Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

With Sympathies

The meal was finished in awkward silence. Harry wished he could bite his tongue off. He could tell Snape was fuming over the question, but doing his best to reign it in. Despite the panna cotta being delicious, Harry ate it as fast as he could so he could escape the table.

 

Snape certainly wasn’t in a good mood now, he thought as Snape picked up the dishes and deposited them in the sink rather forcefully. But he needed to ask regardless, and just hoped he wouldn’t get his head bitten off. Maybe he should apologise first.

“I’m sorry. It was none of my business.”

He received silence in return.

“Um, sir …”

“Father,” Snape corrected, grinding out the word like he wished Harry were between his teeth.

“Sorry. Father. Er, I was thinking earlier, that—that I should probably tell Ron and Hermione myself. In person. If they hear about this second-hand they’ll never believe it, and I can’t explain in writing.” He hesitated. “Also … um … Sirius too.”

For a long moment, Harry thought Snape was going to continue ignoring him, and was startled when Snape finally spoke.

“A good point. I will Firecall the Headmaster and get him to bring your friends over here.” Snape seemed to be washing up by hand, though Harry didn’t know why he didn’t use his wand. The dishes were clashing together quite loudly—maybe Snape was taking his anger at Harry out on the crockery.

Well, Harry thought, better than having it taken out on him.

“However, I believe your godfather is a different matter.” Harry’s heart sank. “I will ask, but I cannot promise anything. He may just have to find out from Professor Dumbledore. In the meantime, I suggest you familiarise yourself with the house and garden. Don’t try and open any locked doors, and don’t venture beyond the property boundaries.”

Harry took that to mean ‘go away’, said “Yes, si—Father,” and left Snape to the washing up.

-

Once the little brat had left, Severus took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

Merlin, it had been less than a day and he was already close to losing his temper with the boy. How on earth was this supposed to work?

He finished the dishes, left them to dry and went to make the Firecall.

“Severus!” Albus looked quite pleased to see him. “How’s it going?”

How’s it going?

“No need to shout at me, my boy. There’s bound to be an adjustment period, for both of you.”

“We can’t have an adjustment period,” Severus growled. “The Minister could come knocking on the door at any minute.”

Albus sighed. “I know. I’ve talked to Kingsley—you know, Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Auror—he says Fudge is livid, but he also said he’ll try and stall him for as long as he can with distractions.”

“Good. Do the rest of the Order know?”

“No, not yet, why?”

“Pot—I mean, Harry wants to tell his friends in person. He thinks it’s the best way.”

“Yes … that makes sense,” Albus said thoughtfully. “I will send them over.”

“He also wants to tell the mutt in person, but—”

“Sirius?” Albus shook his head. “Not a good idea. I was wondering how to break this to him … I don’t think he will take it very well.”

No kidding.

Severus was rather relieved that Albus didn’t think it a good idea. He did not want to have to let Sirius Black into his house, thank you very much. Nor did he want to be in the vicinity when Black did find out.

“Well, perhaps if Harry were to write to him, I could deliver the letter in person,” Albus suggested.

And have a Calming Draught to hand, Severus thought. Rather you than me, Albus.

“Fine. I’ll tell him. You know this could all have been avoided if I’d known where to find you,” Severus said pointedly.

Albus checked his empty office for eavesdroppers. “Headquarters are at Sirius’ parents’ old house. Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.”

“Bit late for that now.”

“I couldn’t tell you when it was decided because you were away, and we had to set it up as soon as possible. I’m sorry.”

-

Snape’s house was the opposite of the dungeons: warm, comfortable and spacious. Harry thought it seemed to be even bigger inside. Maybe it was. He didn’t know what was typical for wizard homes.

To put some distance between him and Snape, Harry ventured out the back door. The garden was large, too, and well-kept. Snape had a huge herb garden and vegetable patch, tastefully styled flower beds and a rocky water feature. On a patio stood a table and chairs, and what might have been a rusty barbeque. At the bottom of the garden were several large trees that looked great for climbing. That was, if Snape could be persuaded to let him.

The garden was walled, so Harry couldn’t check out the neighbours, or cross the boundaries. He didn’t want to, anyway. He wondered if he would be allowed to fly here—would Snape be able to shield him from the neighbours’ view?

After wandering around for a while, Harry returned to the house. He could hear voices in the living-room, so avoided it and checked out the rooms he hadn’t been in yet.

There was a locked door in the hall, and he wasn’t stupid enough to try opening it. He found what might have been a second living-room, smaller than the front room but otherwise very similar. There was no television in this one, but an old-fashioned record player and a wizarding wireless. A glass-fronted cabinet was full of Potions awards. A freestanding bookcase was almost filled with books, one shelf of which was lined with framed photographs. There were a few old ones that might have been of relatives, and lots of Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, occasionally with Snape in the frame as well.

