Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Author's Chapter Notes:
Nothing in the Harry Potter universe belongs to me and after extensive therapy I’ve finally accepted the fact, though not enough to make me able to resist playing with the characters.

This chapter contains events that I’ve wanted to write out for a long time now, only Harry and Severus were being stubborn and wanted to work through some other issues first, the silly boys. I hope you like it and please drop me a review to let me know if you did or not. Honestly, I’d love some constructive criticism … I like the fact that I get so many positive reviews and they do inspire me to write, but I really need to know what I can do better.
Chapter 7

Severus made a point of ignoring the irritating, duplicitous Boy Who Lived during the rest of the week. At meals in the Great Hall, he kept his attention focused on the center of the Slytherin table and didn’t let his gaze wander to Potter’s corner. The boy could eat or starve himself without an audience. He certainly didn’t need any of Severus’s attention. In Potions class, Severus also ignored the boy. Potter, who normally raised his hand after the other students failed to answer a question correctly, became more and more reluctant to do so. The timid raised hand and stuttered explanations disappeared from Potions classes. Severus avoided the table where his godson sat with Potter, refrained from commenting on their potions, and pretended that Harry Potter didn’t exist.

The wretched boy thought he could worm his way into Severus’s life with a stutter and a few implications of mistreatment from his relatives. He thought that he could so easily win Severus’s pity and concern. He thought that he could memorize a few potions and waltz into Severus’s lab. He thought that he could wander around Hogwarts, asking impertinent questions and digging up specters of the past that had been safely buried for a decade now.

The boy would learn that Severus Snape was not a fool. Severus would be on his guard and would never again be taken in by his act. Severus ignored Potter during meals and during lessons and he marked essays in his chambers rather than in his office. The Boy Who Lived would no longer interrupt him with beguiling ways or impudent demands.

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Friday dawned gray and cold, with the autumnal crispness of the wind adding extra bite to the cold. Severus had finished his work for the week, with all of his essays marked, his lesson plans finished, and the potions for the infirmary brewed. He’d thrown himself into his work this week, using it to distract himself from thoughts of Potter. There was a curious ache in his throat when he thought of that boy and his betrayal, an ache that disappeared when he focused on his work. Now, however, the weekend loomed large ahead of him, two blank days without classes or work or any distraction.

Severus traced the outline of a potions flask with one tired finger. He’d been toying with the flask since he’d filled it with Harry’s … with Potter’s nutritional supplement potion. Severus didn’t know why he’d brewed the potion after having taught Potter to brew it for himself. The boy was … perhaps he was starving himself for attention, and Severus might hate to swell the ego of the Boy Who Lived, but he also hated the thought that one of his Slytherins could parade around the school, stick-thin and looking malnourished. Of course, given the inherent invisibility of Slytherins, none of the other staff had even noticed Potter’s state. Pathetic blind fools that they were, it was small wonder that the Dark Lord had managed to rise and intimidate them.

Severus’s hand was clenched into a fist around the vial of potion. It was convenient for the wizarding world to dismiss and ignore a quarter of the population, but Severus would be decked in Gryffindor colors and singing Christmas carols before he contributed to the problem. No Slytherin, not even the impossible Potter brat, could be invisible to him, not when it truly mattered. Severus wasn’t sure if it did truly matter in this case, wasn’t sure if Potter starved himself for attention or if there were other, darker reasons for the boy’s state, but it couldn’t be risked. The boy, despite his betrayal, should be given the potion and should be encouraged to eat. Severus couldn’t ignore the boy, not when everyone else did.

Severus followed a locator spell to the boy and was surprised to find that he was emerging into Gryffindor territory. He paused outside of Minerva McGonagall’s office, where the spell indicated Harry was. The door was ajar and Severus cast an eavesdropping spell before slipping into the shadows to hide.

“Th-Thank you for s-seeing me, Professor,” Harry was saying.

