4 days before Christmas

The next morning Harry still couldn't quite believe his nerve. Even more unbelievable was that Snape had agreed to his deal. Harry didn’t want to question it too much. The man must really hate Black if he would work with Harry to get him. The thought of the dark spells Snape could use on Black practically made him giddy. If there was one thing he knew about Snape, it was that he didn’t show mercy.

The dorm room was empty as he got ready. Harry felt a strange sense of purpose. Like with the Philosopher's Stone or the Chamber of Secrets- this was the moment when he took charge and made his own decisions. No more secrets and being hidden away. Harry would fight for his parents. There was a sense of peace in that decision. This, he could do something with. It was infinitely better than the sense of waiting to be hunted he had been feeling all year.

“Harry, you look awful.”

Harry ran his hand through his hair in a useless attempt to tame it. “Nice to see you too, Hermione. Where is everyone?”

“They left,” said Ron, looking at him rather pointedly. “It’s the beginning of the holidays, remember?”

“Oh. Right.” Harry shifted under their scrutiny. He hadn’t remembered.

For a moment the silence stretched out long. Like someone had cast a charm to make time hang still. His friends seemed to be wanting something from him. Hermione was urging him with her eyes, but for what he didn’t know. He wondered if he should tell them about his deal with Snape.Maybe they could help…

“You slept late,” said Hermione. “It’s almost lunch. And…”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “And what?”

“And we’re worried about you, mate,” said Ron. Good old Ron, you could always count on him to be direct when Hermione was dancing around what she wanted to say. “We didn’t see you last night.”

“And we know you used your clock. And didn’t come back until late,” continued Hermione

“And we’re worried you might…might…” Ron stumbled over the words.

Harry glanced between them and felt his heart sink. They had rehearsed this conversation. They were treating him like he was about to break at any moment.

“Might what?” hissed Harry.

He needed to hear them say it.

“Worried you might do something stupid,” said Ron

“Like go after Black,” finished Hermione.

Harry’s face shuttered and he felt himself instinctively taking a step back. They didn’t understand. Of course they wouldn’t. How had he even thought for one second he could share his plan with them?

“Nice speech. When did you two become Fred and George?” He worked to keep the emotion out of his voice.

“Harry, please, don’t-” began Hermione.

“Of course not,” interrupted Harry “Black’s a fully trained dark wizard. I’m not stupid you know.”

Ron nodded his head as if that ended the conversation. Harry kept his eyes trained on Hermione. If anyone would push him it would be her, and he didn’t quite trust himself not to explode.

Hermione bit her lip. “Harry…”

“I’m hungry. Let's go to the Great Hall and see if lunch is out. I missed breakfast.”

Without waiting for a response, Harry moved toward the portrait hole. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to hide his shaking fists. He wouldn’t listen to Hermione lecture him. This was one thing they knew nothing about. Ron and Hermione had grown up happy and loved. What made them think they could ever judge him for wanting to get Black back for all the damage he had done to Harry's life? He scrunched his hands in the fabric of his jeans. Jeans that were 2 sizes too big with holes from Dudley, another reminder of just what Black had caused.

He could hear Ron and Hermione following behind him. Harry marched on without glancing back. In his mind's eye he saw his friends having a whole conversation with their eyebrows as they sometimes did when they thought Harry was in ‘one of his moods’. Well, let them talk; he didn’t care.

The great hall did not disappoint and Harry eagerly dug into his food. Piling his plate high with a sandwich and roll and whatever he wanted, bitterly thinking of how he hadn’t been able to do that his whole childhood. He felt them sit down across from him. The silence was eerie, filled with more of that expectation, but he refused to speak first. Eventually Ron started to eat too and even Hermione nibbled on some quiche.

Harry glanced up at the head table and saw Madame Sprout tucking into her lunch. He felt a spike of frustration that Snape wasn’t there. He had been hoping to catch the man and meet to hammer out a plan. The absurdity of him feeling upset at the lack of Snape almost made Harry laugh.

Ron and Hermione were still staring. Hermione with her increasingly worried frown and wrinkled brow.

“Not many people. I suppose most people went home for break,” said Ron.

It was like an exhale. Someone had popped the balloon, and now the tension was all deflating.

“You should have gone home,” said Harry, “Have a nice Christmas with your families. I would have been fine.”

“Nonsense,” said Hermione. “It’ll be nice to have a quiet common room for a bit. Imagine all the studying we can get done. I want to go over everything for next term. ”

Ron groaned. “Hermione, it’s a break. By definition you are required to rest.”

