Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Author's Chapter Notes:
This chapter is dedicated to Zachary, the only person whom I've loved like a little brother.
"To the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure." - Albus Dumbledore
Survivor's Blood
 

"This story starts a while before the war, and you know part of this," I begin, "but not all. During the wizarding war I was discovered as a spy, that you know. I suffered under the hands of the Dark Lord, but was rescued by the Order of the Phoenix - an organization against him that I had been reporting to, started by Dumbledore. After that, however, the Ministry of Magic wanted me charged for Death Eater activities, because they were not completely convinced I was a spy all along, which I was. That, and they were under pressure to get supposed Death Eaters off the streets, guilty or not.

"Dumbledore had specifically asked me to spy for him shortly after I finished school, because he found out I was good at Occlumency, which allows someone to hide their thoughts and memories to fool others. I said yes, because at the time your mother and I were not dating so I didn't have to worry as much about her, and I wanted to prove myself to others. Maybe what I secretly wanted was to impress Lily. Or maybe I just wanted to do something dangerous and brave in some misguided attempt to live up to my father's legacy, because even though he left the army to work in the mill afterwards, people looked at him differently. Like he really was something. Or perhaps I just wanted to make him proud. Stupid, because he always was proud of me, no matter what - I was just too foolish to see it. I'm still not sure why I said yes to such a dangerous idea, and at the time I never really considered what would happen if the Ministry didn't want to believe Dumbledore when the war came to an end. Nor did I imagine what could happen when the time had come for me to own up for all the things I did as a spy."

"What?" Harry asks, surprised. "You played your part so well the Ministry couldn't even decide whose side you were on?"

I smirk half-heartedly. "I suppose you could look at it like that."

"Did you have to go to court?" he asks.

I nod, and as I begin to recount the story, the memory swims before me.

 

***

 

I am sitting on a bench in the tiny room outside the courtroom, chained. I hear arguing inside, and all I can think of is that this is not going well. I am grateful Lily is not here to see this, and that she cannot be seen here with me for her own safety. I often hate that we have to keep our relationship secret, what with me being a spy (ex-spy, I remind myself), but today I am glad for it. The first part of my trial has left me shaking and feeling sicker than I have ever felt in my life, and that includes when the Dark Lord tortured me for being a traitor a few months previously. Lily would probably feel worse about all of this than me, however. More reason to be glad she isn't here.

I hear Dumbledore's voice again through the door, and then Barty Crouch's. I am surprised he even let me have a trial. For a man so popular, I am amazed that he has not been thrown in Azkaban himself. Something about him screams madman to me, and after working among Death Eaters, I know a bit more about those than I care to know.

The rattling breath of a dementor fills my soul with dread again, and I close my mouth tightly. What if this does end the way Crouch wants it? What if I do get the Dementor's kiss? I'm literally shaking the bench I sit on it, fear, fatigue, and uncertainty rising up within me like a poison. Can Dumbledore really convince them to drop the charges, or even get me something less menacing, like time in Azkaban? Of course, there isn't a cell that has an inch of room these days, so the latter has to be out. I'm starting to think that there is no hope, and by the time the door creaks open a half hour later, I feel like a man whose destiny is set. But why do people in the crowd look so restless? Why do they look so intrigued? A normal dementor's kiss could not possibly cause this much whispering, could it?

Dumbledore looks ill, but less so than when I first left. I hope this is a good sign, although he still looks troubled - like he can't make up his mind about something. I am chained again, sitting in the iron chair in the middle of the room, the Wizengamot staring down at me. I think I'm going to be sick, so I keep my mouth shut as tightly as possible and try to think of anything but the shame I feel with all those condemning eyes turned on me. I just know, somehow, that they think I am guilty. Maybe I am. I don't know. It's all muddled. When I started spying I was stupid and young. Well, younger. And I didn't have Lily to look out for, and my hands were clean, but now, I have had to do things I never wanted to do to gain the knowledge the light needed. I've had to fight for my life and take the lives of others, and maybe lives have been saved thanks to my information, but who can say whether one life is better than the next? I didn't have an inkling as to what spying truly would be like, and it was nothing what I expected. It has been an ugly ordeal, and I fear it is going to get worse as the moments go by.

