is my swim trunk.”

“That’s not a swim trunk Potter. Those are shorts, and apparently not yours, they’re basically falling off your knees.” I blistered, lessening our distance by walking to the potion master.

“Just humor me sir, please; this was the only thing I could find.”

“Potter, trust me when I say this, as brutally as possible without making you cry in humiliation; those horrid rags are too big for you to be yours, trust me. They would fall off your waist the moment you start swimming. You would not like to go in the water with them.”

“I think I can manage sir, now can we please…”

“Go on then.”

Flushing, I trailed after the amused man, half-heartedly glaring at him. My feet squirmed in the sand, a recoiling chill settling in my stomach as we walked away from the porch.

Away from the water, and just nearing the upper grounds of the beach, nearly next to the plucked outline of the woods, a series of smooth rocks edged around the borders, some were sheltered by a plush coating of beachgrass and some were bared under the sun’s vicious glim with bald, dull, and grey surfaces that were positively hot to touch.

I distinctly remembered them upon our arrival and my late night escapade but I didn’t particularly pay any attention to them. It struck me as odd that I hadn’t; I needed to detail my surrendering a lot better to raise my awareness.

Snape shook his robes off, neatly folding them in a small square before setting them on one of the smoother rocks edging the beach; he put his wand on his folded robes, only clad in his white button down shirt.

“Alright Potter, the first thing you need to know about swimming is, learning how to float.” The man started, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows.

“Float?” I gulped. My eyes were shrewdly on the man’s bare left forearm. The Gryffindor boys would have a heart attack if I told them about my sever case of ‘Snape exposure’ when I wrote them a letter. ‘He /is/ going to teach you how to swim though.’ I thought Hermione would say.

Snape returned my unabashed stare with a jeer, nonchalantly crossing his arms in a way that subtly hid his forearms.

“On your back or stomach.” He drawled out. “It’s not usually the method people use to learn swimming in open water, but we have limited time here Potter. As far as I’m aware, floating despite its daunting approach is the easiest.” I frowned. Learning how to swim was turning out into a bigger deal than I have thought was possible. What was the difference between a pool and the sea? Swimming in both shouldn’t be much different.

I rolled my shoulders with a deep breath. “Okay, what should I do?”

“Lie on your back.” Snape replied unhelpfully.

“On the water?”

“Yes, potter. You have to lie down on water if you want to float on it.”

“Err… how do I do that?”

Snape huffed out a breath and held my wrists. “We need to go a bit farther, I’ll help you.” Very carefully, Snape dragged me in the calm and relaxing waves and farther into the sea, by then, my heart was pretty much beating in my throat. Unlike my last experience, my /bare/ skin was in direct contact with the salty water. It felt understandably different than being wrapped in a drenched duvet.

The water lapped up to my ribs and barely brushed past the man’s lower abdomen as the potion master finally came to a stop. We were still fairly close to the land, close enough that I caught Hedwig circling the cottage, and the glow of the rental car under the sun’s annoying glaze.

“This should do.” Snape declared, not letting go of my hands. My breath hitched, water splashed up to my vulnerable pasty chest, the coolness was really distracting and overwhelming all at once. I wondered what would have happened if I dunk my head underneath the surface?

I shivered in the man’s grip, my eyes wildly roaming the water surrendering us. “Isn’t the water too deep? Is this safe?” my voice shook above the sound of waves. Snape nodded with certainty, surveying around us as well.

“You won’t drown with me here Potter, just relax.” The man tried to be reassuring while sneering, which just stressed me out even more. Merlin, I thought in wonder, was I really doing this? Before then, I didn’t even know it was possible to sweat so much while being chest down in sea water.

“Right. So I just lie on my back?” I bended backwards, awkwardly trying to lower myself on the foaming water, Snape rolled his eyes.

“Not like that.” Snape let go of my wrists in a flash, staggeringly leaving me for a moment to steady his own footing. I squeaked, grabbing his forearms when I felt the current swaying past me. I was wide eyed, not in wonder, but rather in fright.

“Potter, relax. That’s the first lesson. You cannot expect to float on something you’re scared of. Now let go of my hands.” He firmly, but gently yanked my hands off his arms and nodded his head.

“Do I just walk around like this?” I asked him, slowly turning into a full circle.

Snape nodded again, crossing his arms. “Feel the water around you, thread with your hands. Circle around for a little bit until you feel like you wouldn’t faint out of terror.”

“I’m not scared,” I protested childishly. “Just startled, I haven’t been this deep in water…”

The potion master cut me off with a scowl. “You have Potter, in your forth year, you even swam back then.” His tone was grudgingly laced with respect and a ting of pity as if he thought I have forgotten about the second task.

I blustered, my hands involuntarily splashed in the water. “No, that wasn’t me.” I admitted guiltily. “It was the…uh… the thing I ate that helped me swim. I don’t have gills now!”