And then they were really back. Falling into comfortable old rhythms. Harry let their banter wash over him. This was familiar, this he could deal with.

It was when Hermione was discussing study plans and Ron began discussing quidditch practice that an idea occurred to him.

“Sorry. Can’t,” said Harry “I have to go to see Snape. I’m probably already late for my detention. He caught me walking around last night. ”

He didn’t add on that for once, that wasn’t a bad thing.

Harry nodded through Ron’s laments that Snape couldn’t do this to him on the holidays, and Hermione’s admonishment about being out after curfew, before jumping up and heading to the dungeons.

It was an odd feeling wanting to see Snape and avoid his friends, but he didn’t question it. Ron and Hermione were just too pure and good. Everything was so black and white with them. Good or evil. They didn’t see the merit in a little revenge, but Snape did. And, weirdly, it felt nice to be understood, even if it came from the strangest place.

He knocked on the door to the potions classroom and bounced on his feet, suddenly anxious. Maybe Snape wasn’t even there? It was break, surely the man wasn’t hanging around in his classroom. Why hadn’t that occurred to him before?

“Enter.”

Harry started and then smiled. Of course Snape was in his classroom on the first day of the holidays.

The door opened to reveal a Snape that Harry had never seen before. The man was wearing a casual shirt, had donned an apron, and was using a mortar and pestle to ground something. Three of the student work stations were taken up with bubbling cauldrons, each with a different set of materials laid out next to it. Snape's hair was tied back and sweat was forming on his brow. For how chilly the dungeons got in the winter the room felt pretty toasty with the fires from the potions.

Snapes glanced up at him without pausing in his work. “Potter, surely you have better things to do on your holiday than bother me.”

Harry shifted from foot to foot unsure what to do. Maybe this was a stupid idea. He should be in the common room playing chess with Ron and procrastinating his homework. But then he remembered the purpose for his visit. Snape was going to help him catch Sirius Black. For that, he was willing to risk the ire of the potion's master.

“ Professor, I just thought that maybe we should come up with a plan on how to catch Sirius Black. If we work together, maybe we can get him by the end of break.”

Snape gave him a shrewd look. “ If you're going to be here, Potter, you're going to make yourself useful. Go get an extra second year textbook and get to work on that potion. Page thirty five. Hopefully, even you can't mess up a half done batch of bruise balm.”

Harry hurried over to the cabinet and grabbed the first shabby book he saw before making his way to the station at the front of the room on the right. He looked at the potion and took a moment to figure out where Snape was in the brewing process. It occurred to him that Snape was making all these potions, at the same time, from memory. He grabbed the aloe vera and began carefully extracting the jelly.

“Sir, “ said Harry, when Snape did not seem to show any intention of talking. Of course the man wouldn’t make this easy on him. “About that plan…”

“I will handle that.” Said Snape. “I believe our deal was that you be the bait and I will do the catching. So simply keep doing what you have been doing.”

Harry ground his teeth. That wouldn’t do. Sitting around just waiting for Black wouldn’t satisfy this growing hatred. “Well, another part of our deal was that I get to curse him. So, will you at least teach me a nasty curse or two? Or maybe you can give me a pass to the restricted section and I can-”

“Definitely not.” Snape dismissed.

Snape moved to a new table with a potion that had just started to let off a white smoke. He grabbed a strange red looking bean and threw 3 into the potion making the smoke turn red. He pulled another ingredient toward him and began slicing it into small pieces with a practiced ease.

“Pepper up potion. For the hospital wing,” muttered Snape, at Harry’s questioning eyes.

Harry let out a sigh. If Snape wouldn’t tell him the plan to catch Black, and wouldn’t teach him dark spells, then what use was the man?

“That balm is going to need the aloe soon. Watch your timing.”

Sure enough, the potion was starting to thicken and turn a lumpy gray. Harry put in the aloe and began to stir vigorously.

“Sir, “ It took all of Harry’s energy to keep his voice level, but he knew that Snape would not respond well to him yelling again. “I need-I-Maybe there is something to do to be better…bait? What do you think?”

Snape snorted. “You would like to risk yourself further to be more tempting to Black? Don’t worry, your natural affinity for trouble is taking care of that. As is evidenced by your wandering around the castle alone at night without telling anyone where you were.”

“So, you think I should do that more? Or maybe I should wander the grounds alone? In case Black can’t get into the school itself?”

“Ah yes,” Snape’s voice took on a hard edge. “There is nothing better than honoring your parents' sacrifice by risking your own safety to assuage your anger. Tell me, what do you think your mother would think of you gallivanting around like fresh meat on a full moon?”

