Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

A Lack of Confidence

Breakfast the next morning was such a tense affair that even Dudley couldn't miss the undercurrents. Harry was exhausted, having only had a few hours of sleep after that long conversation with Snape. Worse than that, he had no idea how to act around the man. He tried his best just to behave normally, but ended up self-consciously analyzing every possible phrasing and intonation any time he had to talk. It got to be so nerve-wracking that practically all he could come out with were variations on the yes, sir . . . no sir theme. Harry didn't know if Snape understood just how mixed-up he was feeling, but he was grateful that the man didn't rebuke him for all those "sirs" the way he had the night before.

And then there was Draco, who pushed his food around his plate, smearing a trail of egg yolk all over it, but didn't eat a single bite. Draco, who kept his lips pressed tightly together and his comments inside, but slammed his fork down every time Harry used the word "sir."

Snape didn't say anything about that, either, though it couldn't have been lost on him that Draco was angry. And jealous. Harry figured that Snape probably planned to talk to Draco about it later, when he could get the Slytherin boy alone. While they were brewing together, maybe. They did a lot of that, and Harry didn't usually join them. Potions just weren't very interesting.

He smiled a little bit, thinking it was sort of nice that Snape wanted him around even though potion-making wasn't Harry's favourite thing. Had wanted to apprentice him, even, just to keep him around.

Draco glanced up, saw the smile, and made a strange sort of growling noise.

Evidently having had enough of the strained atmosphere, Snape rose to his feet and pulled on the outer robes he kept hung by the door. "I'm sorry to spoil your Saturday, but I believe the headmaster has some paperwork for us to complete in his office," he announced to Harry. His gaze swept over the table. "Have you finished?"

Harry's glance skittered off to the side. Paperwork meant legalities, and legalities would make the adoption official. He suddenly couldn't face it. "Um . . . I think I might like another cranberry muffin--"

"You haven't eaten more than a quarter of the one you have!" Draco all but exploded.

Dudley shifted his chair over, away from the other boy, and ate his watermelon in worried little nibbles as he glanced from Harry to Draco and back.

Snape narrowed his eyes and gave Draco a short glare, but when he returned his gaze to Harry, his expression was mild. "Procrastination, Harry? Where's your Gryffindor courage?"

"It gets people killed," Harry bitterly stated, mashing the tines of his fork into his muffin until it was a pulpy mess.

Snape put a hand on Harry's wrist to still his frenetic movements. "That answer is misdirection. Can't you tell me what is the matter?"

"I . . . " Harry groaned, then managed to whisper, "I just keep asking myself what my father would have to say about all this."

"Your father's dead!" Draco erupted. "In case you haven't noticed, Severus here is alive and willing to take you on, even if it does get him killed. You might consider not being such a spoiled little arse to him, you know!"

"That's enough," Snape said before Harry could reply. Not that Harry knew what to say to that. "Get your cloak, Harry, and we'll floo up."

Harry got his cloak, but said, "I can't floo anywhere, Professor."

"Not done procrastinating yet?" sniped Draco.

"E-nough!" Snape snapped, enunciating the word with more force than before.

"I might burn up!" retorted Harry.

"Nonsense," said Snape, wrapping his robes around himself in preparation. "I wasn't planning to send you alone. If we go together, my magic will pull you through without incident."

"Well, even so, I don't much like the idea," Harry stubbornly insisted. "Is it so much trouble to walk up?"

"Mr Potter," Snape said, his voice adopting full professorial tone, "I quite assure you, there is no reason to be concerned. My own magic will shield you from any ill effects. I know whereof I speak."

"I can't believe you ding Hermione for using hitherto," Harry muttered, before he realised that insults probably weren't the best tack to take. All in all, he wasn't quite clear on just why Snape even wanted him around. He'd understood, when he'd thought the adoption was just to make the warding spells work. Now though . . . well, Snape had said Harry was somewhat admirable, but Harry didn't think he was. So where did that leave him? Harry couldn't shake off an awful premonition that he could still blow it with Snape, and that would leave him with nobody.

Again.

He suddenly wished he hadn't mentioned his father, even if Snape had asked. He really, really wished he could agree to floo, but not even to keep things on an even keel could he risk what the flames might do to him.

"Um, I mean, a walk would make for a really nice change, sir," he murmured, shifting nervously on his feet. "I'm sure you can protect me in the Floo," he lied, hoping to mollify the man, "but I haven't had a chance to really stretch my legs in weeks."

Draco gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, then hurriedly shoved them under the table.

"And besides," Harry miserably added, "the idea sort of reminds me of . . . er, Samhain."

