Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Six: Custody of the Enigma

Mysteries. 

The world was full of them. 

Most would remain just that – a mystery. However, there was no way Severus was going to allow the brat-who-lived-to-constantly-get-into-trouble remain that way. He was going to strip the barriers that made the boy a mystery; unravel the enigma, until all secrets were revealed. And then, he would call it a day. But that would have to begin at another day. Severus was at his wits end currently and he was looking forward to a quiet, non stressful evening. 

Sadly, nothing in life ever went Severus’ way. History had proven that much. 

“Come, Potter. Detention is over,” said Snape, turning away from the boy. He heard the boy quickly pull off his gloves. As Severus glanced back, he noticed the boy stuffing his hands into his pockets. Severus thought it was a bit hasty, but he didn’t waste any more brain cycles on it. “We are eating dinner in my quarters tonight.” 

Last thing he needed was the entire school gawking at them. Severus did not have the patience to position Potter’s seating arrangement. There was always tomorrow for that sort of nonsense. 

Severus picked up Potter’s wand from the desk and handed it back to him. 

“Thanks,” said Potter, taking it with his left hand and putting it back into his trousers’ pocket. 

“You don’t have a wand holster?” questioned Severus. 

Potter blinked. 

“They have those?” 

Severus turned his back on the boy, lifting his eyes to the ceiling in exasperation. How could the boy not know something so elementary to a wizard’s career? Shaking his head slightly, Severus tapped his wand on the wall to his quarters; walking through the appeared door a moment later. Potter followed him closely from behind. 

Now… Where to put the little brat and still maintain the aggravating ten feet distance? 

Harry couldn’t believe what had just happened as he walked back into the professor’s quarters. He had gained points from Snape! Gained! Not lost. It was nothing short of a miracle. He was definitely going to tell Ron and Hermione this one. It had to be a momentous occasion, after all. He was probably the first Gryffindor to receive points from this Head of Slytherin. That, in itself, was something amazing. 

And there had even been a moment where Harry was sure he had impressed the professor with his work. That small thought that, perhaps, Harry had impressed a man who rarely ever showed much praise or approval in any of his students’ work was something that caused a glow inside Harry’s chest. 

He kept that much to himself, however. 

He was careful not to touch anything. He knew that the man wouldn’t like someone riffling through his things – the Dursleys had been the same. But their reasons for not wanting Harry near their things were probably much different than what Snape’s reasoning would be. 

But that didn’t stop him from letting his eyes take in what no other student had ever seen, yet had always imagined. He hadn’t had much time before to truly see everything. As he looked around more closely, he was surprised to see the amount of knickknacks that adorned the shelves of books and tomes. Each were carefully placed almost decoratively. 

Something else Harry hadn’t noticed before were the paintings. There were numerous paintings that decorated the walls. They had blended in well with the coloring of the wall. Harry was further surprised by the fact that they weren’t like the wizarding paintings that were along just about every corridor of Hogwarts. These paintings were… well, normal, in Harry’s eyes, anyway. To wizards, they would be abnormal – meaning  they didn’t move. 

Snape swept past with a barking, “Don’t linger, Potter!” and Harry quickly took a final glance at the living room, lastly noticing one more feature in a back corner before leaving to go down a hallway. 

There had been an unfinished painting on a easel, much like the style of the other paintings in the room. 

“Potter, would you please pay attention?” snapped Snape’s voice. 

Harry blinked and looked forward, stopping quickly before bumping into Snape’s figure. Even then, Snape had to hold out his hands and briefly grab Harry by the shoulders to steady him from falling back. The hands quickly removed themselves a second later. 

“Quit dawdling, Potter. What are you doing?” 

“Just looking around, sir,” said Harry, taking a step back. Snape folded his arms and gave him what Harry liked to call in his brain – which really accounted for every look Snape gave him, but it just made the situation feel better – Glare Number Twenty-One: ‘Who said you’re allowed to actually think in my presence?’. 

“Who said you’re allowed to look around?” snapped Snape. 

Wow, Harry hadn’t thought the man would say actually say something along the lines of what was in his head. 

“You didn’t say that I couldn’t,” said Harry, before he could stop himself. The glare that leveled Harry’s way made his shoulders hunch upwards as his head ducked down slightly. He quickly whispered a, “Sorry, sir.”

The man’s eyes narrowed briefly as he looked down at Harry, but after a moment passed of scrutiny, he didn’t say anything. He merely turned his back on Harry and began to walk down the hallway. Harry quickened his steps to follow after him. 

