Of Herbs, Crowns and Soot by Tedi
Summary: During the 19th century London, Harry Potter falls down the chimney of the apothecary of one Professor Severus Snape; bringing with him dire inconveniences.

But not every family is found in blood, and not every story follows the same path. For Harry, Snape and Draco, the truth has never been harsher.

A Severitus AU, one without magic. A/N: Slow edits.
Categories: Healer Snape, Master Snape > Apprentice Harry, Teacher Snape > Professor Snape, Parental Snape > Guardian Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Draco, Original Character, Remus, Sirius
Snape Flavour: Snape Comforts, Snape is Controlling, Snape is Depressed, Snape is Loving, Overly-protective Snape, Snape is Secretive
Genres: Angst, Family, Hurt/Comfort
Media Type: None
Tags: Adoption, Alternate Universe, Hospitalization, Injured!Harry, Physical Impairment, Sibling Addition
Takes Place: 3rd summer, 3rd Year
Warnings: Abusive Dursleys, Neglect, Physical Punishment Non-Spanking, Physical Punishment Spanking, Self-harm, Suicide Themes, Violence
Prompts: Chimney Sweep
Challenges: Chimney Sweep
Series: None
Chapters: 28 Completed: No Word count: 142312 Read: 33971 Published: 16 Jul 2020 Updated: 27 May 2021
The Sick Irony by Tedi
Author's Notes:
What a year this week has been, eh? Congrats to my USA readers. I wish you (and the world) a good four years.

Thank you, absinthe, for your edits. ^^

Harry wanted to hit his head repeatedly on a wall.

A particularly hard and painful wall.

White might have not wanted Harry around at meal times, but by the start of breakfast, Harry knew he didn't want to be around any of the Malfoy Manor residents either.

Mr Malfoy constantly asked questions, interrupting Harry whenever he tried to eat. He asked about his family, his religion, his country, culture, food and everything Harry didn't know about Ali Patel. Hadn't Snape already answered such questions when he and Mr Malfoy were alone? He'd already told him Harry, well, Ali, was a relative of Professor Patel, doing an apprenticeship with Snape, what else was so fascinating with Ali that Mr Malfoy just had to know everything?

Malfoy was worse, staying silent at his part of the table, constantly playing with the ring around his finger, looking like he too was very interested in the subject.

So in the end, he half-heartedly nodded along to Snape's smooth lies.

Parents? Deceased. He'd been staying with the Patel siblings from a young age. Religion? Still learning more, you understand. Country? India. Culture? As Mr Malfoy should know, not every part of the country is the same, so of course it would be ignorant to ask about it as bluntly as he had.

Harry himself could answer for the food, saying how he was receiving cooking lessons from Mr Patel, since Professor Patel was a terrible cook.

Mr Malfoy didn't like hearing that.

"I've always told Professor Dumbledore he shouldn't employ women," he muttered, shaking his head, "Their hysteria makes it difficult, you see, and they end up failing at things they are meant to do."

Harry was prepared to argue otherwise, to claim that really wasn't the reason she was bad at cooking, but Snape pinched his arm lightly under the table, making Harry bite down his words in anger.

Thankfully, no further questions were brought up about Ali Patel, and the rest of the meal went smoothly with an exchange of conversation between the adults, mainly Sirius Black, politics, and people Harry had never heard of.

White stared at him from the corner throughout the meal. Harry waited for the man to leave him, and not change his expression to a disgusted one every time Harry took a bite from his food. Butlers, it seemed, enjoyed sneering at guests while they had nothing to do. So whenever he wasn't being watched by either Snape or Mr Malfoy, he would stare at the man long and hard, sometimes taking a few bites of bread as he did so. More often than not, the sour look on his face either grew worse, or he walked towards the table to pour some more milk or clear some dirty plates.

Harry wasn't having fun, but it was satisfying to see how much he could bother White by just ignoring the way he looked at him.

"The rain is coming to a stop," Malfoy said, looking at his father, "I'd like to show Patel around once it's ceased, father."

