“The house is painfully unremarkable. I expected something… more,” Lucius says as they walk down the street towards it. 

Albus gives the man a look and says drily, “I believe that’s rather the point.”

Lucius merely ignores the comment, still looking put-upon at the sudden summons and bizarre request to don ‘Muggle-passing attire’. After much discussion, the Pureblood finally allowed Severus to force him into a plain black morning coat of completely Muggle making, matched with gray trousers and his cane. Though still posher than Severus would have liked, at least it was nowhere near as ostentatious and showy as the other options the man presented him with.

“Here we are. At the ready, boys,” Albus says to them. For the rest of the walk up to the door, nobody speaks, each one busy looking for possible escape routes or things that could complicate the situation. Severus spots a neighbor trying to look as if she’s tending to her garden, surreptitiously giving them looks.

After having to knock a second time, the door opens. For a moment, Petunia Dursley does nothing. Then, the spark of recognition enters her eyes and she gasps. “You promised Vernon that-”

Albus gives her a deliberately polite smile that doesn’t fool anyone. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Dursley. We’re here to discuss your nephew’s well-being due to certain information that we’ve received about your husband’s treatment of him.”

“Is Harry okay?” she asks quietly, wrapping her cardigan tighter around herself, and it only shows how thin she is under the loose-fitting cardigan. Lucius frowns but wisely keeps silent. “I know he was injured, but I don’t… know the extent. Is he- I mean to ask… Is Harry…”

“He’s alive,” Severus cuts in smoothly. Petunia sighs in relief, nodding. “But we need to discuss how he came to be injured. And more specifically, why he was so injured.”

Albus nods. “He’s received the proper medical care under our school nurse. He’s spent the last few days in bed due to the toll that healing took on his young body, but he will recover.”

Looking over, Severus makes eye contact with the woman who has, in the few seconds that passed, called her husband to ‘help her water the plants’. 

“Will you let us in, Petunia? I highly doubt you want to give your neighbors more to gossip about,” Severus says. At the words, Petunia seems to snap back to herself, moving aside so that they can enter. 

“Bloody neighbors. Always looking for something new to talk about,” she mumbles to herself. “You’ll need to forgive the mess.”

“It’s no concern of ours,” Albus says kindly, eliciting a ghost of a smile from the woman. 

The house itself is clean, meticulously so. The amount of salmon and peach makes Severus wince as he inspects the house. 

“Have a seat. Vernon will be home for dinner, and Dudley will come home at 3:45. I’ll get you men some tea,” she says and her tone makes Severus wince. 

What happened to you?  

She was a spirited and hot-tempered girl and though she had a mean streak the size of the moon, she had personality. This- this woman standing before them has nothing but a suburban mother’s smile to cover up for the hollowness behind her eyes.

It reminds him too much of… of her. 

“Allow me,” Severus says, standing. Petunia looks at him for a moment, looking torn on wanting to say something before she nods, letting him enter their kitchen. Moving slowly so he can inspect the kitchen, he spots the balled-up tissues of blood in the garbage bin, as well as the uneven photo frame just above it.

Looking closely at the general area, it does seem like there was some kind of altercation in that specific area, though probably short given how it’s limited to the area right next to the fireplace. Carefully, Severus rights the photo frame laying on its front, looking at the photograph of a happy family of three.

Potter isn’t there.

Shaking his head, he waits for the kettle. There isn’t much else to give him information in the kitchen. It’s as clean as the living room, and aside from the bloodied tissues and the shelves being in disarray, there’s little to draw on.

Lucius enters the kitchen and places a hand on Severus’ shoulder, pushing him towards the door. “I will deal with the tea.”

Narrowing his eyes, he says, “You have no understanding of Muggle appliances.”

Lucius doesn’t roll his eyes-the action is too undignified- but he comes close to it. “No, but I understand tea. Now go.”

Suspicious, Severus walks down the hall to eavesdrop, hearing Petunia quietly saying, “You ought to take the boy. Vernon will end up killing him one of these days and I don’t know how much longer any of us can keep going in this- in this kind of lifestyle.”

“He’s hurt you as well?” Albus responds. From Severus’s position, he can see neither of them through the crack in the door. Petunia must have nodded, because Albus continues, “Why didn’t you report him? Or come to us for assistance, given how long this has gone on?”