"Severus Tobias Snape," says Barty Crouch at last in that awful trembling voice of his, "your sentence has been decided. While your allegiance is still in doubt due to valid testimonies from both parties claiming you belong to their organization, the punishment of the Dementor's Kiss has been revoked."

A flood of relief washes over me, and I look to Dumbledore gratefully. He shakes his head. I look to Crouch again, and it appears to me that he is not done.

"However, the evidence confirms you have taken part in Death Eater activity," he says over the whispers. "You have committed crimes of great weight, and therefore you shall pay the price for them, regardless of which organization you were working under at the time. Azkaban has no room for you, and so it has been decided that you shall pay your debt to society through service."

I just about laugh. Really? I had never, in my whole life, heard of anyone being sentenced to community service for something like this. I can't believe I've gotten off so easy.

"This shall be done in the form of voluntary enlistment into the Muggle army," he says.

My insides grow cold. That kind of service. My father served in Korea. It is with a wave of relief that I remember that there is no war going on in the muggle world. The wizarding world is a completely different situation. I know I can work hard, and I will be able to stay here in England. I can breathe again. Just a bit of training and maybe some small missions. Nothing else. A few years, pay my dues, get the hell out.

"While we wizards rarely get involved in such organizations as the muggle military, we consider it as a valuable option to repay the debt to your country for the crimes you have committed under the organization known as the Death Eaters. You shall train in one of their programs, and serve a minimum of five years in the military, in whatever job they have for you. When your term is over, you shall be allowed to return to your life."

"If you refuse, or attempt to flee, you will be tracked down and given the Dementor's kiss. If you follow our wishes, there is no reason why you cannot resume work in the wizarding world when your mandatory enlistment is over."

It seems like years and yet seconds later when Dumbledore takes me home, and Lily throws herself into my arms. We are both so relieved, and while I do not particularly want to join the army, I will gladly sign any papers they throw at me so that I can stay alive for Lily.

 

~~~

 

"Professor Dumbledore couldn't make them see you had to do that stuff?" Harry asks me, flabbergasted. "Surely he could have convinced them to let you off?"

His innocence is rather sweet, sometimes.

I absentmindedly stare into my tea, and I shake my head slightly.

"Dumbledore was able to convince them to spare me from the dementor's kiss," I tell him slowly. "Enlistment was the only option, and keep in mind that then, they did not know that a war was going to start soon. He did as much as he could have done, and if you had met Barty Crouch, you would understand that in all actuality, I got off very easy. Dumbledore did not know what would happen a year down the road. The Falklands situation arose with almost no warning, when Argentina seized the islands, and it was only a month after I graduated as a part of the parachute regiment -"

"You jumped out of aeroplanes?" Harry interrupts, absolutely in awe. "Like Grandpa?"

I nod.

"I always had my wand with me just in case though," I tell him with a laugh. "Although I was forbidden to use it on the job, I would never have to guts to jump without it. Technically I wasn't supposed to have it, but the ministry had other, more pressing things to do than babysit me. At least I could have apparated if something went badly wrong, even with the consequences being severe," I shake my head at Harry's look of amazement. "Do not look so surprised. I did enjoy flying on a broomstick when I was your age, I was simply too academically inclined to join the Quidditch team. I was a bit wild, at times. You just have not known me at a time when I was. I have mellowed a great deal, believe it or not."

"Wow," Harry mutters.

"Anyway," I continue a little reluctantly, "as I was saying, it was not until after I graduated that they told me I would have to go overseas to fight. It was a shock to everyone else as much as us that Parliament ordered a full scale attack on the islands to try and take them back. Sure, there had always been sovereignty disputes, what with the islands being so close to Argentina, but there being a British colony settled on the islands. Still, it happened so quickly it seemed almost surreal. At that point, your mother was pregnant with you, and we were comfortably settled."

"How did Mum react?" he asks me, and my vision is filled with sunflowers.

 