Harry glared. “That’s the whole point! I don’t know what she would think, because of Black.”

“Surely your aunt has told you something of your mother,” said Snape. “Use some critical thinking Potter, or perhaps I am expecting something outside your capacity.”

Harry hurried the pace of his stirring. The Potion was starting to come together now and a smooth goop was forming, he would have to cut the fire soon. “ My aunt doesn’t like it when I ask questions, and she likes it even less when I mention my mother. All I know is what I hear when the dementors come close.”

Snape stopped working and regarded him. He was eerily still after the flurry of potion making. “That should be enough. Think, Potter! And turn off the fire on that potion, before you ruin it.”

Harry scrambled to turn off the fire, and also think of a good comeback.

“Most people don’t sacrifice themselves for their child to live to the ripe old age of 13.”

When Harry looked up Snape had moved to stand across from him. His teacher was staring down at the potion in disapproval. It looked lumpy and had a strange slimy texture.

“Add some more arnica powder and stir like your life depends on it,” said Snape, shaking his head. “You know, Lily would have never made a mistake like that. She was quite skilled at potions.”

Harry’s hand, halfway to the arnica, froze. Had Snape just made a comment about his mother?

“My mother was skilled at potions?” Harry repeated to confirm that he wasn’t hearing things.

“Yes.” Snape didn’t look at him. He was back to tending the pepper up. “Potions was one of her best subjects; potions and charms.”

Harry gulped, a lump forming in his throat. He had been in the wizarding world for two and a half years now and all he had managed to learn about his mother was that he had her green eyes.

“Was she studious?” whispered Harry.

He tried to breathe as he threw in the arnica and began to mix.

“Relatively. Lily was fascinated by the magical world, most of the time. I think she enjoyed her homework to some degree. She made head girl in her final year at Hogwarts.” Snape responded matter of factly.

So many questions, but none of them could form. Harry busied himself with mixing while he frantically tried to get his mind to settle. Snape bounced between his potions and seemed totally unaffected. He couldn’t help but stare at Snapes back. Of all the people to tell him about his mother, this would have not been his guess.

“If that’s done, begin jarring them for the hospital wing.”

The sharp voice grounded Harry and he nodded. Working mechanically now, he retrieved the jars and got to work. In his peripheral vision he could see Snape beginning to vial his potions too.

“Please,” Harry’s voice came out small and weak. “Tell me more about her,”

For a while Harry thought Snape wouldn’t answer him. Wouldn’t it be like the potions master to torment him? But then…

“Lily…saw the good in everyone. She was smart, and kind, and quick witted.” Snape wouldn’t look at him. “Her humor was dry and sometimes dark. Her favorite food was strawberry cake; she asked for it on every birthday.”

Harry blinked. Hard. She sounded just as amazing as he had imagined she would be. He finished jarring the bruise balm in silence, not daring to ask for more. For now, this was enough. His heart ached. How he longed to know her, to have been cherished by her. Harry stacked the jars forcefully, his mind coming full circle again. This was all Blacks fault.

Far from deterring him, Snape had galvanized his resolve.

“She sounds amazing.” Said Harry, finally breaking the silence. “And that’s why I need to catch Black. To make him pay. Please, Professor, teach me something to make him suffer. We need to catch this bastard.”

Snape’s eyes were a storm. “You're not getting a pass to the restricted section from me, Potter,” he finally said, “But…”

Harry watched carefully as Snape moved around to his desk and pulled out a bit of twine and vial stopper. He waved his wand and the twine was transfigured into a chain, then the stopper became a pendant. He whispered over the pendant. The magic felt thick and
Harry could even see small silver sparks shoot out of the wand. Snape twisted his wand in a complex circle and then seemed to pull the magic with the tip of his want towards his left hand. For a moment they were connected by an invisible silver string, and then the magic faded from view.

“Take this.” Snape held out the chain. “It won’t last forever, but it should last long enough. Press on the pendant if you see Black. Press it to call me to you.”

Harry slowly reached out his hand and took the necklace.

“I’m serious, Potter,” said Snape. “Press on the pendant to call me to you and I’ll make Black suffer for what he did.”

Snape gave a smile so vicious that Harry found himself nodding.

“Okay.”

He motioned to the necklace. “Put it on and don’t take it off.”

Harry reached up and secured the necklace, stuffing it under the collar of his shirt.

Snape nodded in approval. “Now go away. I have things to do.”

It wasn’t until Harry changed into his pajamas that night that he noticed the lily detail on the pendant.