“It’s no problem, Mr. Potter,” Minerva said. “You should feel free to approach the faculty if you’re having difficulties here. Was there something you didn’t understand in our last class?”

“N-No, ma’am. I-I was w-wondering if you could tell me about my p-parents. I-I heard that they were Gryffindors, so I thought maybe …”

Severus heard a loud sniffle that probably came from Minerva. The woman was far too sentimental about a couple who had been dead for more than a decade. Foolish Gryffindors were all the same, sentimental and foolhardy and more apt to weep over spilled blood than effectively prevent the blood from being spilled in the first place.

“Well, yes, both of your parents were in my House,” Minerva said. “Such a surprise … well, perhaps the less said about that the better, when after all you seem happy where you are. Your father, James, was excellent at Transfiguration, while your mother was Professor Flitwick’s especial protégée because she was so skilled at Charms. Half-Ravenclaw, that girl was.”

“Were they … W-What did they do after they graduated then?” Potter’s voice quavered a little.

“Let me see … I don’t remember what Lily did, she worked for only a few months before she was pregnant with you. She quit in order to devote all of her energy to her family, loved you even before you were born and she would have done anything for you. She was such a sweet girl although it was something of a waste of her brilliance. James was an Auror, of course, given his skill in Defense Against the Dark Arts and the times being what they were, well, none of us were very surprised.” Minerva sniffled again.

Severus shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He didn’t understand why the Potter brat had reached out to Minerva, surely this wouldn’t help the boy in an attempt to hurt Severus. The boy’s voice, though … he was still stuttering, but it held the same tones of fascination and interest that it had when he spoke of potions.

The boy’s next question caught Severus completely off guard. “Do you kn-know if they w-were drunk the … the … when they d-died?”

Minerva spluttered, apparently caught off guard as well. “For goodness sake, child, what a morbid imagination you have. I … I don’t know what to say, honestly. Why do you even think it would have made a difference?”

“It-It wouldn’t?”

“Of course not, child. There are some things that a person simply can’t stand against. You mustn’t think of such things. Your parents were very brave.” Severus heard papers rustling and the sound of china clinking against china. “You’d better run along, Mr. Potter. I daresay your friends will be wondering where you’ve gone.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.” Potter slipped out into the hallway and stood there blinking for a second. His gaze swept the corridor and then was fixed on the patch of shadows where Severus was concealed. Wondering if the boy could see him, Severus leaned further back into the shadows.

Potter walked closers to Severus’s corner. “P-Professor Snape?” he asked. Sighing at his discovery, Severus stepped out into the light as Potter said, “S-Sir, I’ve b-been wanting to talk to you, b-but you weren’t in your office.”

Severus let his gaze flicker over the boy, assessing and intimidating him. Potter clasped his hands behind his back, his one sign of nervousness, and stood still without fidgeting. “Very well, Mr. Potter,” Severus said after a long pause. “Let us adjourn to my office then.”

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The boy was silent as he followed Severus down into the dungeons. Watching the boy tremble in the cold air, Severus bade him to be seated and served him a cup of tea. “Take a biscuit and tell me what the problem seems to be,” Severus told the boy, wearing his Head of Slytherin House mask. He leaned back in his chair and prepared himself for the boy’s complaint about being ignored, or some fuss about Draco, or another question about his parents. Severus was not relishing this interview, but he was determined to endure it.

If Potter’s questions to Minerva were genuine, and not staged for Severus’s benefit, then his purpose in questioning him had not been malicious. Potter’s questions had been nearly incomprehensible, their purpose an enigma that Severus would resolve, but that would have to wait for now. The question of why Potter seemed to know nothing of his own parents was hardly pressing. He would deal with Potter’s petty concerns first, no matter how annoying it was to deal with a student’s troubles. Potter was a Slytherin and Severus was duty-bound to help him as his Head of House.