~~~

 

"Lily, come out, please," I beg, close to tears myself as I stand outside the bathroom door in our little flat, which is hidden by enchantments for our protection. I can hear her sobbing in the tiny room, and I try the door. It is locked, even against magic, because my alohomora charm has done nothing.

"This was never part of the agreement! How can the Ministry let this happen?" I hear her say aloud to herself, her words muffled by the door.

"They are just looking out for their best interests," I say bitterly. "If word ever got out what my sentence was  ... unorthodox to begin with  ... and then that they went back on it, it would look bad."

I hear her through the bathroom door, and then she stops speaking, and I hear sniffling.

"You don't have to hide," I say, sinking down in the narrow hallway. "It's okay if you are angry with me."

"I am not angry with you," I hear her say quietly.

"Then why will you not come out?" I ask gently. I know her too well to believe her statement.

"Alright, maybe I am a bit angry," I hear her say. "B-But, I don't want to be! I just ... I ... I think I'm just looking for someone to blame."

"Blame Voldemort," I say. "This is his fault. It is not even Dumbledore's, or the Order of the Pheonix's, it is neither of our faults. It is his, and his alone." I only wish I could fully believe that it isn't mine, like I say. But Dumbledore stressed that to me, that if was the Dark Lord's fault. Not mine. So that's what I tell Lily, because I know he would tell her that.

"I know," she says, and her voice is barely audible now. "But with a baby ..."

"Please, Lily, let me come in," I say to her, hating the way my voice cracks. "I ... I need to be with you right now."

Maybe it is the tone of my voice, but I hear the click of the lock, and I enter the cramped bathroom. Lily is sitting on the lid of the toilet, her make-up running, a total mess. She's got her arms wrapped around her belly, clinging to the baby within her like a child does to a beloved stuffed animal.

I kneel down in front of her even though there is barely enough space. Gently, I pull out a handkerchief and put it in her hands. She takes it and wipes her eyes.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to her, placing a trembling hand upon hers, feeling the baby move within her. "I'm sorry to both of you."

"How can they do this?" Lily asks, seeming to wilt within her maternity dress, somehow managing to make the brightly coloured sunflower fabric seem sad. "How can they send a wizard into a muggle war! This isn't a wizard's fight!"

"The Ministry does not know I am a father," I say, trembling slightly at the word. Before, whenever I thought of myself as a father, I was filled with excitement, and anticipation. Now, all it does is fill me with dread, and fear at the thought that I may not be here for my child. Would my son or daughter understand why I had had to leave? Would I even come home to them?

"Can't we just tell them?" Lily says rashly, her stubborn Gryffindor ways shining like a beacon as she looks into my eyes. "They wouldn't send a father away like this. They couldn't! They would have to withdraw your sentence!"

"I wish we could say something," I whisper, wrapping my arms around her. "But if the Dark Lord finds out about us - and you know as well as I he has spies in the Ministry - he will never rest until both you and the baby are dead. It is for the best. Part of the reason why this became my sentence was that the Dark Lord would never suspect enlistment as punishment. So far he doesn't seem any wiser. Dumbledore did a good job of making sure that the trial audience was small, and trustworthy as far as he could tell. Besides, Voldemort never pays enough attention to the muggle world - they're not a threat, so he won't look for me there."

"A war, though, Sev," she says to me, trembling in my embrace. "Do you really think you can make it? I do not doubt that you're brave enough, or smart enough. You've survived as a spy long enough to show that, but all the cleverness and courage in the world cannot stop chance."

"I know, Lily," I say, shutting my eyes tightly as we pull away from each other. I feel her hands come up to my face. Her thumbs wipe away the tears before they can run down my cheeks. "But at ... at least there is a hope that I will return."

Lily suddenly says. "I can't do this without you."

I try to think of all the ways I can respond to that, but all I can say is, "I'm going to come home. You'll see."