“You are to stay out of my room at all times unless there is an emergency. There is the bathroom,” instructed Snape, motioning to two doors on the right. Then, he motioned to another door on the left near the end. “Stay out of the lab under all circumstances or face unpleasant consequences.” Lastly, Snape reached the end of the hallway and opened the door, which had a sign on it that read ‘Harry’s room’. “It would appear that this will be your room while during this nonsense,” Snape continued. Harry caught a low mutter a moment later, “Meddling old coot.” 

As Harry stepped into the room passed Snape, his breath was taken away. The size of the room itself was bigger than the room Harry had back at the Dursleys. But it wasn’t obnoxiously big. It was decently sized for a bed, desk and chair, dresser, and shelf. 

The four poster bed was placed at the left side of the room, with an end table to the right. Dark blue drapes hung loosely at the corners of the bed with silver ties holding them together. Next to the end table was a larger oak dresser. At the right side of the room, set against the wall, was a desk and chair – perfect for doing school work. Harry noticed that his trunk laid at the foot of the bed. Finally, to the right of the door, was a small closet. 

The color scheme was in gentle dark blues, with dark green highlights. A light silvery trim was at the flooring. 

What shocked Harry was the fact that everything was exactly as he would’ve chosen, if he’d been given the choice. Don’t get him wrong, he loved Gryffindor Tower, but all that red did get on his nerves sometimes. Something about bright, harsh colors agitated him. He preferred calmer colors and his favorite color was – he’d never admit it to Ron – green. Green because they matched his eyes – the very eyes he had inherited from his mother. It was the only thing that he really knew that he had received from her. 

“There is no way on this holy earth that Albus decorated this room,” commented Snape dryly, stepping inside and looking around as well. “This room is more suited to a Slytherin with these muted colors. Definitely not a design from an old eccentric Gryffindor, who is most certainly color blind.” 

Harry smiled to himself, hidden from Snape’s view as he took a further step into the room. His hand reached out and touched the wood of the poster bed. It was smooth, not a hitch of splinters as he ran his hand down it. 

There was a brief moment of delight and yearning that rose inside Harry’s heart. For just a moment, he could imagine that this room had always been his – that he had never lived in a cupboard under the stairs or a second bedroom that had never once truly been his own. Despite its location, despite everything that Harry had ever known about Snape, there was just that flickering wish that he had always had something like this. 

“It’s perfect,” whispered Harry. 

If Harry had turned around at that moment, he would’ve been the few people to have ever glimpsed a lapse in Severus Snape’s Occlumency shields. For an ever split second, a pair of eyebrows had lifted upwards in a brief glance of shock. But just as it had quickly appeared, it left instantly to disappear underneath the impassive features that usually filled the Potions Master’s face. 

“Come, Potter, you can gawk at your room after dinner,” said Snape, his tone unusually pensive. 

Snape was already walking out the door as Harry turned around. There was another stirring of a glow in his chest at the sound of that – your room. He quickly caught up to the man, not wanting to push the distance between them like before. He was pretty certain that Snape would completely go postal all over him if that happened again, not to mention Harry himself didn’t want to be stuck with an irate man for ten minutes. He continued to glance around as he walked down the hallway, noticing more of the same style paintings on the walls, most of which were landscapes. 

The hallway came to an end. To Harry’s right, he could see the comfortable living room. To his left, he could see a nicely sized kitchen with a table in the center. With the wave of a wand, Snape conjured a second chair. 

“Sit, Potter.” 

Dinner was a quiet affair, for which Harry was thankful. The food had appeared on the table, much like it did in the Great Hall. Harry kept his head down and focused on the food, although occasionally he let his eyes wander and take in the décor. But he tried not to do so for too long. He didn’t want to engage the man in anything that could tear him from his dinner. He figured the man wouldn’t let him starve, but after years with the Dursleys, Harry wasn’t really sure of anything when it came to adults. 

Just as they finished their dinner, there was a rush of fire. Harry glanced up to see Snape closing his eyes in weakness, as if he were at the end of his rope, so to speak. It was strange seeing such an expression on Snape, when most of the time he kept his features clear of emotion. This whole fiasco with them being stuck together really must be doing a number on Snape’s nerves. 

“Severus, Harry? Have you two got a moment?” called the voice of Dumbledore in the living room. 

“Merlin save us all,” muttered Snape as he stood up. “Come, Potter.” 

Harry stood up as well, seeing the dishes disappear at the table. He followed after Snape into the living room area to see Dumbledore smiling happily at the two of them. 

“Well, I hope you two are getting acquainted with each other—” There was a soft growl from the back of Snape’s throat, but Dumbledore seemed to not notice. “—How are you, Harry?” 

