Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Author's Chapter Notes:
I do not own Harry Potter. I frolick in his world.

Sorry this took so long, I had crazy essays and the PSATS.

Chapter 29: Talks, Treats, and Terrors

Harry ran all the way to Snape’s offices and fell on the floor outside the door, pulling his knees to his chest and putting his face down. He stayed that way until Hermione and Neville caught up with him, out of breath.

“I’m so stupid,” Harry said shortly.

“No, you’re not,” Hermione said.

“I am. He was—he was sitting right there. He’s going to hate me. I must’ve embarassed him in front of all our class.”

“Harry—it’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, but I should’ve guessed. I just—I like Snape. You know? I like him. I’m not, not ever scared of him or—“ Harry thought of the look on the boggarts face, the way his hand was being raised in the air. “Not like that. I—I just want him to like me.”

“He does like you. Would he take you into his house for a month if he didn’t like you?” Hermione asked.

“He won’t now, though.” Harry pressed his hands to his eyes. “I’m so stupid.” He looked up. “D’you—d’you think Snape hates me now?”

“No,” Hermione said.

“Definitely not,” Neville said.

Harry just wished he was sure. Neville and Hermione asked if he wanted them to wait with him, but he moved them on and sat, waiting, trying to think of a way to describe what had happened and hoping he hadn’t undone all the things he’d been trying to get since first year.

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Snape was sitting in his chair, his hands clutching at the arms, his face still stone, and Remus cleared his throat.

“Severus. We need to talk.”

Snape seemed to snap out of it, then. “I have nothing to say to you,” he snarled, and he stood. “If you’ll excuse me—“ He made to leave the room but was suddenly blocked by Lupin.

“We need to talk,” Lupin repeated. “Now.”

Snape bared his teeth. “Talk away.”

“Not here. My office.”

The two men walked the whole way in silence. Severus sniffed at the condition of the room as Lupin went over to his desk and sat down.

“I want to know what you’ve done to that boy.”

Snape sneered, his heart pounding. Lupin could undo everything, but Snape wouldn’t let him ruin this. Not this time. “Nothing. What, do you mean because he’s James Potter’s worthless brat—“

Perhaps the use of the word ‘worthless’ was too much for Lupin, because the man growled and stood up. “Damn it, Snape, the boy isn’t his father! You can’t use him in your little revenge plan, he’s just a kid, how dare you—“

“I don’t remember,” Snape snarled, “Did I admit to any of that?”

“He’s scared of you, Snape!”

“Many children are scared of me.” Snape gave the man a dangerous smile. “Can you tell them not to be?”

“He’s James son, he wouldn’t be—“

“If I may quote your own words, Lupin, the boy isn’t his father.” Snape sneered, sensing he’d gotten the upper hand. “Nor his godfather or that pathetic lump who used to run with you. You think that you can come here and that boy will worship the ground you walk on, don’t you? You’re alone, Lupin. You’re all alone.”

Lupin’s eyes looked crushed, but he kept pushing forward. “You’re just as alone as me, Snape. Only you, you never had anyone to begin with.”

“On the contrary, Lupin. I have Potter.”

Lupin looked stunned, then angry. “Don’t pretend you even care about him, Snape.”

“Don’t—don’t pretend? Who’s pretending?” Snape leaned over and shoved Lupin back into the wall. “I care about Potter. And you know what? He cares about me too. And you, Lupin? You know who cares about you in this little equation? Nobody.”

Snape left the room with Lupin still leaning against the wall.

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He came to his chambers and saw Harry sitting on the ground outside.

“Potter.”

Harry jumped up and almost lost his balance. “I’m sorry. I didn’t, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I’m sorry, I’m sor—“

Snape stepped forward and put both his hands on the boys shoulders. “Why—why are you scared of me?”

“B-because I—I want you to like me.”

“I do like you.”

“I just—I don’t want you to not. Like me, I mean.”

Snape looked like he was battling some intense personal demon, but he pulled Harry in and held him tightly.

“I—I like you.” Snape licked his lips and clenched his jaw. “I care about you.”

The two stayed in that corridor that way for a long time. It was a miracle, Snape thought when they broke it, that no one had come upon them and seen.

Harry looked up at him and said “I—me too.” Snape reached out and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder again. “I’m—I’m sorry. About the boggart. And embarrassing you. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.”

“I’m—I thought it would be the dementor, if I’d known I wouldn’t have—“

“I know.” He turned to his office door and opened it. “Let’s go inside.”