She puts her arms around me again, and we sit there, rocking back and forth in the tiny bathroom, trying to imagine a future where everything will be okay.

~~~

 

"Dad, are you alright?" Harry asks me hesitantly.

I snap back to reality, and my son is looking at me with worry.

"Your mother was heartbroken over it," is all I can manage. "She was eight months pregnant with you when I left."

"Did she come say goodbye to you?"

"Yes," I mutter, finding it easier to speak now. "And she really should not have. If we had been seen, who knows what would have happened. It was lucky the Dark Lord did not know of where I was going - in fact, he probably had more pressing matters to attend with anyway, and even had he known I was off to a war he would be pleased to think that I was being sent to die. Besides, it was agreed to keep my sentence low profile. That, and the ministry did not want to advertise it, because they had not used war as a sentence for years, not since the fifties when a storm did serious structural damage to Azkaban, and they were short of cells. It was a decision that was not met well by the public, so they did not want to say where I had gone. That, and Dumbledore got them to agree to keeping it quiet, for my safety."

Harry looks at me, and I begin to tell him the story of the day I left for further training on Ascension Island, the closest base to the Falkland Islands.

~~~

I'm cold and clammy, wearing my army uniform, my identification tags feeling foreign against my neck. I still cannot seem to get used to having my hair cropped short, even though I had had to cut it a little under a year ago when I started training. I feel the back of my neck unconsciously, a habit I developed some time ago. My neck is tense, and while the hour is far too early for Lily and I, we are both wide awake, fear keeping us from being drowsy. I sit on the edge of our bed and watch Lily dress. She smiles at me, trying to keep from falling apart.

She rummages through her drawers, through colourful fabrics both muggle and magical, robes, dresses, and flowing shirts, her red hair falling delicately over her back.

She looks to me for a moment, then pulls open the drawer where I keep my t-shirts. She searches for a moment, and I do not need to ask to understand why she would rather wear something of mine than hers. I wonder who is more frightened right now, me or her. She casts aside some of the ones with emblems from the wizarding world, sifting for something less conspicious.

Lily finds what she is looking for, and pulls my Electric Light Orchestra t-shirt from the pile, and slips it over her head. She fingers the fabric. I got it at a concert we both went to when we were nineteen. That was the night we first kissed. I still remember the lights and the sounds of the guitar and the way she felt in my arms.

Oftentimes we put on our favourite record by them and both sing the song Telephone Line as loud as we can, even though neither of us can sing. We can play it loud because the lyrics don't give our magical heritage away in case someone hears - that's the trouble with being wizards among muggles. It's one of the only muggle bands we both like, and besides the memory of that night, maybe that's part of why she wears it.

"I always love when you wear this one," Lily says fondly as she fingers the fabric. In a moment she pulls one of her favourite skirts from her drawer, flowing and warm.

"I like it better on you," I say quietly.

"Good," she says with a half-hearted grin, and I can tell she is trying to keep her voice from trembling. "I'm going to wear it every day that you're gone."

"Well, wash it at least," I say, trying to make a joke, but it falls flat. Neither of us can laugh right now.

Lily finishes dressing and sits down beside me on the bed, leaning against me. I wrap my arm around her, and she lifts my dog tags up by their chain.

I look down, and am surprised when she pulls out her wand. She taps the backside of one of the tags, where my name is not stamped. Curling words appear, carving themselves into the metal.

All my love, Lily.

I don't know what to say, and just seeing the words makes it so hard to speak, so I kiss her. She responds with a kind of desperation, and if I would have had my way we never would have broken apart, but the doorbell rings, and my mother and father have come. They want to see me off. We are all going, together.

My father has somehow resurrected his car, and it is sputtering and coughing as we drive down to the docks. I suspect my mother secretly helped him along with a few charms, without him noticing of course. He's too proud to let her fix his car with magic, but with a junker like this it has to be held together by something more than just muggle technology.