XOXOX

“Don’t tell me- you have another detention with Snape,” said Ron, shoveling more eggs onto his plate.

Harry shrugged. 3 days into the holidays and his days had taken on a routine. Everyday he lied to Ron and Hermione and told them Snape still had him in detention for being out past curfew. Then, he would go down to the dungeons where, inevitably, Snape would grumble and set him to completing some task. But then, as he worked Snape would seemingly take pity on him and throw him scraps of information. Stories, anecdotes, preferences of his mother, whatever Snape felt like divulging that day. Then, hours later he would return to Gryffindor tower to be peppered with questions.

“He can’t!” said Hermione. “It’s Christmas eve!”

“You want to tell Snape that?” said Harry

Hermione glared toward the staff table as if she would see Snape there, but, as always, he was not at breakfast. “You should tell Dumbledore! This is an abuse of power. It’s the holidays! I can understand 1 detention, but 4? It’s ridiculous.”

“I’m fine, Hermione,” said Harry, “Really, I doubt he’ll have me there tomorrow and it's just some cleaning really. Not a big deal. Tomorrow’s Christmas, we can open presents and relax all day together.”

At the mention of Christmas Harry felt a noticeable stillness. Ron and Hermione seemed to be eying each other in that way that was insisting the other explain first.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

Losing the game of chicken, Ron cleared his throat. “It’s about Christmas actually.”

Harry shoveled more eggs in his mouth and waited. And waited. When still nothing was forthcoming he looked up. “What about it?”

“Well, Mom’s gone a bit spar about having us all gone at Christmas,” said Ron. “Especially after what happened last year with Ginny, she’s saying she wants us all home.”

“But…you didn't take the express back?” said Harry, confused. “Seems like you kinda missed that.”

Ron nodded, shifted in his seat and gave Hermione another pleading look before continuing. “Yeah, but she messaged Dumbledore. All but demanded to have me floo’d home, and well when mom gets in a tiff even Dumbledore won’t say no. So, I have to floo home tomorrow morning. It's only for 2 days. At most.”

Harry pushed down his sadness. He would have expected at least an invite after such a nice time at The Burrow the summer before second year. But, he couldn’t really fault Ron; if he had a family worth a damn he’d be with them at Christmas.

Sensing Harry’s mood Ron rushed on. “Mum really wanted you to come too, but Dumbledore said no. Something about the wards at Hogwarts and Sirius Black. She really wanted you to come have a proper Christmas, but seeing as…well…you're not her kid she couldn’t force it.”

Harry’s hand tightened on his cutlery and he kept his face pointed down to try to hide his expression. Black had taken yet another thing from him.

“It’s fine, Ron.” he managed. “I’m sure Hermione and I will have a nice time. Just don’t be gone too long or Hermione will teach me all of next term before it even starts.”

At the continued stillness and the look Ron shot Hermione, Harry’s stomach fell. He pushed his plate away. “Let me guess? You're going too?”

Hermione looked like she might cry. “I’m sorry, Harry! I mentioned to mom in a letter that Ron was going home and then she wanted me to do the same, and well…now I’m Flooing to the Leaky Cauldron tonight for them to pick me up.”

“Right,” said Harry tightly.

“It’s only for 2 days,” said Hermione. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly. “Right. It’s fine. I’ll have a nice quiet Christmas alone. Still miles better than being with the Dursleys.”

That didn’t seem to reassure his friends. Hermione looked like she wanted to hug him and Ron was pointedly not looking at him.

“Really, it’s fine,” said Harry, not sure if he was trying to convince them or himself.

Ron clapped him on the back. “Sorry, Harry, I hope you understand.”

He didn’t. He never would. But, it was the kind of thing you said, so Harry nodded.

“Oh! I did have one favor to ask you!” said Ron, “Do you think you could keep an eye on Scabbers? Can’t take the pets through the floo and I don’t trust that ruddy cat.”

Hermione shot up. “Crookshanks is a good cat!”

Harry listened idly to the bickering for a moment before standing. “Look, I better get to detention with Snape. I’ll watch out for Scabbers…and Crookshanks. Just leave out their food and stuff.”

He didn’t even wait for the thanks that he knew would come before withdrawing to the dungeons. This feeling of rather being with Snape than his friends was now becoming more familiar.

The potions master was sitting at his desk writing something when Harry arrived. He didn’t even bother to knock; Snape knew he was coming.

“You're earlier than usual Potter.” Said Snape, without even looking up. “Get the ingredients for a bruise balm. You will be remaking it- without messing it up this time. A double batch is always useful for madam Pomfrey.”