Snape uncrossed his arms. "I didn't realise. Well, I suppose this is one of those times when we negotiate, then. We'll walk. Are you ready?"

Harry nodded. "Dudley, will you be all right here?"

"No, I'm going to kill him and stuff his body up the chimney," Draco suddenly snarled, every word bitter. "Of course he'll be all right! Do you trust me that little? If I'd wanted to do something foul to your cousin, I've had plenty of opportunities before now!"

"I didn't mean that--" Harry began, but Dudley cut him off.

"It's fine, Harry. You go off and sign papers with your new dad."

Harry cringed and stared at his shoes. Snape might want to be his guardian--though even that word made Harry rather shiver, reminding him as it did of the Dursleys--but no way did Snape want to be his dad.

Draco abruptly stood up and left the table, without even excusing himself--a breach of manners that Harry recognised as quite unusual for the Slytherin boy.

Snape didn't reply to Dudley's awful gaffe or react to Draco's rudeness. He merely opened the door for Harry, saying little to nothing as together, they left the dungeons.

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"You know, it really is nice to have my world expand beyond the confines of your quarters," Harry remarked as they were riding the enchanted staircase up to the headmaster's office.

"No doubt."

"Don't you think Draco would be in a better mood if--"

"I suggest you leave Draco and his attitude problem to me," Snape smoothly interrupted.

As hints went, that one was pretty hard to miss. That didn't mean it stopped Harry, though. As much as he still resented all the things Draco had done over the years, he couldn't help but feel a bit bad for him now. At least Harry had never been under any illusions at the Dursleys; he'd known he wasn't loved. It must be awful to believe you came first with your parents, then find out that you came a distant second to a crazed snakelike monster. Talk about a paradigm shift!

"Um, Draco kind of resents this whole idea, you know," Harry ventured.

Snape gave him a look which clearly said, You think? At that, Harry shut up. Let the Slytherins work it out for themselves. He had enough on his plate.

The headmaster opened the door just as Snape had raised his hand to knock. In other circumstances, Harry would have laughed out loud at the sight of Snape yanking his balled fist back just in time to avoid rapping Dumbledore on the nose. As things stood, though, he just felt too undone to appreciate the humour. He felt a bit like a Quaffle that had been hit way out over the pitch. He didn't know where he was going to land . . . or if he was going to land safely.

"Come in, my dear boys," the headmaster enthused. "Quite a day, eh? Quite an adventure." He waved them into seats, beaming from ear to ear. "Sherbet lemon? Peppermint? Jolly Roger? Ah, I know just the thing for you, Severus." He snapped his fingers, and a thick, ridged strand of black liquorice appeared, wafting through the air toward the Potions Master.

Snape scowled deeply, but to Harry's surprise, he did take the candy. He didn't eat it though, but tucked it into a pocket, presumably for later.

"Harry, anything you would like? Anything at all?"

The boy shook his head.

"Tea, perhaps? Orange juice? I hear the house-elves have been conjuring it especially for you."

"Nothing, sir. Thank you."

"All right, then." Dumbledore briskly rubbed his hands together. "Now, as you may or may not know, Wizard Family Services has the authority to grant adoptions. It is an organization loosely affiliated with the Ministry of Magic, though not under its direct control. Good thing, in my view. We don't want Harry's guardianship treated as a political matter, certainly."

That sounded sensible enough; Harry nodded. Snape, he noted, was simply listening.

"I contacted Wizard Family Services early this morning," Dumbledore continued, "to ascertain procedure, that sort of thing. When I explained the gravity of the situation, they were more than agreeable to expediting their usual process. It wouldn't do at all to have bureaucracy stand in the way of . . . " The headmaster broke off that train of thought and shuffled some papers on his desk, but not before Harry divined the rest of the sentence.

It wouldn't do to have bureaucracy stand in Harry Potter's way. He's the Boy Who Lived. He'll be the Saviour of Us All. Promised almost from birth to destroy Voldemort, don't you know . . .

Not even Wizard Family Services was going to look at him and see him for what he was. Harry sighed, and curled his legs in tightly against the chair, wishing he could somehow hide.

"There are some initial forms the two of you will need to fill out," Dumbledore was continuing. "I suggest you take care of that here, in the privacy of my office, as Severus' quarters are a wee bit crowded at the moment." He beamed another smile. "For the sake of Harry's safety, Family Services is willing to interview the two of you at Hogwarts rather than insisting you come to London as would be usual."

Interview? Harry didn't like the sound of that. What were they going to ask?

His concern must have shone in his eyes, for the headmaster began explaining, "They simply wish to determine whether the two of you are compatible and ascertain that Severus can provide an appropriate physical, emotional, and magical environment for your needs."