"Are your school assignments complete?" said Mr Malfoy without looking at his son.

"Yes."

"Your daily studies?"

Malfoy stopped playing with his ring, a frown on his lips, "Not yet."

"And why not?" Mr Malfoy said, turning to look at his son, who had turned his head to look at his unfinished plate, "Take care not to use an excuse such as not finding it amusing enough."

Harry could guess that was exactly what Malfoy was planning to say, from the way his eyes widened. Shaking his head, he lifted his cup to his lips, mumbling something Harry couldn't hear.

"You too have some work to complete, if I remember correctly," Snape said, putting his tea down, "How is the novel coming along?"

"It's hard to understand, some words," Harry said with a shrug, pushing his plate forward, "I mean, some words are hard to understand. And the book is very boring."

"I thought children enjoyed words of fiction," Snape said, lifting his brow.

Harry leaned back in his chair, "I'd rather have something… less mad."

"I'll take care to find chemistry formulas as future reading material."

Harry chuckled, covering his mouth with his hand, "I said something less mad, Professor."

Some ten minutes later they all rose from the table. Mr Malfoy left first, claiming he had some work to do in his office after the table was cleared.

Harry hadn't missed his stare.

Before he could follow Snape out the room, Malfoy caught him by the arm.

"What is it?" he asked, nodding for Snape to leave when he glanced over his shoulder, "Do you want your sweater back?"

"Oh, if you need it I don't mind," Malfoy said, as if he just remembered he had given Harry the sweater, "Nevermind that. I want you to come to my room with whatever work you have."

White was still in the room, so Harry drew Malfoy to the door, hissing into his ear, "I don't want to. Your butler caught me when I left, and accused me of stealing."

"Oh," Malfoy's shoulders dropped. Once they were out, he closed the door behind them, steering him under the staircase, "Well, I suppose that's alright. We'll meet at the library then. Less distractions then."

"Why do you want me to come with you? You seem like you can study without the help of someone that only just learned to read."

Malfoy blinked, "When did you learn how to read?"

"Much later than you, I think we can both agree," Harry said dryly, glancing at the door, "So answer me: Why do you want me to study with you?"

"Look at this house, Patel," Malfoy said, opening his arms and motioning around the room, "Do you see any source of entertainment? My head stopped functiıoning months ago."

"I think we can both agree," Harry mumbled, straightening his back, "I don't think your father wants me around you."

"Oh, he does. But not for reasons you think."

"For what reason then?"

Malfoy pulled away from where he was standing, clasping his arms behind him, a smirk on his face, "I don't know, Patel. Maybe a study session at the library might bring back some of my brain function."

And that, Harry knew he couldn't refuse.

"I agreed to study with Malfoy," Harry announced as he entered Snape's room, leaving the slippers on the made bed with relief, "But I don't want to."

"The senior Malfoy doesn't allow his son to have visitors during the summer," Snape said, grunting amidst dragging a trunk toward the door, spine arched dangerously back with the weight, "I fear you're the only summer visitor he's had since starting Hogwarts."

"Don't they have relatives, or rich family friends with children?" Harry asked, taking the other handle of the trunk and heaving it up, "I thought… Mr Malfoy would have… some."

Snape chuckled painfully, rubbing his back when they dropped the trunk beside the door, "He only has allies, some poor bribed souls along the way. Acquaintances."

"Like you? You're an acquaintance, right?" Harry asked, looking up from where he was sitting on the floor, one arm slung over the trunk.

Snape paused before answering, as if he had to choose from a very difficult list of words, "Yes," he finally said, sitting down on the trunk, "Like me."

The silence overtook their words, coated with comfort from the quiet drops of rain against the window.

"Does that come right before friendship?"

"Is that the only part of the conversation you're worried about."

"Yes," Harry said, meeting Snape's eye with more confidence he'd had in weeks, "That, and how unfortunate it is that Malfoy's got me as his only acquaintance."

"Draco's earned himself more friends at Hogwarts than we both have combined, Patel," Snape said, standing up, "I doubt your contribution is worth gloating."

