Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Virtual Imprisonment

"You raped my mother, didn't you?"

Snape was genuinely surprised by the question. The boy had been sulking ever since the threat of a body-bind had convinced him of the virtues of cooperation, so he hadn't expected him to voluntarily break their long silence, nor had he anticipated his breaking it with a question like this. Snape's hands unconsciously clenched around the silverware. They sat a long moment in silence as the torches guttered, shadows flickering across the stone walls of the ornate dining room.

"You think I raped your mother?" Snape said at last, sounding out the syllables as though the words were in a foreign language.

"Yes!" Potter declared fiercely, setting his pumpkin juice down on the table hard enough to rattle the dishware. "You did, didn't you? She would never willingly sleep with a Death Eater! I know how these things work!"

Actually, it made sense the boy would come to that conclusion. It would also explain why he'd looked more and more furious the longer they sat across from each other in the manor dining room. Snape resisted the urge to sneer at him, and turned his attention to his serving of swordfish. "You may be operating under the misperception your mother was a paragon of virtue, but I can assure you, she indulged in less than saintly behavior on at least one occasion." Snape allowed himself a smirk, recalling that occasion. "She was one of those delightful women who view intercourse as a weapon."

Potter stared at him. "I don't believe you. She would never... Everyone said my mother..."

Snape closed his eyes briefly, irritated at having to delve into these old issues, but knowing the insufferable brat would never let it rest.

"Lily Evans was a decent person." He felt himself cringe as he admitted it. "Much like you, she often intervened in the affairs of others when it was not her place, but her intentions were always good. James Potter was a bastard, and a bully. Widely respected and very cruel. He tried to intimidate men and seduce women. He appreciated your mother because she was not utterly infatuated with him. He enjoyed the chase."

He noticed the boy growing pale. Deep down, he must still have regarded James Potter as a father, because he appeared to take Snape's words as a personal affront.

"He pursued your mother for almost two years," Snape continued tonelessly. "For a while, you couldn't see her in the hallway without seeing James Potter stumbling behind her, declaring his undying love. Perhaps he believed it when he said it." Snape shrugged. "Perhaps not. In any case, your mother began to fancy herself the woman who had reformed the cold-hearted rake, and she fell in love with him. You, Potter, are proof of how dearly she came to regret it."

"Why?" Harry mumbled. "What did he do to her?"

"From what I gather," Snape said evenly, "not that I lent idle chatter much credence, mind you... The novelty of Lily Potter quickly wore off after they left Hogwarts, and James launched back into his philandering ways. Your mother felt hurt and humiliated." Snape glared at something in the distance, and added harshly, "And she should have. Any fool could have warned her that James Potter was scum."

Harry stared down at his plate now, his expression as hard as granite.

"She slept with me in a..." Snape's voice unconsciously drifted into heavy sarcasm, "glorious moment of revenge that only a mother of yours could fancy successful." Snape looked up and gazed at Harry over his wine goblet for a long moment. "Although I suppose it was, in the end. She tricked James Potter into raising the son of a rival, the son of a Death Eater." With a cruel smile, both for the departed James Potter, and for the boy sitting across from him, he added, "James Potter imparted his family name to that child, left his wealth to him, and in the end, he gave his life for him. He died for a Death Eater's bastard. Quite a fitting end, wouldn't you say?"

Harry stared intently at his plate for a long moment, then shoved his chair back and ran for the door.

"We'll need to work on your table manners, Potter," Snape informed him snidely.

He took a sip of his wine, listening with mild amusement at the boy's growl of frustration when the door refused to open. "Alohombra!" came the frustrated voice. After a few moments more of Potter's epic struggle with the dining room door, he whirled around and approached the table again, beet red.

"I want to leave," he said coldly.

"And you will." Snape took another sip of his wine, watching the boy impassively over the goblet. "As soon as you ask permission."

Potter's body actually shuddered with rage at this point. "Can I go?" he asked in a voice taut like a whiplash.

Snape felt his lips pulling into a sneering smile; he couldn't help it. Was it obscene to reap this much enjoyment from his son's distress?

"That was hardly a proper mode of address, Potter. Try again."

Potter's teeth were gritted. "Excuse me, sir, but may I please leave the table?"

Snape waved his wand, disabling the wards confining the boy to the dining room. "Go straight down the hall, third door on the left. I expect you to go directly to your chamber; no dallying, Potter. I'll know if you do."

The dark-haired boy stood there glowering at him for an extended moment, as if debating whether to hex him. Then, shaking off the impulse, he quickly left.