Petunia sighs. “I thought that if I could just keep the boy safe, teach him to be up to Vernon’s liking- and if I could meet Vernon’s standards as his wife, then maybe he would…”

“You thought that once you met his standards he would finally be the man you thought he was when you married,” Albus finishes for her. “Petunia, surely you understand that there is no way for you to do that. The moment you do, his standards will change. There’s no way of winning against a husband like that.”

“I know,” Petunia croaks, “But I don’t want to believe that the man I love is so cruel so as to…” 

A moment passes. 

“What papers do you need me to sign to hand over the boy?” Petunia asks instead of continuing. “It’s best to get this over with before he comes home.”

Severus leaves his spot by the door, going upstairs to look through the rooms. He resolutely ignores the cupboard, deciding to save it for last.

The first room is a small one but filled with toys that lay scattered on the floor, a forgotten punching bag leaning against the wall in the corner. It's more of a storage room than anything else. The amount of broken toys makes something in him wince. He’d grown up without much coin to spare, so seeing such carelessness with toys brings his father’s angry face to the forefront of his mind.

The second room seems more fit for a boy of Harry’s age, and for a moment Severus wants to make himself believe it’s Harry’s, but the massive lettering on the wall spells out DUDLEY so clearly that he can’t help but accept the reality of Harry’s real living space.

The master bedroom belongs to the couple, and it’s set rather plainly with a closet, wardrobe, desk, and king-sized bed. There’s nothing that stands out except for the bag shoved in the very back of the closet, open just enough to show that it has two passports inside of it.

Not as defeated and broken as one would assume, it seems. 

He observes the frames on the walls for a moment in the hall. Unsurprisingly, none of them show that another boy except Dudley lives in the house. 

Retreating back down the steps, he finally decides to face the cupboard. It’s exterior is unassuming and simple, save for the lock on the outside. With a deep breath, he unlatches the cupboard and looks inside. 

Harry’s Room, it says on the wall in shaky childlike handwriting, starting with red crayon before it’s continued by blue. 

“His belongings are in there,” says Petunia’s voice from behind him. “Though he doesn’t have much, mind you. Maybe a stuffed toy or two, a photo album, his old notebooks from school and whatnot. He has Dudley’s old clothes, but… I doubt he’d want them.”

Severus rips his gaze from the cupboard too small with the mattress that doesn’t seem much better than sleeping on the floor itself. He looks at Petunia, who stares into the cupboard with regret in her eyes.

Petunia crosses her arms, leaning against the wall. “You’re taking Harry in, Albus said.”

Severus nods. “I am. Do you have an issue with my decision to do so?”

Petunia only gives him a hint of a smile. “If I had, I wouldn’t have signed the documents, Rusty.”

“For the last time,” Severus says with a scowl, “My name is Severus, not Rusty.”

“And for the last time, Severus ends in Rus, which means that I am perfectly sensible in my decision to call you Rusty,” Petunia replies. They stare at each for a few moments. “Take care of him, will you? I tried to do my best, but the more I tried to show him I cared, the more my husband… went out of his way to make the boy’s life harder.”

“I will,” Severus replies. He pauses for a moment before he adds, “Thank you, Tunes.”

Petunia only gives him a smile before she begins to walk up the stairs. “I’ll give him a few other things as a parting gift. I doubt that Dudley will miss a few shirts, anyway.”

“You won’t be able to take it where you’re going, will you?” Severus asks. Petunia freezes where she’s standing, still half-way up a step. “You’re going to escape the moment you can.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Petunia responds meaningfully. “I’m not an animal that’s trying to escape an enclosure. My son and I are only going to go to an event this weekend for mother and son’s, and we will enjoy ourselves thoroughly and then go home.”

But this place hasn’t been your home in years, Severus thinks with a small smirk. 

Had the woman been a witch, she’d be a Slytherin. 

She’s always carried that spark- one that made her a terrible playmate but quite fun if one were looking for a proper bad influence. And formidable as an ally as well, because she did know how to scare off anyone who gave you a mean look. 

Severus turns back to the cupboard, dragging out the mattress so he could properly have a look inside. He digs around, finding a dirty stuffed bear that may have once been white. He sets it aside for later. He quickly adds the photo album Petunia mentioned to the pile, as well as a small garbage bag full of clothes. 