Harry twisted his hands together, thinking uh-oh . . .

"Harry?" the headmaster queried.

"Um . . . do they interview anybody else? Because . . . um, if they start asking around, my friends or . . . well, pretty much anybody really, I don't think the word compatible is so likely to come up. You know, Professor Snape and I have a reputation for not getting along so well."

Dumbledore nodded sagely, though he said, "Not to worry, my boy. Wizard Family Services has a fair number of Order members on staff, many of them from the old crowd assembled the last time we had trouble with Voldemort. They're familiar with the service Severus here has rendered the cause of Light. They know that he's had to play a double role here at school. I foresee no problems in that regard save . . ."

"Save what, Headmaster?" Snape crisply inquired.

"Ah. Well, Harry . . . I strongly feel we can't proceed unless I understand why you would agree to this."

All at once, Harry felt his Slytherin side rise to the surface of his mind. The headmaster's query wasn't rooted in any true concern for his well-being; it was nothing but strategy. Dumbledore was angling for information, trying to figure out the best way to forge Harry into the warrior they all needed, trying to figure out if this adoption would serve that end, or not.

Dumbledore didn't give a hoot if it served any of Harry's own needs. Given that, Harry felt singularly uninterested in answering.

"Harry?" Dumbledore prompted again.

"My reasons are personal," Harry told him, raising tired green eyes. All of a sudden, he just wanted to go to sleep, and wake up when it was all over, the paperwork, the interview, the whatever. Or better yet, he wanted to sleep until Voldemort was buried sixty feet deep, until somebody else, somebody who might actually be capable, saved the Wizarding world.

"I was afraid of this," Dumbledore sighed. "Severus has convinced you it's for the best, hasn't he? I can see it in your eyes--"

"I'm Occluding," Harry broke in, though without much spirit.

"Oh, Harry . . . I wouldn't Legilimize you without saying so . . ."

Harry believed that about as much as he believed that Ron would sing for joy when he heard Harry's big news.

"I warned Severus not to browbeat you into agreeing to this," the headmaster went on.

"Professor Snape hasn't done any such thing," Harry thought to say, though he felt like he really didn't know how to explain. Anything. At this rate, he was going to make an idiot of himself in any interview. A bitter smile ghosted across his lips. "I think we all know I'm not so swift at following his instructions, all right? If I were, I'd still have a godfather and I wouldn't need anybody else. So you can take it as read that I'd only agree to this because I want to."

Dumbledore leaned both arms on his desk, stacks of paper automatically moving aside for him, and peered more closely at Harry, those ludicrous half-moon spectacles practically falling off his nose. "But why do you want to agree?" he softly inquired, then waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Harry kept expecting Snape to break in. To press him as the headmaster was. To prompt him. Something. But Snape was apparently content to watch Harry founder about like a snitch with one wing.

"It's between the professor and myself, nobody else," Harry finally offered. What did the headmaster want, Harry's emotions out on a chopping block where they could be sliced and diced and sorted?

Dumbledore firmed his lips. "Harry . . ."

"No," Harry insisted. "This is my life. If I choose to have him in it, it's nothing to do with you. Why do you even care what my motives are?"

Dumbledore sighed, his bushy white eyebrows drawing together. "I have only your best interests at heart, you know that."

No, Harry didn't know that. What was worse, he frankly doubted it. Dumbledore's primary interest was what it had always been.

Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort.

"Severus," the headmaster appealed.

"What do you wish me to do?" the Potions Master questioned, his stance as composed as a statue's. "Pretend he's not old enough to choose his own confidants? I fail to see how that will help matters."

Harry breathed a deep breath, feeling it flow through him and edge out a little bit of his tension. He began to see Snape's earlier silence in a different light. The Potions Master hadn't been letting him founder; he'd been letting him make up his own mind.

And now, he was respecting Harry's decision.

"I cannot in good conscience approve this without knowing how Harry feels about it," the headmaster objected. He bit down on his sherbet lemon and cracked it in half.

"But you could in good conscience send Hermione and me back into the Forbidden Forest even though a werewolf was on the loose?" Harry scoffed. The gall of the man was unbelievable!

"This scheme--"

"It's not a scheme, Headmaster," Snape cut the man off, that time. "I was quite clear with you on that point."

"Does he know that, though?" Dumbledore questioned, glancing at Harry.

"What I know," Harry stated, sitting up straight, "is that I told you already that the professor had done nothing wrong, and that I'm agreeable to the idea. You can believe me or not; that's up to you."