Snape turned back to his meal, unconcerned. He'd taken extensive measures against Potter's tendency towards mischief upon their arrival. They'd flooed directly into the dining room, and he left the boy sitting alone at the table as he erected wards. Mostly to keep his more unsavory associates out. A few to keep the boy in. The measures were fairly sophisticated; they adjusted to Snape's commands. If he wished the boy to proceed to his appointed chambers, they lifted selectively to allow the movement. If Potter attempted to open any doors on his way to his room, he would find them all locked against him. If he attempted to open the door to his room after he entered it for the night, he'd find himself confined. He hoped the boy did not attempt the latter. He was fairly certain he'd have another of the boy's dramatic flare-ups on his hands if that occurred.

Of course, within two hours, he got his answer. One of the house-elves scuttled into his potions lab, where he labored over a concoction that would hopefully undermine that glamour charm.

"Master Severus!" the creature moaned, tugging on his robes to get his attention. "The young one is very, very angry! Minky tried to calm him, but Minky could not get him to stop shouting for you. Oh, he's raising a terrible ruckus, sir!"

Snape cursed the boy under his breath, quickly added the final ingredient, and lowered the temperature to allow the potion to simmer. "Very well. Tell him I'll be there momentarily."

After the house-elf departed, he quickly checked the potion's consistency and found it suitable for ingestion. He filled a vial with it, tucked it into his robes, and left to attend to the young miscreant.

He entered the boy's room and immediately deflected a nasty curse that loped his way. A quick 'expelliarmus' sent the boy crashing against the wall and to the floor. Potter let out a stream of invectives from where he lay crumpled on the carpet, glaring at Snape through enraged, green eyes.

"Accio wand!" Snape caught the boy's wand and reaffirmed his grasp around it, restraining the first words that jumped to his lips in a show of uncharacteristic patience.

"You locked me in!" Potter bellowed, quivering with fury.

"For your own safety, Potter. I know all too well of your penchant for endangering yourself."

"You. Locked. Me. In." Potter spoke as though he'd been the victim of some unspeakable evil. "I know you hate me, Snape, but I can't believe you took me from my dorm just so you could imprison me!"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Don't be so melodramatic, Potter. If you think this," he gestured with Potter's wand to the opulent room about them, "constitutes imprisonment, you are more naive and sheltered than I thought." He walked past the boy and conjured a warm mug of cider, ostensibly to calm the boy, but really to slip him the potion.

Potter was too enraged to notice. "First you abduct me from Hogwarts--"

"I would not have had to threaten you if you hadn't been so recalcitrant," Snape retorted coolly.

"... Now you're holding me prisoner..."

"Stop behaving like such a drama queen, Potter. It ill becomes you. This door is not locked." He strode back over to the door and yanked it open roughly to demonstrate.

"It wouldn't open for me!"

"The hallway beyond is warded," Snape explained delicately, eyes sharp like twin razors. "I see no reason for you to venture from your room at this late hour. You have access to a lavatory, the house-elves will bring any food or drink you require. The only reason you could possibly have to leave is if you foolishly hope to run away."

"The hallway beyond is warded," Potter repeated, voice lined with incredulity. "Against me."

Snape sneered. "Yes, Potter, against you."

"So this one, single room is warded against Death Eaters, and the rest of the house is warded against me," Potter said slowly. "And how is this not a prison?"

"The lack of Dementors might be an indicator," Snape said dryly.

"You're as good as one," Potter snarled. "You certainly suck the joy out of my existence."

"You flatter me too much," Snape said with a cold smile, inwardly pleased with the boy's words. "I can selectively drop the wards when you have a legitimate purpose for leaving this room, but I don't intend to give you full run of the place. Merlin knows what you'd do to my house if you could. It hasn't been in the family for nine generations just so an irresponsible idiot can find some way to vandalize it."

Potter's mouth bobbed open and closed for a long moment, as though he were at a loss for words. It briefly seemed like his expression would crumple and the boy would give into frustrated tears. Just as quickly, though, his expression smoothed into a slate of cold hatred.

"I hate you. You're as bad as Uncle Vernon."

"Do not compare me to your Muggle relatives," Snape spat.

"What, don't like being reminded that your son's a mudblood?" Potter taunted. "Whatever will dear old Voldy have to say when he finds out?"

Snape shifted uneasily at that. "He will not find out. For my safety and for your own."

"It will be kind of hard to conceal, won't it?" Potter demanded. "When I go back to Hogwarts with your ugly nose and your disgusting hair. They might notice the tiniest bit of a resemblance when I look like a junior version of the Greasy Git."

Snape forced back an impulse to hex the boy, reminding himself firmly that he was the one in control of the situation. "The Headmaster will decide what to do. Odds are, we'll re-cast some sort of glamour charm upon you return, if it is necessary."