“So you did steal Gillyweed from my stores.” The man realized with narrowed eyes. I gulped, inwardly cursing myself.

“Is this /really/ the time for confessions sir?”

“It would be an excellent time, If only you stopped giving yourself a heart attack, the water is only up to your chest.” The man deadpanned, refusing his hands by keeping them crossed. I pursed my lips hesitantly, and drew my hands through water, feeling the strange pull of the current ushering them the other way.

“This isn’t so bad.” I mused out loud. “Just strange.”

Swimming in the Black Lake was vastly different from swimming in here, for one, I wasn’t completely under water and under the influence of Gillyweed, for another, the water there, was murky, still, exactly as a lake should be. The water here felt /alive/. Maybe that was why I was so threatened by it.

“Flapping your arms where you stand doesn’t count as threading, walk around Potter, don’t go too far but explore.” Snape said, almost as if he couldn’t believe he was saying something like this to me, the arrogant spoiled son of James Potter.

I did as he told, hesitantly walking around in an invisible circle that expanded one arm from each direction, the fear was starting to trickle off in waves, and being replaced by a pleasant feeling I soon became to recognize as glee.

“Feeling better now?” Snape asked mockingly, although his face remained blank.

I flushed, gazing at the surface lapping to my ribs, roughly where my legs should be as well. “Would it be weird if I said something just brushed past my ankle?” I awkwardly reached down to touch the said ankle with a wrinkled nose.

The potion master shook his head, completely unfazed. “Probably a fish or algae, they’re not gonna bite.”

After a few more minutes, Snape finally sighed. “I’m gonna hold your back and legs so you wouldn’t drown, it’s easier since you’re unbelievably short and underfed. Just remember to breathe deeply Potter, and keep your body in a straight line, it all depends on two things; balance and lung capacity.” He explained.

“How do I keep my head above water?” I asked nervously.

“Relax; Keep your head straight and your shoulders in the same height as your legs and you should be fine. I’m holding you up anyways, so don’t worry about drowning.”

It was ridiculously easy for the man to maneuver me in the water, with nerve wracking procession, he hauled me up. I curled instinctively.

“Don’t fold your knees Potter, relax.” he briskly instructed. Indignantly squeaking, I closed my eyes at the brutal sunbeam that directly shone in my eyes as I was lowered on the surface, my hands were stiffly clenched by my sides, and I was as stiff as a board.

“Don’t hold your breath!” Snape gritted out. “I just told you to breathe!”

I inhaled sharply, feeling oddly squeamish as my bare back felt the jolting coolness and the rhythmic waves, it wasn’t much, most of my weight was being supported by the potion master and my kicking legs. Suddenly I realized just how awkward this was.

Sirius would have loved to be the one doing this; I thought bitterly, there wouldn’t have been so much tension with him and Remus, I wouldn’t have felt like I was on a roller coaster of coiling emotions if it was Sirius or his partner and not the greasy bat.

My cheeks heated up, and I forcefully closed my eyes again. I was freaking out, my former potion master; the one person who hated me and belittled me and my friends was basically the only thing holding me above water.

I couldn’t even begin to imagine how disgusted the man himself was by this revelation, surely, not nearly as much as I was. I cracked an eye open between sharp draws of air to see the man’s blank expression. If Snape was uncomfortable by holding his half naked student buoyant, he was certainly not showing it.

I wriggled in his hold, determined to get the hang of the thing already. I had no clue why the idea of Snape helping me learning how to swim hadn’t bothered me as much when I wasn’t actually /doing/ it. It must have been a cancer side effect, forgetfulness or indifference, or whatever the hell that made me not realize the ineptness of this situation.

Snape was losing patience quickly; he clicked his tongue, and even threateningly loosened his grip on my back a few times to make me comply. Squeaking sharply, I was either forced to really comply with the man’s barked out instructions or flail hard enough so he would let go. I had difficulty breathing, and my thoughts were muddled with flares of grief and tension.

I didn’t like Snape doing this, I realized with a pang in my chest. I didn’t want a stranger to teach me how to swim, I wanted Sirius or Remus. I wanted a father figure, not a sarcastic teacher who was only doing this as a pitiful attempt to redeem himself.

“Can you let me go now?” I yelled, feeling a weird churning in my stomach. “I don’t like this!” my shorts were getting rather heavy (damn you Dudley), not unlike the blanket I used the first time, and I felt them progressively weighting me down. Snape’s sudden bouts of encouragement were /not/ helping either.

Each passing moment blaringly reminded why Snape was never a good teacher to begin with.

“Potter quit wasting my time, and actually listen for once!” the man barked. “Straighten your chicken legs and stop fussing, or I swear I’m never teaching you again.”

“I’m not ready okay?” I pleaded tearfully, dropping all pretenses. “Just… just let me down sir, please. I’m sorry.”

