Severus went to the bar and ordered a drink. How would he untangle this mess? Now that he’d taken Potter out into public, Dumbledore would likely soon find out. Of course, he had never intended to leave the stubborn old fool in the dark for even as long as he had ... not really. He had only convinced himself that he’d run away with the boy if need be in order to find him.

Now, that idea seemed increasingly unrealistic. The boy wouldn’t even accept a healing potion without suspicion! He’d never accept Severus as his guardian.

Severus smiled, taking a sip of hot butterbeer. He could be rightly proud of that feat of self-deception.

What now? He would have to contact Dumbledore.

And yet ... he had told the boy he wouldn’t take him back to the Weasleys. Which, technically, he wouldn’t. Dumbledore would.

Still.

After finishing his butterbeer, Severus ordered another one.

As he had predicted, the boy was still awake, but had at least followed his advice to go to bed.

“Do you like butterbeer, Potter?”

“Butterbeer?”, the boy asked. “Um. I don’t think I am supposed to drink beer?”

Of course. Staying with the Weasleys wouldn’t have remedied the boy’s lack of knowledge completely. “It’s not like muggle beer. There’s some alcohol in it, but it is generally considered suitable for third year students. Most of it is butter and sugar.” He walked over to Potter and held the tankard out to him. “Consider it a bribe.”

The boy hesitatingly took the tankard. “A bribe? What do you want me to do?” It was strange to get a bribe himself. Dudley had always gotten tons of sweets when his parents needed him on his best behaviour, but the only thing Harry had ever been promised was to not be locked in the cupboard.

“I need you to stay calm and listen. Now.”

“Okay. Sir.” Harry tried the butterbeer foam. It really tasted very sweet.

Snape paced back in front of the fire. There wasn’t much space to pace, so he had to turn around all the time, but he didn’t seem to mind much. “If I had a say in this, I would not send you back to the Weasleys. You ran away once, and I imagine you can do it a second time. I have better things to do than chase after you. However, the Headmaster is convinced that you will be delighted to remain with the Weasleys once things have been explained to you.”

Harry took a sip of the butterbeer. He liked it, he decided. “What is there to explain?” It hadn’t been an accident. Not like the time Aunt Petunia had actually managed to hit his head with her frying pan – she’d come as close to being sorry as she ever had, even taking him to the hospital on the condition that he claimed the pan had accidentally fallen on his head. Mr. Weasley had intentionally hit him, several times.

“Professor Dumbledore will tell you, once I inform him that I have found you.”

“Dumbledore doesn’t know?!” What? That couldn’t be! Snape had clearly said that Dumbledore ... that Dumbledore wanted Harry alive. He’d never actually said that Dumbledore knew he’d found Harry.

“Not yet”, Snape replied silkily. “Stay calm and drink your butterbeer, Potter.”

“When are you going to tell him?” Harry took another gulp of butterbeer. It tasted really nice.

“Tomorrow morning should suffice.”



In the morning, Harry woke with memories that could not possibly be real. Snape buying him a butterbeer. Snape asking if he wanted to eat something. Snape giving him a pepperup potion – okay, that last one could be real, possibly.

Still, it was weird.

He heard voices – that must be what had woken him.

“How did you manage to find him?” Dumbledore!

“Mere luck. I intended to spend the night looking for him, so I wrote a note to Tom telling him I wouldn’t be there. The boy must have seen it while looking for a place to stay. Though I rather doubt he’d have risked it but for the pneumonia.” Snape did not mention exactly when he had found Harry.

“Pneumonia?”

“Ah, you would not know the scientific term. An infection of the lungs. It mostly occurs as a complication of untreated colds.” Huh, strange. Snape hadn’t explained it to Harry, and actually, Harry wasn’t envious. It sounded like Snape thought Dumbledore was an idiot for not knowing the word.

“He did not intentionally turn to you for help?”

Snape huffed. “Obviously not. The boy has an owl, he could have sent for help anytime he wanted.”

“Ah, but perhaps Harry does not know how to do that. He is, after all, new to our world.” Dumbledore drew closer. “What do you say, Harry?”

Harry opened his eyes. It was useless to continue pretending to be asleep when Dumbledore clearly saw through it. “I know how to send an owl. I didn’t want to.” Hedwig hadn’t been there, but somehow, he was sure she would have come if he really had wanted to send a letter. “And I bet Tom would have told you the moment I turned up here without the cloak.”

“Yes, indeed. Why did you not do that, Harry?”

“I don’t want to be sent back.”

“My dear boy, there is no danger at all of being sent back to your relatives. I have learnt from my mistakes.”

“I don’t want to go to the Weasleys, either.” Harry pulled the blanket around himself, feeling very vulnerable all of a sudden. Dumbledore knew why he had run away, didn’t he? He knew everything. So why didn’t he understand?

“But why not? Dumbledore sounded honestly surprised.