As soon as they settled, Snape got the whole story about the dementor out of Harry.

“I—d’you think it was my mum I heard?”

“Most probably. I doubt there’s another incident that would be your worst memory.”

“I—I don’t remember it.”

“Not conciously, I’m sure. You were only a baby.”

“I—I’ve had nightmares. About her—her screaming and disappearing. My dad, too.”

Snape sighed. “I’m sure they will fade with time.”

“I’m—I wish I could kill him.”

“Voldemort?”

“Black. I hate him. He—“ Harry’s hands shook, but then he got them under control. “I hate him. I mean, Voldemort—I, I hate him too. But he’s evil—he’s bad, he wasn’t—he wasn’t their friend. He didn’t betray them.”

Snape exhaled. “The ninth circle of Hell is reserved for traitors and turncoats.”

“Neville—when the dementors left, he asked Professor Lupin if that’s how the people at Azkaban felt all the time. And, when the professor said yes, he just said ‘good.’ And I, I agreed. Does—does that make me a bad person?”

“No. That is why the dementors guard Azkaban. People want to think that the people who caused grief are being punished justly.”

Harry stayed a little longer, then headed back to his dorm.

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The year started to progress as usual—classes, homework, and having fun with Hermione and Neville. Quidditch try-outs came and went, but Harry was unable to try out again. His arm was too weak, with the burn and the basilisk and how he’d broken it last year. He and Neville, instead, went to the top of the Astronomy Tower and tried to tempt birds to them with chunks of bread and seed while Hermione studied and lectured them about the futility of their exercise.

Hermione was busy a lot. Neville insisted she was taking too many classes and working herself to the bone. She took her lunches in the library a lot, bent over dusty books or copying runes into her notebook. She was busy every hour, it seemed—chanting Arithmacy equations under her breath, relating the history of runes during walks to class. She seemed to be regretting her choice in Divs.

“It’s absolute rubbish,” she said angrily after an altercation with Lavender and Parvati, who seemed to be eating everything the professor said up. “I could be doing something useful.”

Harry and Neville agreed, though it was good for a laugh. Harry thought it was a little tiring to have his death proclaimed every time he made his way into the class.

Seamus had taunted him for a few days after the boggart incident, but then seemed to drop it in favor of taunting Neville about Black. At least, he did until Harry pushed him into a coat of armor. He had a puffy lip and a pout for a week, but then he seemed to steer clear of Harry and his group. The story never seemed to leave Gryffindor house, a fact Harry was eternally grateful for.

He was able to avoid Professor Lupin, as well, at least for a little while. He left the room quickly, spoke up rarely, but he was good at Defense and it showed. He knew that, sooner or later, Lupin would tlak to him. He had a look in his eye whenever he talked to Harry, a suspicion and a thoughtfulness that made Harry nervous.

Harry was able to postpone the talk until the first Hogsmeade visit on Halloween. Hermione and Neville refused to go without Harry, but Harry said they should go.

They put up a fight, but Harry pointed out that the candy store was a necessity and that there was supposed to be a fabulous book shop. Not to mention the Shrieking Shack, which had enthralled Hermione. They left, promising to come back with as much candy as they could carry and to have as little fun as possible.

Harry was wandering towards the dungeon by way of the portrait of a red headed woman, where he often stopped and stared, when he heard someone calling his name.

“Harry!” Professor Lupin came jogging up, and Harry immediately looked at his shoes. “Harry, hi.”

“Er—hi,” Harry said, looking up quickly. Before he could look down, Lupin jerked a chin towards the picture.

“I always liked this picture. Used to remind me of a friend of mine—your mother.”

Harry looked at Lupin closely. “You—you knew my mother?”

“Yes. And your father. They were—some of the closest friends I have ever had.” Professor Lupin reached out and gripped Harry’s shoulder, and Harry resisted the urge to flinch. He didn’t know Lupin—but Lupin knew his parents. “Why don’t you come with me to my office? I have something I would like to talk to you about.”

Harry followed Lupin to his office and sat warily in the chair across from his desk. Lupin smiled brightly. “Tea?” he asked, and he started to pour a cup for himself. Harry nodded and looked around for the tea leaves.

“Here,” Lupin said, putting the two mismatched mugs down on the desk. He pulled forward a box and took out two teabags. “Earl Grey alright with you?”

Harry nodded and sipped his tea carefully. He missed tea at Snape’s. Maybe he could go to Snape’s office after this and get some real tea. With milk. And sugar.

“So,” Professor Lupin said brightly. “How are you, Harry?”

