Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Chapter 6

0o0

It was still early. The castle itself seemed to be shaken following the events of the evening prior. Classes had been dismissed for the day, the staff in no better state to teach than the students were to learn.

He moved along the corridor, more slowly than was his custom, noticeably favoring his left ankle.

The majority of the trespassers in the night had been mostly harmless, benign or intent only upon minor havoc. Not all could be so described, however. Tobias may have been the darkest of the lot, but he had been intent upon his purpose. Others were not so picky.

A password was bitten out and a stone gargoyle leaped to one side.

It was the school ghosts who first noticed that something was amiss, and they had quickly come to the defense of their home and its inhabitants. A group of Hufflepuffs owed their well-being to the Grey Lady, whereas the Bloody Baron had hastened straggling Ravenclaws and Gryffindors to their towers. Nearly-Headless Nick had exercised the good sense to go for reinforcements and had returned with the Headless Hunt.

Without awaiting an answer to his sharp knock, Snape swept into Dumbledore's office, dark eyes fixing fiercely upon him. The Headmaster looked weary, even a bit distraught, but for all that, he was clearly undamaged. Snape's lip pulled back from his teeth in a sneer as his gaze slid to the large brownish crystal which sat on the edge of the man's desk.

Taking four long strides, the Potions Master lifted up the soul stone and hurled it at the nearest wall, where it shattered.

“Was that quite necessary, my boy?” Dumbledore asked mildly.

Do not call me that!” Snape hissed. He could easily live with never being called 'boy' again.

“It was a... difficult night.”

“You are an idiot.”

The Headmaster continued as though his professor had not insulted him. “However, I do feel that you ought to have offered up an explanation before destroying a priceless artifact. I had yet to even ascertain its purpose,” he admonished without heat.

“It was a bloody open invitation for all and sundry beyond the Veil!” snarled Snape. “Don't! Don't you dare say that it's 'intriguing' or whatever other imbecilic synonym may be ready to trip off your tongue. You ought to have known better than to bring an unknown artifact into a bloody school!”

“Severus.”

“A child is dead, Albus! A dozen more are injured and traumatized. Yet another – your very own golden boy – spent the majority of the night fighting for his life. And I was nearly murdered by my father. Again!” Snape railed at the man. “So, don't you 'Severus, my boy' me. I am not inclined to listen to the excuses of a man who didn't even bother to have a contingency plan for a ward failing!”

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. The Potions Master panted quietly, slightly winded due to his ranting and half-healed injuries.

Finally, Dumbledore gave a sigh, tilting his head in concession. “I presume you did not come only to lecture me?” he surmised.

“I did not,” Snape replied, finally lowering himself into a seat. Merlin, his kidney was liable to kill him before his next dose of renal restorative. Suddenly tired, he met his employer's gaze. “I have news regarding the Dark Lord from Regulus Black.”

0o0o0

The man nearly startled right out of his chair as a hand shook his shoulder. “Professor?” Snape gave the mediwizard a nasty look. “Your Madam Pomfrey requested that I give you your next dose of potions, and to convince you to lie down, if I could.”

Not offering up a response, the professor accepted the potions vials and quickly downed them one after the other, grimacing at the taste. Then, he turned his back to the man in dismissal.

Potter still wasn't awake. It wasn't terribly surprising, considering the injury he had taken. While the spirit girl's knife had caused no damage to his physical being, it had done grievous injury to his soul. Spectral weapons could harm only spectral flesh. It was extremely fortunate that St. Mungo's had had a healer on duty capable of repairing the damage.

“I am sorry,” Snape found himself addressing the unconscious teen, “that I so long believed you to be an arrogant, self-serving brat. You showed great character last night, Mr. Potter.”

He studied the child's face. It was easier, when the boy was at rest, to see how he also resembled his mother. What a shame that it was so difficult to notice whilst he was awake.

“You made a rather keen observation concerning my regards towards my... my father. I am not certain I would have prevailed had it not been for your input. Seeing him again in such a way made it was easy to forget that things had changed.” It had been far too easy to fall back into the role of hapless victim, and a part of Snape was disgusted by this fact.

The boy's eyelids fluttered a bit, his brow furrowing slightly before smoothing out once more. Snape leaned forward slowly, something in his chest loosening as the boy finally began to rouse.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled thickly, eyes still shut.