He traces the floorboards with his fingers until he finds a loose one. Pulling it up, he finds several notebooks, writing utensils, and a compass. 

“She wasn’t exaggerating when she said he didn’t have much,” he murmurs to himself, placing all of the items into the black bag before he shrinks it and places it in his pocket. 

He returns the mattress back in its place and shuts the cupboard, content to never look at the damned cupboard again. Returning to the living room, he takes his seat beside Lucius on the sofa, taking the offered beverage.

Albus looks up from the paperwork. “Well, it seems like this is all we need from Petunia. It should be sufficient, given the circumstances, and because she’s the only blood relative of his and technically his only legal guardian.” He hands over the rolled-up pieces of parchment to Lucius. “You can ensure that these won’t be made public?”

Lucius gives the man a confident smile worthy of a Pureblood of his reputation. “Of course, Headmaster. I’ll make sure of it personally.”

Albus nods. “You can go ahead and put that into motion in that case. Return here once you’re done. Severus, you should go back to the castle and check up on Harry.”

“And what will you be doing?” Severus asks, knowing that this very conversation may be brought up in the future. 

Albus gives him a small smile. “Waiting to have a discussion with Vernon Dursley. It might take me some hours. I still have to wait for him to return home, but I don’t think Petunia will mind. It may get ugly though, so I think Lucius should accompany me.”

Catching the meaning of his words, Severus nods and stands. He and Lucius head towards the door, seeing Petunia there. Lucius bids her farewell and takes his leave, waiting for Severus on the porch. Petunia places a hand on Severus’s arm to stop him. 

“Take this, Rusty,” she says, handing him a thick leather journal. “That one's yours. And this is for Harry.”

She hands him another black garbage bag. Severus shrinks that one down as well, placing it into his pocket. 

“Take care, Tunes,” he says quietly. 

Petunia just gives him a tired smile. “Take care of Lily’s boy, Rusty. I know you’ll do a better job than I damn well could while here. Tell him that I’m sorry. I’ll try to write to him when I’m able.”

With that, Severus turns and meets Lucius on the porch. Lucius says nothing of Severus’ words, walking to the end of the street where the anti-apparition wards fade off. He takes Severus’ arm and apparates them to the boundaries of Hogwarts’ wards. 

“Well, I’ll see you around,” Lucius says with a knowing smile. He moves a finger through a strand of his hair and Severus catches his meaning quickly.

Follow the plan, the sign says. It’s one of their older signs, a system that only the Slytherins in their year would know. 

“Oh, hold on Lucius, is it true that you’ve been having problems with your knee?” Severus says conversationally, picking his words carefully. “I don’t mean to pry, of course. Narcissa mentioned it to me more than a fortnight ago and I’ve only just now remembered.”

Lucius sighs. “Indeed. Blasted knee’s been giving me pain, given that it’s been getting colder and colder these days.”

Severus hums in thought. “Why don’t you come back with me to my quarters? I can give you something to help you, a salve for your knee. It works on bruises, cuts, and other types of injuries that would otherwise be non-lethal.”

Lucius nods easily. “I understand. I’m sure that the Headmaster wouldn’t mind the short delay,” he says, following Severus back through to the castle. “Where is Potter if I may ask? My son informed me he hasn’t returned to their shared dorm room. He’s quite concerned for his friend’s health, given that last he saw the boy, he was fairly battered.”

“Yes, I would think so. He’s harangued me with questions as well, but unfortunately, I’m not at liberty to share with him the location or status of Mr. Potter yet.”

He wipes dust off of his left arm, subtly signing hospital while trying to make it seem like an absent-minded gesture.

Lucius hums. “I suppose I’ll be looking forward to my son’s letter complaining about it, then.”

They continue the walk to the castle, the wind biting at Severus’ face. “Your son seems to be making friends of those in other houses, as well as those who aren’t Purebloods,” Severus says. “Was that your instruction?”

Lucius chuckles. “My friend, my son is to me what I was to my father. I can’t tell him to befriend those he considers “dull and stale” any more than I could order a doorknob to do square dancing. I have… heard he’s befriended a Muggle-born. Granger, was it?” Severus hums affirmatively. “Yes, she does seem quite bright, from his own reports. I’ve yet to meet any of his friends yet.”