Harry headed right for the storage cupboard. Snape hadn’t given him the recipe yet but he remembered the ingredients from just a few days ago. He grabbed a small pewter caldron and piled everything inside, before returning to start setting up at one of the front workstations. When he had returned the brewing instructions were written on the board behind where Snape was working.

As Harry got started he glanced at Snape. He wondered how long it would be before he threw out a random fact about his mom this time. He didn’t know what the potions master's motivation was, but it didn’t matter. Harry was like an alley cat that had been thrown a scrap and kept coming back hoping for more. Anything was better than nothing, and slowly, slowly, he was starting to get a sense of what his mom had been like. A hazy picture was starting to form of what life with his Mother could have been.

“I remember telling you not to mess up this batch.”

Harry froze and glanced down. He had just been about to throw his first ingredient in. He squinted at the board to see what he had done wrong. It was a bit hard to read from here. He puzzled at the words, and tried to make sense of the blur or recall the steps.

“Potter, are you having trouble reading the instructions?” Said Snape. The man had stilled in his work and was watching Harry closely.

“Erm. Sorry, Professor. I’ll figure it out.” Harry squinted harder, blinked forcefully, blinked again. He readied himself for the insult.

With a muttered oath Snape waved his wand at a bit of parchment that he then shoved towards Harry. Scrawled in Snape’s neat writing were the instructions for the potion. Oops… The first step called for heating the boswellia sap, not seed.

He put down the seeds and reached for the jar of sap. He could feel Snape's eyes boring into him and determinedly did not look up.

“When was the last time you had your eyes checked?”

Harry froze and risked a glance up. No snark?

“Umm…been a while.”

“You should speak to professor McGonnagal about it before term starts.” Said Snape.

Harry measured out the sap. “Why?”

“What do you think a head of house is for Potter?” Snape rolled his eyes and resumed his work. “Fix your eyesight before you melt a cauldron in my class.”

Harry pursed his lips but didn’t dignify that with a response. It had never occurred to him to go to McGonnigal for something like new glasses.

“You know,” said Snape, lazily. “ One time in fourth year Lily was forced to work with Potter in Potions. They bickered so much they put the heat too high and missed the timing of the dragon scales. It caused their potion to explode and melted part of their workstation.”

It took Harry a moment to realize that when Snape said Potter, he was talking about James Potter and not himself. His mind raced with the new information. So James had been in the same year as his mom, who was in the same year as Snape…and Black. They had all known each other. He almost asked a question about his dad, but stopped himself. Snape had all but spat his name. And the story had not been exactly positive. Was Snape trying to tell him that his parents hadn’t gotten along?

He finished the rest of the bruise balm while thinking over the story Snape had shared. Short though it may be, it revealed so much.

At Snape’s nod of approval, he jarred all the balm and cleaned up his work station. That was 50 more jars of balm for the hospital wing.

“Are you going to keep up this farce tomorrow, Potter?” Said Snape, just as he was wiping down the table.

“That depends, are you going to tell me your plan to catch Black?” Harry said with a smile.

Snape did not seem amused. “Press on the charm if you see Black.”

Harry sighed. “No. I won’t bug you. It’s Christmas, I assume you're going to be visiting with family or something, anyway.”

“Considering it is Christmas,” said Snape, “ perhaps you could take one day off your vendetta and visit with your gaggle of Gryffindors.”

“Oh.” Harry fidgeted with the cloth. “I’ll be all by myself. Ron and Hermione are flooring home for a few days.”

Snape crossed his arms. “I find it hard to believe that Mrs. Weasley did not extend the invite to you.”

Harry barked a laugh. “Well, until my…what did you call it? Vendetta is complete, that won’t be happening. Apparently it’s not safe for me to leave Hogwarts with Black out there.”

Snape seemed to be considering the situation.“Perhaps the Headmaster would be inclined to let you floo home for a few days. Even Black could not surpass the blood wards, I am sure.”

“Naw.” Harry forcibly shook his head. “I’d rather be at Hogwarts alone. Anywhere is better than the Dursleys.”

Harry threw the cloth in the hamper at the back of the room. “Merry Christmas, Professor.”

Snape picked up his quill and renewed his work. “Stay out of trouble, Potter. I shall be very displeased if my holiday plans are disrupted by you getting yourself killed. Even you should be able to manage one day of peace.”

“Why Professor!” sneered Harry, “I didn’t know you had so much faith in me!”

Before Snape could respond, Harry was out the door.