Potter blew on his tea to cool it and his wary green eyes looked over the rim of the cup at Severus. “P-Professor,” he began and then stared at his teacup as though looking for inspiration. “I-I know … I know you don’t like me very much, and I … I don’t … that is, I-I have to ask a favor of you a-and I hope your dislike of me w-won’t make you say no automatically. I-I don’t know anyone else I could ask.”

The boy’s green eyes were clear and open, free of deceit. Potter may have been a Slytherin, but he had certainly inherited Lily Potter’s Gryffindor eyes, incapable of dissembling or deceit. Severus inclined his head. “I will give you the same consideration that I would give to any student, no more and no less.”

Potter nodded. “Th-Thank you, sir.” He paused for a moment, then leaned forward in his chair and said, “I-I need to learn Occ-Occlumency, sir. I’ve read the books in the library and tried their suggestions, but it doesn’t seem to be w-working.”

Severus set his teacup down with a sharp clink and leaned forward.

“P-Please, sir, will you teach me?” the boy asked, flinching backward.

“What makes you feel a need to learn Occlumency, boy?”

Potter flinched back in his chair. “I … th-that thing that you did, that I promised not to t-talk about? I’ve … I’ve felt that feeling again. I don’t like it, sir.”

“Indeed.” Severus considered the boy, who was trembling slightly, and poured him another cup of tea. “Have you noticed a pattern to the attacks of Legilimency against you?”

Potter looked down at his teacup. “Y-Yes, sir.”

“And?” Severus asked, allowing his impatience to filter into his voice.

Potter looked up at him, his green eyes wide. Severus was reminded of Draco’s words about Potter’s uncanny gaze that seemed to judge a person. Severus held himself still, his breath caught in his throat, and waited for the boy to decide if Severus was worthy of his trust.

A long moment passed. Severus made no move to frighten Potter, no attacks of Legilimency against him to force the knowledge from him. He waited and then Potter said, “It … It always happens when I’m in Professor Quirrell’s class, sir.” Another pause stretched out, with Severus considering the implications of the boy’s statement, and then Harry said, “Sir? I-I don’t know if it’s important, the books didn’t mention anything, but … when it h-happens, it hurts in this old scar of mine.” Potter pushed aside his bangs and pointed to the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead.

The breath caught again in Severus’s throat. “You’re certain?” he asked.

“Y-Yes, sir. A stabbing sort of pain … is that important?”

“When did this begin? Have you ever felt pain in your scar at any other time? How long does it last and how severe is the pain? Does Quirrell look directly at you when your scar hurts?” Severus paused to take a breath.

The Potter boy was trembling and sloshed the tea out of his teacup. He shrank back into a corner of his chair. “S-Sir, please, it’s not such a big deal. It … it doesn’t hurt very much, it’s okay really.”

With a sigh, Severus set his teacup down. “Let’s continue this discussion in my sitting room. I imagine you’ll feel more comfortable there and I’ll have the house elves bring a meal. You look like you haven’t eaten all week.”

“I did eat some,” Harry said. “Draco made me.” He followed Severus obediently through the connecting door and into his sitting room.

“Well, you need to eat more. You’ve been taking the potion I gave you?” Severus retrieved the new vial of the potion from his pocket and passed it to the boy.

In between bites of the chicken and mashed potatoes that Severus insisted on ordering, as after all, “You cannot live on tea and toast,” he told the boy, Harry asked, “Sir? C-Could you tell me what’s so important about my scar hurting? I mean, you seemed … upset.”

Severus set down his own spoonful of mashed potatoes and stared at the boy. “What is wrong with you? I know you aren’t stupid, so you must realize that your curse scar is a potential connection with the Dark Lord. How is it that you can dismiss it so easily?”

Potter choked on his mashed potatoes. “Th-This scar?” he said, again lifting his hair to point at it. When Severus sighed and nodded, Potter continued, “Th-There must be some mistake, sir. I got this scar in the car crash when my parents d-died.”