Harry shrugged and put his tea on the table. “Fine.”

“How are lessons?”

“Good.”

“What’s your favorite class?”

“Er—Potions, probably. Or Defense, I guess.” Lupin smiled at him brightly.

“Certainly your parents child, through and through. Those were Lily and James’ best subjects. Lily was always one of Slughorn's favorites—he was the old Potions Master, before Snape.” Harry felt a flush of warmth go down his spine “You’re doing very well in my class. Could speak up a little more, hmm?”

“I guess.”

“Harry, I’ve actually been wondering about that day in class.” Harry felt his stomach drop. “When we battled the boggart.”

“What about it?” Harry started to fiddle with his sleeve.

“Have—is there a reason that’s your fear?” Harry shrugged again. He wasn’t telling Lupin something he couldn’t even fully explain to himself.

“I—Hermione says fears don’t have to be rational.”

“That’s right, they don’t but this one—it is rational, isn’t it?”

Harry shrugged again. “I guess.”

“Is—is it a memory? What the boggart did?”

Harry shook his head. “None of the others had memories. I mean, Dean didn’t ever see a hand, not one like that, and Seamus doesn’t often see banshees. I mean—it’s just a fear. It’s not a memory or anything.”

Lupin sighed. He wasn’t getting anywhere, so he decided to just be blunt. “Harry, has Professor Snape ever hurt you?” The man’s eyes looked friendly, yet concerned. Harry looked up, shocked.

“What—Professor Snape? No, never!”

Lupin leaned over the desk, trying to make eye contact. “Harry—if something’s happened, you need to tell me. If he’s threatened you in any way—“

“He hasn’t, really!”

“Harry. You can tell me.”

“I am telling you! He didn’t do anything!” Harry started to get upset. Snape was the person who helped him. He never hurt him, not like the Dursleys, not even when he deserved it, like with the explosion that last day before break. Thinking about it, Harry’s hand went to his other arm, where there was still a bandage.

“Why are you getting so upset?” the professor asked.

“I—he’s never done anything, really, he hasn’t. He, he wouldn’t, not ever—“

“Harry, calm down.”

Harry shook his head. “He’s—he wouldn’t ever hurt me. He—he’s not—he wouldn’t, okay?”

As if sensing Harry needed him, Snape chose that exact moment to enter Lupin’s office. He was carrying a smoking goblet and had a distasteful expression Harry knew from Potions on his face. “I knocked, but you didn’t answer. I have better things to do than wait around with the damned potion—Potter.”

Harry got out of the chair, almost sighing with relief, as Snape came over and slammed the goblet onto the desk.

“So,” Snape said, getting a hold of Harry’s shoulder. “You didn’t take my word for it, did you, Lupin? You had to go question him yourself.”

“I don’t know what—“ Lupin started weakly, and Snape cut him off.

“Don’t take me for a fool, Lupin, you know exactly what you were doing and why. Potter!”

Harry looked up at his professor with a questioning look. “S-sir?”

“Go wait in the hallway. I’ve a need to talk to you about your Diminishing Drought, don’t go far.”

Harry nodded and made his way to the door as Lupin called out “Wait!”

Harry stopped and turned to see his professor standing at the desk, looking pleadingly at Snape. “Severus, I—I believe you. I just want to be a part of his life. If it weren’t for my—condition—I would have taken Harry in years ago, you know that.”

“If it weren’t for your condition,” Snape spat, “Quite a lot would be very different. And perhaps my opinion of you wouldn’t be so very low.” He allowed himself to look about the office, then sneered. “Then again, perhaps not. Ambushing a young boy in the corridors—“

“Severus—“

“Making him come to your office—hardly professor-like, is it?”

“I—he didn’t make me,” Harry said quietly. “I—he said he knew my mum and dad—“

Snape looked disgusted at Lupin. “Manipulating a poor orphan? Despicable.” Lupin looked a little ashamed, because he had done that. Then he had a little righteous anger.

“You’ve done more despicable things, Severus! You’ve done things too!”

“I told Dumbledore, I warned him. You can’t trust an animal, I said. They have no idea of right or wrong. Well, have you interviewed the boy to your satisfaction?”

“I—do you care about him? Really?” Harry looked down. Saying it to Harry was all well and good, but he would never admit it to Lupin—

“More than you ever will.” Harry looked back up quickly and a smile burst over his face so quickly that Lupin cursed himself inwardly. Before he could say anything else, Snape gave him one lasst sneer and, his hand still possessively on Harry’s shoulder, swept away.