“Uh… fine?” answered Harry with a shrug. 

“Good, good,” said Dumbledore, nodding. Then, still smiling broadly with those crystal blue eyes sparkling madly, he waved a piece of paper in the air. “I thought I’d bring something to make this new arrangement a little easier.” 

Snape’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

“What are you talking about, Albus?” 

“Well, see for yourself.” 

With nostrils flaring furiously, Snape snatched the paper out of Dumbledore’s hands and glared down at its contents. As the man read what it said, Harry was sure that he was one of the few people ever to witness the man’s growing expression. Snape’s already pale face seemed to lose all color. If there had been small breeze, the man would’ve bowled over. Snape’s hands began crinkling the sides, shaking uncontrollably. 

Then, he slammed the paper down onto the coffee table – causing Harry to flinch – and snarled at Dumbledore with a fury that Harry had never seen before. 

Albus! What is the meaning of this?” demanded Snape, yelling at the top of his lungs. Harry peeked over at the paper as best as he could. His heart fell into his stomach when he saw what it said. Completely forgetting himself, he grabbed the paper to get a better look. 

Oh, dear sweet dead Merlin. This couldn’t be… Dumbledore had to be insane… 

Guardianship!” cried Snape, waving at the paper furiously. “You’ve given me guardianship over the boy?!” 

“Well, yes,” said Dumbledore, rocking on balls on his feet and looking extremely pleased with himself. Harry’s grip slipped and the paper fell from his hand, floating gently to the floor. His eyes stared at the ground. 

So, it was true. Those black scripted words were true. He, Harry James Potter, was now officially the ward of Severus Tobias Snape. Harry’s brain was quickly trying to make sense of it all. That meant multiple things. Dumbledore must believe that they would still be stuck by the end of the school year – at least nine more months, the school year had barely begun, after all. It also meant that now Snape was fully in charge over him, like the Dursleys used to be. 

What would that mean for Harry? 

Would Snape treat him any better than the Dursleys? 

Or was he just being shuffled off to another person who would desist his very existence? 

By the way Snape was nearly spiting fire at Dumbledore, it appeared it was just that. Harry bent over, taking the guardianship paper into his hand. He stared at it for another long moment, reading Snape’s full name and his own full name over and over again; willing those names to say someone else’s name. 

All his life he had imagined the moment when someone would take him in or adopt him. As a child, he had imagined a sweet mother with the kindest smile, a strong father with the gentlest embrace – both who would come to the Dursleys’ doorstep and say they wanted to take him away from them. 

But it never happened. 

Even with the introduction to the Wizarding World, he had begged Dumbledore to let him stay at the castle. He hadn’t cared where, even if he had to work with Filch, he’d have done it just to get away from the Dursleys. But Dumbledore always said ‘no’ and gave some kind of vague excuse about blood wards and his mother’s protection. 

Every year, Harry asked.

Every year, Dumbledore had given the same answer. 

So, why?! Why was Dumbledore all of the sudden changing his answer? And why was it Snape? Did Dumbledore secretly hate him or something? Behind that kind grandfatherly persona laid a scheme to make Harry as miserable as possible – was that it? 

It made Harry feel bitter about the whole thing. He’d been trying, he really had been. He tried to keep his tongue in check, he tried to not make Snape angry at him for little things. He tried to show Snape that he was a hard worker – and that much had worked. But this new development was like a punch to the gut, completely winding him. 

He felt like a measly pawn in a chess match. He had no control over his own life, he had no say, he just had to listen and obey – and just maybe, maybe, he’d come out through it all with his life intact. It had always been that way. What was he supposed to do, just sit back and allow these adults rule his life? 

Harry glanced up. There was silence as Snape glared at Dumbledore with an intensity that should’ve been able to melt stone. Dumbledore looked completely unaffected. Even now, Harry knew he was powerless against either man. He couldn’t form his own destiny, no matter how much he wanted to do so. Even as a baby, his destiny had been marked; burned into his forehead by the symbol of a lightning bolt – marked to be the savior of a tiny, dying world. 

Could he survive life with this man? 

Harry’s mouth became dry. He placed the crinkled paper onto the coffee table, placing his hands into his lap and staring down at them. He clasped his hands together. His grasp began to shake. He tried to swallow the dryness away, but his throat got stuck. He laced his tongue over his dry lips, wetting them lightly. 

Harry clenched his eyes shut. 

“Potter, leave the room.” 

Snape’s voice cut through the silence, eliminating the tension from Harry’s body for a brief moment. He looked up at the man, searching for an answer. Snape wasn’t looking at him. The man was still glaring at Dumbledore. The only thing that showed he had spoken at all was his hand, which was pointing towards the hallway. 