"Oh, that reminds me, are you Malfoy's real uncle?"

Snape shook his head very eagerly, grimacing, "God forbid I be related to either the Malfoy or the Black bloodline."

"But you like Draco- Wait," Harry looked up at Snape and did a double take, cautiously rising to his feet, "What do you mean by Black?"

"I don't like Draco because he's Lucius' son. I like him because of the time and experience I've had with him. And to answer the second question, yes. Narcissa Malfoy née Black. I believe he is cousins with the convict. But none of that now, we both have places to be."

"I still don't want to study with him."

"I don't think Gryffindors should back away from their promises."

"What's a Gryffindor?"

"It's one of the four houses at-" Snape paused, hand still on the door. Harry considered touching his arm to see if he was breathing because of how deathly still his body had turned, rigid like stone.

Snape turned to look at Harry, watching him with odd fascination.

"Uh, why'd you call me that sir?" Harry asked, feeling unnerved under the stare. Snape parted his lips, then thought otherwise and asked him to leave the room, muttering as he did so.

"Why indeed."

A few drops remained falling from the sky, once their study session was over. Well, Harry would call it a study session only because he didn't know what else to call it.

While he studied, struggling through a chapter of Alice in Wonderland, Malfoy had provided great aid in making sure Harry lost his focus. Harry knew what is felt like to hate studying, or even to not have a friend for company, but Malfoy's words alone were enough to annoy him.

Malfoy was arrogant and for some reason gloated only about his lineage and not himself.

So when Harry finally finished his poorly-done exercises on division and multiplication, he slammed the books closed on the table, the noise echoing through the library.

Malfoy looked at him from the book he wasn't reading, watching Harry carefully.

Harry turned to face him, his rigid arms on the table supporting his weight, "I think we should take a walk."

The wood creaked under Malfoy's feet. Dropping the book eagerly on the sofa, Malfoy stretched his arms above his head, ruffling his hair loosely.

"Thought we'd never go," he said, placing his hands behind his head, "Come along, Patel. I'm going to give you the tour of your dreams."

Harry followed him out the library, closing the door behind them. Instead of walking out the back door like Harry assumed, Malfoy led them to the front door, pushing it open. The door slid smoothly, and for the first time Harry could see the grounds without rain obscuring his vision.

A long lane stretched before them to a point Harry could not make out, each side bordered with high, trimmed hedges. From either side of the hedges, vast grounds branched out into the horizon, decorated with too many things to name.

They took to the right, making sure to not step in any mud. Harry wiped some rain from his nose, keeping close to Malfoy as he guided them through the track between various kinds of flowers: some well known, some Harry recognised from the apothecary, and some entirely foreign.

"The gardens here are neatly kept for Father's guests," Malfoy said, his shoes sharp against the cobblestone next to Harry's soft steps, "Mother didn't like how the stone paths were lined with flowers, as it's meant to be the other way around."

Well, it was nothing like the one at the apothecary. There, Snape and Harry cared about its functionality, not aesthetic. Here, a long, stone lane was paved over the land, square patches with greenery dug into it.

"It's… neat."

"Very neat," Malfoy said, turning around with an amused smile, "Want to see something chaotic?"

"I have a feeling you'll force me, even if I say no," Harry shrugged, trailing his hand through the flowers as they walked, "I just don't know why you asked."

"Your eyes should enjoy some stability, before it comes."

"It comes?"

Draco gave him a final grin before quickening his pace, his Longer-Than-Harry's-Legs easily carrying him to the edge of the property before he could catch up.

"You can wait, you know!" Harry shouted after him, running to keep up with Malfoy. He didn't stop, of course, and turned a corner, disappearing from view. Harry sighed, pausing to take a breath and look at the building that stretched before him.

No vines, no breaks, nothing. Malfoy Manor looked eerie and Harry wasn't sure how he was meant to feel about it.

A final glance, and Harry continued down the path between the wall and manor, feeling an unseen pair of eyes following him.