“What did Lupin do to you?” Snape asked as they walked to his office.

“Nothing. He just—I think he just wanted to talk to me. He—I like him. Mostly.”

Snape pulled him to the side of the corridor and looked him in the eyes. “Like him you may, but be aware—Lupin is not all that he looks.”

“He—why did you call him an animal? He seems very nice. And he, he said he knew my mum and dad—“

“He did. Unfortunately, I am prohibited from informing you of why I consider him an animal—though his tactics today were despicable. All I can say is be careful, Potter.”

Harry nodded and had tea and discussed potions theory but thought, as he made his way back to the dormitory, that Lupin was probably worth getting to know. If he was careful. And he knew his parents.

That night, at the Halloween feast, Neville loaded enough food on his plate for six men.

“Wait’ll you see what I’ve got back at the dorm,” Neville said. “Enough candy to last us ‘til Christmas! Fizzing Whizbees and Choc’late Frogs and Slugworth’s Unmeltable Ice Cream!”

“And not a bit of it sugar free,” Hermione said as she took a sip of pumpkin juice.

“Ah, yes, Jane and Dave are going to kill us when we come to them with our cavities,” Neville said laughingly.

“Did you have fun?” Harry asked as he took a huge bite of his roll.

“No,” Neville said without thinking. “’Course not. You weren’t there!”

“And the Shrieking Shack was a dud,” Hermione said. “Really, hasn’t even had a good howl for almost twenty years! I really think there are more haunted places in Britain. Perhaps it was an outdated text—“

“Next time, though, we’ll stay here. I mean, the candy is great and so is the book place, and the Butterbeer is quite good, but it’s not as fun without you.” Harry started to intensely cut his roast beef, his cheeks turning a little pink.

On their way back to the dormitory, Professor Lupin stopped the three.

“Ah, hello, Hermione, Neville. Mind if I steal Harry away for a mo?”

Harry shrugged. “I—you can say whatever it is in front of them, Professor, I don’t mind.”

“Well—I wanted to apologize. For this afternoon. Professor Snape was right, I really handled the situation all wrong—“

“I—It’s all right,” Harry said, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Grown-ups didn’t apologize. They never needed to. “I’m—I can see you might get worried, but really, it’s—Professor Snape wouldn’t ever do that. Not to me.”

Professor Lupin cleared his throat. “I realize that now, yes. Had a talk with Dumbledore as well—well, I just wanted to apologize. I hope—perhaps next weekend you could come to tea and I can tell you about your parents.”

“Could Hermione and Neville come too?”

“I don’t see why not.” Professor Lupin smiled and Harry smiled back. It was all right, to say yes, wasn’t it? Having Hermione and Neville come too was being careful, right?

Harry related the afternoons events to the others as they made their way up to Gryffindor Tower. Slowly, the hallways started to fill up with people complaining and someone in the front of the crowd telling them to shut up. It sounded an awful lot like Ginny Weasley.

“Hey, open the Lady, I want to get into the Common Room!”

“Fred, George, is this some stupid joke? Take it off, I’m tired!”

“I need to pee! C’mon, you guys, move it up!

“Oh, be quiet!” Ginny Weasley’s shrill voice said. “Someone go get Percy—“

Percy, however, was pushing through the crowd.

“Ginny! Ron! Are you hurt?” he bellowed. “Move, out of my way—I’m Head Boy, please, let me through—“ Hermione, neville, and Harry silently attatched themselves to the back of Percy’s cloak and got through the whole crowd, where they saw what the fuss was.

“Gin—run and get Dumbledore. Ron, are you—“

“I’m fine, I just found it.”

“All right, then, you—you go get Professor McGonagall—“

The portrait of the Fat Lady had been slashed. Neville gulped at the amount of tears in the canvas. She was nowhere to be seen, and Peeves was hovering midair, cackling.

“Can—can portraits die?” Neville asked Percy as he worked on crowd control.

“What? No, I expect she’s off in some other frame getting tipsy, you know how she can get on the holidays—oh, come now, Harper, there’s no need to cry, the Lady will be right as rain, you’ll see.” He patted a snivelling first year on the head. It was then that Dumbledore arrived and questioned Peeves. Harry wasn’t really listening—Peeves didn’t seem like he was about to tell Dumbledore anything, and he was too busy trying to map the Lady’s escape route. He snapped too, however, when he heard Peeves last sentence.

“Nasty temper he’s got, that Sirius Black.”


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