“You could always stop by. I’m sure Draco would be happy to see you.”

Lucius gives Severus a smile. “Perhaps next time. For now, I still need to return to Dumbledore and I doubt I could do so before the night is out if he tries to parade me before all of his friends like I’m some type of zoo creature.”

Severus thinks of the rest of the plan as he walks, already knowing that at the end of the day, Vernon’s punishment will be in Petunia’s hands more than it’ll be in Albus' hands. 

They enter the castle, ignoring the students chatting in the halls. Luckily, most of them know well enough to behave until Severus is no longer within earshot, so they have no reason to stall on their way to Severus’ lab. 

“The healing salve is something you rub onto your skin where the wound was, and it evaporates quickly- I know how you value your robes, so it won’t leave a trace on clothing either, should it be rubbed against it. I developed it myself, though it isn’t cheap so it’s still obscure in many circles,” Severus says quickly, pulling out a 2.5-centimeter tall jar and placing it onto the table between him and Lucius.

“I see.” Lucius takes it into his hands, inspecting it. “It must be hard to be torn between developing potions and teaching students.”

“I don’t see why I can’t do both.” Severus takes a moment to give his friend a lookover. “I… don’t want to cross any lines here, Lucius, but while we’re here… are you still taking the potion for your stress on a regular regimen?”

Lucius looks over at him sharply. “Indeed.”

“Would you consider trying out some of the other potions I’ve made for it? I know that the one you’re taking currently has been giving you troubles with sleep.”

“Show me.”

Severus pulls out two bottles, both of equal size, the only difference between them being the color of the liquid within it. “This purple one is for the nightmares and it’ll help you sleep better as well as remain more level-headed during the day. This green one soothes the soul, which will aid you in handling more stressful situations, but it’s only for emergencies- crises and the like.”

Lucius turns the two of them over in his hand. “As close as we are, I feel like you’re not giving these to me solely because we’re friends. You want a testimony of some sort?”

Severus gives his friend a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s always good to have a Malfoy backing my developments.” 

And one to back my statement, should this reach Auror’s ears.

“I suppose fair is fair,” Lucius replies coolly. “Anything about these I should know?”

“Yes, actually. The salve that I gave to you doesn’t react well when it’s used in conjunction with either of those two- it reacts quite badly if the potion is taken within an hour of rubbing in the salve. With the purple one, it affects the state of mind and forces the victim into a sort of trance-like state where they’re easily coerced into certain things akin to a geas. As for the latter, the chemical reaction causes the heart to stop pumping within 6 hours if not given the proper medical care.”

Lucius frowns at the potions. “Hm, that doesn’t sound very marketable…”

“It is when it can be used by even squibs and, from my research, even Muggles with no ill effects on them. Not only that, but as long as they’re not used together, they don’t react with other potions or salves.”

Grey eyes look up at Severus for a moment, the meaning clear as he looks at Severus. “I suppose I stand corrected.” He turns to leave, pocketing the containers. “It was good to see you, Severus.”

Lucius traces his hand against the counter on his way out, sending a final sign to Severus. 

End of plan in motion. 

As the door to the lab slams shut, Severus allows himself a small exhale of relief. It went off as planned, full of carefully planned words and a conversation steered in the right direction so as to give everyone plausible deniability, should there be an “unfortunate” accident with Vernon Dursley.

Next Chapter:

For a moment, the men stare at Harry as he processes the information. He feels something cold in his stomach unraveling and tightening all at once. Suddenly, an understanding of the situation hits him, and it feels as though he’s been dunked under ice water, his hands shaking. 

He’d been so focused on the possibility of being expelled that he hadn’t even thought about what would happen to his Aunt now that he’d gone on and yapped about his life story.

It had felt good, at the time, to tell his story. For once, people were looking at him, they were listening and he wasn’t afraid of what would happen if his Uncle found out.

For once in his freakish life, adults seemed to care even though the very idea of it was laughable- him, a freak, being listened to by adults as if he had something important to say? But he was so desperate not to be sent home and for someone to care. He just wanted someone to finally know so that he would be able to tell himself that what had happened was real and wasn't just some terrible nightmare or him overreacting, it was real.