The world goes by as we drive, and none of us really can think of anything to say. Maybe it is just enough to be there together, all four of us. Well, a little more like five of us ... or maybe four and a half. I take Lily's hand in the backseat, and she edges closer to me so that we are sitting beside each other. I see my mother look back in the rear view mirror. Her eyes are puffy.

I hear again what she had said through sobs when I told her that I had to go to the Falklands. "You're only just twenty-two!"

I felt strange thinking of that statement, because up until a few weeks ago, I had felt like I was definitely an adult. Now, looking at life ahead of me, and seeing that it could be cut short so soon, I start to think I haven't really grown up as much as I thought.

This isn't supposed to be happening, I think to myself. I want to say I am sorry for doing this to my family, but I am afraid to open my mouth in case I am sick. So I close my eyes and grip Lily's hand tighter.

It seems to me as though I have blinked, and then there is a flurry of hugging, and lots of crying, and even my father looks like he wants to shed a few tears too, but I know that he won't because he's wearing his old dress uniform from his time in the army, and he wants to look brave in it.

All I can feel is shock, and as I cling to Lily I hope so much that I will come home and see her again.

"I'll s-send you a picture of the b-baby," she sobs onto my shoulder. "Gemma Eileen for a girl, or Harry S-Severus for a boy!"

I manage to choke out an "okay" to her.

Men in uniform are beginning to board the ship, and the bell clangs for us to go. My mother hugs me, and even my father hugs me too.

"Son, even if they push you down, and drag you through the mud, remember that you have the blood of a survivor in you," he says in my ear as he claps me on the back. I see his row of medals when I press my face into his shoulder. "Promise me you will not forget that, Severus."

He lets go and I look up at him, for he's still a good inch taller than I am, and always will be. I'm more my mother's build. Skinny, and not overly tall. I can easily picture him fighting in a war, for unlike me, he is broad shouldered and has a rough look about him. I suddenly feel like a twig in my uniform, and I hope the mere blood of a survivor is enough.

"Yes sir," I say, nodding.

I turn to Lily one last time, and my father tactfully begins to point out to my mother the differences in modern uniforms from the ones in his day, and turns his back to us. Lily and I share one final kiss, and I think I hear a wolf whistle nearby, but I do not pay any attention to that. When I pull away she's crying, and then I have to let go of her hand as the crowd of soldiers sweep past me. I join the throng, my rucksack feeling a million pounds heavier now that I am leaving Lily behind. Up the gangplank I go, and I take a place near the railing like the other men, and all of us wave to whoever has come to see us off. I can see Lily's flaming red hair, and as the ship begins to leave I see her run to the end of the pier, jostling her way through crowds. She waves at me, blowing kisses, and I too fight through the crowd to get to the back of the vessel, watching her red hair disappear in the distance.

"Your wife?" says a man who is a fair bit older than I. He has blonde hair, blue eyes, and a thick moustache. He has a few lines on his face.

"Yes," I say. There are technically no paper records of our marriage, because we had to keep it secret. A friend of the family luckily was able to marry us quietly. We could not afford rings, though, and even if we had been able to it would have been risky wearing them. But the bond is there anyway. Besides, someday we planned on getting rings for an anniversary, hopefully when the Dark Lord wasn't as much of a threat.

"How far along?"

"Should be about eight months by now," I say to the man.

"Congratulations," says the man beside me. "That won't be easy at all, being away for that."

"No," I say with a sigh.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-two," I say, and even though the question could have come across as invasive, it does not, and there is something about him that I cannot help but like.

He lets out a low whistle.

"What on earth are you doing this for?" he mutters. "I've got at least fifteen years on you and I'm not sure I'm ready for this. I hardly know what to expect this time."

"It's ... complicated," I say. "Bit hard to explain, actually."

"Then I won't ask you to," he says. "Benjamin Reeves, but I prefer Ben."

He holds out a hand, and I grasp it.

"Severus Snape."