“They don’t like me.”

“I am sure that is a misunderstanding. Why, of course, Professor Snape warned me that might happen. You see, Harry, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley treated you as one of their own. Rest assured, their own children were punished just the same.”

Harry knew that. He wasn’t an idiot. Ron had obviously known what was going to happen. Still. “It makes no sense. You don’t beat people you like.”

Dumbledore sat down on the bedside. “It must seem horribly old-fashioned to you, I can see that, but surely you realize, Harry, that parents need to punish their children sometimes? Their choice of punishment was not ideal, but they did it because they love you and want you to grow up to be a good person, Harry.”

“I can be a good person without – without –” He swallowed and didn’t speak anymore, for fear he might start to cry.

“I know that, Harry. But you have to understand their reasons. The Weasley family loves you very much and would be very sad if you didn’t return. In fact, Ginevra is very worried about you.”

He didn’t want Ginny to worry. Not when it was all his fault, in a way. But – it just felt so wrong. “Fine. I’ll go back to them.” A place to stay. Like Privet Drive. It would be better than sleeping in the streets. And he did like Ron and Ginny, and even Percy, though he wasn’t so sure about Fred and George anymore.

Dumbledore got up. “That is settled then.”

“I will return the boy at noon”, Snape said coolly. “Just to make sure the potions I gave him have taken full effect.”

“Splendid, Severus. See you at Hogwarts!”




Harry stared glumly at the dusty floor. He had thought Dumbledore was on his side!

Perhaps Dumbledore was right? Perhaps Dudley wouldn’t be so horrible if his parents beat him more often?
Dudley certainly deserved a beating for how he had treated his series of pets.

But Harry had felt so humiliated and betrayed, it wasn’t something you should want your child to feel like, ever.

He didn’t pay attention to what Snape was doing, so he was startled when the man suddenly talked to him.

“Potter.”

Harry looked up. Snape sat in the armchair next to the bed, and for once, his eyes didn’t radiate hatred.

Well, he wasn’t looking at Harry at all, but staring at the floor.
“You are, of course, aware, that your mother would not have wanted your guardians to cane, spank or otherwise physically hurt you, right?”

What? How did Snape know? Harry couldn’t imagine his parents doing something like that, ever, but ... “How do you know? Sir?”

“She was in my year at Hogwarts. And very vocal about her opinions.”

Had she just told everyone what she thought, whether they wanted to know or not? Like Hermione?
He wanted to ask, but instead blurted out: “Why are you telling me this?”

“I want to suggest a deal. Next time you run away, you will do so to a location we previously agreed on.”

Harry frowned. “So you can take me back faster?”

“No! Listen, you id-” Snape interrupted himself. “Boy. You run to the place we agreed on, I pick you up and take you to my home, where you can hide in an unused bedroom and pretend it’s an abandoned house you had the luck to stumble across. While I continue to enjoy my holidays, merely pretending to search for you. As there’s not much of the holidays left, I can tell Dumbledore I found you just before term starts.”

Snape would take him to his own home? “Why would you do that?”

“Because I don’t want to waste my time chasing after you. I do, of course, expect you to be as quiet and inobtrusive in my home as you managed to be on the streets.”

“I’m very good at pretending I’m not there, sir.” And if Snape pretended Harry wasn’t there, too, that wouldn’t be so bad.

“Ah, yes. Except when meddling house elves get in the way.”

“Um, yes.” Why did Snape have to remember that bit?

“What, exactly, did the elf tell you? And what was his name, again?”

Harry repeated everything he remembered.

Snape nodded. “If he ever appears again, do ask him whether he could tell your bed, nightstand or school trunk what the problem is. Perhaps there is a loophole in the command that prevents him from telling you.”

“Yes, sir.” That would be much too easy, wouldn’t it? How stupid would Dobby’s owners have to be to not make sure that couldn’t work?

But he could try it, at least.




When Harry stepped out of the Weasleys’ fire, he almost stumbled over Ginny. She was sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace, her puffskein on her lap.

“Harry!” She got up, holding the pet close to her chest.

“Um. Hi Ginny. Er, I’m terribly sorry about your puffskein. I shouldn’t have let Fred and George use it as ball.”

Before she could answer, however, someone else stepped out of the fire. “Miss Weasley. Do tell your parents that I accompanied Mr. Potter here, or you shall regret it at the start of the school term.”

When Harry turned around to look at Snape, the man was gone.

“Where did he go?” There wasn’t a fire here, Snape would have had to start one before he could floo out.

“He disapparated”, Ginny stated, as if that explained anything. “Who was that?”

Deciding that it must be a wizard thing and nothing to be worried about, Harry explained: “That’s Professor Snape, the potions master.”

“Oh, so that’s what he looks like!”

Relieved that Ginny finally talked to him – his running away must have shocked her out of her shyness, he supposed – Harry followed her to the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley was busy preparing lunch.