Severus woke up to the sound of the boy stirring. The Potions Master sleepily opened his eyes to look at the clock. Only 5:30 am. He glanced back at the boy only to see him surreptitiously looking at his cauldron-decorated pajamas.
He glared at the brat, challenging him to say something. Oliver stared back for a few seconds; his face betraying nothing when he finally turned away—except for a hint of amusement in his eyes.
Oliver cleverly chose a different topic. “I have to go back,” he said softly.
The boy had awkwardly thrown off his covers, pushing himself into a sitting position with his good arm.
“And how, may I ask, are you going to do that?” Severus couldn’t help sneering.
The boy didn’t seem to be affected by his tone of voice. “Where are we right now?” he asked, a little more urgently.
“”No where close to your home, I’m sure,” Severus snubbed. All the sympathy he had felt toward Oliver earlier had been swamped by the embarrassment and self reproach of being laughed at for his pjs. What was wrong with them anyway? They were perfectly good-looking pajamas.
Oliver’s eyes flicked around the room, and his unhurt arm hugged himself as if trying to gather up confidence. “I can wish again,” he murmured, trying to convince himself.
The boy’s pitiful words and actions stirred something unwanted inside Severus, which he tried to quash immediately, with little success. “Oh for Merlin’s sake,” he finally threw out, “Why would you want to go back to the very people who hurt you?”
Oliver’s lips thinned as he clamped them tightly shut.
Severus sighed. “Oliver, you can’t hide the truth from me. The old bruises and your silence already give it away.”
The boy bit his bottom lip, then whispered softly, “I have to go back. Or else, he wins.”
‘HE. Who is he?’ Severus wondered. ‘If that boy ever tells me who HE actually is, I will strangle him in a heartbeat, I know. My coldhearted-bastard mask is perfection, but abused children,’ he admitted reluctantly, ‘they are my weakness.’
Judging by Oliver’s words, though, HE hadn’t broken the boy’s spirit at all; in fact, probably only strengthened it. The Potions Master smirked at the thought., and almost admired the boy, before he quickly caught himself. He could definitely understand the boy’s sentiment, though, having been through a similar situation with his own father—but at least he’d had his kindhearted mother to soften the harsh verbal blows.
To give up, he knew, was to give in.
“Where do you live?” Severus asked, his voice straining to soften its natural sharpness.
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‘Where do I live?’ Harry thought wildly. He felt a slight panic. What would the Dursleys say if a…what was the word the Professor used? wizard? suddenly appeared in their doorway? He could definitely picture Uncle Vernon’s purple face. He couldn’t tell the Professor; he just couldn’t.
Harry found his apprehension rising and immediately made sure his face projected none of it. He tried to pretend he was at the Dursley’s, where he always needed to hide all anger and fear.
“I can’t tell you,” he said firmly.
The Professor looked at him with undisguised exasperation. “How do you expect to get back, then?”
“I can wish,” Harry said again, trying to sound sure of himself. “Can’t w-wizards do it too, sir? Go from one place to another? It’s magic, isn’t it?”
“Of course,” the man sneered, “It’s called apparition. You are but a child, though. Most people are in their mid-teens before they can even begin to think about apparating.”
“I did it before,” Harry defended. “That has to mean something, doesn’t it? If I did it once, I might be able to do it again.”
Professor Snape’s sour face turned slightly thoughtful. “That is true,” he murmured. “I’ve never heard of a child apparating due to accidental magic either, so perhaps there is a chance you can do it again.”
He smirked at Harry’s hopeful look. “Just don’t lose an arm when you do it,” he said with a glint in his eyes.
Harry pushed down his emotions once more. He narrowed his eyes. The man was just trying to scare him. Well, he was Oliver now. No time to get scared if he was to get back to the Dursley’s in time for breakfast.
“I’ll do it,” Harry decided, the left side of his mouth quirking at the surprised expression on the Professor’s face. “Help me up?”
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Severus’ jaw almost dropped at the complete lack of fear the boy seemed to possess. Right after he had casually dropped that comment about splinching too.
He silently aided the boy out of the bed. The boy did have a chance of apparating back to his home since he did it once already; he hadn’t been joking about that. But the possibility of losing a finger or two, like he said…he hadn’t been joking about that either.
Why was he letting the boy go back to his abusive family, though? Because he was cruel and heartless, Severus thought to himself. He refused to think about how certain foreign emotions were also a factor. He didn’t have room for worry and pity and all those other petty feelings.
As the boy stood up and closed his eyes, Severus couldn’t help but say softly, “Wait.”
Oliver’s eyes opened to look at the Potions Master curiously. Severus walked out of the room and came back in a couple minutes with two objects. He held out a potion to the boy.
“Drink this. It’s nutrient potion; you’re far too skinny. And keep off the arm for a couple days,” he said matter-of-factly, trying to hide his slight embarrassment.
Oliver took the potion from the man with a strange look in his eyes. He drank down the potion and winced slightly at the taste, but made no comment.
Severus hesitated a bit before handing the boy the second object. Should he try once more to prevent the boy from going back? He pushed the thought down forcefully. No, the boy would just be a burden. He wasn’t even his responsibility anyway, he told himself. Besides, what Severus was about to give him would be good enough.
He placed a necklace with a silver ring on the end into Oliver’s hand.
“This necklace is a portkey.” He answered the boy’s questioning gaze, “If you say the word potions while holding onto the ring, it will activate and bring you to my manor.”
“If you ever need help…” he trailed off awkwardly, silently cursing the situation he put himself in.
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Harry felt true surprise when the Professor explained the necklace to him. No one had ever done anything like this for him before. The man was literally offering up his home for a person he had never seen before. In fact, he almost felt puzzled. Why would someone side with him, the freak, instead of with the normal Dursleys?
He restrained himself from commenting though. It seemed as if the Professor would get even more uncomfortable than he already looked if Harry threw himself gratefully into his arms—not that Harry was a touchy-feely type anyways. He briefly considered the action though with a smirk, if only to see the man’s reaction.
Harry almost giggled at the relief the man projected when he simply settled with a “Thank you.”
“Now,” the Professor said, “Picture the place you are returning to. Remember to focus hard on all the details.”
Harry closed his eyes to concentrate—already, he could feel his stomach feeling slightly less demanding (maybe that nasty potion actually worked)—and hoped beyond hope that this would work. He didn’t really understand himself why he so wanted to go back to the Dursleys’. Partly, it was what he had told the Professor; he didn’t want to give in to his Uncle. They would have to put up with him for a few more years yet, and anything that made the Dursleys miserable was a plus in his book. And partly, well, they were his family. A small part of him couldn’t ever stop hoping that someday, maybe they would accept him. Maybe.
He sighed softly. Better not to think about that now and focus on the action at hand. He thought of the feeling he had when he changed his appearance, and used it to focus instead on the cupboard under the stairs—wishing with all his might to be back at the Dursleys.
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Severus watched as Oliver disappeared. He was still a little surprised that it actually worked (and no body parts left behind either that he could see), especially with the boy being so young.
He shook his head determinedly. Best put the boy out of his mind before the guilt started to set in. He just couldn’t handle another responsibility right now. And anyway, he was supposed to hate the little dunderheads.The portkey was enough; it was. He refused to think about how much he himself had wanted someone to take him away from his father when he was younger.
What better way to forget the boy and his past other than potions? He hurried to his lab, already thinking of his new experiment for today, trying to put the boy behind him.
But while his “lovelies” temporarily chased away thoughts of the boy during the day, pale blue eyes would return to agitate him in the nights to come.