"Harry--"

"That really is quite enough, Albus," Snape announced, standing up and taking hold of the stack of papers Dumbledore had shuffled earlier. "Harry will not confide where he feels no confidence. Is that not clear by now?"

Dumbledore sighed, and rose unsteadily to his feet. "Very clear. I'll leave you to your forms, then." He glanced down at Harry, who was still seated. "My door is always open to you. I do hope you know that."

Harry wordlessly nodded, but what he was thinking was that he'd rather go knock on Snape's office door, than stand before the gargoyles in the hall downstairs and call out random candies until he hit the password. Snape had made him welcome. But Dumbledore said he was welcome even when he clearly wasn't.

Harry knew which of the two he trusted most.

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Name, birthday, natural parents. Date of birth, place of birth, all residence addresses from birth up to the present. Family still living. Godparents.

Reason for request.

Harry had been writing steadily for a while, but that one stalled him. Reason for request . . . he somehow didn't think it was such a good idea to write, Warding spells require legal right to reside in adoptive father's quarters . . .

Father? Somehow, that was every bit as daunting as dad.

Harry mentally hemmed and hawed for a good while longer, then finally cleared his throat and quietly said, "Sir? I think I need help with this one."

Snape looked up, his black eyes distant, his mind still clearly on whatever question he'd been answering. Harry started to wonder then, what Snape's form asked. It seemed a lot longer than his own: sheet after sheet of thick cream parchment.

Harry pointed to the question at issue, and said with some desperation, "What kind of answer am I supposed to give? An honest Gryffindor one that'll have them hexing the whole request to oblivion, or a big fat Slytherin lie that'll come unravelled if they use truth serum during the interview?"

Snape set his quill down and surprisingly, began to eat his liquorice. Harry thought he'd never seen anything so absolutely bizarre as the Potions Master nibbling on candy. "Where to start," he mused, then detailed, "A need to feel secure, Harry, even physically secure, is hardly going to doom your application. Though granted, for a sole motive it isn't ideal. Now, as for Slytherin lies, by which I presume you mean cunning, you need have no fear of Veritaserum. No-one from Wizard Family Services would use it; the serum is highly controlled by the Ministry."

"Didn't stop you from--"

"Some things are best left unsaid," Snape interrupted in a hard tone, and Harry caught his meaning at once. Don't talk about it, not even here where you are supposedly safe. The walls have ears, literally. Harry glanced up at the portraits and shivered.

"Yes, sir," he whispered.

Snape studied him for a moment. "You'll be in my house too, when this becomes official, so write an answer that is both honest and cunning." A wicked light entered his eyes. "Or lie completely, if you wish. It certainly won't trouble me."

Harry nodded, and chewed the end of his quill, an action that didn't go unnoticed by Snape. "Hungry?"

"No, sir."

Snape snapped off a piece of liquorice. "Have that anyway."

Harry didn't much like liquorice, especially not the strong tang of the black variety, but he put the piece in his mouth. He didn't want to seem ungrateful, as Draco had accused. "Thank you, sir," he murmured.

"Why are you so nervous?"

Harry didn't know how to explain, so he shrugged.

"Are you still thinking about what James would say?"

"No, sir," Harry lied. He could tell his teacher didn't believe him.

"James loved you," Snape gently asserted. "He would want you to be safe. He would want you to have what you need."

"I feel . . . disloyal, I guess," Harry whispered, pushing back his hair with a shaking hand. "It's stupid and pointless, I suppose. Draco's right: my father's dead and gone, and you're alive and here, and . . ." Harry's face went a deadly white as he realised out loud, "The last thing I should be doing is dumping all this on you. It's really good of you to offer to do this for me. I guess you don't want me to thank you, but--" Harry stopped abruptly, then put his forehead straight down on the table, wishing he wasn't such a complete idiot.

"Would you like a Calming Draught? Harry?"

Harry finally sat up again. "Uh, no. I still have to fill all this out." He gestured at his forms. "Who knows what I'd write if I was . . . er, under the influence. Anyway, I guess I'll just get back to it, sir."

"Consider calling me Severus," Snape suggested, then without waiting for an answer, went back to filling out his own forms.

It took Harry a while to get back to his. Consider calling him Severus? Too presumptuous by half, Harry decided, even if Draco used the name. That was different. Draco had known Snape for simply forever.

He glanced down at the paperwork again. Reason for request.

Harry swallowed his liquorice and slowly wrote, My late guardians, Vernon and Petunia Dursley, have for many years seen me only during the summer. During the school year, however, I have had almost daily contact with Professor Snape and have come to know him as a man of strength, integrity, and great magical prowess. I respect his opinions and would value his guidance as I enter the challenging N.E.W.T. years of my education. Additionally, I know from long experience that I can trust him with my life, which is no small matter considering the forces that continue to threaten me.