Snape arched a brow, lips twitching. “For what are you apologizing?” he asked, truly curious.

“'m sorry your dad's like my uncle,” came the reply.

The Potions Master stilled, any hint of amusement that had touched his features completing gone as his stomach clenched. “As am I,” the man said slowly, “I was unaware they had so much in common.”

“Don't like to talk about it.” Another quiet mumble, followed by a long silence as Snape stared pensively. Was it possible? Could it truly be that Potter's upbringing was in any way similar to his own? Snape was not certain, but he would most assuredly be finding out.

Another half an hour passed and Snape had had to abandon the chair in favor of slowly pacing Potter's hospital room. He was starting to think there was some sense behind Poppy's desire to have him resting in a bed. First, he must see Potter conscious once more – and then he could leave it to the brat's friends to keep him company.

“Professor Snape?” The voice was quiet and still rather rough from potion-induced sleep. When the man turned, green eyes peered blearily up at him.

“Awake this time, Potter?” Snape queried with a small smirk.

Harry frowned confusedly at the man. He tried to sit up, hissing as pain shot up from above his right hip. Putting his hand against the spot, he was surprised to find that the area was cold to the touch, like a thread of ice beneath the surface of his skin.

“Where am I?” he asked. “What happened?”

“You are at St. Mungo's Hospital. For future reference, spirits carrying weapons can wield them against your spirit. The little girl managed to slice into your soul before either of us could stop her,” the Potions Master explained. “You were very lucky that there had been someone able to knit you back together, as it were. You could just as easily have died.” He left out the fact that Potter had nearly done just that.

“Cheery,” Harry muttered, rubbing his hand over the area. The boy frowned.

“Yes.”

“Sir?”

“You will always be able to sense where you were injured. It will always feel cold to you. Others will not be able to detect it unless they know what to look for, however,” Snape told him.

“Oh.” The boy watched for a moment while the man paced a few more steps before returning stiffly to the chair. “Professor?”

“Yes, Potter?”

“Are you... Well, are you all right, sir?”

Snape peered at the boy. Twenty-four hours earlier, he would have suspected insincerity in the question. “No,” he said, surprising himself with his honesty. “But I have every reason to expect that I will be.”

The boy nodded, letting his head fall back into the pillow. He frowned to himself as he considered how to word the next question which weighed on his mind. There were many things he wanted to ask, of course, but most he thought he could probably save for later, when he didn't feel quite so tired.

“What is it, Potter?” his professor prompted when he failed to speak.

“When I was running from the spirit who dragged me away from you, another spirit came to help me,” Harry began slowly. “Why didn't... I mean, why do you suppose my parents didn't come? They should have been able to, right? If they really wanted to?”

“Stop right there, Potter,” Snape spoke in a tone that was gentle for all that it was also stern. “Before you let your mind run wild with disappointment or insecurities, you should be aware that it is not the hallmark of happy spirits to venture beyond the Veil. Those who come to our plane cannot be numbered among the content.”

The teen had lowered his gaze, struggling with himself despite the man's words. “What does that mean?” he asked plaintively.

“Your parents failure to come to visit you or come to your aid does not mean they do not love you, Mr. Potter,” said Snape. “It means that they have found peace and are therefore far removed from the troubles of our realm.”

Green eyes bright with unshed tears rose to meet black. After a moment, Harry offered a wan smile.

Settling back again, the teen shut his eyes, once more. “Sir?” he spoke up after a minute. He was starting to mumble again, obviously on the brink of unconsciousness.

“Yes, Potter?”

“I'm sorry.”

“What for, this time?” Snape asked.

Harry cracked an eye open to look at him, frowning minutely. Clearly, he didn't not recall their earlier conversation. Just as well. Snape wanted to do a bit of investigating before broaching the subject with him.

Both of the boy's eyes were closed again and the Potions Master was starting to think that Potter wouldn't continue, after all.

“Sorry for thinking you were just a greasy old git...”

The boy missed the amused smirk which claimed his features, then. “Well, Potter,” Snape said, rising up from his seat to go find a bed of his own, “I daresay, that much, at least, is true.”

0o0

The End.

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