A long moment passed before Severus felt himself again capable of speech. “Tell me about this supposed car crash,” he said.

“I-It was … Uncle V-Vernon said my parents were drunk, but Professor McGonagall said it didn’t matter if they were or not. I don’t know if the Professor knows that much about Muggle cars and car crashes, really. I mean, Hagrid told me that I was the Boy Who Lived because I survived my parents’ death, but surviving a car crash isn’t that uncommon really, so I figured that wizards must not know very much about M-Muggle cars.”

Potter paused to take a gulp of his pumpkin juice. “I-I know I was too young to actually remember it, but I think there was a flash of bright green light and then … pain, lots of it.”

“I … Harry,” Severus spoke into the awkward silence that followed the end of the boy’s story. He was not meant to be the person who told the Boy Who Lived about his parents’ murders and his consequent fame. It was incredible that the boy should have survived all these few weeks in the wizarding world without having come upon the truth, without another adult, softer and more caring than Severus, explaining it to him. This task was not meant to have fallen to him, but to someone like Minerva who had cared about the Potters. Severus sighed. “Didn’t Hagrid explain things to you when he delivered your letter?”

The boy shook his head. “I-I was afraid to ask questions in front of Uncle Vernon. I didn’t understand anything much of what he said, but I-I pretended I did.”

Severus leaned back in his chair, trying to work out the best approach. “Harry, do you want some more food, some tea, sweets or chocolates, anything?”

The boy paled and shook his head, huddling into the corner of his chair. “Is it … is it really horrible, Professor?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

Severus nodded, wrapping his long fingers around his teacup and bringing it up to his face to calm himself with the rich sweet aroma of the tea.

“There was a Dark Lord,” he began, “you may have heard people refer to him as You-Know-Who. His name … his name was Voldemort, a name that is never spoken, such was the terror that he inspired. He tortured and killed a great many Muggles and Muggle-born witches and wizards, with the help of the Death Eaters who were his followers. He also killed any witches and wizards who were brave enough or foolish enough to defy him, regardless of their ancestry.”

“My parents?” Harry whispered into the pause. The boy had drawn his knees up to his chest and he rested his chin on one knee. His green eyes were fixed on Severus.

“Yes, he killed your parents. He then tried to kill you, using a curse which is considered Unforgivable. It’s a curse that no one has ever been able to block or survive. Your scar is the only indication that he cast this curse on you. It rebounded on him, destroying his physical body and ending the reign of terror which he had imposed upon the wizarding world. That is why you are known as the Boy Who Lived, and that is why the wizarding world has been at peace for the last decade.”

Harry greeted this revelation with silence, his lower lip caught between his teeth. “I … I … you haven’t told me everything, have you?” he asked at last.

“Very perceptive,” Severus agreed. “There are some things that can’t be told now, Harry. Can you understand that?”

The boy nodded. His expression remained solemn and Severus wondered at his ability to take the news of his parents’ murders so calmly. “Harry, are you okay?”

“My u-uncle, he lied to me?”

“Yes, about this and about a great many other things, I suspect. I ... If you have any questions about what your uncle has told you about your parents, you may ask me. I do not wish to discuss them in general, but I will endeavor to correct any falsehoods that he may have told you.”

The boy hesitated and then said, “If … if my parents didn’t die in a car accident like Uncle Vernon says, does that mean … well, he said that all the freaks who have magic are going to die early unnatural deaths. He said my parents d-deserved what happened to them?”

Harry looked at the floor, avoiding Severus’s gaze as the older wizard replied, “You must be able to see that what he said is pure nonsense, Harry. Look around at all of the professors at Hogwarts, all of us older than your parents were when they died and all of us fully qualified witches and wizards. None of us would be here if all witches and wizards were doomed to die early and unnatural deaths. You should know better than to listen to your Uncle when he says things like that.”

Some of the tension left the boy’s shoulders and Severus took a deep breath. He had finally said something right to Harry. “Any other questions?” he asked.