We shake hands, and then for a while we talk about our families. Ben hasn't got any kids. He has a niece who was born a few months ago, and he tells me about her in detail. I share a few things about Lily, but not a lot. After some time we fall into silence, and simply stare out at the ocean. I like Ben. I guess he reminds me of my father when he was younger, minus the physical resemblance, of course.

The both of us are shaken out of our thoughts about a half hour out of port by the thud of someone slamming up against the railing. A man with bright red hair leans over the side of the ship and throws up spectacularly. He looks familiar to me, and I'm pretty sure he did training at the same time as I did. We didn't really talk though.

I grimace.

"Seasick?" Ben asks, not fazed.

The young man looks up weakly, his skin grey.

"No, I just like puking my guts out," says the man sarcastically, scowling, his Scottish brogue thick.

I snort slightly at the comment.

"Oh, very funny, yeah," he replies.

"Here, drink this," I say despite my better judgement, pulling a tiny phial from a pocket inside my uniform. I brewed up a huge batch of seasickness cure, just in case I fell ill.

"What is it?" he asks, surveying me suspiciously under his red hair.

"Herbal remedy for seasickness," I say with a shrug. "It helps a lot, trust me."

The redheaded man starts to reply, but then holds up his hand and leans over the side of the boat again, retching spectacularly.

"Alright, you've convinced me," he says weakly, taking a hold of the phial, which I've removed the stopper from. He looks to Ben, and then says, "Now, if I die, skin this bastard alive, got it?"

"Will do," says Ben cheerfully.

I roll my eyes, and the redheaded man downs the potion. He looks better immediately.

"Wow," he says, "minty."

"Better?" I ask, amused.

"Loads. Thanks."

"Severus Snape," I say, rather pleased as I hold out my hand.

He says his name is Joey Bryant, and from that moment on I can tell I have made a friend.

"Where the hell did you get that?" he asks, pleased his seasickness has completely gone.

"A friend of mine makes herbal remedies," I lie easily, making things up as I go along, my mind still on Lily. I do not think it is a good idea to say I have made it, for that would invite too many questions. "She has a lot of allergies, and prefers natural solutions to illness."

"Is she pretty?"

"What?"

"Hell, if she can make shit that good, I'd up and marry her any day."

Why did I have to make up a friend who was a woman? God forbid he figures out I actually made the potion. I highly doubt ‘he'd up and marry' me. I grimace.

"That bad, eh?" mutters Joey, taking my response for an answer to whether or not my ‘friend' is pretty.

I catch myself trying not to laugh. If he only knew.

 

***

 

"To be continued," I say after glancing at my watch. "It is almost curfew."

"But Dad!" Harry exclaims. "You have to keep going! What about Joey, and Ben? Did you stay friends with them? You haven't even gotten to As-Asentshun Island yet!"

"Ascension," I say without thinking. "And that is enough for tonight. Your curfew is in fifteen minutes young man, so you had best high tail it back to your dormitory. Besides, the rest I would rather tell you on a weekend, so I can tell you during the day."

"I won't get nightmares," he says childishly as I herd him to the door.

"You might not," I mutter under my breath.

"Oh," Harry says in a quiet voice as we walk out through the portrait hole into my office. "Sorry."

"No, you had to hear the story eventually," I say with a heavy sigh. Harry hugs me, and then I watch him leave my office. "I'll tell you the rest on Saturday."

Harry looks like he'd rather hear the rest tomorrow, but he knows not to argue.

When the door shuts I wait for a moment, and then I turn back to Salazar, who is looking at me curiously.

"What must he hear?" asks Salazar.

"You would not believe me if I told you," I say with a heavy sigh. "Monkshood."

"As you wish," he says, looking a bit haughty at my silence

Chapter End Notes:
So, I'm trying throw in the very basics of what started the Falkland conflict, but I'm not really going into too much detail. To Severus it isn't really important what started it, but what came of it. If you want to know more, read a couple of articles. The history is very interesting surrounding it, and there's a fair bit written about all that, which is why I'll leave that to the experts! Anyway, thoughts?

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