“But…” 

“Potter, get out of the room,” hissed Snape in a soft voice. 

“Where am I gonna go?” asked Harry, his voice rising in pitch. 

“Your room—go to your room, now.” 

Harry stood up, obeying immediately. Those unfamiliar words were ringing inside his ears yet again – your room. He numbly walked away from the two men, turning the corner to see the door of his room. If he walked towards the door, he’d be farther away than ten feet from Snape. He stood still, wondering if he should go back and mention this to Snape. But the man’s furious voice had already broken the silence to rage at Dumbledore. 

“What are you playing at, old man!” 

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. He leaned against the wall, his head resting back against the stone texture. He couldn’t interrupt now. Oh, but Snape would be furious at him for eavesdropping. 

“Playing at? I’m not sure I—” 

Drop the act, Albus!” Snape all but screamed from the other room; his irate voice nearly echoing against the stone walls. 

Harry shivered. He had never heard Snape this angry before – not even when he had been livid with Malfoy earlier that day. Becoming the guardian of the person he hated most must’ve set Snape over the edge. 

“Act?” 

Yes! What are you playing at with this?!” 

Harry heard the sound of paper being shaken in the air. He could almost see Snape snapping the paper beneath Dumbledore’s nose, while the old man smiled happily without flinching. 

“Oh, well, I thought it’d make things a little easier for you if I put Harry’s welfare completely in your control,” said Dumbledore, his voice sounding jovial. “He’s going to be living here with you and that already makes you kind of his guardian. I thought, might as well as make it official!” 

“Why are you smiling?!” cried Snape, sounding exasperatingly incredulous. “I cannot believe you, Albus. Why do you look as if you’ve given me the greatest birthday present or Christmas present or present at all!” 

From the sound of Snape’s voice, Harry could almost feel the man beginning to break down. The exasperation, the fury, the feeling of being at the end of his rope – it was completely prevalent in the man’s voice. It was something Harry had never heard from Snape. It was like a side that just didn’t seem to exist from the stern, frightening Greasy Bat of the dungeons. It was the human side to the seemingly inhuman Potions Master. 

There was a soft exhale of a deep sigh. 

“Albus, why are you doing this? This isn’t like you.” 

“Messing with your life, you mean?” said Dumbledore, sounding extremely amused. 

“No! Changing the program!” 

“I always marvel how you revert to using Muggle expressions when you’re frustrated.” 

There was a loud groan of exasperation from Snape. Harry could actually hear man pacing back and forth briefly in the stark silence that followed that statement. 

“I mean, you are changing the plans. You keep telling me the same thing over and over – despite my misgivings and my protests – and now, suddenly, you are changing everything. What is going on?!” 

Harry’s ears perked, his entire body tensing; waiting to hear anything that would clear his doubts and questions that had plagued him over summer. 

“Oh, that.” There was an aged chuckle. “Consider it… a change of perspective.” 

What?! You are not making any sense! What are we going to do when the Dark Lord summons me?” demanded Snape. “Have you given that any thought?” 

“Mm, what was that Muggle saying you’re fond of using? ‘We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.’?” 

Albus!” 

“Severus, listen to me,” said Dumbledore. There was a pause as Harry stilled to listen better. “You’re getting too worked up about this. Just enjoy the journey.” 

“There is nothing enjoyable about having the Potter spawn living inside my quarters!” snapped Snape, venom dripping through his tone. 

Harry sucked in his breath, his chest twisting so furiously inside that it was painful. He bit his lower lip and looked down at the ground, trying to take a deep breath. 

He knew Snape hated him. There was nothing new about that. Everyone in the entire school knew how much Snape loathed his very existence. But hearing it like that… It struck Harry’s very core. It twisted his heart, constricting it tightly until his breath was stolen away. 

Harry turned around, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against the cold stone wall. It just wasn’t fair. He just couldn’t understand why he was forced to be with people who couldn’t stand him. 

“He is also Lily’s ‘spawn’ as you so eloquently put it.” 

Harry opened his eyes, blinking a few times. The dark stone filled his eyesight. Mum? Why would mentioning Mum make a difference to Snape? thought Harry. Did he… know her? 

Now that Harry thought about it more, Snape never mentioned his mother when throwing out his usual insults. It was always about his father. It stood to logical reasoning that if Snape knew James Potter, then he must have known Lily Evans. While Snape had every awful thing to say about James, he never spoke a word, ill or otherwise, about Lily.

Perhaps… they'd been friends…

There was silence for a long moment and Harry strained to hear in case he missed something. 