"Malfoy?" he shouted, cupping a hand around his mouth, "Malfoy!"

No reply. Harry's frown deepened, biting his lip when he noticed a tree was arching above him where the building ended, a canopy of trees sprawling farther than he could see. Harry took a deep breath, turned the corner...

And gasped.

Specks of light filtered through the blanket of foliage overhead. A white structure stood right in the middle, circled by white and yellow flowers. Beside the trees and almost everywhere he looked, wild flowers grew in all directions, sprouting without care for the stone path or the table and chairs beside the fountain.

"This is what Mother likes," Malfoy said, standing up from the chair, "We had some peacocks around, but I don't know where they've gone."

"If your mother is sick, shouldn't she be here?" Harry asked without thinking, bending down to smell the lavenders, stepping back when he heard the buzz of a bee.

"Father doesn't allow it," Malfoy sighed, pulling out the chair and sitting down.

"Your father doesn't allow a lot of things," Harry mumbled, reaching for an unoccupied lavender and breaking some of them from the stem, "Oh, can I collect some?"

"Hm?" Malfoy lifted his head, nodding and gesturing loosely, "Oh, go ahead. No one but mother misses them anyway."

"Ah."

Harry started to walk around, smelling any flowers that caught his eye, and accumulating a decent bouquet. Malfoy watched him, head on the table, moving his eyes in sync with Harry's steps.

In the end, Harry had three bouquets at hand. A heavy one with all sorts of flowers, another with lavender, and a final one mixed with lilies and honeysuckle. He clasped the last one in a gentle hold, brushing his hands over the petals as though they would break. It wasn't a mystery why he had fondy collected the lilies, dressing them with the sweetest smelling flower in the garden.

He placed the lily bouquet on the table, handing the much larger one to Malfoy, who eyed the flowers with reluctance.

"Uh, Patel-"

"Your mother must be lonely, sick in her room all day," Harry said, narrowing his eyes when Malfoy's cheeks flushed, "She'll like them, I'm sure. Why are you blushing?"

"Don't ask me that!" Malfoy said, snatching the flowers from the table, cheeks blossoming into dark red, "I'm going to take these up to mother."

"So you like them, then," Harry said, grinning widely, picking up his own flowers.

"I do not."

"Yes, Malfoy."

The two then walked back, the afternoon sun slanting between the leaves, lining the ground and their clothes with messy shadows. They shared a silence somewhere between awkward and uncomfortable. When they were back inside, they bid farewell at the staircase.

Malfoy went left, disappearing behind the corner and Harry collected his books, and closed the door behind him, head occupied with questions about how Alice would survive the court.

No response came when he knocked on Snape's door, so he went back to his own, placing the books neatly on the bedside table. The flowers, still in his hand, lay neatly beside him, their colours earning a smile from Harry, pulling him deep into thought.

Lily Evans came to mind, her face a fog that wouldn't clear. Harry closed his eyes, trying to balance his breathing, urging the fog to clear for just a peek. It wouldn't, of course, and Harry furiously opened his eyes, wishing he, like Malfoy, could have a mother he could visit. Like Ron, a father that would ruffle his hair, and even an uncle like Snape that would pull him into a clumsy embrace.

He picked up the flowers, placed them above his nose and inhaled the smell that reminded him of a garden in a house that didn't welcome him.

It was, of course, ridiculous to cry for people you never knew, or to cry at all. Crying was for children like Marie, like people who were ill like Mrs Malfoy, not for boys like Harry who didn't have anything to cry about.

Why did Snape cry then?

Harry jerked up, gasping for air, running a hand through his hair as if to snatch the thought out of it. The thought sounded like it wasn't even his. His eyes searched around the room, looking for something he wouldn't find. Then his eyes landed on the books, and that's when he got an idea.

Taking the mathematics book, which he knew had empty pages at the back, Harry wrote in the date, and started recording everything that had happened since his arrival to the apothecary. Yes, his words were big and clumsy. Yes, he made mistakes and yes, he could barely finish the page without his hand hurting.