Snape looked positively livid, as he lowered me in a standing position. My face heated up in utter humiliation when Snape turned and yanked me out of the water in the same fashion a parent deals with their naughty children.

Frustration rolled off him in waves, when I was safely on sand the man took off, retrieving his wand and robes whilst trying his best to ignore me. I had no idea why I felt so homesick and vulnerable all of a sudden, but the emotions hit hard and in constant waves of distress, and I was /shivering/ like a bay leaf.

Before I knew what was happening, Snape had wrapped my shivering form in a thick duvet and had dumped me on the threadbare loveseat, he then left me alone. Hedwig was out hunting which left me abandoned in the quiet living room.

The sun was at its warmest, the shell wind chime, happily rang with the gentle breeze, and the white fluttery curtains inflated and deflated like a balloon. I sat all alone on the couch, my pretend swim trunks soaked through the blanket and on the loveseat. I knew it would leave a stain but I couldn’t bring myself to move.

“We’re not going to try that again Potter.” Snape jeered, as he strode through the room some time later, a ball of clothes in his hands. I hung my head, feeling utterly humiliated and idiotic as he dropped the dry clothes in my lap and settled on the couch.

“I don’t know what happened.” My voice sounded pathetically meek even to my own ears, making me cringe. Snape’s anger poured from his eyes in dark cloud like fumes, I imagined them swirling in the living room, and tainting the furniture with its bleakness.

“I do. You thought you were ready to take this on and you weren’t. Potter, it was obvious from the start; your so called /craving/ for the ocean or open water is nothing more than a conjured fantasy you thought up in the hospital wing, when it’s so blatantly obvious that you are afraid of water.”

I whipped my head up to meet his icy gaze. “I am not, afraid. I wasn’t afraid.” I was homesick. I wasn’t even homesick. No, I missed the life I never had; I missed Sirius, my beloved Godfather, whom I hadn’t even thought about in /weeks/, and Remus, whose thoughts hunted my dreams every once in a while. I didn’t have them and never could because I was dying. The startling thought jolted me whilst being taught by Snape; it had nothing to do with the water itself.

I wanted to be Dudley so bad. There aren’t many occasions where I admit that I really did want to become my fat obese, mentally challenged cousin. He had the /one/ thing that I craved my whole life. It wasn’t that he got to go to the seaside and I didn’t, it wasn’t all that goading, or having the best of everything. It was his chance to have someone whom loved him so much that they were willing to do anything for him.

I didn’t have that. I never had that.

Snape didn’t bat an eye at my unconvincing explanation. “You were afraid Potter; I saw it in your eyes.”

“I am not afraid of the sea, I just had a situation.” I confessed slowly, watching as a large water stain dampened the dry clean shirt set on my knees.

“Well, care to elaborate?” Snape raised a sarcastic brow, and I curled further into the loveseat.

“No.” he would laugh at me. I thought savagely. He would laugh and mock my stupid thoughts, then he would ridicule Sirius for being reckless and dying, maybe he would even get a few jabs at my father for being reckless and also dying. Whatever the reason, there was no way in hell that I was telling him.

“Was it a symptom? Did you have difficulty with your vision? Maybe a hallucination?”

“I’m not crazy, alright? This potion is helping, really it is. It wasn’t related to my cancer.” I sputtered out clumsily. My fingers were clenched around the blanket and I felt a strange itchiness all over my body, oddly making me want to shower. Maybe it /was/ cancer related, I mused, people didn’t just thought of their lost loved ones while learning how to swim.

“Then what was it?” Snape growled.

I drew in a breath and held it. “I was overwhelmed. You’re right, I wasn’t ready. I’m sorry for wasting your time or acting the way I did. I’ll make it up to you sir.” I nervously refolded the clothes he had brought me.

“I can learn how to float by myself, or I don’t know…maybe we can give this one up? Not every wish is meant to be fulfilled.” I unfurled the blanket and stiffly got to my feet. Disappointment and grief were smashed in a ball of raw emotions and crammed in my chest, snuggled deeply beneath my ribs. I knew with certainty that this was a lost cause.

After all, one couldn’t be taught how to swim by a dead man, or a lost one. Some small part of me also knew that I was never going to learn the basics with Snape as the tutor. I missed Remus, and I wanted him to be here, it was crazy because I haven't thought about the man in days.

I turned to leave, with a bleak expression painted on my face and self-loathing thrumming in my veins. It was too early to go back to sleep but I felt exhausted, wishing for a dreamless sleep potion more than ever.

As I turned, the potion master also stood, I paused my stride mid-way, mainly to let him pass without shouldering past me in the doorway or the stairs, but much to my surprise Severus grasped my shoulder in a wise like grip and turned me around.

“Change your clothes.” He said, and I gaped. “We’re going to build a castle.”
To be continued...
End Notes:
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