"There," Harry said, passing his sheet across the small square table they were sharing.

Snape look at Harry, not at the parchment. "You don't need to show me what you wrote."

"I want to."

"Why?"

He'd refused to answer a similar question from Dumbledore, but somehow, it was all right to reply to this one. "You should know what I think of you."

"You went with a Gryffindor answer?" Snape questioned.

"No, it's both . . ." Harry lightly shrugged. "Cunning isn't only lies, I guess."

"Hmm," Snape merely said as he read the parchment. "I see you've realised what a transition is."

"Caring about what I'm writing helps it come out better," Harry admitted.

"You don't care about your Potions essays?" Snape drawled. "This comes to me as an utterly shocking piece of intelligence." He passed Harry's form back. "Well done."

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Half an hour later, Harry had finished all his questions; Snape was still madly scrawling away. For a while, the boy amused himself glancing around the headmaster's office, but really, he'd seen the place before. He thought of striking up a conversation with the Sorting Hat, but decided it would be better not to distract Snape. Besides, there was no telling what the Hat might decide to say. You would have done well in Slytherin . . . With nothing to do, Harry finally resorted to watching Snape, peering at his answers and trying to read them upside down.

"Having fun?" Snape asked, a question which eerily reminded Harry of the time he'd violated Snape's private memories.

"Sorry, sir," he quickly said, and pushed his chair back, away from temptation.

"You might as well see," Snape announced, crooking a finger to beckon him back. "Your interview may go better if you know more about me."

"Oh, getting our stories straight?" Harry quirked his lips a bit.

Snape shrugged. "Come sit beside me."

Harry moved his chair around to the other side, and began to read through the pages his teacher had already filled out. Much of it was basic information, similar to what Harry had supplied, but there was a lot more of it for the adult party to the adoption. Marriages, other children. Education. Employment history. Professional affiliations. Financial status. And on and on and on.

Some of it was interesting. Snape had taken Divination through N.E.W.T. level, but earned a score of Troll on the exam. Even Ron could do better than that. The man wasn't rich by any means, but he had a lot more money than Harry would have expected. He wondered if teachers were paid better than he'd thought, or if Snape's family possessed a modest fortune.

The essay-type questions were the most interesting things on the application, though. Snape's answers were very Slytherin.

How do you feel about your vocation? . . . Teaching adolescents is a challenge which has required me to develop keen communication skills and a profound understanding of the teen-aged psyche. These skills will stand me in good stead when it comes to being a father . . .

Describe your relationship with your own parents . . . From an adult perspective, I can see that my father was domineering, possessing a need to control both my mother and myself. Because this led to unfortunate consequences in my own life, I comprehend the inherent danger in being too dictatorial in my own relationships with adolescents . . .

And most interestingly of all, perhaps:

What would be your expectations for your child? . . . I expect Harry to fully develop his own potential, whatever it may be.

"They won't like this answer," Harry pointed out. "I think you're supposed to say that you'll make sure I have the training and education necessary to defeat Voldemort."

"They wouldn't like that answer," Snape returned, his dark eyes tired as he glanced up. It came to Harry then that Snape hadn't got much sleep the night before, either. "They'd think of that as Hogwarts' job, or more likely, Albus'. You should keep in mind that Wizard Family Services isn't the Ministry. They won't review this application in a political light. I'm expected to take a broad view of your needs, Harry. That's a father's job."

Harry flushed, wondering yet again what his real father would say to all this. The phrase rolling in his grave came to mind. But then again, his real father was the one who'd thought it was all right to hex someone for no better reason than to alleviate a friend's boredom.

He was fifteen. Everybody's an idiot at fifteen.

Well, Harry was sixteen and felt like he was still every inch an idiot. Why couldn't he appreciate what Snape was willing to give him? Why did he have to keep second-guessing himself and trying to be loyal to someone he'd never really known? Why did every bit of this hurt so much when really, it was nothing but a good thing? He'd have someone, finally.

Someone who could claim him. Someone who knew what it was like to tangle with Voldemort. Someone who could understand what he'd had to deal with these past few years. Someone who looked at him and saw the boy. Not the scar, not the prophecy, him.

It was great, wasn't it? So why did he feel like crying?

Biting back a frown, Harry watched as beside him, Snape wrote out answer after long answer about what a splendid father he would make.

Chapter End Notes:

Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other:

Chapter Forty-One: Sometimes It Just Takes A Wizard

~

Comments very welcome,

Aspen in the Sunlight


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