The script was ugly and messy, almost illegible, but was a flawless report of his first week. Important events, what he could remember from his interaction with Snape, and experiences worth noting.

He was halfway through the second week now, putting in even the unnecessary details, like the couple he had spoken with at the Leaky Cauldron, trying to copy the star he'd seen the woman wearing.

"What are you doing?"

The pencil flew out of his hand, and Harry hit his knees on the wood, making him shout out in pain. Behind him, Snape bent down to pick the pencil from the floor, placing it over the book he regarded with a raised brow.

"Should I be impressed you're working hard, or disappointed at the monstrosity you've brought into this world?"

"An apology for my knees would be appreciated," Harry gritted through his teeth, rubbing his palms against his bones, "Why do you always walk so quietly?"

Snape hummed, bending down with a hand on the table to support him. His eyes skimmed the pages at a speed Harry could not keep up.

"Congratulations, Patel."

His hand froze above the page. Harry lifted his eyes, feeling an inevitable wrath approaching, "S-sir?"

"Thirteen years, Patel," Snape said, idly tapping on the table with a finger, "Thirteen years I have been a teacher, and many more than that a researcher and student, yet you managed to baffle me."

"I don't understand, Professor," Harry muttered, losing his balance when Snape wrenched the book out of his hands, opening to the pages Harry really didn't want Snape to read.

"I have marked a mountain heap of essays, from eleven year olds to seventeen year olds, and never encountered an essay I couldn't read. My compliments, Patel," he placed the book back on the table, a smirk on his face, "You've managed to break the steady record I prided myself to have."

The book sat meekly on the table, the cover dull and worn. Harry looked between it and Snape, words frothing in his mouth.

"That's not fair! I just learnt to read!"

"I've taught countless students the same, Patel, at the age of eleven. They're not all perfect. However, if I am disappointed, it's due to the fact that I've expected more from you."

Harry was about to argue, finger jabbed into the air when the words sunk in, bringing his finger down with them. That's when he realised what Snape was saying, and that's when he felt his ears burn.

He hoped his hair would cover them enough.

Dropping back into his chair, he picked up the pencil, playing with it in his fingers, "Why are you talking like that all of a sudden?"

"I expect more of you."

"Yes, but you never complimented me."

"Did you take that as a compliment?"

Harry's ears burned further at the amusement on Snape's face. Turning around, he threw open the book, purposely writing each letter slowly.

"There's no shame if you took it as a compliment."

"I know."

"In fact, I encourage such things. I won't pretend I'm a kind man, so do take whatever you need to take to carry you through."

Harry turned around, a hand holding the back of the chair, "Did I do something?"

Snape smirked, his lips falling into a small smile when he saw the flowers on the bed, "Did you?"

"Professor," Harry said dryly, following his eyes to the flowers, picking them up, "Just tell me what I've done."

Snape sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I haven't seen either Mrs Malfoy or Draco happier in quite a while, even with Mrs Malfoy in her bed-ridden state."

Then he left, not giving Harry the opportunity to turn back around or offer a reply.

Leaning his head on the back of the chair, Harry dropped the pencil yet again, rubbing his hands over his face. The flowers stood out like candles in the night, lonely, away from the garden that had concealed its beauty. The room displayed it, now, for what it really was - colours you could rarely see in the city, seemingly dipped in the paint Mr Ollivander sold in his shop. Harry closed his book, stood up, and walked towards the armchair in front of the window. The cushion dipped under his weight, soft and comfortable.

Harry took out his shoes, pulling his knees to his chest. Bringing the flowers up to his nose, he took a deep breath, closing his eyes and breathing out.

"Hello, ma."

When he opened his eyes, he didn't see her. Of course he couldn't. Flowers wouldn't bring her back, dreams would not come true.

But Harry was good at pretending. So he pretended to see a woman there, looking very much like him with her dark skin and smile, a figure like smoke, moving in and out of shape. Harry was good at pretending, so he closed his eyes again and started to speak.

