Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Common Ground

Jane wouldn’t answer her doorbell.

Harry knew this was not a good sign. She had told him herself that she didn’t leave the house during the week. He saw one of the curtains twitch out of the corner of his eye upstairs, but whoever it was stepped back as he looked up.

So maybe she did believe the Dursleys’ story.

Disheartened, Harry turned. Mr Digg had been in his front garden, but upon seeing Harry, he abandoned his trowel and went inside. Harry turned to look at the Sinclairs’ place, and saw Kelly and Abby waving at him, but before he could wave back, Bea hurried them inside and locked the door.

Harry choked up. All he’d wanted was somewhere he could be liked and treated like a human being. Now in an instant, it had all gone to pieces.

A hand suddenly clamped on his shoulder as he was blinking away tears, and he jumped.

“So,” Snape’s voice said in his ear. “Looking for more innocent people to fleece, Potter?”

“N-no,” Harry stammered.

“It must be so disappointing that everyone knows your tricks now,” Snape purred. Harry clenched his teeth. Snape’s grip was as firm as Vernon’s. Harry had a feeling he would have some nice bruises tomorrow. “I can’t imagine your relatives are happy to let you wander freely after that little stunt earlier, do you?” He didn’t wait for an answer, already steering Harry firmly back towards Number Nine, and rang on the doorbell.

Petunia opened it. “I believe you may have lost this,” Snape said, pushing Harry towards her. Petunia dropped her feather duster.

“How—how did—” she spluttered.

“Magic,” Harry muttered.

She clipped him round the ear. “That’s enough of that! Thank you,” she directed at Snape, who merely nodded politely at her and left. Petunia dragged Harry inside and back up the stairs.

-

The next day, Vernon bought a sealant and sealed up Harry’s bedroom window.

Harry finished his homework over the next couple of days, though he couldn’t be certain how well it was done. After that he whiled away the time lying still on his bed, dressed only in his pants. The sun streamed through his window, even with the thin curtains closed, and there was no longer any ventilation. The Dursleys only allowed him a tiny amount of water so they wouldn’t have to keep letting him out to go to the toilet. Harry was sticky with sweat, faint with hunger and dizzy from dehydration.

When Hedwig turned up, Vernon forced Harry to write to Sirius straight away so he couldn’t think there was something wrong, and stood over Harry while he wrote it so he couldn’t put anything bad about the Dursleys.

It was almost a week before he was allowed any food, and then it was only a small grapefruit quarter per day. He was feeling weaker by the day.

One morning, he woke to find the weather had blissfully turned. The temperature had significantly dropped, the sky was grey with clouds and rain was beating down outside. Although the water only reminded him how thirsty he was, he felt a little better for the change, and managed to lever himself off the bed to put on some clothes, and looked out of the window, using the wall for support.

It was painful, seeing all the houses and remembering the friends he’d lost. He was staring absently out and thinking longingly about the start of term, when he could once again be among people who cared about him, when movement drew his eyes to Number Ten.

Snape was leaving the house, dressed in smart black muggle clothes. He pulled up the hood of his coat, and sprinted towards Number Nine. Harry stared at astonishment as he approached the porch, and the doorbell rang.

What did he want?

He wasn’t going to hear from here, and he doubted the Dursleys were going to fill him in later. But the Dursleys kept the kitchen door unlocked during the day unless they were out. If he could get out of the window again …

Harry examined the seal closely, and searched in his trunk for something long and sharp. He settled for the skewer in his potions kit, and used it to scrape away the dried sealant. It took a surprisingly short time—Vernon had been ripped off with that cheap brand, that was for sure.

Harry pushed the window open. The rain didn’t bother him, and he wasn’t too worried about getting through the gap, not after having discovered how loose his jeans were now. This time he managed to slide through with ease.

He slipped—literally—down the drainpipe and made his way around the side of the house, checking for anyone in the kitchen before letting himself in. Voices came to him from the living room.

“… and two sugars, thank you.”