“That is low, Albus, and you know it,” whispered Snape, his voice pained. 

Harry’s eyes widened, his mind racing. The sound of the man’s voice… Harry knew that sound all too well. There was no other explanation for it. His mother and Snape had been friends! That had to be the answer. Why else would Snape sound like that? His voice… his very tone sounded as if it hurt him to have her even mentioned. 

But then, a small twinge of bitterness rose inside Harry’s heart. 

Snape must have hated James Potter more than he cared about Lily. If Snape really had been friends with Harry’s mother, then why would the man be so hateful towards him? If, by some freakishly strange twist of fate, Hermione had fallen in love with Malfoy and married him, having a child even, there was no way that Harry could hate his best friend’s child. Even if the child was half Malfoy, the mere fact that the child was from Hermione would make Harry try to set aside the hard feelings. 

He knew Ron wouldn’t be like that, however. Was Harry simply unique in that factor? Sometimes, it was easier to let the hard feelings go for Harry. He never wanted to dwell on such things for long. If Malfoy would just leave Harry alone, then he wouldn’t mind the other boy. If the boy hadn’t insulted Ron that fateful first day on the train, Harry would’ve accepted the boy’s hand of friendship. 

In some ways, Harry wished he’d had more information before he came to Hogwarts. There was nothing more that he hated at Hogwarts than the dividing of the houses. He truly disliked the heavy rivalry and discord between the houses. 

What if… 

What if that had happened in Snape’s day? What if the dividing of the houses created riffs in friendships? Harry’s mind was quickly going through the information and possibilities, when his thoughts were broken by Dumbledore’s voice. 

“I am merely stating a fact.” 

Get out.” 

“Not until you understand.” 

“Why are you doing this? Why are you doing this to me? Why are you suddenly insisting that everything be… different now?” 

There was a tired, aged sigh. 

“Severus, I’ve been a foolish old man for many years. I consider this as a new adventure of perspective.” 

“You are a babbling old man!” 

“Perhaps, but I’m sure you’ll understand with time. Have a nice night with Harry. Do try to be patient with him. He’s only a child, you know. Good night, Severus. Tell Harry good night from me.”

There was a rush of fire in the other room before silence permeated the entire room. Harry sucked in his breath, his mouth going dry instantly; every thought about his mother and Snape clearing away. He was alone with an extremely infuriated man, whom he had just disobeyed, but it wasn’t deliberate. 

As if Snape would even give him a second to explain that fact, though… 

“Potter…” 

Harry jumped and backed away from the sound. Snape was already standing at the corner of the hallway. The man’s dark eyes were whirling with fierce anger. Harry took another step backwards. 

“Did I, or did I not, tell you to leave the room?” hissed Snape in a low voice, advancing a step towards Harry. 

“Yes, you did, sir,” whispered Harry, automatically stepping back. His arms automatically curled around his stomach, hugging himself. The man was downright scary. Any minute now and the man looked as he were about to throttle him. 

“Then, do tell me why you haven’t left!” snapped Snape. 

Harry ducked his hand, swallowing once. 

“More than ten feet, sir,” answered Harry in that same soft whisper, his lips trembling. 

There was a harsh intake of breath. Then, there was a weary sigh. Harry glanced to see Snape running a hand through his hair, looking extremely tired. 

“At least you had the good sense not to keep walking.” 

There was still silence, before Harry let out a relieved breath mixed with a gentle chuckle. Snape dropped his hand from his hair as he watched Harry with a careful eye. 

“How much did you hear?” 

“Uh… Everything?” 

“Is that answer or a question?” 

Harry scratched nervously at a patch of his scalp. He bit his lower lip and tried to appear apologetic. 

“All of it?” 

“Again with the question,” said Snape, a hint of a sigh in his voice. Then, his eyes flashed. “You are not to repeat anything you heard to anyone nor ask any questions about it tonight. Do you understand me?” 

Harry quickly nodded, feeling relieved with everything. 

“Yes, sir.” 

Snape folded his arms and stared down the hallway. The man’s chest lifted up as he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he continued to remain silent. Then, after a moment, he spoke. 

“Ten feet is not very far,” commented Snape, sounding tried. “It is not even a functional distance from each other.” 

There was another sigh, however, this time it was mixed with a low growl of the throat. It seemed that Snape was studying the distance in the hallway carefully. As Harry thought about it, ten feet was a ridiculous short amount of distance.  

Good grief, life was going to be difficult.

Chapter End Notes:
Mmmm, seems like my chapters are getting bigger with each passing chapter. LOL. Ah, well. Fits my style better, actually. Thanks for all the lovely reviews!

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