He told her about where he was, about his family in the orphanage, about Snape, about how he learnt her name. Diagon Alley, Malfoy, learning to read and just how much he wanted to see her and his father. Admittedly, he did get a few tears, the ones he didn't have enough time to wipe away, the ones that dropped over the petals that brushed his cheek. It wasn't what he wanted, not even close.

Harry was good at pretending, so he tempted himself to accept it either way, taking one petal with him as he walked down for dinner, hoping the redness of his eyes wouldn't be noticed and the burning on his arm would cease.

Snape and Mr Malfoy didn't join them for dinner, and Malfoy assured him they were having a conversation in his father's office. When Harry was about to leave, Malfoy once again cornered him and started to draw him to a part of the house Harry would rather not be caught in, even with Malfoy dragging him by the arm.

"Mafloy, I have some things to do," he said, groaning and trying to pull away. Malfoy had a firm hold on his wrist, however, fingers digging into the lines that Harry had drawn over his skin, "Are we going to do this everyday?"

"I don't see why not," Mafloy said, stopping in front of a door. He turned around, putting a finger over his lips. Harry raised a brow, trying to look above Malfoy to get a better look.

Inside the simply furnished room, on a large four poster bed, lay a woman looking remarkably like the picture Malfoy had drawn with a flower bouquet on the bedside drawer.

"Oh," Harry breathed, turning around at the sound of the door closing, "Malfoy, I don't think I should-"

Malfoy took him by the shoulders, steering him towards the bed, "I promised her I'd let you meet her."

"You promised-"

Malfoy grinned, stopping him right beside the bed, gesturing for him to stay put while he bent over the bed, whispering to his mother.

Mrs Malfoy's eyes opened slowly, a painful smile on her lips, "Hello, dear."

Harry looked around while they talked, trying his best not to listen to an intimate looking conversation. When Malfoy touched his shoulder, he turned back to the two, averting his gaze when he locked eyes with Mrs Mafloy.

"This is the friend?" Mrs Malfoy saidy airily, her voice hoarse and rough.

Malfoy nudged him on the side. Harry cleared his throat, rubbing his arm, "Nice- Pleased to meet you, Mrs Malfoy."

As Mrs Malfoy couldn't speak for extended periods, they stayed for only ten minutes where Mrs Malfoy thanked Harry for keeping Malfoy company during the summer. Harry nodded, rubbing the back of his neck and feeling uncomfortable until they left.

"That wasn't too bad, was it?" Malfoy told him, pulling the door closed behind him, "Mother was very happy I had a friend."

"You should have told me where we were going first," Harry said while they walked, glaring at the ground.

Malfoy shrugged, "You wouldn't have come if I did."

"Then you shouldn't have made promises without asking me."

Malfoy stopped at the end of the hallway, stepping in front of him, "I wanted to make my mother happy. Were you really going to refuse to come with me?"

Harry crossed his arms, feeling very small next to Malfoy with his towering height, "Yes, actually. I didn't want to come."

"That is heartless, Patel."

Harry's mouth dropped open, the words already forming in his mouth. Instead, he nudged him to the side, walking furiously down the corridor, "I didn't expect you to understand."

But Malfoy wasn't finished. He stepped in front of him again, stopping him with both arms extended to his side, "What don't I understand, Patel? That my mother is sick?"

Harry narrowed his eyes to match Malfoy's glare, "Shove off Malfoy-"

"That she might, how do I put it, die?"

"I said shove off!"

The two stared at each other for a long time, each with a glare of their own. Harry then sidestepped him, forcefully hitting Malfoy's shoulder and going down to the guest room without pause.

They didn't speak much, after that.

To be continued...
End Notes:
Last month, my sister and her friend broke up their friendship after spending the whole day at the park. Harry and Draco broke up thier friendship after Narcissa calls them friends. I think the chapter titel is very suitable.

Thank you for being patient with me this week, everyone. It's been bad enough without the site giving me a headache.

And if you like, I made a Severus Snape Fandom Survey you can contribute to. It's on my most recent post on tumblr, @tayyibesteatutorials.

Salam.


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