The boy looked up at him, a measure of tension returning to him. He leaned away from Severus and shook his head.

“Come now, I can tell that you’ve another question. Lying is not one of the Slytherin traits at which you excel, Mr. Potter.”

The boy shook his head and said indistinctly, “I can’t ask this question.”

Severus leaned forward to hear better, unconsciously starting to intrude on Potter’s personal space. He relaxed backwards when the boy flinched and said in a soft voice, “Ask your question.”

“I … It’s not about what my uncle s-said, sir,” the boy said. Impatient, Severus nodded for him to continue.

“I … I don’t want to make you angry again like the other night, sir.” The boy’s voice was still quiet and his words were nearly indistinct. Severus seethed inside, both at the lack of confidence shown by one of his Slytherins and at the knowledge that his ill-considered actions earlier this week had prompted the boy’s fear. If Severus hadn’t misinterpreted the boy’s question about his parents, if he hadn’t overreacted as he had, Harry would have trusted him sooner with the information about Quirrell. Harry wouldn’t be flinching away from Severus in fear right now if Severus had only kept his temper. How could he have thought that this timid, frightened boy would try to mock him or betray him?

“Ask your question, Harry. I won’t be angry,” was all that Severus said.

The boy’s gaze dropped to the hands he held clasped in his lap. “I … I was w-wondering, since Draco said my parents were Gryffindors, how you think … I mean, some of the Gryffindors really dislike the Slytherins, so would they have … disliked me too?”

Severus watched the dark-haired boy, this timid orphan with no knowledge of his parents. After a pause to consider his words, Severus said, “It’s a dilemma I’ve often seen as Head of Slytherin House, I can tell you. Slytherins are the least popular, practically shunned by some people who regard us with automatic suspicion. I’ve often seen children come from families that are traditionally Sorted into the other Houses, but while there is some initial shock at their Sorting into Slytherin, it fades after a time. I imagine …” Severus paused as the boy turned his expectant green eyes to focus on him. “I imagine your parents would be happy regardless of which House was chosen for you.”

A flash of pain entered Severus’s conscience at his lie to the child. He disliked falsehood and couldn’t imagine that lying to the boy would help promote the burgeoning trust that was forming between them, but he was reluctant to reveal his past with Harry’s parents and the wrongs he had suffered at their hands on account of his being a Slytherin. There was no need to relive the past for this insecure boy, no need to challenge the trust he’d developed for his Head of House with his loyalty for his parents. Harry seemed to trust him, though perhaps he’d approached him for Occlumency lessons only because he knew already that Severus was proficient at the art from their earlier encounter. Nonetheless, Harry had trusted him with the knowledge of his attacker, had trusted him with the information about his scar. It was fragile and uncertain, as trust went, but it was a beginning and Severus was reluctant to shatter it.

Severus sighed. Once he would have taken joy in disabusing Harry of any positive notions he had of his parents, but that Harry, the Harry he would have taunted and insulted, hadn’t believed that his parents died in a drunken car crash. He looked at the boy, this strange waif-like child who sat in Severus’s quarters, curled in a corner of the chair like an abandoned Puffskein. This was a child who was practically friendless, who stuttered but knew all the answers and brewed perfect potions, who flinched at every noise but stood up to his only friend, who refused to fidget even when Severus was at his most intimidating … this child didn’t deserve to have the little he had of his parents taken away from him.

Severus was jerked back into reality when Harry set his goblet of pumpkin juice back on the table, making a hollow wooden noise. “It’s close to curfew and you’d best be heading back to your dorms, Mr. Potter. As tomorrow is a Saturday, I’ll expect you after breakfast in my office for our first Occlumency lesson. Do not tell Draco or any of your peers about it, is that understood?”

“Yes, sir, thank you, sir,” the boy said, and after Severus insisted that he fill his pockets with the biscuits that remained on the tray, Harry hurried off to the Slytherin dorms.


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