Harry had never seen Snape smile properly before. It was very strange to look at. His three teachers did look surprisingly close. Rather like an older Harry, Ron and Hermione.

He went into the attached dining room, which looked hardly used, and back into the hall to try the one door he hadn’t opened yet. It turned out to lead into a room stuffed full of bookshelves—a library. There was also an annexe off it that held a desk covered in paperwork, and drawers and filing cabinets.

There was nothing to signify the annexe as being out of bounds, but since there was no door to lock, Harry decided to play it safe and avoid at all costs.

The library was interesting. Harry had expected stacks of Potions books—and there were—but there were also lots on Herbology, Healing, the Dark Arts, and Defence, as well as Muggle medicine, gardening, a few titles on classical music, and teaching skills. Harry had to look twice at the last one. There was no doubt that Snape’s teaching skills could do with a lot of improvement, but he couldn’t imagine for a moment Snape actually following advice from 101 Essential Teaching Techniques.

Maybe that book had also been a present.

Harry continued looking through the shelves. As well as all the non-fiction, there was a substantial amount of novels. Harry recognised a number of Muggle classics, but on closer inspection, most of the books seemed to be romances.

“Okay, I did not have Snape pegged for the romantic sort,” Harry muttered to himself.

He pulled another book off the shelf—an author he vaguely recognised, but not the title—to discover that it wasn’t a novel, but a book of poetry. In fact, the final section was made up entirely of poetry, as much of it as there was of the novels.

“Snape likes poetry too. Who knew?”

Harry flicked through one of the collections, strangely disturbed by these discoveries. It made Snape seem almost … human.

“Harry?”

He almost dropped the book, and replaced it quickly on the shelf before hurrying out of the library. He almost ran into Snape in the hall.

“There you are. Your friends will be here any minute.”

Harry brightened. “Great!”

Snape ushered him into the first living-room, where the fireplace was, and after a moment the fire turned green. Harry grinned as Ron and Hermione stepped out, the latter stumbling slightly.

“Harry!” Hermione recovered quickly and attacked him with a bear hug. “Oh! Er … hello, Professor.”

“Miss Granger,” Snape said shortly. “Mr Weasley.” He turned to Harry. “I will be in my potions lab for a couple of hours; I expect not to be disturbed except in an emergency. Kindly try and stay out of trouble in that time.”

“Yes, sir.”

Snape cleared his throat.

Father,” Harry ground out, ignoring his friends’ surprised and confused expressions.

“Better.” Snape retreated into the hall, unlocked the door that Harry hadn’t been able to open, and disappeared inside.

“What was that about?” Ron asked, bewildered.

Harry took a deep breath. “Um, you guys had better sit down.”

They did so, looking nervous. “Harry, is everything all right?” Hermione asked.

“I’ve been better,” Harry admitted. “Ron … you remember at Christmas when you made that comment that Snape would no sooner let us play games in class than adopt me?”

Ron sniggered. “Yeah. Er—what about it?”

“It’s no longer funny.”

“Why?”

“Because he has.”

“Let you play games in class?” Ron said hopefully.

Harry shook his head. “No. As of today, I am officially a Snape—though he’s agreed I can keep my last name, thank goodness.”

Ron spluttered incoherently for a moment, and Hermione’s mouth was hanging open.

“But—what—why??

“Apparently it was the only way to stop Fudge from doing the same. And if he’d done that, he’d have total control over me; right down to if I even go to Hogwarts or not. Which he’d have used to shut me up about Voldemort being back.” Harry flopped into a seat. “So now Snape and I are stuck with each other.”

“It’s just temporary, right?” Hermione asked. “Till the Ministry realises the truth?”

“Nope. Permanent. So even if Fudge changes his mind or gets killed or something tomorrow, I’ll still be stuck with Snape.” Harry sighed. “It hasn’t exactly been a picnic so far, I can tell you.”

Ron shook his head. “I can’t believe it. Couldn’t Dumbledore do something? Snape would be on your case every minute of every day!”

“Actually, we’ve made a sort of truce,” Harry said. “Since to an outsider it’s got to look genuine, and not like we’re just resisting Fudge.”

“Although you are.”

“Well, obviously. But we’ve come up with a cover story which … I dunno, it might work. Unless the Ministry found a way to prove it fake.”

There was a long silence.

“What about his position though?” Hermione finally asked. “I can’t see You-Know-Who being very happy with him when he finds this out. And he’s bound to sooner or later, isn’t he?”

Harry stared at her. In truth, it hadn’t crossed his mind yet what this would look like to Voldemort. One of his followers adopting his worst enemy … yeah, that was probably grounds for being killed right there.

“I-I don’t know. We haven’t—talked about that, yet.”

The strangest feeling came over him—fear for Snape’s life. Harry had already lost two parents. As reluctant a father as Snape was, and as much as he hated Harry and vice versa, he had still committed to keeping Harry safe from Fudge. The thought of him dying for it made Harry feel like he was going to throw up.


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