Too bad. Snape had enjoyed taunting the boy with the prospect of sharing his... good looks. Damn the boy for appearing so relieved. The admission that he probably wouldn't resemble Snape for very long seemed to instantly hearten him.

"So what is this place?" he asked in a sudden change of tone, settling himself back on the bed and grabbing the cider. "You said it was a family manor."

Snape stared at him suspiciously a moment, but since the boy was drinking the cider, he allowed himself to be drawn into conversation. "It's my part of the familial inheritance. The other traditional manors are divided among the Blacks, Malfoys, and the Lestranges. We share common ancestry."

"I forgot," Potter said tonelessly. "All the pureblood families are interrelated."

"That's correct," Snape said, watching like a hawk as the boy ingested more of the cider.

"So that means I'm related to Sirius," Potter said, seeming to perk up.

"Distantly, yes," Snape replied, wanting to wipe that joy from his face. "You're also related to Draco Malfoy."

Potter's eyes flew up to his. "Distantly."

"Yes," Snape conceded.

A queer expression stole over Potter's face, one Snape couldn't recall ever seeing before. "That also means I'm related to Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Again--"

"Distantly, I know."

"Don't interrupt me, Potter," Snape said harshly. The boy still had that unsettling look on his face that Snape couldn't identify. He felt unease prickling up his spine.

"So, is there anything you can do with that-- magically, I mean?" Potter asked in an odd tone. "Like, any spells you can perform when you share someone's blood?"

"Why do you ask?" Snape demanded, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

The boy shrugged with far too studied an attempt at nonchalance. "Just curious."

He'd finished his cider, and Snape crossed his arms, waiting for the potion to kick in.

"If you're so wealthy," Potter said, words tumbling a bit clumsily from his lips, "How come you're stuck teaching?"

Snape muttered something vicious under his breath about Muggles and their values. "In the wizarding world, Potter, teaching is an honorable and highly-sought after position with lucrative returns."

"Yeah right," Potter said sarcastically. "That's probably why Dumbledore has to scrounge at the bottom of the barrel every year for a DADA teacher."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "The position is widely rumored to be cursed. The last six years have not been kind to those who take the job, and wizards are a superstitious lot."

Potter closed his eyes a moment. Snape knew he was growing disoriented. "Even so, you'd think Dumbledore could find people other than Death Eaters and idiots for the position."

Snape smiled coldly. "I'll be sure to pass your regards on to Remus Lupin."

Potter's green eyes slid open again, and the boy glared up at him, refraining from pointing out the obvious-- he wasn't referring to Remus.

"Don't worry, Snape," he said prettily. "One of these days he might get desperate enough to even hire you."

Snape glowered at him, but he didn't bother to reply. He didn't have to. The boy's eyes suddenly shot wide open as he realized why he was suddenly feeling woozy.

"You put something in my drink!"

"I told you we were going to break the glamour," Snape said unapologetically. He watched heavy lids creep closed over the Potter's eyes as the boy was consumed by paralyzing exhaustion. "This one will work on your skeletal structure. You should be pleased with the result. I'm quite a bit taller than James Potter, you know. Most everyone in my family stands over six feet."

"But--" His objection was swallowed in a wide yawn.

"It will be rather painful, though," Snape continued absently, watching with scientific interest as Potter shook his head vigorously in an attempt to rouse himself. "Much like ingesting Skele-Gro. I've taken measures so you'll be unconscious during the process."

"You... you should of... tol' me..." Potter's words slurred away as he passed out, his body going limp. He almost slumped right off the side of the bed, but Snape vaulted forward and caught his lanky form.

"Stupid boy," he muttered, shoving him back onto the bed. Why hadn't the little idiot settled himself into a safer position when he was fully aware he was about to pass out?

He pulled back the covers and maneuvered Potter's limp form beneath them... no simple task with the boy's skinny arms and legs flopping in all directions. He divested the boy of his oversized trainers, then after a moment of thought, peeled off the socks. He yanked the sheets over and tucked them around the sleeping form. He slipped the boy's glasses off his nose and set them on the bedside table.

For some reason, he felt compelled to arrange those scrawny arms neatly over the boy's torso. He carefully placed one hand lying flat over the other on top of the comforter. He stood back to appraise his handiwork, and realized suddenly that he'd positioned the boy as one would arrange a corpse. He quickly shoved the arms to the boy's sides. His hand lingered on Harry's forearm, and with a strange curiosity, he wrapped his fingers around it; they easily met.

Strange. He hadn't remembered James Potter being quite so small, and the boy had clearly been charmed to take after the elder Potter. Of course, he himself had been smaller then, so perhaps his perspective on the senior Potter was not to be trusted.

With one last glance to make sure Harry was safely under the lull of the potion, Snape waved his wand and spelled out the lights.


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