It was Snape’s voice. Harry ducked as Petunia approached the hatch and picked up the sugar.

“I’m so glad you accepted my invitation,” she said, going back.

“Well, you were very persistent,” Snape said drily.

Petunia chuckled. “I wanted to thank you, for helping me out the other day.”

“It was nothing.”

Harry felt like vomiting. Bad enough Snape backed up his relatives’ lies; now they were becoming friends. That was the last thing he needed, Snape and the Dursleys becoming chummy and giving each other ideas.

“Not for me it wasn’t. It was very good of you to speak up; I understand you don’t really … er …”

“Interact,” Snape supplied. “I don’t. But I have the greatest respect for anyone who can try to handle Harry Potter for a prolonged period of time and still keep their sanity.”

“So you really do teach at his school?” Petunia asked, sounding slightly wary.

“Yes, I do. Did you think I would say so unless I did?”

“Well … no, I suppose not. I just don’t think my husband would like knowing that there’s another—w-wizard—in the area.”

“Our little secret. Are those chocolate chip?”

“Yes; do help yourself.”

There was a pause while Harry’s mouth watered at the thought of food.

“So I take it you have been on better terms with the neighbours since I spoke up?”

“Oh, yes. It’s been such a change. They’ve all been apologetic about getting the wrong idea, and Vernon and I have their respect now.”

“Rightly deserved.”

Harry gagged.

“So has Potter been behaving himself since I last saw him?”

“Yes. Though that’s probably more for lack of opportunities to misbehave. He’s grounded. How … er … how much of a problem is he at school, exactly?”

“He’s the bane of my existence,” Snape said flatly.

“Oh, I know exactly what you mean.”

“He never does as he’s told, and he’s a magnet for trouble. I spend half my life trying to keep him out of it—believe me, it’s a full time job. Until now the summer has been my only break from it.”

“I’m so sorry he messed up—”

“No, it’s not your fault. Besides, Potter seems to have been too busy conning his way into the pockets of the other neighbours to bother me as much as I feared he would.”

“Oh. Well, that’s … good.”

Harry leaned against the kitchen wall, listening as Snape went on to relate some of the troubles Harry had got into at Hogwarts. Things like flying a car into a tree, wandering the grounds at night with both a serial killer and a werewolf on the loose, and nearly being eaten by giant spiders. Petunia in turn told him about Harry’s insolence and defiance, and how he had done his best to draw their attention from Darling Dudley his whole life, even so far as ‘attacking’ him when they were children.

It stung, their discussing him like that—an antisocial wizard and a magic-hating Muggle, bonding over shared loathing of him. Even though he’d long given up on hoping either of them would ever like him, it still really hurt.

-

Severus was a proud man, but even he was willing to admit he had been wrong sometimes.

He had already accepted that Potter had not been spoiled rotten, contrary to his original analysis of the boy. His understanding of Petunia Dursley was now changing rapidly, to what he couldn’t be sure yet.

When he had spoken up for her, he had taken her to be a well-meaning, strung out Muggle, someone who had dedicated the last thirteen years to raising her sister’s son only for him to turn out to be an uncontrollable, reckless brat.

Now he was having second thoughts. Again.

He could understand a certain amount of resentment after all those difficult years. He would certainly feel some if any child he raised turned out like Potter. But the more Petunia talked, the more he began to suspect that there was more to it. After all, resentment or not, he would expect her to still love him. He was her nephew, after all; her family; a child she had raised. But there was no love in her.

So, maybe not so well-meaning after all.

Merlin, she had certainly taken him in. How humiliating. And he called himself a spy! He was beginning to regret speaking up for her, but it was too late to take back his words now.

His thoughts were interrupted by heavy footfalls coming downstairs, and a very large teenager waddled into the room.

“Diddykins, Mummy’s with a visitor,” Petunia said in a sickly baby voice that made Severus feel like he was about to bring up his tea and biscuits. He quickly covered his nausea.

“Mum, I’m hungry.”


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